Hopefully this game has since died, but when I was a kid my cousins and I would play a game called horse tails. We’d grab wet rags and chase each other around the apartment complex while whipping our “horse tails” at each other. This would carry on until one of the parents caught us or someone drew blood. It was one of those idiotic games that was fun at the time, but as an adult you realize that it was beyond incredibly stupid.

  If we could find a curtain, my thought was to trigger the trap by horsetailing it. If it was a tripwire, the horse tail would ideally snap it and trigger the trap while I was as far away as possible. That way if something did go horribly wrong, I would at least have a headstart. This is by far one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, but better dumb and alive than smart and dead. And, if I succeed, I’d gain access to the very valuable [[Trap Detection]] skill. What could go wrong?

  There were no windows in any of the rooms in the immediate vicinity and thus no curtains. But Herald found a set of stretchy stockings. It isn’t ideal, but I can make it work. Though I’ll have to switch up my approach.

  I evaluate my inventory, consider my limited options. Viewers, do you know what a meteor hammer is? It’s not a pair of pantyhose wrapped around a candelabra that, when whipped around correctly, uses the momentum to maximize impact, but it’s also not not a pair of pantyhose wrapped around a candelabra that when whipped around correctly uses the momentum to maximize impact. I grab the chipped candelabra and tie the stockings tight around it. (high pitch groan) *yikes emoji* My heart was in my throat. I have to pee. I’m somehow so sweaty and so dry at the same time. I look back at Herald, who’s supporting me from around the corner. He shoots me a shaky smile and a thumbs up.

  Eat a dick, Herald.

  I grabbed the base of the candelabra and underhand throw it towards the open door. I let the silky hose drag through my sweaty fingers. I’d tied the other end around my wrist, so I wouldn’t accidentally let go of it. If this is a fire trap, the hose will immediately go up in flame. Buuuut I should be fine if that happens. Should being the keyword. The candelabra begins to tug on the stockings at the jamb and ricochets back a bit because of the elasticity. I hold my breath in case it’s a poison trap. I don’t see it connect with anything on the bounce back either. So no trip wires. I pull the candelabra across the floor, just to be sure. Then I repeat the process. Nothing.

  Maybe I’ve been worried about nothing.

  I look at Herald and smile with a thumbs up of my own.

  “It’s all clear.”

  I lead the charge, high on adrenaline. I could’ve died back there. I understand why stunt guys did what they did. There was a certain je ne sais quoi to—

  [[Congratulations! You have unlocked the Trap Detection skill!]]

  [[Trap Detection Skill: Level 1]]

  I knew it. I knew it I knew it I knew it. Screw. This. Place.

  The instant I feel the stone beneath my foot shift down just a little, I know I’m cooked. I instinctively lean forward on the foot that’s already on the pressure plate and horse kick Herald in the solar plexus. I’ve had to do similar feats of flexibility at home, because Goose was insistent on speed running all nine of his lives. At least this wouldn’t be Herald’s fault—unlike the cat. Herald stumbles to the ground a few feet back, winded. But better winded than dead. I hear a foghorn blow loud and clear from the lighthouse at the top of the Chateau. I feel my ears pop violently. Bile floods my mouth. I think my teeth are going to shake loose from my gums. After the longest few seconds of my life, it stops.

  “That has to be some kind of alarm!” I say far too loudly. “We need to get out of here. See if we can find a boat at the dock.” Herald nods as I help him up. He puts an index finger to his lips and makes a shushing sound. Not that I can actually hear it. I nod back. I definitely must’ve been yelling.

  The exit door releases us into a mini tropical garden. I smell the sweet scent of citrus and the funk of hydroponic plants. If it were any other night, I might’ve stopped to enjoy the scenery. But unfortunately, I was probably going to die soon. Bummer.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  There is a sandy path leading down from the garden. We are so, so close. We speed up as much as our tired, battered bodies allow. I see a fleet of boats in the colors of the clothes we’re all wearing. It seems that this was how the system intended for us to go. Not to brag, but I was right. We made it. I cheer as I run to one of the red boats, kicking up sheets of sand. I jump in the smallest of them. It occurs to me that I have no idea how to make it work, but we’re both clever. And sailing is a thing that people do. Who knows, maybe Herald has some kind of experience boating. I turn back to ask.

  Herald’s eyes are the size of dinner plates and trace a line far above my head. His hand is shaking, and I can see the distinct discoloration of the front of his pants.

  It’s right behind me isn't it?

  The glow from my pants dims and then brightens again as a long tentacle slithers across my midsection. Its suckers get caught a little in my shirt. Like a cat making biscuits. And then it tightens. All air is forced from my lungs as the tentacle yanks me from the ground and chucks me into its cavernous beaked maw.

  At least it’ hadn’t remembered to chew.

  ///———///

  I fly down the squid’s throat. Its insides are milky and disgusting. It felt like I was a slug being pumped from a turkey baster.

  I feel the squid take off from the bay. It’s swimming…somewhere. But I’m still sliding down the squid’s esophagus. Jesus Christ this thing was big. I had to both find out how to get out and time it to release me somewhere near land. A multifaceted problem for me, someone who enjoyed simple solutions. It’s always God’s bravest soldiers…

  My pants are getting dimmer and dimmer by the moment. Soon I wasn’t going to be able to see at all. Thankfully the thing swallowed a pocket of air with me. Though how long that pocket of air would last, I can’t say. I add the problem to my ever growing pile.

  There’s some resistance around my shoulders as I slide to a stop. If I move slowly, I can stretch the esophagus to allow me to put my hand near my shoulder. But there’s too much resistance to do more. It was like my head and shoulders were being squeezed through a donut. Or a butt hole. Did squids have buttholes? I sincerely hope they don’t. But wherever my hand is, I can pull an item from my inventory. I have a soft plan, but it involves quite a bit of luck and was entirely improvisation after the first step.

  I split my eyes between my minimap and my oxygen bar.

  [[Congratulations! You are the first player to reach Phyllosophalus. A red treasure chest has been added to your inventory.]]

  It’s been about 15 minutes and we have officially passed the threshold of the Phyllosophalus Kingdom mainland. This guy moves fast. But the squid, or what I assume is a squid, seems to be looking for something specific near the shoreline. My oxygen bar is hanging at a quarter. Once it hits zero, I’ll start taking hits to my hp until it’s refilled. Escaping from Kore had definitely leveled me up, and I am grateful, but my hp bar isn’t going to be able to take much of a hit. On top of that, the rocking of the squid and the smell of fresh calamari is making my stomach beyond uneasy. My mouth is filled with saliva. It’s through sheer willpower alone that I’m keeping the meager contents of my stomach inside.

  The shore outline grows larger on my minimap. My oxygen bar is at 1/8th. Acidic stomach juice is tickling my skin. This guy isn’t giving up. But neither am I.

  I summon the boning knife from my inventory and hold it against my palm using my thumb. Then, I begin to slice.

  Either this chef worked part-time as a blacksmith, or this squid was damned near gelatinous. I slice my way into the donut around my head. Juice gushes from the donut and bastes my face. A calamari bukkake. I pray that this won’t make the Acheron Network feed. I'm not one to shame, but I can just imagine some basement dweller playing that scene over and over again. Rule 34 and all that. The squid vibrates in pain, though the water vacuums away the sound. But I feel us going up towards the surface. Onto the improv.

  I slice until I get to some thicker cartilage. I put the boning knife back into inventory and summon the meat cleaver. Now that I have a little more wiggle room, I can actually put a little force into it. I rotate my body to face the incision and slide the cleaver into it with one hand at an angle so the handle protrudes downward. With my other hand, I wedge my wrist against my trunk and slide it so my palm just barely touches the handle. I can only get an inch or two of room between my palm and the handle, but the cleaver’s well cared for and squids are notoriously squishy creatures. I beg whoever will listen for surefire success.

  And for once, the universe delivers.

  Once I chisel through the cartilage, my arm blasts through the skin of the squid. I can feel the cool night air drying the juice coating my arm. Some of the air enters the wound through the rip, and my oxygen bar goes back up to half. If nothing else I’ve bought myself time. I wiggle my arm at the shoulder to widen the hole. I poke my head out and take my first full breath of sweet, sweet air–though my arm is still stuck above my head. I look like an over eager student. I try to position my arm to hoist my body out and drop the cleaver in the process. It plumks into the ocean. Unfortunate, but I still have half a dozen knives and a pair of scissors. I’ll be alright.

  Oh my god. I’m so dumb.

  I pull out the scissors from my inventory. After maybe a minute of cutting, I’m free. And the giant squid is dead.

  [[Congratulations! You are the first player to kill a boss level monster. A gold treasure chest has been added to your inventory.]]

  [[Oh no! You have killed Baby Gus, a familiar of Lorelei, Goddess of Song and Sea. She will remember this.]]

  Fuuuuck.