This world harbored many beliefs which, having been passed around time and time again without question, solidified themselves into fact and became immutable societal truths. They inspired ritual and routine, gaining ideological power as they expanded past individual cultures and entrenched themselves as universal superstitions. Knocking on wood, to give an example, or throwing salt over one's shoulder. The idea of tempting fate, as if causality itself could be petty.

It could be argued that these were simply quirks of the mind, the psychological need to seek out patterns or unrestrained confirmation bias dictating one’s perception of reality. Some might posit, due to the metaphysical ramifications of emotion and belief, that the development of folklore could have concrete consequences, but the truth of that theorem was a long way from being known.

Regardless, when Sláine saw the greenish-white creature towering over them, its thick, oozing membrane wiggling as it schlucked wetly across the floor, she knew she'd broken an ancient taboo of her kind.

Don't fucking jinx it.

She reacted with admirable speed, hands finding the shaft of her polearm and blade whipping forward in a clean arc of a cut. The axe split its surface, spewing dribbles of gelatin and the thick, sour stench of infection, but it didn't pass cleanly through. As Sláine threw her weight back, she met resistance, her halberd stuck in the giant mountain of congealed ooze.

It jiggled.

Red's arm's encircled her, hands joining Sláine's on the handle, and with sharp, shuddering heave they pulled it free. The thing pursued them even as they stumbled back, the viscous slime taking on the shape of the corridor as it blocked their only exit with its girth. Sláine gagged from the weight of its foul odor. In a moment of sharp, offended fury, she almost lunged at it once again.

Before she could make any rash decisions, Red dropped to her knees, palms slapping against the floor and shadows gathering in a pit beneath them. Darkness lanced up from between her fingers, a barrier forming between them and the creature keeping it — for the moment — from swallowing them whole.

"Oh fuck," spilled out of Red's mouth, hair whipping this way and that as she surveyed the scene. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm such a dumbass!"

Sláine, in contrast, maintained her collected edge of calm, though her mouth pressed itself into a fine line as a long droplet of slime slid onto the floor. It was rare indeed to encounter something she couldn’t cleave in two. “That thing you did before — with the smaller ones? Can you do it again?”

"It's too big to blorp!" Red snapped back, before resuming her low, frantic muttering.

Sláine couldn’t panic. Red was panicking, so Sláine had to maintain her composure. That was the blessing that apathy afforded her, the freedom from fear that came from being fine with any possible outcome. Because…

“You can teleport out of here,” Sláine said. “Use one of your cubes and go. I’ll survive.”

(Maybe this is what Yora had meant when she’d said they’d be perfect for each other; maybe she’d known. Because as long as Red was safe, nothing else mattered.)

“I — I’m not blowing you up!” Red replied, voice high and shrill in a way Sláine had never heard from her before. The mass pulled back before heaving its entire weight against the shadowy film of the barrier, forcing a grunt from the woman’s chest. “D-Damn, there’s gotta be… no, not that one, ugh the radius on that one is still too big — fuck, this is why I never work with people; none of my shit’s good for anyone close up!”

The slime threw itself against the barrier again; when it vibrated, it sounded like it was singing. Red’s hands clenched tight into fists, and Sláine took stock of the situation. It was a terrible place for a fight. A pole-arm’s entire purpose was keeping things at range, attacking it without letting it attack you. A narrow hallway was a thoroughly unideal battleground, even if she could slice her way through her opponent.

Red being trapped in here with her only made it worse, and even she could tell their best shot involved Sláine taking the blow. But Red seemed disinclined towards making her collateral damage, and either Sláine convinced Red of its necessity, or she figured out some solution that’d leave Red feeling less guilty about the whole affair.

“Dammit, that one would only work if I could stick it inside…”

Oh, that sounded promising.

“What would?” Sláine prompted. In the hesitating silence, the song of the barrier grew higher in pitch and tempo.

“Short-range freezing spell. It I could get it inside the slime, I could freeze it from the center.”

“Give it to me. I can do it.”

“What?— No! You better not be plannin’ on just punching it — !”

“I’m not,” Sláine replied, clipped and keenly aware how little time they really had. “[ Guided Axe ] — if I had that, would I cut through it any better?”

Red faltered, thinking. “Maybe? I’m not — I don’t think we should risk — ”

“And that trap. You said it would explode when triggered?”

“Um, I — yes? I really hate where this line of questioning is going th— ugh.”

A rough grunt cut off her protestations, and while the barrier still held, it might have one, maybe two good hits left in it if Sláine was any accurate judge. “Trust me,” she said firmly, already pulling her [ Skill ] menu up.

“Fine,” Red spat, giving in as the musicality went off-key. She flung her hand back, rolling a small, crystal cube towards Sláine, who caught it with the edge of her shoe. “But don’t you dare die.”

She made no promises.

It wasn’t that she expected to; it’d probably just hurt, maybe even as much as if Red had given in and used the same spell she’d liquefied the horde of insects with before. But, Sláine reasoned, at least this way Red wouldn’t feel quite so damn guilty if her plan succeeded, and if she did die, perhaps the unabashed stupidity of the whole endeavor would keep her from turning the whip of blame onto her own back.

Either way, Red wouldn’t be in danger of experiencing a slime’s digestive system firsthand. She’d be safe.

Red, not sharing her same sense of serenity, prodded her along.

“Hurry!”

“Just give me… a second to prepare…” She managed. Quickly operating the System while simultaneously maintaining focus on her surroundings was still beyond her abilities. It helped that she already knew the three [ Skills ] she wanted though, and she had just enough to procure them all, taking her [ SP ] down to zero and causing three notifications to ping in her mind.

[ Gained Skill: Trap Breaker ]

[ Delivering a hearty ‘screw you!’ to locked boxes and Specialists alike. There’s a pretty high likelihood of this going badly for you, but if you cared about that, you wouldn’t be a Berserker. ]

[ Gained Skill: Punishment ]

[ Weaponize your desire for vengeance to conquer your foes. When you take damage, the potency of your next attack is increased.

[ Gained Skill: Guided Axe ]

[ Improves your natural ability to find the weak points in your enemy’s defenses. Increased penetration on armored foes. ]

Maintaining her grip on her weapon with one hand, she quickly crouched and snatched up the spell cube with her other, then cried out “Go!" just before shoving it in her mouth.

Now with both hands free, Sláine dropped into a fighting stance as the barrier broke and fell away. Red vanished with it, melting away into the floor, and in absence of the blockage, the slime spilled forward. Nauseating rolls of sludge quickly filled the scant few feet of space between them.

Now or never.

A grin spread over her face — the sort of grim slicing smile that she only allowed herself to wear in battle — and Sláine turned, lifting her axe before bringing it crashing down on the lid of the poor, unsuspecting chest.

“[ Trap Breaker ]!”

Light flared across her vision; her ears rang from the deafening crash that roared over her skin. Pain blossomed at her throat, on her arms, on her cheeks, and something wet trickled down skin blasted by heat. She’d been right. It certainly did hurt.

But dammit, she showed that box who was in charge.

>> Hit things very, very hard