CHAPTER 157: THIS IS WHERE GOD DIED (1).

"Ah, crap!"

Nero crawled across the fungus-covered ground like some pathetic worm, his body screaming in protest with every inch of progress.

His left arm was still useless, dangling at his side like a piece of rotten meat. His leg throbbed with a pain so intense it threatened to drag him back into unconsciousness. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass, and he was fairly certain at least three of his ribs had punctured something important.

This was what victory looked like, apparently.

He reached into his satchel with trembling fingers, fishing around until he found his last Essence Pills.

The small thing sat in his palm, looking far too insignificant for what he needed it to do. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and right now, Nero was the poorest beggar in existence.

He popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed.

The effect was immediate and underwhelming. A trickle of warmth spread through his chest, barely enough to take the edge off the pain. His Ein Sof reserves, which had been scraped completely clean, began to refill at a pace that could only be described as glacial. At this rate, he’d be back to full strength sometime next month. At least, that was how it felt.

Assuming he even lived that long.

Nero let out a bitter laugh that turned into a coughing fit. Blood spattered onto the ground, mixing with the crushed mushrooms beneath him.

’Wonderful.’

Internal bleeding had now been added to the list of problems he was collecting like some demented hobby. The day certainly couldn’t get any better.

He turned his head to look at the Bog Golem’s corpse. The creature had collapsed in on itself, leaving a pile of rubble and rotting flesh that smelled even worse than the bog water. And there, lodged in the center of the destruction, was Gungnir.

The spear glowed with a soft silver light, pulsing like a heartbeat. Nero could feel it calling to him through the Soul Bond, but without Ein Sof, he couldn’t summon it. Which meant he’d have to crawl over there like an idiot and retrieve it manually.

The runes appeared before his eyes, golden and shimmering.

***

Seals of Sin: 306/1000

***

Those were the seals he had acquired from the Grade D Bog Golem

Five Seals for nearly dying.

’What a bargain.’ He thought to himself with a sad chuckle.

Nero dismissed the runes with a mental grunt and continued his pathetic crawl toward the corpse.

Each movement sent fresh waves of agony through his body, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. Pain was temporary. Being weaponless in a place like this was a death sentence.

It took far longer than he’d like to admit to reach the Golem’s remains. By the time he arrived, he was gasping and shaking, his vision swimming with exhaustion. But there was no time to rest. Every moment he spent lying here was another moment something else could decide he looked like easy prey.

Nero climbed onto the corpse, his good hand finding purchase in the cracks between stone plates. The body was still warm, radiating heat that had nothing to do with life. Black ichor leaked from dozens of wounds, pooling in the crevices and making everything slippery.

He hauled himself up, inch by painful inch, until he reached the crater where Gungnir had struck. The spear had punched clean through the Golem’s body, creating a wound that went from crown to base. It was lodged deep in the stone flesh, surrounded by a mixture of blood and pus that looked like it might gain sentience if left alone long enough.

Nero wrapped his good hand around the shaft and pulled.

Nothing happened.

He pulled harder, putting what little weight he had into it. The spear shifted slightly, but refused to come free. Of course it did. Why would anything be easy?

With a grunt of pure frustration, Nero braced his feet against the corpse and yanked with everything he had left.

Gungnir came free with a wet, sucking sound that would haunt his nightmares for weeks. The momentum sent Nero tumbling backward off the corpse, and he hit the ground hard enough to see stars.

Then everything went black.

When Nero opened his eyes again, he had absolutely no idea how much time had passed.

The light filtering through the toxic haze looked roughly the same, which meant it could have been minutes or hours.

His body felt marginally better, which suggested the Essence Pill had continued working while he was unconscious. The pain had dulled from "actively dying" to merely "wish I was dead," which he supposed counted as progress.

He sat up slowly, taking inventory. His arm was still broken, but the bones had started to knit themselves back together in a haphazard way that promised future complications. His leg had stopped bleeding, though it hurt like a bastard whenever he put weight on it. His ribs still felt wrong, but at least breathing no longer felt like being stabbed.

All in all, he’d survived. Somehow.

Nero pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the world tilted around him. Gungnir was still clutched in his hand, the familiar weight keeping him grounded. He looked down at the Bog Golem’s corpse one more time, at the monument to his own recklessness and stubbornness.

Then he turned away and surveyed the island.

The Teargail Fungus grew everywhere, thick clusters of it sprouting from the ground and from the larger mushroom formations. There was more here than he could possibly carry, more than enough to feed everyone for weeks. Months, even.

Nero limped over to the nearest cluster and began harvesting, pulling the pale grey caps free with his good hand. They came away easily, their stems snapping with a soft cracking sound. He piled them on the ground, working methodically despite the exhaustion that weighed on him like a physical thing.

It took perhaps twenty minutes before the realization hit him like a hammer to the skull.

He had no way to carry this across the toxic water.

His satchel could hold maybe a tenth of what he’d gathered, and even then, he’d have to abandon everything else he was carrying. The rest would have to be left behind, useless and wasted, while he swam back through acid and poison.

Assuming he even survived the swim in his current condition.