“OPEN THE DOOR.”

It seemed whatever was on the other side of the door was done asking nicely.

Robin tightened his grip on the rough leather hilt. He was no stranger to fighting, and had certainly taken his fair share of beatings—hell, this wasn’t even the first time he’d been pretty sure he was gonna die—but unfortunately none of that prepared him to defend his life against a nightmare monster from hell with nothing more than a pointy metal stick.

Turning the sword over in his hand, he wished not for the first time the zombie had been kind enough to leave him a shotgun instead.

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

Glancing around the home proved there were frustratingly few options for escape. Robin found it rather hard to believe people who lived in fear of being eaten by monsters didn’t have a single decent backup plan that didn’t involve hopes and prayers. What the hell were these people even doing?

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

If Robin had to define his feelings at the moment, he would say he was feeling unimpressed. With Gedd’s lack of planning, obviously… but also the monster. He’d thought it intelligent at first—it’d tried to lay a trap for them, after all—but its attempt to fool them had lasted, what… thirty seconds? It’d given up the game so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it had whiplash.

That was just weak.

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

And its first choice had been to ask nicely. How strong could it really be?

He could probably take it.

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

Besides, the monotonous yelling was starting to grate on his nerves, and—

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

Robin grit his teeth.

What kind of shitty monster needed help getting through a door, anyway? It wasn’t like it a was a particularly sturdy door—it looked like it was held together with two-by-fours and some spit!

“OPEN THE DO—”

“Why don’t you open the goddamn door?!” he shouted.

Medea backed away just in case the monster decided to follow his advice, the expression on her face a cross between terror and disbelief. Her gaze flicked between Robin and the door like she wasn’t sure which was the bigger problem.

But there was only silence.

Robin narrowed his eyes.

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

“Fuck it.” Robin reached for the handle. “I’m opening the door.”

Medea quickly changed her mind, lunging forward to grab his arm. “What are you doing!”

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

“Reverse psychology,” Robin stated, confidently. “It doesn’t expect me to open the door, so by opening the door I’ll have the upper hand.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense. Why would it tell you to open the door if it didn’t expect you to—”

Robin threw wide the door, brandishing his sword like a valiant knight of old or an idiot.

“Have at thee!”

He paused in the open doorway for a moment, face morphing into a frown. “What the…?”

On the ground in front of Gedd’s house was a severed head Robin vaguely recognized as one of the villagers.

Medea cautiously stepped up behind him, peeking around his side. She gasped, clutching the sleeve of his plain brown peasant shirt. “How horrible… is that one of the villagers?”

“Foden, I presume,” Robin said, glancing around. “But how…?”

“It wasn’t a clean separation,” Medea stated, still hiding behind him. “It appears as if it was… torn?”

“What? Why is that your first—” He shook his head. “I mean how was he knocking? He doesn’t have arms, Medea.”

Something thumped loudly on the floor behind them, causing them both to whip around. In the ceiling was a brand new hole exposing the starlit sky above; pale moonlight streamed through the opening, dividing the room in half as something skittered away, hiding amongst the shadows in the corner.

“Were those… feet?” Medea asked, voice trembling.

Robin wondered if perhaps they’d found the rest of Foden.

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

They both jumped, flipping toward the sudden noise coming from outside. The severed head’s eyes flung open, exposing the glowing runes carved just beneath the surface.

Footsteps pounded behind them, and they spun back around in a dizzying frenzy to see a man skittering backward across Gedd’s floor on all fours, limbs bent at awkward angles to aid in its terrible, jittery movement. The gaping neck wound where the head used to be split wide open as the corpse lunged for Robin, exposing the cavernous maw that was once the man’s chest cavity, his ribs snapped and rearranged to form rows of malevolent teeth.

Medea screamed as Robin shoved her aside, taking the brunt of its charge and falling backward out the door. He barely managed to shove an arm under the thing’s chest-snout as it snapped and writhed on top of him, something like blood oozing from the gaping maw, sizzling as it landed on the cloth of his shirt. In moments, it’d burned right through the thin fabric.

He cursed in pain, trying desperately to roll out from underneath the hideous creature as more acid oozed out, spilling perilously close to his skin. The thing was strong—ridiculously so. Robin was a big guy, certainly bigger than Foden had been, but whatever nightmarish power had infused the man’s corpse made him feel like a child trying to fend off a bear.

Just as his arm was about to give out, Medea let loose a loud cry and slammed something heavy into the creature’s side, hard enough to give him the leverage to wiggle free. Robin scrambled to his feet as the thing shook itself off.

“Thanks,” he said.

Medea gave a brief nod between panted breaths, nervous energy causing her hands—and the thick iron frying pan clutched between them—to shake.

Before he could do much else, the thing was lunging for him again. Robin was slightly more prepared this time and planted his feet, holding out the sword in front of him to let the creature impale itself on the blade. His aim was good, the razor tip colliding with the underside of the thing’s maw, right around where Foden’s heart would’ve been.

Robin’s arm buckled under the creature’s weight, the blade completely failing to pierce the skin. His jaw dropped, and in a desperate last attempt, he managed to sort of deflect the thing to the side while shuffling in the opposite direction, barely avoiding being pinned again. It’d become all too clear why Gedd believed it hopeless to fight the Blighted. He didn’t know how or why but not only were they faster and stronger than a man, they were apparently bladeproof.

The creature stalked around him slowly, perhaps realizing its strategy wasn’t working. Robin was forced to once again reevaluate the threat. It’d layered its trap at the door, and had now abandoned an ineffective strategy; he couldn’t keep making the mistake of treating it like a dumb beast.

And just as he’d thought things were bad enough, it seemed they were about to get worse.

“Be wary!” Medea screamed. “It gathers aether!”

Robin’s brain registered Medea’s warning just in time to save his life. The thing reared back, a putrid orb of bloody ooze coalescing in its open maw, growing from a small dot to the size of a volleyball in the span of a heartbeat. The orb exploded outward, spraying a cone directly in front of the creature with the acid-like substance, covering the grass and searing away whatever else was unlucky enough to be there… including Robin.

Robin screamed in terror as the acid began to sear the flesh of his shoulder and arm, usurping his every thought and leaving no room for anything but the burning agony. Medea shouted something he couldn’t hear while distantly he felt his consciousness fading. He tried hard to ignore the pain and fight; sleep meant death for more than just him. But there was no fighting the inevitable. As Robin’s world went dark, he could only hope the universe believed in third chances.