I pressed my hand in the air, towards the monster’s chest, and pushed Curse Rebinding into the writhing knot inside it. The thing didn’t budge. It clung to the creature’s core like welded iron.

  “Too strong,” I gasped, stepping back. “It has a curse animating it from inside the chest!” I told the others. “It won’t detach. We need to do this the hard way. Disable the limbs, crack the chest, and rip out whatever’s anchoring the curse. Probably the heart.”

  Quinn let out a noise that perfectly captured how we were all feeling. “Fine. We’ll take the legs. Can you ruin the arms before one of us becomes a pancake?”

  Marcus was already charging with a stolen club, swinging at the knees with admirable commitment but little effect. Jack and Alya hacked at the tendons like two irate gardeners. The right Achilles finally snapped; the beast buckled. Quinn sliced the left after another minute of effort.

  I peppered its shoulders with arcane darts until the joints gave way. One blind, wild swing clipped Alya and sent her tumbling across the ground, her greatsword snapping in two as it flew. She rolled to her feet, cursed loudly, snagged a fallen gorg’s heavy axe, and jogged back in just as Mary healed her with exasperation.

  “Try not to get hit; I don’t have that much mana for healing anymore!”

  “I’m trying, dammit!” Alya replied, a mixture of anger and exhaustion.

  Marcus still hadn’t cracked anything, but he kept battering the monster’s legs, destabilising them further out of balance. Jack fought shieldless, weaving through the giant’s sweeping arms with desperate grace. We settled into an ugly rhythm, exploiting its blindness and instability. Without its weapon, eyes, or any kind of real intelligence, it was just a violently flailing heap of muscle and negligent decisions.

  Quinn took out the last functional leg. One more volley from me ruined an arm entirely. From there, we dismantled the remaining limbs one at a time. Slow and brutal, but effective.

  By the time we finished, we were all panting hard enough to want to just go to bed. Mary kept healing whoever groaned the loudest, which was almost everyone except Quinn.

  The torso still twitched, muscles contracting in pointless spasms; it couldn’t move around anymore.

  I stepped forward, fired some darts into its chest, then nodded to Alya. “Can you crack it open? Right where I made the holes.”

  She did not complain; she simply clambered onto the chest, appearing both absurd and intimidating simultaneously. The picture was completed by a slim girl, dirty and bloody from the fights, who held up a giant axe nearly as big as she was, with her flushed red face and wild eyes.

  Then she started chopping through the ribs like she was trying to win a lumberjack competition.

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  When she finally collapsed backwards, panting like she’d run several marathons, she tossed the axe aside. “Someone else can finish, please?”

  “Ew,” Quinn said immediately.

  “No way, I did my part by keeping you all alive,” Mary refused.

  Marcus wheezed, complaining that he was too old for this situation.

  Jack raised a hand without looking up. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

  “You’re going to get a good chunk of levels for that; it was a level 41 Baron tier.” I told her I already got what I wanted; I wasn’t so greedy as to deprive somebody of the levels.

  “What the hell is a Baron tier?” Asked Quinn.

  “I’ll tell you if I knew. But I got an achievement for killing it.” I reply with a grin.

  Alya appeared to find renewed energy; without further delay, she thrust her arm into the gorg leader's chest, almost reaching the shoulder, and began exploring with unsettling eagerness. I tried not to think about how warm undead viscera could feel.

  She tugged. Nothing.

  Tugged again. Still nothing.

  She braced a foot, swore, and yanked like she was trying to start a stubborn lawnmower.

  On the sixth violent pull, something ripped free with a wet pop. The moment the object came out, the monster’s torso stilled.

  Blood and other liquids dripped from Alya’s arm in thick ropes. Resting in her palm was a murky green orb the size of a walnut. “Someone tell me this little nightmare was worth the workout.” Her voice quivered with triumph wrapped in exhaustion.

  I could feel the curse within her words. Dark. Furious. Coiled tight.

  But contained.

  Quinn leant in. “Is that… supposed to be safe?”

  “It’s not screaming,” Alya said. “So I’m assuming yes.”

  Jack wrinkled his nose. “Looks like loot from a video game designed by a lunatic.”

  Marcus gave it a tentative tap with the end of his club. “Feels bad. Like, the Annabelle kind of bad.”

  Mary slapped his hand away. “Stop poking it!”

  She went besides Alya, checking her bruises while trying not to look at the hole she’d just helped carve. “Alya, you jammed your entire arm into a corpse. I don't… I don't even have uplifting words for that. I’m just respecting the bravery.”

  "It was disgusting," Alya confessed with unexpected joy, raising her hand like a toast. “But satisfying. Like popping a giant undead pimple.”

  A universal groan rippled through the group.

  “Never say that again,” Jack muttered.

  “Seconded,” Quinn said.

  I raised my hand. “Motion carried.”

  The bloodied girl made for giving the bead to me, dropped it into my palm, and I felt the curse immediately. It churned with malice, but it didn’t try to influence me.

  “It’s sealed,” I said. “Locked in itself. I can study it later, and we can probably sell it in the next safe zone and split the profit.”

  “I’m fine with getting some points, but I am absolutely not touching it,” Quinn muttered.

  Jack rubbed his neck. “Couldn’t you have just removed it from afar?”

  Elias shook his head. “I tried to. But it was too strong, anchored too deeply or something like that. The creature refused to move until its housing was destroyed.

  Quinn sheathed her blades with a crisp snap. “So Alya’s shoulder-deep excavation was the only option.”

  Alya flopped onto her back. “Can we go back? I need a bath so bad; everything itches.”

  “Baths,” Marcus agreed, collapsing next to me. “And maybe weapons that aren’t made of wet noodles.”

  Jack put down his spear. “If another one of these gets up, Elias can fight it alone.”

  I exhaled loudly. “If I knew it was going to rise from the dead, I would have done things differently...”

  Mary let out a long, exhausted breath. “Let’s go. We all need rest. And probably therapy after this.”

  In my pocket, the beads throbbed once, like a tiny malignant heartbeat.

  Contained.

  For now.

  “Let’s wrap up here first,” I said softly. “We still have to decide what to do with the females.”

  “Females?” Asked Jack.

  Then after the group took a look around, they groaned.

  Quinn was the first to express what everyone was thinking. “Well, fuck me sideways.”

  20 chapters ahead!