The cool night air slapped at Buck’s face as he hit the ground rolling. Whatever lurked in that house wasn’t bad news— it was the kind of news that gets delivered by a man in a black suit whispering, “You should probably run now.” There was no way they could face it.
The creature’s presence oozed through the walls, thickening the air as it approached. Buck’s muscles locked tighter with every step it took downstairs. If he didn’t move, he realized with dawning horror, he soon wouldn’t be able to run.
There was only one option, and it was flashing in his interface:
[Run]
The command burned across his vision as his feet hit the grass. Buck tucked into a roll, his mind screaming at Mr. Seeker: “Keep watching that house!” What the hell had Abuela Garcia unleashed? What kind of monster made the very air taste like fear?
“Hmph,” Flint landed beside him in a puff of fur and indignation.
They exchanged a look—the kind shared by men who’ve just realized they’re the dumbasses in a horror movie—and bolted.
Fifteen minutes. That’s all they needed. Fifteen minutes through cookie-cutter suburbia back to the park’s safety.
Buck made it three steps before reality blinked.
Houses? Gone. Trees? Erased. The entire neighborhood had been swallowed by a darkness so complete it made his optic nerves scream. Only the adobe house remained, its lone lightbulb swinging like a hangman’s noose in the void.
THWUMP.
The fence exploded into view as if spotlit by some cosmic stagehand. Buck’s stomach dropped. “Holy shit, it’s bringing the light with it.”
Flint responded immediately, dropping into a fighting stance, his knuckles white around his tomahawk. “Do we fight, Master?”
Buck’s eyes shot to the moon, that pale, watchful eye. “It’s him. El Explorador. He’s dragging the light behind him like—”
TWHUMP.
The front gate vanished. A single skeletal tree materialized beyond it, branches clawing at nothing.
“It’s hunting us.” Buck breathed, backpedaling. His heel crushed a forgotten sparkler. “Do we risk the dark or—”
“Decide. Fast.” Flint’s ears lay flat against his skull. “ I’d rather not learn what happens when it catches up.”
Buck scanned the yard—abandoned plates, toppled chairs, a cooler leaking melted ice. The detritus of an interrupted celebration. Somewhere under those paper streamers, wasn’t there…?
His foot struck metal. A grill. Still cradling half-charcoal briquettes.
THWUMP
He spun the knobs frantically. “Flint! Find me anything flammable!”
The jackalope blurred into motion as Buck kept jamming the igniter. “Light, you bastard—” Click-click-FWOOSH! Blue flames roared to life just as Flint skidded back, clutching a splintered table leg and a grease-stained tablecloth.
“Hand it over!” Buck produced the bottle of mezcal that still sat heavy in his pocket.
THWUMP
The house’s adobe walls spiderwebbed with fractures. The mud brick walls groaned like a dying animal.
Buck dropped to his knees, mezcal sloshing as he drenched the cloth. “We’ll need more, lots more.”
He thrust the makeshift torch into the flames. For one heart-stopping second—nothing. Then fire crowned the cloth with a hungry whump, painting the yard in shuddering orange light.
“HA!” Buck’s triumphant shout died as a THWUMP shook the ground. The entire back wall bulged outward, dust snowing from the ceiling.
Somewhere inside, something laughed.
The back wall of the house blew out as if a bomb had gone off inside.
Buck barely registered the shockwave before he was running, debris raining around them like hell’s own hailstorm. Through the dust cloud, a silhouette loomed—grotesquely humanoid, towering, its edges bleeding into the darkness. Then they crossed the threshold.
The void swallowed them whole.
It was like wading through black molasses. Every movement fought against the thick air, their torchlight shrinking like a dying star. The flame’s radius contracted with each panicked breath—five feet, then four. Buck’s pulse hammered in his throat. They didn’t have enough time. Whatever waited in that absolute darkness wasn’t something he wanted to meet.
[Run]
“Next right!” Buck barked, shoving Flint ahead.
It was impossible to know if they were making any progress. Reality had fractured in the torch’s guttering light. A car’s shattered windshield yawned like a mouth full of glass teeth. Rusty nails protruded from a fence like claws waiting to snag clothing. The road’s broken centerline became their only guide, a dashed yellow lifeline through the nothingness.
THWUMP
The sound rolled through the blackness, casual as a dinner bell. Distant, Unhurried. That was the true horror. El Exlorador wasn’t chasing. It was strolling. And their light was dying.
Flint’s fur bristled. “How far to the next turn, Master?”
Buck shifted his weight, heels bouncing. Three blocks? Four? Gods damn it, why hadn’t he paid more attention? He lurched up the street, eyes raking the asphalt.
There had to be something, anything, that he could find to help him.
They’d been the only car on the street, right? All he needed was a little sign, and then his [Tracking] Skill would activate. If only Tony had been a slightly more reckless driver. He may have left even a whisper of rubber if he’d taken this turn just a little too fast.
THWUMP
Buck dropped to his knees. His palms scraped across the rough pavement. They couldn’t just run blindly through the void. Only the Gods would know where they would end up if they did.
“Please,” Buck prayed, his hands slowly tracing the ground.
Then he felt it. A faint depression in the road, slight as a fingerprint.
His [Tracking] Skill ignited.
Suddenly, he knew: the car’s weight, its speed, the exact angle it had turned. The path unfolded in his mind like a lit fuse.
“If we survive,” Buck muttered, rising, “I’m buying Bev a damn drink.” He gestured ahead. “This way, but we can’t run. We’ll lose the trail.”
Flint fell in behind him, tomahawk gleaming in the dying light. “Then I’ll guard your back.”
Somewhere in the dark, El Explorador took another leisurely step.
THWUMP.
—-
“William!” Evander’s voice cut through the graveyard’s quiet like a rusty saw. “Your newfound undead status doesn’t entitle you to horticultural leisure! Our benevolent overlord may be living his best life within a Dungeon, but we must not stop our studies! Come! I have a project that requires your expertise.”
William rose from the garden bed, spectral hands brushing clumps of rish, dark soil from his knees. Before him, the raspberry bushes stood in proud rows, emerald leaves glistening with dew, ruby fruit glowing like stolen jewels in the sunlight. He allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. There was poetry in making things grow, even for a dead man.
The entire graveyard bore his touch now. What had been a patch of grudging dirt now contained proper garden beds framed in smooth river stones. Meandering pathways of crushed granite he’d found outside the caves transformed the once-muddy expanse into something resembling a proper retreat. Between the new firepit’s ring of slate and the low fieldstone wall marking the perimeter, the place almost looked… hospitable. If one ignored the occasional femur poking through the soil.
“Must you admire your handiwork like some preen peacock?!” Evander snapped, bony claws tapping against his hips. “To think you’ve survived this long is a tale of itself.”
William ambled over, his gait as easy as a Sunday stroll. “Dang, Evander. You’re wound tighter’n a fiddle string at a hoedown.” He gestured to their surroundings with a dirt-streaked hand. “Ain’t but four os us, but we’re buildin’ somethin’ fine here. World’s got enough hurryin’ and worryin’. Sometimes a man’s gotta stop and smell the raspberries.”
Evander’s fur bristled as he turned away. “Your relentless optimism is scientifically improbable. And this…camp?” His nose wrinkled. “Is distressinlgy verdant. The glass spires of Virdar could slice clouds. The Emerald Dawn’s final voyage lit up the Obsidian Sea for weeks. Even the Rust Legion’s corroded armor had more grandeur than this… domesticated dirt circle.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“One day I’ll crack that frown of yours,” William said, brushing off the insult.
“You couldn’t handle my smile, you insufferable spector,” Evander sniffed. “Only one being has ever earned that honor.”
William’s grin turned wicked. “Oho! Got yourself a special lady out there in the Cracked Kingdoms? C’mon now, I’ll trade stories, my dearly departed, for your mystery miss.
The necromancer’s ears flattened. “Your moldering ancestors interest me as much as mold itself.” But as Evander turned toward the Apothecary, his usual irritated expression faltered. His beady eyes glazed over, fixed on something in his interface.
“Evander?” William’s spectral face flickered with concern.
The color drained from the hamster’s furry face. “Movement in the tree line. Multiple contacts. By the rotting Gods—” His claws snapped together with a sharp snick. “We’re under siege.”
—-
THWUMP
The world exploded in a shower of splintered wood and brick as El Explorador’s massive form obliterated another wall. Moonlight flooded the space where building had stood moments before, then vanished as quickly as the darkness rushed back like a tide.
Buck’s torch sputtered in his grip, its dying light painting frantic shadows across their faces. “Move!” he barked, but Flint was already dragging him forward by the collar.
“Into the light!” the jackalope growled, his voice tight with pain. Buck caught a glimpse of Flint’s left arm, fur matted dark red, fingers twitching uselessly. With a curse, Buck hurled the failing torch behind them and let Flint pull him toward the moonlit clearing.
The change had been immediate. The moment they’d lost the torchlight, El Explorador’s footsteps quickened from ominous THWUMPs to something terrifyingly eager. Whatever madness drove the creature, it hated the dark more than it hated them.
They burst into the open to face the ruins of the elementary school. The two-story red brick building gaped at them like a skull missing teeth, its shattered windows staring blankly into the night. But Buck only had eyes for Flint’s injury.
“Your arm—”
“Will keep,” Flint snapped, his ears flat against his skull. Blood pattered on the cracked sidewalk like a terrible rain. “We need to cross through. This is where we entered.”
Buck scanned their surroundings. The neighbourhood had vanished into he void. Only the school remained lit, a lone island in an endless sea of darkness. There was no going around, only through
THWUMP.
“Inside, now!” Buck didn’t wait to see if Flint followed. They leapt as one, bricks raining around them like a deadly hail. The shattered doorway yawned before them as they hit the linoleum in a controlled slide, Buck’s back slamming against lockers, the color of stomach bile. The metallic BANG echoed through the hollow halls.
Buck’s momentary relief died in his throat. El Explorador’s strength had sent the door through the classroom wall—this thing wasn’t just chasing them, it was remodeling the whole damn school.
Moonlight streamed through the roof in impossible shafts, illuminating the same perfect circle from where they’d begun. Physics had clearly taken the night off.
“It’s not tracking by sound. It’s like it just knows where we are,” Buck panted, wiping sweat from his brow. “But I’d rather not test its eyesight.”
They couldn’t stay still, but if they got turned around in this building, they would have no choice but to risk the darkness again. Whichever direction they went, they would need to be careful.
Flint gestured right where a lingering shadow indicated a corner. They moved like ghosts, edging around the lockers for cover, footsteps silent on the scuffed floors. El Explorador’s next step would reveal his location, or at least what direction he was coming from. Rounding the corner, they could only hope they’d positioned themselves in a blind spot.
THWUMP
“Good.” Buck’s grin was all teeth. “We’ve got its rhythm now.”
Somewhere above them, a support beam groaned.
—-
The rain hammered the Apothecary’s roof like a meth-fueled drum solo. The stench of damp earth and rotting coyote carcasses filled the air, carcasses that William currently found himself buried beneath. His wisp form flickered like a dying bulb as he suppressed every photon of light.
“William.” Evander’s whisper cut through the downpour’s roar. “Don’t mistake this for nobility. Fetch Blackwood. Return promptly. I refuse to die to these… rodents.”
THWUMP
The door shuddered. Stone dust rained from the ceiling, making candlelight dance across shelves of preserved horrors.
“PULL, YOU MANGY VERMIN!” Evander’s voice cracked with uncharacteristic strain. “To be bested by such—”
Stone screeched against stone. Rainwater dripped from matted fur as the war band fanned out, weapons glinting. Their leader—a jackalope with wildfire-red fur—raised a blood-crusted tomahawk.
“You were warned, Citizen. Kneel!” she snarled. “The Burned Queen may grant mercy.”
Evander’s whiskers twitched. “By all means.” He dropped to one knee with theatrical grace. “Marvel at your conquest.”
They dragged him into the deluge. William watched through the corpses as his friend vanished into the storm, the hamster’s sodden fur turning him into a drowned rat in seconds.
Silence.
Then, blue light pulsed.
Coyote bodies tumbled aside as William materialized, hat in hand. Rain sheeted around his spectral form like a liquid curtain. Water cascaded across the floorboards, carrying tiny flecks of blood toward the door.
Somewhere beyond the wall, Evander’s captors howled.
William’s hat crumpled in his grip.
—-
THWUMP
“Gods dammit!” Buck’s voice echoed through the open doors of the ravaged gymnasium.
Flint wiped blood from his snout with the back of his paw. “We traverse this… ‘sweat temple’ or perish.”
Buck eyed the basketball hoops hanging like nooses. “I know. When it sees us, it’ll change. We run like hell and don’t look back.”
Their schoolwide game of cataclysm-and-mouse had proven one thing: El Explorador played by its own rules. Desks piled three high? Obliterated. A chemistry lab turned Molotov cocktail party? Merely inconvenient. Their crowning achievement—flooding the second-floor bathrooms—had achieved nothing beyond soggy boots and a profound sense of futility.
El Explorador moved with tectonic inevitability, carving a straight line through walls, lockers, and their increasingly desperate attempts at obstruction. Each step revealed another stretch of their path forward, another section of the school reduced to kindling.
Buck tightened the makeshift bandage around his forearm. “Next time we run into a Dungeon, I’m bringing a godsdamn backpack.”
Another thunderous crash echoed through the school’s carcass as another classroom surrendered to El Explorador’s march.
They ran through light-starved hallways, past skeletal remains of lockers, clinging to each shrinking island of moonlight like shipwrecked sailors. The gym doors loomed before them: a coliseum of their own making. No cover. No tricks left. Just hardwood floors and whatever nightmare came through those walls.
THWUMP
Buck slammed through the double doors with a metallic shriek that reverberated through the cavernous space. The ring of moonlight extended just far enough to illuminate the three-point line and nothing more.
There was nothing they could do but wait.
THWUMP. THWUMP. THWUMP.
The far wall bulged inward, drywall and brick cracking like eggshells. Flint’s injured arm hung limp, the fur matted into crimson dreadlocks. Buck’s jaw tightened. This wasn’t some NPC to sacrifice; this was the only decent company he’d had in this hellscape.
“Showtime,” Buck muttered as the wall split open. Dust rained down like funeral ash.
THWUMP.
The gym wall exploded inward, bricks scattering across the polished hardwood like bloody teeth. There, backlit by moonlight, stood El Explorador, a grotesque parody of human form. It was like a bodybuilder had completely forgotten about arm day. Its tree-trunk legs pulsed with barely contained power, each step sending spiderweb fractures through the floorboards.
Buck’s gaze traveled up the monstrosity and caught on the braid rope coiled around its right arm. No… it wasn’t a rope. Gods, it was a sick pinkish hue. Flesh. Flesh woven together by an infernal ropemaker and dripping with a wet fervor. The thick cord stretched taut into the sky, defying physics as it pierced through the ceiling without snagging. Moonlight ran liquid along its fibers.
Then the glow began.
A silver radiance pooled in El Explorador’s rope-hand, pulsing like a dying star as it cascaded down the creature’s body. Buck felt it. The air hummed with a gathering power.
“SPLIT-UP!” Buck dove left just as—
CRACK-THWUMP
El Explorador became a blur of moonlight. Buck hit the deck as supersonic wind ripped at his clothes. Where before had been mindless destruction now stood focused malice, the creature pivoted with eerie precision, its glowing eyes locking onto Buck with terrifying clarity.
This wasn’t a force of nature anymore.
This was a hunter.
And Buck had just become prey.
“The door!” Flint’s voice cut through the gym with a hollow echo.
Buck didn’t look. Didn’t think. Just ran. Moonlight cascaded down the braided rope with the consistency of liquid mercury as El Explorador coiled for another leap.
Who would he choose this time? It didn’t matter. They had to get around him. That familiar door sat ajar just behind him. It was the one that opened out into the park. It had to be.
El Explorador lifted his leg, moonlight building.
Timing. Everything came down to timing.
THWUMP.
The world dissolved into slow motion. Flint’s shoulder smashed through the exit. Buck felt—rather than saw—the air ripple as El Explorador’s passing shear-force flayed his back open. A crimson mist hung where skin had been.
“Go!” Buck rasped, stumbling forward on legs painted red.
Flint turned, eyes wide with the horror of a soldier watching his commander fall. But the nightmare’s exit shimmered ahead, the same oaken door that had swallowed them whole. Twenty yards of blood-slick grass stood between Buck and salvation. Twenty yards between agony and his [Inventory]’s healing glow.
El Exlorador’s moonlit ‘rope’ pulsed like a dying star.
Buck dove.
Blood painted the grass in arcing streaks. His jorts clung to him, soaked through with rust-colored ruin. The door’s wood grain seemed to breathe as the pulsating light intensified—
THWUMP.
The sound wasn’t behind him anymore.
It came from in front.
El Explorador materialized between Buck and the door like a nightmare given form. Moonlit vapor poured from its flared nostrils with each labored breath. Those milky eyes held nothing but predatory focus, locked solely on Buck.
Flint stood frozen behind the creature, tomahawk trembling in his good hand. Buck met his gaze and jerked his chin toward the open door. Go.
The jackalope didn’t move. His torn ear flicked, once, twice, but his feet remained planted. Loyalty over survival.
The braided rope of flesh squealed in El Explorador’s grip as moonlight surged through its fibrous flesh. Buck’s chuckle came out bloody. A good old Mexican standoff. William would absolutely lose his shit hearing about this.
Then he charged.
Moonfire erupted down the rope as Buck threw himself into a slide. Wood chips and grass tore at his flayed back as he roared through the pain. El Explorador’s foot rose—
THWUMP.
—and stamped down where Buck’s head had been half a second earlier.
