They found themselves in absolute darkness. Only Nate’s visor, once again integrated into her pirate eye-patch, automatically flickered into night-vision mode, tinting the world in unsettling shades of green. Rollo’s glasses gave a quick blink, bringing up a scanning interface.
"Blimey..." the hedgehog’s voice, usually chipper and cocky, sounded muffled. The echo caught it instantly, carrying it off into the distance and multiplying it into a thousand tiny rustles. "This isn't exactly a beach party. It’s more like a 'Tomb of the Pharaoh' job."
They stood at the mouth of a narrow corridor carved into monolithic sandstone. The walls were adorned with bas-reliefs—depictions of jackal-headed and crocodile-headed gods, scenes of sacrifice, and incomprehensible hieroglyphs that seemed to twitch in their peripheral vision.
"The Sand Dungeons," Nate adjusted her heavy tricorne hat, already feeling the sweat beginning to pool under her thick leather frock coat. "The Hunter’s trial zone. The Administrator said this is where we learn to survive."
She checked her plasma cannons. Fully charged. Her cutlass slid easily from its scabbard. But something told her that brute force wouldn't be much help here.
"Moving out," she commanded. "Rollo, scan for traps. I’m leading, you cover the rear."
"With pleasure, Captain!" the hedgehog chirped, immediately tucking in behind her. "The rear is my area of expertise."
Nate merely rolled her eyes. She was far too exhausted to rise to his constant ribbing. The corridor began to narrow. At first, it was just uncomfortable. Nate’s shoulders, widened by the frock coat, brushed against the walls, and her stiletto boots sank into the deep sand carpeting the floor.
But then, the walls began to squeeze in for real. The ceiling dipped. They were forced to crouch. Before long, the corridor had turned into a narrow stone gullet that could only be navigated on all fours.
"Bloody Architect," Nate hissed, dropping to her knees.
And that’s when the real problems started. Her pirate outfit—the one she loved so much, the one that restored her sense of dignity—became a literal trap. The heavy leather didn't breathe. The frock coat snagged on stone outcroppings. But worst of all was something else. Her figure. The very one the Administrator—and presumably those Design Shadows—had so meticulously "enhanced" to drive up the metrics. Her chest, encased in a tight breastplate under the coat, simply wouldn't fit through certain gaps. She had to contort, lie on her side, and squeeze through, feeling the stone scrape the expensive leather of her coat and press against her ribs.
"Nngh... stuck..." she braced her hands against the floor, trying to shove herself forward.
From behind came the hum of wheels and a contented sniff.
"Oh, yes..." Rollo whispered. "What a camera angle. Soft-body physics in a confined space. This is worth a million views. Nate, darling, could you just... er... wiggle your hips a bit more? For better traction, obviously."
"Shut it, Rollo!" she snapped, finally squeezing through a tight spot and scraping her shoulder in the process. "If you don't stop leering at my backside, I’m going to shove your glasses down your throat!"
"But I’m support! I have to monitor the party leader’s status!" the hedgehog justified himself snidely. Due to his size, he was rolling through these burrows with total ease, clearly enjoying the view of the girl crawling in front of him.
The claustrophobia was only half the battle. The dungeon was alive. It was hungry. And, like everything else in this cursed Festival, it was perverted. As they crawled through another narrow section, the walls came to life. From cracks in the sandstone, tearing through ancient plaster, hands began to emerge. Not monster hands. Dessicated, withered hands wrapped in decaying mummy bandages. Hundreds of them.
[Trap: Hands of Greedy Ancestors] [Type: Mobility Restriction / Disrobing]
They weren't trying to kill. They were grabbing.
"Get off!" Nate tried to draw her cutlass, but in such a cramped space, it was impossible.
Hands latched onto the skirts of her frock coat, yanking at her holster straps. Bony fingers tried to undo buttons and snatch her tricorne.
"Rollo! Help! Shoot them!"
"I... I can't!" the hedgehog squeaked, also fending off hands trying to pull off his sneakers. "I haven't got any lethal weapons! Just my poking stick!"
Nate had to fight them off by hand. She smashed at the dry fingers with the grips of her plasma cannons, biting and kicking. One particularly persistent hand latched onto the neckline of her breastplate, trying to yank it down.
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" Nate roared.
The Space Pirate’s fury finally woke up. She contorted in an impossible fashion, braced her feet against the walls, and surged forward, literally tearing away chunks of decaying bandages along with the mummies' fingers. They tumbled out into a small cave, gasping for breath.
"I hate this place," Nate exhaled, checking herself over. The buttons on her coat were ripped off, her tricorne knocked askew. "I hate this sand, these mummies, and—"
"—and this magnificent physics animation!" Rollo finished, wiping his glasses. "Did you see the way they were pulling? Just like a tentacle hentai, only with mummies. Creative!"
Nate turned her head slowly. Her visor glowed a dangerous, baleful crimson.
"One more word, hedgehog. One. More. Word."
Rollo wisely made a gesture as if zipping his mouth shut. They moved on. The cave led into another narrow tunnel. But this time, the floor wasn't stone—it was sand. Deep, shifting quicksand where their hands sank in up to the elbows.
"Heads up," Rollo looked at his scanner readings. "Movement... beneath us. Multiple small signatures."
"Beetles?" Nate asked, continuing to crawl. Sand was getting under her clothes, chafing her skin.
"Worse. Larvae. Sand parasites."
At that moment, the sand beneath Nate exploded. Dozens of creatures leaped out. Not just larvae. Fat, segmented, yellowish-white fiends the size of a finger, covered in slime, with tiny black sucker-mouths.
[Enemy: Sand Seeker Larva (Lvl. 28)] [Feature: Seeks warmth and moisture. Penetrates the most protected areas.]
"Ugh! Rank!" Nate tried to shake them off, but they were fast and slippery.
They didn't bite. They crawled. They scurried into her sleeves, down her collar.
"ARGH! Get them off!" Nate panicked for real. This was worse than any monster. Revolting, humiliating, unbearable.
She felt the cold, slimy bodies working their way under the fabric.
"Rollo! Do something! You’re a man, for god’s sake!"
Rollo followed from behind. His trainers crushed the larvae with a wet, loud squelch, but he was in no hurry to help. He had switched back into ‘cameraman mode.’
"Wow..." he commentated, watching Nate thrash about in a panic, trying to shake off the parasites. "They really know where they’re going, don’t they?"
That was the final straw. Nate’s patience didn't just snap—it detonated like an overheated plasma reactor. She forgot about the larvae. She forgot about the Hunter and the trial. She remembered only one thing: she was a woman being humiliated, and the only creature nearby who was supposed to be her partner was bloody well enjoying it.
"STOP IT!"
She flipped onto her back, ignoring the tight space. Her hand shot forward and seized Rollo by his trendy multi-pocketed waistcoat. With a violent jerk, she hauled him up to her face. Her visor was up, and Rollo saw her eyes. There was no ‘gamer rage’ in them. There were tears. Real, bitter tears of hurt and fury.
"You... you little, blue, perverted piece of shite!" she screamed, her voice cracking into a shriek that echoed off the walls. "You think this is funny?! You think I like being felt up by dead men, or having worms crawl into my knickers?!"
She shook him so hard his glasses slipped and hung off one ear.
"I’m a human being, Rollo! A living woman! Not a collection of polygons for you to perv over! I’m a Captain! I’m a warrior! And you... you treat me like some cheap smut you watch in your hole!"
Rollo tried to wriggle free, but Nate’s grip was like iron.
"Oi, steady on! It’s just a game, mate! What are you getting worked up for? It’s just a mechanic!"
"A mechanic?!" Nate hurls him into the sand. He rolled away toward the wall, all his cockiness gone. "Piss off with your mechanics! And the Administrator can piss off too! And this whole bloody System!"
She sat up, leaning against the wall, ignoring the larvae still scurrying around her. Tears ran down her cheeks, smearing the dust.
"I’m tired, Rollo. I am deathly tired. I came here to be someone. To be strong. And the whole way, I’m being stripped, humiliated, and appraised. And fine, the mobs, the bosses—I get that. But you! We’re a team! We went through hell together!"
She looked at him, and there was so much pain in her gaze that the hedgehog felt physically sick.
"Why are you like this? Why can’t you just... be normal? Why do you have to make everything vulgar, turn everything into a filthy joke? You saw how much I hated it in that volcano, in the baths... and you just stood there commentating."
Rollo sat in the sand, straightening his lopsided glasses. His blue quills drooped. He said nothing. Nate wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
"You know what? Leg it. I’ll do this trial alone. Or I’ll die here. I don’t care. But I don’t want to see your smirk or hear another comment about my arse. You make me sick."
The silence in the narrow tunnel became deafening. Even the larvae seemed to stop crawling, sensing the tension. Rollo rose slowly. He brushed the sand off his waistcoat. He took off his glasses and began to polish them with a cloth, not looking at Nate. Without the glasses, his eyes were unexpectedly large, dark, and... sad. They lacked the digital arrogance everyone was used to.
"You’re right," his voice was quiet, stripped of his usual speedrunner-commentator tone. It was the voice of a tired man. "I’m... I’m acting like a prick. A total arsehole."
He put his glasses back on, as if hiding behind them.
"You ask why I’m like this?" he gave a bitter smirk. "Because it’s easier, Nate. Because when you treat everything like a game, and everyone around you like an NPC, it doesn't hurt."
He sat on the sand opposite her, pulling his knees to his chest. He didn't look like a hotshot hacker now. He looked like a small, lonely creature in a suit of cynicism that was far too big for him.
"Before the Festival... in the real world... I wasn't like this. I was... normal. Successful, even. I had my own business. An IT startup that really took off. Money, cars, the lot."
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
"And I thought I had love. Twice."
Nate stopped crying. She watched him, forgetting the larvae.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"My first wife, Lisa... she was an angel. Beautiful, clever. I worshipped the ground she walked on. Bought her everything she wanted. Houses, diamonds, holidays. I thought she loved me. Then, three years in, I came home early and found her in bed with my personal trainer."
Rollo clenched his little fists.
"You know what she told me during the divorce? After she’d sued for half my estate? She said: 'You're a nice guy, Rollo, but you’re boring. You’re comfortable, but you’re no fun. Cheers for the money.'"
His voice wavered.
"I tried again. A few years later. Katya. She seemed different. Simple, kind-hearted. I thought she didn't give a toss about my bank account. Yeah, right. She was even craftier. She milked me for everything Lisa hadn't taken, dragged me into some dodgy investments, and then did a runner with my own business partner, leaving me with the debts and a broken heart."
He took off his glasses and looked at Nate. There were tears in his eyes, which he angrily brushed away.
"I was left with nothing. No money, no faith in people. Especially women. I locked myself in my flat and disappeared into games."
He gestured to himself.
"It’s easier here. Here, I’m Rollo: the legendary speedrunner, the hacker, the cynic. Here, women are just models with jiggle physics. They don’t betray you. They don’t lie. They don’t tell you they love you while they’re picking your pockets. They’re just... content."
His gaze was full of genuine remorse.
"And I got used to it. I got used to seeing you as just objects. It’s my defence, Nate. My armour. If I don't take you seriously, you can’t hurt me. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have projected that onto you. You’re... you’re real. You’re a fighter. You’ve carried us all, even when you were feeling like rubbish. And I... I’m just a scared, bitter loser hiding behind a perverted hedgehog persona."
As Nate listened to the confession, her anger slowly cooled, giving way to something else. Pity? Understanding? She didn't see a revolting pervert in front of her; she saw a mirror. A mirror of her own loneliness. She’d been hiding, too. Behind the bravado of the Space Pirate, behind the persona of the brassy streamer. In reality, she was just as lonely, just as starved for affection, seeking validation in likes and views because there was none in her life. They were both broken people who had put on bright masks to survive.
Nate sighed. She started squashing the larvae that were still trying to crawl around. They didn't seem scary now—just pathetic.
"You know, Rollo," she said quietly. "You’re a muppet."
The hedgehog flinched, expecting another explosion.
"You’re a muppet because you decided all women are the same. And you’re a muppet because you think being a cynical arsehole is cool."
She reached out and flicked his nose. Not hard, but enough to sting.
"But... I get it. Loneliness is a right bitch. It makes us do strange things."
Struggling to her knees in the cramped passage, she continued:
"Right. Let’s move on. Consider your apology accepted. But on one condition."
Rollo stood up as well, adjusting his glasses.
"What’s that?"
Nate looked him straight in the lenses.
"From now on, you see me as a partner. A Captain. A human being. If I hear one more comment about my tits or my arse in a combat situation—I will shoot you. And I’m not joking."
Rollo stood to attention and saluted, this time without a hint of irony.
"Crystal clear, Captain Nate. No fan-service. Strictly professional."
"Good."
Nate straightened her tricorne, brushed off the last of the sand and the squashed larvae. She still felt disgusted, hot, and cramped. But it felt better. Much better. She wasn't alone in this hole anymore. She had a human being with her. Even if he was in the skin of a blue hedgehog.
"Now then," she nodded into the darkness of the corridor. "Let’s go find whoever’s in charge here. I want my subclass and I want out of this sandpit."
"Aye-aye, Ma’am. Scanning the route now. There’s a widening in the tunnel ahead. Looks like an arena."
They moved on. Crawling, shoulder to shoulder. And now, as Rollo followed, he wasn't looking at her hips; he was watching the walls, scanning for new traps, ready to warn his Captain of danger. They were broken, but they were together. And they were ready for the hunt.
The air in the Sand Dungeons was thick enough to chew, and the dust of ages grated between their teeth. After the emotional explosion and reconciliation in the tunnel, the atmosphere between Nate and Rollo had shifted. The toxic tension, the constant waiting for the other to slip up, was gone. In its place was the professional bond of partners who had seen it all.
Rollo no longer lagged behind muttering lewd jokes. He was working.
"Bottleneck ahead!" he squeaked, darting forward. "Ancestral Hands at three o'clock!"
The hedgehog curled into a blue, prickly ball and, engaging his afterburners, smashed into a cluster of withered limbs protruding from the walls. His modified quills worked like a strimmer, sending bandages flying and dry bones crunching.
"Clear!" he reported, dusting himself off. "Back to the grind!"
"Good lad, Prickles," Nate wheezed, hauling herself along on her elbows.
She crawled after him, and it was sheer agony. The architect of this location clearly suffered from claustrophobia and wanted to share the experience with everyone. Tunnels that started as corridors had narrowed into burrows barely passable for a human. And here, Nate's system-enhanced anatomy played a cruel trick on her. Her ample chest, squeezed by the stiff corset of her pirate coat, and her broad hips, encased in leather boots, became a genuine liability.
In the next squeeze, where the stone ceiling dipped low, she got properly stuck.
"Bollocks..." Nate hissed, trying to force her way through. The stone pressed against her back, and sand dug into her knees. "I’m not fitting."
She tried to back out, but her holster belt caught on an outcropping.
"Rollo!" she called out.
The hedgehog, who had already rolled ahead, returned, illuminating her face with his glasses.
"Situation?"
"Stuck. At the hips. And... elsewhere. Give us a shove."
Rollo froze. He stared at her leather-clad backside, which completely blocked the passage. In the glow of his glasses, the leather shimmered, accentuating her curves. Normally, he’d have launched into a tirade about "epic textures" and "step-sister tropes." But now, he stayed silent. He remembered the deal.
"Er... Captain," he stammered, averting his gaze to the wall. "I’ll need to brace myself. With my paws. Against... well, you know. For leverage."
Nate, forehead pressed into the sand, gave a heavy sigh. It was cramped, hot, and painful. But she wasn't a prude. She was a bloody pirate. She knew the difference between a grope and a necessity.
"Rollo," her voice was tired but calm. "Listen to me. I’m not a nun. I know how I look, and I know you’re a man, even if you are blue."
She turned her head as far as she could to catch him in her peripheral vision.
"You can look. You can touch—if the job requires it. But no leering and no comments. Just get me out of here before the beetles have me for tea. Got it?"
Rollo nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Understood. Strictly a technical procedure."
He braced his paws (thankfully gloved and quill-free on the palms) against her glutes.
"On three. One... two... heave!"
He engaged his sneaker engines. Nate exhaled every bit of air from her lungs, trying to shrink. With a laboured screech of leather against stone and much huffing from the hedgehog, she moved an inch. Then another.
"Nearly there!" Rollo panted. "Come on, Captain!"
POP!
She shot out of the tight spot like a cork from a champagne bottle, sliding face-first through the sand for another metre. Rollo’s momentum carried him right after her, and he ended up nose-first against her boot.
"Freedom!" Nate rolled onto her back, gasping for air. Her coat was scuffed, and she had a graze on her side, but she was out. "Cheers, partner."
She reached out and gave the hedgehog’s quills a friendly pat.
"Don't mention it," Rollo muttered, pointedly staring at the ceiling, though his cheeks beneath the blue fur had turned a treacherous shade of pink. "But next time, I’m going first and greasing the walls."
The labyrinth ended abruptly. The final narrow burrow spat them out onto a ledge overhanging a gargantuan cavern. This wasn't just a dungeon; it was an entire subterranean world hidden beneath the sands. The ceiling was lost in darkness, where crystals twinkled like distant stars.
And below... below stretched the Sea of Quicksand. A vast, golden expanse in constant motion. The sand flowed like water, forming vortexes and dunes. At the far end of this sea, about five hundred metres away, rose a pyramid. Truncated, black, with a golden capstone. And at the summit of the pyramid, upon a throne, sat Him.
[LOCATION BOSS: Pharaoh Scorpion, Lord of the Dunes (Lvl. 55)] [Type: Sniper / Summoner / Earth Elemental]
The Pharaoh was wrapped in golden bandages and a black mantle. His face was hidden by a jackal mask. In his hands was a long staff that occasionally pulsed with green light.
"He’s a fair way off," Nate assessed, shielding her eyes. "Half a klick, at least."
She raised her plasma cannons. Effective range: 50 metres. Pushing it: 100.
"I can't reach him," she noted. "I need to get closer."
"Get closer?" Rollo pointed down. "Have a look at the sand."
The sand below wasn't just shifting for the sake of it. Creatures were popping in and out of the surface.
[Enemy: Exploding Kamikaze Larva (Lvl. 40)] [Feature: Explodes into a cloud of Concentrated Acid upon contact or destruction.]
Huge, bloated things, glowing with a toxic green light from within. They buzzed over the sand like tiny bombers.
"Right, so we’ll have to run fast," Nate checked her cutlass. "A speedrun, Rollo. Your specialty."
They leaped onto the sand. The moment their feet touched the surface, the Pharaoh on the pyramid raised his staff.
"DISTURBERS OF THE PEACE! THE SANDS SHALL CONSUME YOU!"
Hundreds of larvae took to the air and swarmed toward them.
"Fire!" Nate shouted, opening up as she ran.
It was pure hell. Their feet sank into the sand. The plasma cannons worked non-stop, picking off the incoming fliers.
BANG! BANG! HISS!
The downed larvae exploded in mid-air, spraying acid. Green droplets hit the sand, which melted into glass with a sharp hiss.
"Right!" Rollo yelled, zig-zagging as he rolled. "Incoming bombardment!"
Nate dodged, leaped, and rolled. But there were too many of them. And the Pharaoh wasn't just watching. From the top of the pyramid, a beam of green energy struck out. Nate managed to jump clear, but the beam hit the dune beside her. The shockwave knocked her off her feet. She tumbled into the sand—right into a nest of larvae. Three of the creatures lunged at her instantly. Nate managed to blast two, but the third... the third exploded right in her face. Nate didn't even have time to scream. The acid engulfed her. The pain was instant and absolute. Darkness.
"NO!" Rollo, ten metres away, saw the cloud of acid swallow his partner. "NATE!"
His heart (or whatever a digital hedgehog has) stopped. Panic. Raw, animal panic. He was losing again. He’d messed up again.
‘I won't let it happen! I won't let her go!’
His glasses flared with a white light. His chest tightened.
[Ability Activated: CHRONO-SHIFT.]
The world lurched and began to play in reverse. The green cloud shrank back into a larva. The larva flew backwards. Nate rose from the sand. The Pharaoh’s beam retracted into the staff.
"...A speedrun, Rollo. Your specialty."
Nate was standing on the ledge, ready to jump.
"WAIT!" Rollo shrieked, grabbing her cloak.
"What's up?" Nate looked at him in surprise.
"Don't jump! It’s death! we won't make it across!"
"But we have to get to the pyramid!"
"No! Not like that!" Rollo was shaking. He remembered her dying. "We tried it! You died!"
Nate looked at him. There was pure terror in his eyes. She believed him instantly.
"Right. We don't run. But what do we do? He’s picking us off like we're in a shooting gallery."
She looked at the Pharaoh. He stood at the summit, unreachable, majestic. He knew he was safe. The quicksand and the larvae were a perfect defence.
"He’s a sniper," Nate muttered. "A bloody camper. Sitting up there on high, taking potshots."
She looked at her plasma cannons. Short-range, perfect for close-quarters brawls and boarding parties. Useless here.
"—The Administrator said..." she frowned. "'Sand Dungeons.' Hunter. 'You must learn to do more than just shoot; you must learn to hunt.'"
A hunter doesn't charge the prey screaming. A hunter waits. A hunter picks their spot. A hunter takes one shot.
"I need a different weapon," Nate realised. "I need the kind of calibre that'll reach this mummy from the next world."
She closed her eyes. Space Hunter... It’s not about running. It’s about grit. About precision.
She visualised the weapon. Not her trusty pistols. Something else. Heavy. Long. Cold. A weapon capable of piercing the armour of a god. The System responded.
[Trial accepted. Class adapting.] [Subclass activated: SPACE HUNTER.]
The air around Nate shivered. Her pirate frock coat began to shift. The heavy leather thinned, becoming more elastic, taking on a desert camouflage pattern with a matte black finish. Her tricorne transformed into a tactical hood with an integrated sensor array. The eye-patch visor unfolded, turning into a complex multi-lens optic.
But the real change was in her hands. The plasma cannons vanished. In their place, woven from light and sand, a RIFLE materialised. It was a beast. A four-metre long, matte-black railgun—the ‘Nemesis-Alpha.’ It was so gargantuan that Nate had to brace the stock against her shoulder and dig the bipod into the stone ledge. The barrel, encircled by magnetic coils, hummed as it gathered energy.
"Blimey," Rollo whispered. "Talk about overcompensating."
"It's not overcompensating," Nate said, pressing her eye to the scope. The world rushed closer. She could see every individual thread on the Pharaoh’s mantle from half a kilometre away. "It’s an argument. Rollo," she commanded, her eye fixed on the target. "I need time to charge. Ten seconds. Cover me. The larvae will sense the power."
"On it, Captain!" The hedgehog stood before her, quills bristling. "Not even a fly is getting through!"
The rifle's hum intensified. A blue glow raced along the coils. Atop the pyramid, the Pharaoh sensed the threat.
"WHAT MANNER OF MAGIC IS THIS?! DESTROY THEM!"
The swarm of larvae, buzzing like an angry hive, took to the air and hurtled toward the ledge.
"Come on, darling, charge up," Nate whispered, keeping the crosshairs fixed on the Pharaoh’s mask. Wind, distance, gravity—none of it was a hindrance now, just variables in the equation she was solving.
The larvae were closing in.
"Have some of that, you filth!" Rollo began firing quills. He spun like a top, knocking the flying bombs out of the air.
BANG! BANG!
Larvae exploded in mid-air, drenching the hedgehog in acid spray.
"Ow! That smarts!" Rollo squeaked, but he didn't give an inch. "Nate, hurry up!"
"One more second..."
A single larva broke through. It flew straight for Nate’s face. Rollo jumped. He shielded her with his body. The explosion threw him aside. His health bar plummeted into the red.
"Rollo!"
"Shoot!" the hedgehog rasped, smoke rising from his fur. "Don't bloody waste my heroic moment!"
The rifle emitted a high-pitched, ringing tone. Charge at 100%.
"Goodbye, Your Majesty," Nate said coldly.
She pulled the trigger. It wasn't just a shot; it was a thunderclap. The recoil was so immense that the stone beneath the bipod cracked, and Nate was jolted back a metre. A beam of concentrated kinetic energy, wreathed in a plasma spiral, erupted from the barrel. It pierced the air instantly. Larvae caught in the path simply vaporised. The Pharaoh tried to raise a shield, but he was too slow. The projectile tore through the magical barrier like wet paper. It struck the jackal mask dead-centre. The Pharaoh’s head was obliterated, along with his upper torso. The shockwave of the impact shattered the top of the pyramid. The throne was reduced to splinters.
[BOSS DEFEATED!] [Pharaoh Scorpion annihilated.]
Without guidance, the explosive larvae tumbled into the sand and detonated in a chain reaction, turning the sea of quicksand into a boiling lake of acid. But on the ledge, all was quiet. Nate lay on her back, the rifle smoking beside her. She sat up slowly, rubbing her bruised shoulder.
"Got him," she exhaled.
She turned to Rollo. The hedgehog lay by the wall, his blue fur scorched in patches, his glasses cracked.
"Oi, hero," Nate crawled over to him, her voice trembling. "You alright?"
Rollo cracked one eye open.
"I... cough... saw a white light. And a tunnel. And at the end of the tunnel... a massive pair of tits."
Nate burst out laughing, even through her sobs.
"You're bloody hopeless."
She pulled a med-kit from a pouch (she had proper hunter’s pouches now).
"Keep still. I'll patch you up. Then... then we're legging it. I've got what I came for."
An exit portal opened nearby—a sandy vortex leading back to the Administrator’s office. Nate scooped the hedgehog into her arms.
"We make a cracking team, Rollo. The best."
"Yeah," the hedgehog whispered, nestling comfortably against her chest (and for once, Nate said nothing). "The Hunter and her faithful... er... decoy."
They stepped into the portal, leaving the dead desert and a defeated god behind.