Chapter 18: One Piece

Captain Biriba’s Ship

The ship swayed under the night sky, its sails taut against the wind as waves crashed against the crudely built wooden hull. In the damp hold, lit by a single swinging lantern, the group gathered around a cracked wooden table, where maps and empty rum bottles rolled with each lurch of the vessel.

On the deck above, the drunken captain—who had introduced himself as “Captain Biriba”—slurred incoherent orders to a ghostly crew (which, as far as Tetanus could tell, consisted of two sailors as drunk as he was). The helm spun on its own occasionally, as if the ship were choosing its own course.

“So…” Gume began, flicking a cockroach that dared climb the table. “Where the hell are we even going now?”

Meia-Noite, leaning against a barrel, gloved fingers drumming on his pistol holster, shrugged while staring out at the waves through a porthole. “Away from Salvador, tough guy. That’s what matters now.”

“Damn it.” Tetanus rubbed his face, a sudden realization hitting him. “Trovão… I left my horse behind.”

Gume made a sympathetic face. “Well, I’m sorry about that.”

Al-Yasiin, precariously balanced on the table, laughed. “Priorities, maggots. We escaped an army, a burning bank, and a botched teleport, and you’re crying over a horse?”

Tetanus ignored the taunt. Instead, he pulled out the map fragment he’d kept tucked in his boot—a yellowed, blood-stained scrap stolen from a corpse in the sertão. First, though, he quickly checked his pouch, feeling the cold weight of the Black Cube still there, intact.

“Still here…” he thought to himself.

“What’s that?” Meia-Noite leaned forward, the black cloth hiding any expression, but curiosity clear in his voice.

“Something I picked up along the way…” Tetanus spread the map on the table, pointing to a red mark. “Fear Island. Ever heard of it?”

Gume frowned. “Cursed place in a cursed land. They say it’s haunted. Nobody who goes there comes back.”

“Perfect.” Al-Yasiin laughed, eyes gleaming. “Exactly the kind of place where interesting things are hidden.”

Meia-Noite studied the map in silence for a moment, then looked up. “BIRIBA! Change course! We’re heading to Fear Island!”

“What?” Gume crossed his arms, muscles tensing. “You gone mad? We just escaped a war, and you want to go somewhere worse?”

“Exactly. Because it’s worse, no one will look for us there,” Meia-Noite replied. He pointed to a corner of the map, where a faded symbol resembling an X stood out. “This isn’t just a map. I see more profit in this.”

Tetanus felt the mark on his chest burn faintly after a long time dormant. He didn’t like this; Meia-Noite was the suicidal type.

“Captain!” he shouted, quickly climbing the ladder from the hold.

Captain Biriba was sprawled on the deck, hugging a rum barrel, but he raised his head with a broken grin, not having heard much of what Meia-Noite had said earlier. “Speak, my noble passenger!”

“Change course. Fear Island.”

The captain froze. For a moment, it seemed the drunkenness had left him. “…You joking, right?”

“Not at all. I’m Meia-Noite, terror of the sertão. You think I’d be playing, old man?!”

Biriba looked at the others, then at the dark sea ahead. Finally, he let out a hoarse laugh and raised his bottle. “To hell with it! But I’m charging double!”

The ship turned, its bow pointing toward the black horizon. Meia-Noite spun around and darted back to the hold, watching Gume pry open the chest he’d carried on his shoulders since the bank heist.

“Time to see what those bastards were hiding,” Gume growled, slowly opening the chest.

With a creak, the chest revealed stacks of gold coins, gem-encrusted necklaces, and a few documents sealed with the Empire’s crest.

“Holy shit,” Gume whistled, grabbing a handful of coins and letting them slip through his thick fingers. “This could buy a fortune in cachaça!”

Meia-Noite picked up one of the documents, inspecting the broken seal. “More proof against the governor. Useful if we ever need leverage.” He tucked the papers into a hidden compartment in his hat.

Tetanus wasn’t interested in the gold. Instead, he pulled his pouch closer and checked the Black Cube again—still there, faintly pulsing like a dormant heart. Satisfied, he retrieved the other item he’d grabbed in haste from the bank: a small bronze artifact covered in faded runes, centuries old, resembling a compass but with needles that spun on their own, pointing in random directions.

“What’s that thing?” Gume asked, leaning in to look.

“No idea. But it seemed important enough to be locked up with the treasure.”

Tetanus then grabbed Al-Yasiin by the head and placed him on the table in front of the artifact.

“Hey! Watch the merchandise, maggot!” Al-Yasiin grumbled.

“What does this do?” Tetanus asked, pointing at the object.

Al-Yasiin glanced at the artifact, then at Tetanus, and let out a short laugh. “Oh, this little thing? It’s like a magical compass. Shows where the veils between worlds are thinnest.” His eyes gleamed with sudden interest. “Where’d you find this?”

“In the bank. It was with the gold. You must’ve been too distracted to notice.”

“Idiot maggots,” Al-Yasiin laughed. “They didn’t know what they had. This thing’s worth a fortune.”

Meia-Noite approached slowly from the corner. “And how’s it work, head?”

“You spin it like this…” Al-Yasiin said, and before Tetanus could stop him, the head blew a puff of sulfurous dust toward the artifact.

The artifact vibrated, its needles spinning wildly before stopping abruptly, all pointing in the same direction: east. Toward Fear Island.

“Nice,” Al-Yasiin grinned. “Looks like our destination’s confirmed.”

Gume looked at the artifact, then at the invisible horizon beyond the ship’s hull. “I’ve got a real bad feeling about this.”

Tetanus nodded silently, grabbing Al-Yasiin’s disheveled hair and tying the head to his waist with a rope from the deck.

“Now you stay there,” Tetanus grunted.

---

The night fell over the ship like a heavy cloak, painting the sky in shades of purple and black. The wind blew cold, carrying the salty smell of the sea and the sickly sweet aroma of spilled rum on the deck. The three men settled near the mainmast, where a swinging lantern cast dancing shadows over their battle-scarred faces.

Gume finally removed his helmet, revealing a face carved by time and combat with scars. His close-cropped hair was shaved in patches, and his broad, repeatedly broken nose gave him the air of a hardened veteran. He rubbed his neck, muscles cracking, and grabbed a rum bottle Biriba had dropped, downing it in one gulp.

“Four years, huh, brother?” Gume belched. “They got me. I was out in the wild when they nabbed me. Thought I was just another screwed-up black guy. Then they threw me in the army.” He laughed, a hoarse sound. “At least they gave me a shiny new axe and some fancy armor.”

Tetanus leaned against the mast, fingers brushing the mark on his chest. For the first time, he showed it to Gume, pulling down his jacket.

“They wanted to know what this was,” he said, voice low, almost soft. “Spent four years trying to pry the answer out of me… a lot happened, I’d rather not say, but nothing worked. It just made me tougher.”

Gume studied the mark, eyes narrowing. “Looks like something from another world.”

“It is.”

Meia-Noite, sitting a few steps away, watched in silence, as if studying the mark from afar.

“And the others?” Tetanus asked, pulling his jacket back up. “Zara. Lâmina. Farpa. Any news?”

Gume shook his head, his face grim. “Nothing. Zara and Lâmina were taken too, no idea what happened to them. And Farpa…” He hesitated. “Might not be with us anymore. Heard the king’s men raided Ouro Preto after everything.”

Tetanus nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. They’d been family to him. Now, they were just fragments scattered by the wind.

Al-Yasiin, tied to Tetanus’s waist, chuckled softly. “Sentimentalism’s for weaklings. You’re alive. And you’re with me. That’s more luck than you deserve.”

Gume looked at the decapitated head, then at Tetanus. “This thing’s getting weirder by the minute, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Meia-Noite finally stood, stretching his arms. “Alright. Tomorrow we hit Fear Island. Better rest.” He turned to leave but paused, looking at Tetanus. “That mark on your chest… does it hurt?”

Tetanus stared at the cangaceiro. “Only when something real specific’s about to happen… I don’t really know.”

Meia-Noite let out a dry laugh. “Well, maybe you just need to learn to control it. Better sleep now to have energy for tomorrow.”

With that, he vanished into the deck’s darkness, leaving Tetanus and Gume alone under the stars.

Gume raised the empty bottle to the sky, as if toasting their departed comrades. “Cheers, brother. At least we found each other.”

---

The chill of dawn had settled over the ship, Biriba’s uneven snores mixing with the creak of the planks. The hold was quiet, save for the constant slosh of water against the hull and the flicker of a nearly spent lantern.

Tetanus had curled up in a corner, wrapped in a thin, damp blanket, the weight of the journey and memories pulling him into a restless sleep. Gume slept leaning against a barrel, his axe still within reach, while Meia-Noite had vanished to some secluded corner, likely lying with his hat over his face.

The air was heavy, laden with salt and something else… something that smelled like rotting seaweed.

The ship rocked gently, lulled by the rhythm of the waves, until the night’s silence and gentle sway were shattered by a strange sound invading the hold’s depths.

*Schlick.* *Schlup.* *Schlurp.*

Something wet and viscous slithered across the wooden floor, snaking like a giant finger searching in the dark. Tetanus opened his eye, still half-asleep, only to see a tentacle sliding above him.

Thick as a man’s arm, covered in pulsating suckers, it crept toward him. He froze, instincts screaming, but before he could react, the thing wrapped around his sword.

*CRACK.*

The leather scabbard snapped under the pressure.

“What the fu—?!”

Tetanus leaped back, but it was too late. The tentacle yanked the sword from its holster, retreating like a whip, taking the blade with it.

“WAKE UP, DAMN IT!” he roared, kicking Gume square in the chest.

The giant woke with a grunt, eyes wide with confusion.

“What the hell—”

*BOOM.*

The ship lurched violently, as if something massive had struck the hull. Rum bottles fell, shattering on the floor. Al-Yasiin, tied to Tetanus’s waist, screamed, “HOLY SHIT, IT’S A KRAKEN!”

Tetanus was already up, eyes fixed on the hold’s porthole.

Outside, in the night’s darkness, a massive eye—the size of a wagon wheel—stared through the fogged glass. Its vertical black pupil dilated as the monster saw him.

*BOOM.*

Another blow. This time, the ship tilted dangerously, throwing both men to the floor.

“CAPTAIN!” Gume roared, clutching a barrel to keep from sliding.

Up above, Biriba was shouting something unintelligible, followed by the sound of old wood splintering. Meia-Noite appeared from the shadows, pistol already in hand.

“You think we’re in some fisherman’s tale?!” he growled, aiming at the porthole.

The tentacle returned. Another *CRASH* echoed.

The porthole shattered, and three more tentacles burst in, grabbing everything in sight—barrels, ropes, the table itself. One coiled around Gume’s leg, yanking him violently toward the sea.

“NOT TODAY, YOU BASTARD!” Gume grabbed his axe and drove the blade into the tentacle.

*SCHLORP.* A jet of black liquid sprayed, and the kraken recoiled, releasing him with a violent spasm that hit the hold’s ceiling again.

Tetanus panicked—his sword had been taken by a sea monster from coastal legends, and now it was him and his companions against the tentacles of a giant marine beast.

“I need my blade!” he shouted, leaping toward the deck’s ladder while Meia-Noite fired repeatedly behind him, covering his back. The shots hit one tentacle, making it writhe, but not wounding it enough.

“That won’t kill this thing!” Meia-Noite yelled, reloading.

On the deck, the scene was chaos.

Captain Biriba, miraculously sober, wrestled with a tentacle trying to rip the helm away. The two drunken sailors clung to the mast, one wielding a rusty machete, the other struggling to reload an old cannon on the lower deck.

The kraken was colossal—bigger than the ship itself. Its shiny black body rose from the dark waters, countless tentacles—some thick as ancient trees, others thin as branches—coiling around the hull, crushing the wood under pressure. Its broad, swollen head had a peculiar shape, like a deformed phallus, with a single massive eye at the tip.

---

Tetanus burst onto the deck like a hurricane, the salty air hitting his face as chaos unfolded around him.

The kraken—oh, what an abyssal abomination!—rose from the black waters like a nightmare incarnate, its colossal, bulbous body floating at the surface, covered in reddish, glistening skin pulsing with bluish veins, as if the ocean itself had vomited a creature from ancient legends.

Its “head”—if you could call it that—was a grotesque, swollen protrusion, elongated and resembling a deformed penis, ending in a circular mouth filled with rows of serrated teeth spinning like rusted gears. The single, colossal yellowish-green eye blinked with malevolent intelligence, reflecting the ship’s flickering lanterns.

Countless tentacles sprouted from its body, some thick as centuries-old tree trunks, others agile and thin as whips, all adorned with suckers that lashed the air with a nauseating sound, leaving red, pulsating marks on the creaking hull.

“My sword! Where the hell’s my sword?!” Tetanus shouted, running across the slippery deck, dodging snapped ropes and rolling barrels like dice in a chaotic tavern. His eyes scanned the chaos, searching for the glint of the blade the tentacle had stolen.

Below, in the hold, a crash echoed as a massive tentacle—this one covered in curved, hook-like spines—burst through the cracked floor, coiling around the open treasure chest Gume had left. Gold coins jingled like maddened bells as the tentacle hoisted it into the air, crushing the wooden lid with a deafening *crack*.

“NO! THE TREASURE, DAMN IT!” Gume roared from the hold, his voice thundering over the crashing waves. He leaped to grab the chest, but the tentacle whipped him away, sending him crashing against the wall with an impact that shook the entire ship.

Al-Yasiin, still tied to Tetanus’s waist, swung wildly as the man ran. The decapitated head’s eyes widened, its maniacal laugh cut by a hoarse scream: “THAT THING’S AFTER THE CUBE! THE KRAKEN KNOWS, MAGGOT! IT WANTS THE BLACK CUBE!”

Tetanus ignored the chattering head for a moment, diving through the hatch to the ship’s kitchen—a cramped, foul-smelling cubicle filled with rusty pots and dried fish scraps. Anything can be a weapon, he thought, lungs burning. But before he could search the shelves, a thin, slimy tentacle slithered through the door, wrapping around his leg like a treacherous snake.

“You son of a bitch!” Tetanus growled, feeling the tug dragging him backward. The suckers tore at his boot, ripping the leather with a wet, repulsive sound.

At that moment, the sky above erupted in fury. Heavy clouds, previously harmless, unleashed a sudden, violent storm. Lightning sliced the horizon, illuminating the kraken in blinding flashes, while thick rain, like the tears of enraged gods, pounded the deck, turning it into a slippery quagmire. The wind howled, whipping the torn sails, and the ship groaned like a wounded beast.

Tetanus reached out, his fingers closing around a rusty kitchen knife and a bent fork—pathetic weapons, but the only ones within reach. He drove the knife into the tentacle, feeling the soft flesh give way with a spurt of foul black ink, but the monster didn’t let go. Instead, it pulled with brutal force, launching Tetanus through the air like a rag doll.

His pouch slipped from his shoulder, falling to the soaked floor with a dull thud, the Black Cube rolling out in a shadowy glimpse. Al-Yasiin screamed something incoherent—“NO, YOU MAGGOOOOT!”—but another tentacle, this one more agile, whipped out of nowhere and snapped the rope tying the head to Tetanus’s waist, dragging it into the depths of the waves, where it sank, gurgling curses.

Tetanus landed hard on his back on the deck, rain hammering his face, but the main tentacle didn’t stop. Now coiled around his shirt, it pulled with grotesque insistence, tearing the fabric of his jacket as if deliberately stripping him. The suckers clung to his skin, sucking and stretching, exposing the pulsing scar on his chest. The mark burned like fire under the icy rain, and Tetanus thrashed, knife still in hand, as the kraken seemed to… savor the moment.

With a guttural roar, the kraken freed Tetanus from his shredded shirt, leaving it crumpled on the deck, revealing his bronzed skin and taut muscles. Without blinking its flickering yellow eye, the monster began to envelop him in a massive embrace with its tentacles.

Tetanus felt the kraken’s cold, scaly skin against his own, his breath cut by the stench of putrid sea and corroded metal it exuded. Thick tentacles wrapped around him like bars, pinning his limbs and preventing escape.

Smaller, agile tentacles began to move, touching, exploring, caressing his skin with a sinister sensuality. They found the tense muscles of his groin, and Tetanus felt a gentle, persistent pressure there, as if the tentacles sought to stimulate him, teasing him.

His erection came quickly under the cold, firm touch of the kraken. The tentacles sensed the change in his body and responded by intensifying their grip, wrapping around his genitalia in a soft, steady hold that made him arch his back.

Tetanus screamed in frustration and arousal, struggling hopelessly against the monster’s powerful embrace but soon realizing he was giving in to its perverse game. Their bodies moved in sync, the kraken pressing his erect member against the rough, hard texture of its abdominal shield, while longer tentacles coiled around his head, sucking the air from his mouth.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Tetanus felt the first thermal contraction ripple through the creature’s circumference, a wave of heat spreading slowly across its scaly skin, as if it were preparing for an explosion of pleasure.

Then, the kraken began to penetrate him from within, a tentacle probing his entrance, thrusting gently back and forth.

Tetanus felt his insides invaded—what a terrible moment to be violated by a sea monster, his human body reduced to a mere vessel for the kraken’s lust.

The kraken moved rhythmically, and with each motion, Tetanus groaned and writhed, the tentacles tightening around his limbs and torso, preventing escape or resistance.

Tetanus slipped into a trance, lost in the creature’s movements and the intense sensations overwhelming him. His body became a mere instrument of the monster’s lust, his spirit submerged in the madness of the moment.

*BOOM!*

The cannon’s roar echoed across the deck like iron thunder, cutting through the storm-soaked air. One of the drunken sailors—the one who’d gone below to the lower deck—had finally managed to reload the rusty old cannon positioned at the hull’s edge. The iron ball, fired with fury, struck the kraken’s bulbous body dead-on, tearing through its scaly skin and exploding a cloud of black ink and viscous flesh chunks into the air. The monster roared, a guttural, primordial sound that made the surrounding waves churn as if the entire sea trembled in pain.

The kraken convulsed, its tentacles writhing in violent spasms. The pressure around (and inside) Tetanus suddenly loosened; the appendages that held and penetrated him recoiled with a repulsive *schlorp*, freeing him in a gush of mucus and sticky fluids.

Tetanus fell to his knees on the slippery deck, panting, his body trembling with a mix of rage, humiliation, and residual arousal he hated to acknowledge. The mark on his chest burned like embers, pulsing in sync with his racing heartbeat.

“You… abyssal bastard!” Tetanus growled through clenched teeth, staggering to his feet, still clutching the knife in one hand and the bent fork in the other. The torrential rain washed sweat and mucus from his bare torso, but it couldn’t douse the blazing fury in his eyes.

The kraken, distracted by the smoking wound in its flank, turned its colossal eye toward the cannon, momentarily ignoring the man it had just defiled. That was its fatal mistake. Tetanus seized the moment, sprinting across the tilted deck like a crazed predator. He leaped onto a rolling barrel, dodging a tentacle that lashed blindly, and climbed the mainmast with feline agility, using the torn ropes for support.

“Come here, you freak!” he shouted, launching himself through the air toward the monster’s grotesque head. The howling storm wind propelled his leap, lightning illuminating the scene in flashes.

Tetanus landed on the kraken’s oily, pulsating skin, driving the bent fork into the soft flesh around its circular mouth. The monster thrashed, trying to shake him off, but Tetanus held firm, using the fork as an anchor while stabbing repeatedly with the knife into the swollen protrusion.

*Schlick! Schlick!*

Each strike released gushes of thick black blood, dripping like oil down the kraken’s skin, mingling with the rain.

Tetanus roared in hatred, climbing higher, ignoring the suckers trying to latch onto his bare legs. He aimed for the creature’s single eye, the vulnerable point where the iris trembled in panic.

With a primal yell, he plunged the knife into the center of the slitted pupil, twisting the blade to deepen the wound. The kraken convulsed violently, its tentacles flailing uncontrollably, smashing parts of the ship’s hull like twigs.

The monster began to collapse, its colossal body sinking slowly into the churning waters, its weight dragging the ship with it. Wood groaned and splintered everywhere; the mainmast snapped in half with a deafening *crack*, torn sails flying like ghosts in the wind.

The storm intensified, as if the sea and sky conspired against them—lightning struck close, illuminating the chaos, while giant waves battered the already compromised hull, flooding the deck bit by bit.

“TETANUS! Get out of there!” Gume shouted from the hold, emerging up the ladder with his axe in hand, but it was too late. The ship tilted dangerously, saltwater flooding the hold like a ravenous torrent.

Tetanus didn’t stop. Clinging to the dying kraken, he continued to butcher the creature, driving the knife and fork into any exposed flesh, tearing pulsating veins and spilling viscera into the sea.

The monster let out a final, agonized wail, a sound like the lament of a fallen god, before its body sank fully, dragging Tetanus with it for a moment—but he broke free at the last second, swimming furiously back to the capsizing deck.

*CRASH!*

A colossal wave struck the ship’s side, completing its destruction. The hull split in two, barrels and debris flying everywhere. Biriba shouted useless orders as he was dragged into the depths, the sailors vanishing in the waves.

The ship capsized with a final roar, flipping belly-up like a dead animal, leaving Tetanus unconscious as everything went dark.

---

Fear Island

Sand. He was covered in sand. In his mouth, his eye, inside his soaked clothes that clung to him like a second skin. With a groan, he jolted upright, spitting out the salty taste of the sea.

“Damn it…”

The first thing he saw was the ocean. Calm waves now, lapping gently at the black sand beach. The second thing was the ship—or rather, what was left of it. Twisted wood scattered along the shore like the bones of a dead animal.

“Awake, maggot?”

The voice was Al-Yasiin’s. The decapitated head was buried in the sand up to its neck, black curly hair full of shells and seaweed. It looked furious.

“If I had arms, I’d dig myself out!”

Tetanus scanned his surroundings. Gume lay a few meters away, his metal armor partially wrecked, his broad chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Meia-Noite was farther off, leaning against a broken mast, hatless and—more importantly—without his pistol.

“Where are we?” Tetanus asked, brushing sand from his arms.

“Where do you think?” Al-Yasiin grumbled. “Fear Island, you animal. The kraken threw us right to your destination.”

Tetanus looked at the dense forest starting just beyond the beach. Twisted trees, dark leaves, a silence that seemed to swallow even the sound of the waves.

“Great.”

Gume woke with a grunt, sitting up suddenly.

“What the hell was that?” He touched his chest, where the armor was dented. “Feels like I got run over by a bull.”

“Close enough,” Tetanus said, extending a hand to help the giant up. “The kraken dumped us here. I think.”

“And Biriba?”

“Dead. Or fish food.”

Meia-Noite approached, his face still covered by the black cloth, which by now seemed like his actual face, but without his weapon, he looked less threatening.

“Lost my pistol,” he said, as if announcing a relative’s death.

“And I lost my sword,” Tetanus rolled his eyes. “Welcome to the losers’ club,” he said sarcastically.

Gume looked at his own axe, still strapped to his back.

“At least I’ve still got my baby.” He swung it through the air, testing its weight.

“Good for you, maggot,” Al-Yasiin shouted arrogantly. “Now someone get me out of here, or I’ll have to watch you die upside down?”

Tetanus sighed, digging out the head and tying it back to his waist with a wet rope.

“Happy?”

“Not really. But it’s a start.”

Meia-Noite looked at the forest.

“So… that’s where we’re going.”

No one needed to ask what he meant. The heavy air, the smell of rotting earth, the island’s unnatural silence—everything screamed that this wasn’t an ordinary forest, nor an ordinary island.

Al-Yasiin grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “Welcome to Hell, my dear maggots.”

Tetanus looked at his empty hands, then at the forest.

“I need a weapon, fast.”

“You think the island’s gonna hand you one?” Gume laughed.

“No.” Tetanus started walking toward the ship’s wreckage. “But the dead always leave something behind.”

Tetanus kicked through the debris with his feet, black sand sticking to his still-soaked boots. Among splinters of wood and rotten rope, something glinted under the dim light of an overcast sun.

“Ah… this’ll do.”

He bent down and pulled out a rusty harpoon, its tip still sharp enough to pierce flesh. It wasn’t his sword, but it would get the job done. Farther along, half-buried in the sand, was the magical compass—intact, its needles spinning slowly, as if drowsy.

“Find anything useful?” Gume asked, approaching with heavy steps that sank into the sand.

“Sort of.” Tetanus shook the sand from the compass and watched the needles align toward the forest. “It’s pointing that way.”

“Great,” Meia-Noite said, appearing behind them. “Then that’s where we go.”

Al-Yasiin let out a muffled laugh, swinging at Tetanus’s waist. “You’re all crazy. But we’ve gotta start somewhere.”

The group moved toward the forest, the black sand giving way to twisted roots and thick leaves that seemed to occasionally grab at their steps. The air grew heavier, the smell of rotting flesh mingling with ancient mold.

The compass led them to a grotesque rock formation—a cave opening like the maw of a colossal beast, its stalactites and stalagmites resembling sharp teeth. The entrance oozed a viscous, purple liquid, sticky like congealed blood.

“This… doesn’t look natural,” Gume said, his face wrinkling, fingers tightening on his axe’s handle.

“Nothing here is,” Meia-Noite said, stepping forward without hesitation.

“Wait.” Tetanus raised the harpoon, sniffing the air. “Something’s off.”

“Everything here’s off, maggot,” Al-Yasiin laughed. “But if you want answers, that’s the way.”

Gume swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. “I don’t like tight spaces.”

“Relax, big guy. This place is still big enough for your mom’s fat ass to fit through,” Al-Yasiin taunted. “If we die, it’ll be quick.”

“Then yours wouldn’t fit?” Gume shot back.

“Quiet! This isn’t helping! Let’s go in!” Meia-Noite snapped, reining them in.

---

Entering the Cave

The cave was damp, its walls pulsing faintly, as if breathing. The floor was covered in a spongy substance that squelched underfoot, and the air was thick with a sweet, rotten odor, like honey mixed with decaying flesh.

The deeper they went, the more the space opened, until they reached a circular chamber, its arched ceiling resembling the ribs of a giant beast. In the center, bound by thick, dark veins climbing the walls, was a massive, pulsating organ—a deformed heart the size of a barrel, beating with a slow, wet thud.

“What the hell is that?” Gume took a step back, his face pale.

Tetanus approached, harpoon raised toward the thing. The heart seemed to watch him, its veins twitching like nervous fingers.

“Doesn’t matter.” He drove the harpoon into the organ’s center.

…

Pus and dark purple liquid sprayed, hissing as it hit the floor. The heart convulsed, its veins snapping like broken ropes before shriveling, drying up in seconds. The entire chamber shook, as if something screamed in distant agony.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Al-Yasiin said, but surprisingly, there was a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Why? What was it?” Meia-Noite asked, fingers closing on the empty space where his pistol should’ve been.

“Part of the Vermin God,” the head grinned, eyes glowing in the dark. “He sleeps, but his body spreads across the world. Hearts like this keep his flesh alive.”

“How many are there?” Tetanus stared at the harpoon in his hand, the purple liquid clinging like oil.

“Three,” Al-Yasiin laughed. “You killed one. Two left.”

“And if I destroy them all?”

“No one knows. Maybe he wakes up. Maybe he dies for good. Or maybe something worse happens.”

Gume looked around, the walls now covered in inscriptions that hadn’t been there before—ancient runes, drawings of human teeth, and fat, repulsive blowflies.

“This place is watching us.”

“It always was,” Meia-Noite touched one of the inscriptions. “…Let’s keep going. The compass still points deeper.”

Tetanus looked at the withered heart on the floor, then at the dark tunnel that seemed to plunge further into the island’s bowels.

“Damn it,” Gume took a deep breath. “We gotta face more of those things?”

“Probably.” Tetanus slung the harpoon over his shoulder and started walking. “But at least now I’ve got a weapon, right?”

The group pressed on through the dark tunnel, their footsteps echoing with the constant drip of water from the damp walls. The magical compass in Tetanus’s hand vibrated faintly, its needles spinning with increasing urgency, always pointing downward, as if the artifact knew something valuable awaited in the depths. The air grew more oppressive, laden with a metallic smell, like blood mixed with fresh earth. The runes on the walls seemed to shift in the corner of the eye, whispering inaudible secrets.

“This is getting tighter,” Gume grumbled, ducking to avoid hitting the uneven ceiling. His axe scraped the rocks, sparking occasionally to light the path.

“Shut up and walk, big guy,” Al-Yasiin mocked from Tetanus’s waist. “Or you want me to carry you?”

Meia-Noite, in the lead, raised a hand for silence. “Look.”

The tunnel opened into another chamber, smaller than the last but lit by an ethereal glow from luminescent fungi covering the walls like bluish veins. In the center, on a stone pedestal carved with ancient Christian symbols—inverted crosses and stylized fish—rested a rolled parchment, yellowed by time, sealed with a wax seal untouched for centuries.

“The treasure…” Tetanus murmured, approaching cautiously. He broke the seal with the harpoon’s tip and unrolled the parchment, revealing elegant Latin script with marginal illustrations of waves and feet walking atop them.

“Let me see that, maggot,” Al-Yasiin demanded, eyes wide with excitement. Tetanus untied the head and placed it on the pedestal. The decapitated head blinked, focusing on the text. “Oh, this is good. Very good. It’s a parchment attributed to Jesus Christ himself. Or at least, a relic claiming to be. Talks about miracles… specifically, walking on water.”

Gume tilted his head, confused. “Walking on water? Like, not sinking?”

“Exactly, you brute,” Al-Yasiin laughed, his voice echoing in the chamber. “It’s an ancient blessing. Whoever reads and understands the words can invoke the power to cross rivers, seas, or any liquid surface like it’s solid ground. Useful for escaping empires or water monsters, huh?”

Meia-Noite took the parchment, examining it carefully. “Convenient. But how’s it work? Gotta recite something?”

“Yeah, a simple prayer. But careful: it’s temporary, and it only works if you believe… or something like that. Christian relics are full of this spiritual conversion crap.”

Tetanus nodded, tucking the parchment into his pouch. “Could be useful. But let’s get out before—”

A tremor shook the chamber, dust falling from the ceiling like fine snow. Behind them, the tunnel they’d entered began to close—rock walls moving like contracting muscles, grinding smaller stones in the process. A low roar, like a beast waking, echoed from the depths.

“Shit! The cave’s closing!” Gume shouted, swinging his axe uselessly at the approaching rock.

“No way back!” Meia-Noite confirmed, scanning the chamber. The only path was a steep decline leading deeper into darkness. “Only forward… or down!”

“I warned you destroying the heart would wake something,” Al-Yasiin cackled. “Run, maggots!”

With no options, the group plunged down the decline, slipping and stumbling over wet rocks as the chamber behind them collapsed in a roar of dust and debris. The air grew colder and damper as they descended, the sound of running water growing like an inviting whisper.

After what felt like endless minutes of tortuous descent, the tunnel leveled out, opening into a vast underground cavern lit by bioluminescent crystals hanging from the ceiling like fallen stars.

In the center, a subterranean river of dark, murky water snaked through, bubbling with sulfur-scented bubbles. The current was strong, carrying organic debris—bones, rotten leaves, and what looked like chunks of flesh.

“Doesn’t look drinkable,” Gume remarked, approaching the bank cautiously.

Tetanus raised the harpoon, the compass now still, its needles pointing directly at the river. “The relic… maybe we need to cross.”

But before they could discuss, the water exploded in a spray of foam. A creature emerged from the depths, colossal and grotesque: an aberrant mix of salmon and axolotl, with the elongated, scaly body of a giant fish, covered in pulsating, pink external gills like an aquatic salamander. Its eyes were multiple, lined along its flattened head, glowing with primal hunger. Its mouth opened in a semicircle of needle-sharp teeth, and razor-like fins sliced the water as it thrashed, half in the river, half out, blocking their path.

“What the hell is that?!” Meia-Noite shouted, his northeastern accent slipping through, backing away as the creature let out a piercing screech that echoed off the cavern walls.

“A guardian, probably!” Al-Yasiin yelled from Tetanus’s waist. “Kill that Salmoxolotl before it eats us!”

The creature struck first, lunging forward with surprising speed, its fins whipping the air toward Gume. The giant raised his axe in time, blocking the blow with a metallic clang that sent sparks flying. Tetanus leaped to the side, driving the harpoon into the creature’s scaly flank, tearing out a chunk of pink flesh that bled viscous red liquid.

“Let’s finish this!” Tetanus growled, as Meia-Noite, unarmed, grabbed a sharp rock from the ground and hurled it at one of the creature’s eyes, blinding it with a wet pop.

Gume swung his axe in a wide arc, slicing through a pulsating gill, making the creature writhe in pain and dive back into the river, only to resurface with renewed fury, its tail thrashing the water and creating waves that pushed them back. The battle intensified, the river bubbling as if more dangers were about to rise from the depths.

---

The cavern echoed with the creature’s shrill screeches, the sound reverberating off the crystalline walls as the group fought with ferocity. Tetanus, harpoon firm in hand, dodged the razor-sharp fins that sliced the air like guillotines. His eyes tracked the beast’s erratic movements, searching for an opening. The creature, a scaly nightmare with pulsating gills and multiple eyes, attacked with blind fury, but its agility waned as blood poured from its wounds.

“Aim for the eyes, Tetanus!” Meia-Noite shouted, throwing another sharp rock that bounced off the creature’s forehead, distracting it momentarily. Even unarmed, Meia-Noite had good aim.

Tetanus seized the opening. With a leap, he scaled a slippery rock by the river, positioning himself above the monster’s flattened head. The creature turned, its eyes glinting with malice, but Tetanus was faster. He drove the harpoon with full force into one of the larger eyes, piercing it with a wet pop. A jet of viscous fluid sprayed, and the beast roared, thrashing wildly as two more eyes were struck by precise harpoon blows.

Blinded, the creature began crashing into the cavern walls, its fins slicing only air, directionless.

“Now, Gume!” Tetanus yelled, leaping back as the creature writhed in agony.

Gume charged like a bull, axe raised high. With a guttural shout, he brought the blade down on the creature’s scaly neck, cutting deep. The flesh parted with a wet sound, and the monster collapsed into the river with an impact that sent water exploding in waves. Its gills stopped pulsing, and the body floated, inert, as green liquid mingled with the current.

“Done,” Gume panted, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm. “What a bastard of a beast.”

Tetanus approached the corpse, still holding the bloodied harpoon. “Let’s not waste it…”

He cut strips of the still-warm scaly flesh, using the rusty knife he’d recovered from the kraken fight. The smell was strong, but the texture seemed edible enough for desperate times. He wrapped the strips in a torn cloth and stowed them in his pouch.

“That’s disgusting, maggot,” Al-Yasiin grumbled, swinging at Tetanus’s waist. “But smart. You’ll need food if you want to survive this island.”

Meia-Noite, examining the river, pointed to the current. “The compass points that way. But crossing this is gonna be a problem. This river looks… a bit deep.”

“Not it won’t,” Al-Yasiin interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Give me the parchment, Tetanus. I know what to do.”

Tetanus hesitated but untied the head and placed it on a flat rock, handing over the parchment. Al-Yasiin, with his hoarse, commanding voice, began reciting the Latin words in an almost hypnotic cadence. The syllables echoed in the cavern, and the air seemed to vibrate with a subtle energy.

The parchment glowed faintly, its letters pulsing as if alive. When Al-Yasiin finished, he looked at the group with a crooked smile. “Done. You can now walk on water.”

“For real?” Gume asked, eyeing the river suspiciously.

“Test it, big guy,” Al-Yasiin taunted.

Meia-Noite went first, taking a hesitant step onto the river’s surface. To nearly everyone’s astonishment, his feet didn’t sink. The water rippled under his boots, holding him as if it were solid ground. “It works,” he said, with a rare note of surprise.

Tetanus and Gume followed, Tetanus holding Al-Yasiin tightly. The group crossed the river with careful steps, feeling the current press against their legs but not giving way.

On the other side, they found a narrow passage descending further, lit by more luminescent fungi.

The passage led to a secret chamber, unlike anything they’d seen. The walls were smooth, almost polished, covered in mosaics depicting stormy seas, sinking ships, and an ethereal female figure rising from the waves.

In the center, perched atop a rock surrounded by a natural pool, was a woman. Her skin was translucent, like crystal-clear water, and her hair flowed like black seaweed, shimmering with silver and blue reflections. Her curvaceous body, with large breasts suggesting she’d once nursed, exuded an otherworldly aura. Her large, pupilless eyes fixed on the group with a mix of curiosity and authority.

“The Mother of Water…” Al-Yasiin whispered, his tone blending respect and caution.

“Mortals,” the Mother of Water’s voice echoed, liquid and deep, as if rising from the ocean’s depths. “You’ve defiled the flesh of the Vermin God, invaded my domain, and killed my child. But I’m not here to punish you. Answer three riddles, and I’ll guide you out of this cursed island. Fail, and your souls will belong to me forever.”

Tetanus gripped the harpoon’s handle, while Gume exchanged a nervous glance with Meia-Noite. “What choice do we have? Speak,” Tetanus said, voice firm, though his chest burned with the mark reacting to the entity’s presence.

The Mother of Water smiled, almost warmly. “First riddle: I am what gives life but also drowns. I am in everyone, but no one owns me. What am I?”

Gume furrowed his brow, scratching his head. “Water?”

The Mother of Water nodded, her hair rippling. “Correct. Second riddle: I guide without hands, speak without a voice, and show without eyes. What am I?”

Meia-Noite answered quickly, pointing to the magical compass in Tetanus’s hand. “A compass.”

The entity tilted her head, pleased. “Correct. Final riddle: I burn without fire, cut without a blade, and weigh without form. What am I?”

The group fell silent. Tetanus felt the mark on his chest pulse stronger, as if trying to tell him something. He closed his eyes, thinking of the tortures he’d endured, the losses he carried. And finally…

“Pain,” he said at last, voice low.

The Mother of Water smiled, this time with what seemed like respect. “You understand more than you realize, mortal. You’ve passed the test.”

She raised a hand, and the cavern trembled slightly. A passage opened in the opposite wall, revealing a tunnel ascending, with faint sunlight visible in the distance. “This path will lead you to the surface.”

Tetanus moved forward, as Gume and Meia-Noite prepared to follow. “Let’s get out of this shit,” Tetanus muttered, gripping the harpoon tightly.

---

Tetanus pressed on, his heart pounding with the hope of escaping the cursed cave. Gume and Meia-Noite followed, their heavy steps echoing through the cavern. But before they could reach the tunnel’s opening, Tetanus felt an inexplicable force pull him back.

He turned and saw the Mother of Water rise from the rock, her shimmering black seaweed hair floating around her like a halo. Her translucent skin glowed with blue reflections, and her large, pupilless eyes fixed on him with a somber expression.

“You will not leave, Tetanus,” the entity’s voice echoed in his ear. “Because you killed my child. And now you will give me new life.”

Tetanus tried to resist, but his legs gave out. He collapsed onto the wet sand, staring at her with fear and revulsion. The Mother of Water knelt behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders, her sharp, shell-like nails making him shudder.

“You don’t understand,” she said with a tone of sadness. “My child was a mistake, a failed abortion in this cave. But you, Tetanus, are perfect. You have strength, vitality, and pain. So much pain.”

She leaned over him, her mouth nearly brushing his nape. Tetanus felt a chill run through him as her soft, cold lips grazed his skin.

“I will absorb that pain from you,” the Mother of Water whispered. “And I will turn it into life. You will impregnate me, Tetanus.”

Tetanus felt his member harden against his will, desire and revulsion mixing into an indescribable emotion. He closed his eyes and groaned as the Mother of Water pulled him back, throwing him onto the soft sand. He looked up and saw her face lean over him, her mouth almost touching his.

She bent over him, her wide thighs brushing against his body.

Tetanus closed his eyes, groaning as the Mother of Water positioned herself over him. She slid her lips down his neck to the mark on his chest, where she began to lick and kiss the warm skin, scratching his shoulder.

Tetanus arched his body, groaning loudly as he felt the entity’s cold, sharp tongue touch his flesh. She began to rub against him slowly.

He opened his eyes and saw the Mother of Water settle over him, her glistening, wet vagina pressing against his erection. Tetanus shivered as she lowered herself onto him, enveloping his member with her warm, tight walls.

“Come inside me,” she whispered, moving atop him with a slow, deliberate rhythm, “come and fill me with your life.”

Tetanus groaned and embraced the Mother of Water’s body, penetrating her deeply. He felt her wet, warm texture envelop him, moving inside her, their groans and sighs blending into an obscene sound of skin against… water?

“Yes,” she moaned, arching over him, “come inside me, come. Fill me with your life and your sweet pain.”

Tetanus felt his orgasm approaching rapidly, the pressure and pleasure building within him. He gripped her hips, moving harder inside the Mother of Water, who moaned and sighed around him.

“Now,” she commanded, her pupilless eyes locked on Tetanus’s with urgency, “now come for me!”

With a grunt, Tetanus released, flooding the entity’s interior with his essence. He felt her walls contract around him, squeezing and drawing out every drop of his seed.

When he finally stopped moving, the Mother of Water remained still for a few seconds, absorbing all he’d given her. Then, slowly, she began to rise, her glistening, pure body now marked by the presence of the man who’d impregnated her.

“You did well,” she said, satisfied, looking at Tetanus with pride. “Now, go. Let me carry your life within me until it’s time to give birth.”

Tetanus stood, dressing himself again, moving forward, his heart pounding with what had just happened, the idea that something now carried his seed.

The narrow tunnel spiraled upward, its damp walls glowing with a phosphorescent light that pulsed in sync with the island’s breath. The air was heavy, laden with a salty, sweet smell, like high tide mixed with rotten honey. Meia-Noite led the group, each step echoing on the wet rocks.

The light at the tunnel’s end grew, but it wasn’t sunlight—it was a ghostly greenish glow from a curtain of lichen hanging at the entrance. Tetanus raised the harpoon and parted the mossy veil, revealing…

---

Dream Forest

It wasn’t the same forest as before.

The trees were more twisted, their bark white like birch. The ground was covered in a low mist that clung to their ankles like cold fingers. Above, the sky was no longer the dead sky they knew—it was a sickly yellow, like diluted pus.

“What kind of hell are we in now?” Gume exclaimed, fingers tightening around his axe.

“Probably a hippie nightmare…” Meia-Noite observed the horizon, where distant mountains twisted like the spines of buried creatures.

Tetanus looked back. The cave entrance had vanished, replaced by a solid rock wall covered in runes bleeding black liquid.

“She tricked us…”

“Or gave us exactly what she promised,” Al-Yasiin laughed, playing devil’s advocate. “You got out of the cave, didn’t you?”

“So we’re trapped here?” Gume exclaimed, stepping forward.

“No.” Tetanus raised the magical compass. Its needles spun wildly but briefly pointed to a nearly invisible trail among the trees. “The compass wants us to go there.”

“Of course it does,” Meia-Noite adjusted the black cloth on his face. “Everything here wants something from us.”

“And the Cube?” Gume asked.

Tetanus touched his chest, where the mark burned.

“It’s still here. Somewhere, I can feel it…” Tetanus moved his hand from his chest. “We’d better find it before someone else does.”

With no other choice, they began walking forward…