Edward’s veins were icy, his body like a tree, shaking in the wind, sending ripples across the pool of water he was wading through. If he had a choice, he never would have entered the water, but that decision had been taken out of his hands when he had woken up ten feet beneath the pool’s surface.

It wasn’t pleasant, one moment in blissful slumber, and the next submerged in freezing water. The dungeon had gotten a bit creative with his start this time around, much to his chagrin. He hadn’t even known that there were pools of water like this in the dungeon, which made this an excellent way for him to learn the information.

At least his difficulties with his body hadn’t stopped him from swimming up, drowning would have been a rather awful way to go. Not that he hadn’t died in worse ways, but a painful death is still a painful death. Luckily, he did not have to stay afloat for too long either, as the effort had taken a lot out of him, and the cold had claimed what remained of his energy.

Now he was left trudging through the chest-high waters, attempting to find any piece of dry land. On second thought though, it didn’t actually have to be dry land, anywhere that he could sit down with his head above the water would suffice.

His training from the day did not help at all in this situation, the soreness of his body mainly served to inhibit his movements. And all the excitement he forcefully summoned within himself about fighting monsters was worthless as well.

At least, now that he was in a better position, he could listen to the goldfinger chatter away to take his mind off of things. The goldfinger had started acting quite strangely after hearing about the cult, as if it was offended that it had targeted him, and seemed like it had a greater desire for revenge than even himself. Perhaps it had issues with the cult damaging his body? It did seem to want to take it over eventually, despite how lethargic it’s been on that front since the eruption.

Not that he could blame it too much for being tired, it had roused enough energy to annihilate his spirit, and then savagely forced it back out of him before he could be fully destroyed. Regardless of its exact reasoning for doing so, it left Edward alive, and hopefully with a grace period before it would try anything too crazy. He hoped its apparent hatred for the cult and its actions also contributed to that hypothetical grace period.

In any case, even if it were to try something on him again anytime soon, it seemed like it preferred doing things in a big way. The stories about evil spirits always painted them as beings that engaged in trickery and subterfuge, slowly supplanting their host’s mind and will until it was too late for them to be stopped. Clearly goldfinger, or maybe just his goldfinger, did not work in the same manner as evil spirits did.

That meant that there was no real harm in him talking with it, unlike his initial fears. He also didn’t have to worry about it getting too stimulated by the topic of the cult again, as he did not plan on bringing the topic up, and his curt response during the day seemed to quench its enthusiasm.

Not that the excitement was an issue for him in general, only it would be distracting for him in a time and area in which he needed to be able to focus. A calm, relaxed conversation shouldn’t take up too much of his concentration, so that was the type of chat he hoped to have.

Thus, Edward mentally spoke to Gerald, an ability that had taken him an embarrassingly short amount of time. It really was something that he should have pieced together on the first day he and the goldfinger were together.

‘Yo, Gerald. I think I’m situated well enough now; we can get to talking about whatever it is you want to discuss.’

“Perfect. We were interrupted last time in the dungeon while we were talking about the system, reincarnators, and the contract, so that is where I will begin. To start, I will talk about the contract, then we will work our way towards the system and reincarnators.”

“The contract is split up into two parts, with one part being the body contract and the other part being the soul contract. Very simply, the body contract is bound to the body, whereas the soul contract is bound to the soul. Each contract comes with its own perks from the system, the body grants access to the dungeon along with my presence, while the soul grants access to the system interface.”

That was strange. Edward certainly had access to the dungeon, which meant that he definitely was in possession of the body contract. However, what was the whole deal about the system interface? He had no idea what that was, no idea what it would look like, and most importantly, no idea whether or not he had access to it. Not that he was interested in it perse, as if it was anything like the dungeon, he was probably better off without it.

There was also the issue of the goldfinger coming paired with the dungeon? Which meant that the goldfinger was not the main part of whatever ritual the cult had performed on him, the dungeon was. But why? What was the purpose in forcing him into the dungeon? Because unless the cult’s only method to force an evil spirit into a person’s body was a shitty ritual that also gave the person access to a dungeon, would it not be easier to simply shove the spirit into their body?

Not literally, mind you, but in the figurative sense. Personally, Edward thought a spell or ritual or whatever that had more things happen, meaning more moving parts, would be harder than less things. But he wasn’t a wizard or a magic person or anything, so maybe his inherent understanding of how magic worked was a deeply flawed version of reality.

Regardless, when in doubt, why not ask?

‘So, these two contracts come in a pair, and I clearly am in possession of the body contract. If that is the case, then what’s the deal with the soul contract? Like, where’s it at? What do its effects look like?’

“Your misunderstanding is the result of you putting words where they are simply not present. I never said anything about the contracts coming in pairs, I said that it is a contract that is split into two. This distinction is critical, as the soul contract uses a large amount of energy to create, but the amount of energy necessary can be vastly lowered by signing the contract while a soul is unattached to a body. The body contract, on the other hand, hardly costs anything in comparison, and displays a greater efficiency when directly bound to a fleshy container.”

“These two facts become increasingly relevant when you add in the fact that the system is signing these contracts with countless amounts of souls and bodies per day, which means that saving even just a tiny bit of energy adds up quite fast. And this isn’t only a tiny amount of energy being saved, it’s a lot. Not that I know of the exact proportions, as during this time in which the system is making the contract, my being remains in stasis, waiting for my contractor to become active.”

Split in two, comes in pairs, what’s the difference? Apparently, a lot, especially regarding the efficiency of energy usage. Which was fair, considering it was a shitter cult that was forming countless numbers of these contracts every day. Or were they?

The goldfinger wasn’t aware of the cult’s existence, but to be fair, it was in some type of stasis, which seemed to mean something along the lines of being in a state of non-awareness? Hopefully that was a close enough definition.

That, however, did not explain how it was aware of the ‘system’ that it referred to. As it had either lied to him about its knowledge of the cult, mistaken the cult for the ‘system,’ or the cult and the ‘system’ were not the same entity. So, betrayal, bad information, or another big enemy to worry about, not too big of a deal. It wasn’t like he could ask for clarification from the goldfinger either, as in only one of those three cases might he obtain a good result.

In which case, he might as well pretend to be dumb, as if he did not understand a single thought that came out of its mind. Hopefully that would lead it to underestimate him or cause it to accidentally let more information slip. Or maybe both would happen, who know?

‘Yeah, ok, whatever, that’s a lot of theory, and a lot of things I don’t understand. But there is one glaring issue with what you said—that you didn’t answer my question. Where is the soul contract I’m supposed to have?’

“My fault for not making it explicitly clear in my statement. Since you never died, your soul was never unattached from your body, meaning there was no chance of you obtaining the soul contract. Naturally, that means someone else was the recipient. However, your body, which was supposed to be empty, because you were supposed to be dead, obtained the body contract. As a result, you are here with the body contract but no soul contract, and I have no clue where the guy with the soul contract is. Honestly, he was intended to have taken control of your body by now, so his absence is quite strange.”

Yeah, no shit he doesn’t have access to the soul contract, that had been made quite clear a long time ago. But that bit about how he should be dead was news to him. Sure, he’d been through several experiences over the last couple of days that should have or could have killed him, but several of those had happened in the dungeon, so they didn’t really count.

That made it difficult to tell which incident in particular was the one that should have done him in. Skinwolf, eruption, psychopathic cult-gang member, skinwolf again, it’d been what, two or three days with the goldfinger, and he’d suffered ‘deaths’ four separate times. He was beginning to think that Gerald wasn’t a spirit trying to possess him, instead, it was just a bad luck charm.

And apparently the bad luck that radiated off of him was such that they had completely lost track of the actual spirit that was meant to be taking over his body. Naturally, that information was a tad bit worrying to hear, as it sounded like the fifth incident that was going to try to end his life was already in the works.

Truly no existence is more wretched and accursed than that of a person who has a goldfinger living inside of them. Once again, it was probably a good time to throw the subtle communication out the window in favor of shoving a boulder down the entity’s throat.

‘I’m going to choose to ignore the fact that the body contract was forced upon me. Multiple issues with what you are saying outside of that. Most importantly, what do you mean saying that I was supposed to be dead? And then also, aren’t you the spirit, or goldfinger, or the entity that is meant to be taking control of my body?’

“Answering your questions in the reverse order, my taking over of your body was never in the books, even in this special circumstance that we’ve found ourselves in. At most, the guy with the soul contract, Steve Cooper, would have fought you for your body. But that would only have happened due to you somehow surviving getting your skull caved in two days ago.”

Bullshit alert, bullshit alert, the goldfinger seriously thinks that he was going to buy that it was not trying to take him over. Like, yeah, sure, okay buddy, see how that holds up in court. After all, even if it was telling the truth about not wanting to take him over, there was the entire bit about how it was cooperating with a guy who absolutely would try to take his body over.

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Aren’t there laws out there about being an accessory to a crime or something along those lines? Not that it cared too much about the law, as it was ugly and never had any friends, so it was an active detriment to society and a disappointment to its parents.

But before Edward could go any further down the insult rabbit hole, he calmed himself, remembering that he needed to cooperate with the goldfinger in the short term still. There was bigger fish to fry at the moment, such as the missing Steve Cooper who wants to take over his body.

‘Ok, so this Steve Cooper guy was supposed to have easy access to my body, but since I miraculously survived, a fight would have to take place for ownership. But that fight hasn’t happened yet, which leads to my next question, where is Steve Cooper? Is he hidden somewhere in my mind or body, waiting to duke it out with me?’

“You’re starting to get a grasp of the situation now, good. Let me assuage your fears about Steve Cooper though, there is no risk of him hiding out in your body. The eruption that almost killed you would have had even worse effects on Steve’s soul if he was around for it. Which means that even if he had been hiding in your body, waiting for a good opportunity to duke it out with you, his chance to do so has long since passed.”

One internal threat neutralized, one more to go. That was a big relief, spooky ghosts did not seem like fun individuals to hang out with, especially so when the option to run away had been taken out of your hands.

Thank the gods, having yet another mysterious and powerful enemy to deal with would’ve been too much. Could you imagine having to go from fighting a cult during the day, to duking it out with a spirit, to then running around a dungeon at night? Luckily that stupid ass reincarnator is gonzo, so I don’t have to worry about fighting for control of my body anytime soon.

But a horrifying question emerged from the depths of Edward’s mind, one that he immediately voiced out, hoping that the goldfinger would answer in denial.

‘Wait a minute, the system won’t send a replacement, right? Please tell me that it won’t do that.’

“Even if the system does do that, I’ve never personally seen it happen before, so for now let’s operate under the assumption that it does not. However, there is a massive caveat to that answer, there is a possibility of another contractor being present in your world. And they’d be out for your blood just as much as Steve would have been.”

Why. Did. His. Life. Only. Get. Harder. Day by day, he worked to improve himself so that he could eventually deal with the threats around him, and instead of actually dealing with any of the issues, thereby decreasing the amount left that he had to deal with, he had new ones emerging.

Goldfingers are bad luck. Goldfingers are bad luck. Goldfingers are bad luck. At this point, he might as well give up on his situation ever improving. Because, by the time he manages to deal with the cult, which is somehow the lowest threat level for people and things that want him dead, he’ll probably have beef with a god or multiple gods.

Honestly, at the rate he was going, he’d have beef with a god by the end of the week.

‘Of course, why would there not be yet another thing aiming for my life? And you know what, Mr. Gerald? I’ve been really unlucky ever since you popped into my mind. Got anything to say about that, hm?’

“I assure you, us goldfingers have no effect on the luck of our contractors. Luck, like many other factors, is simply outside of the jurisdiction of the system. Therefore, it is not due to my presence that you are lacking in luck, but instead, it is due to your own blighted fortunes. Perhaps all of your life’s luck was used up in surviving that head injury? It would explain the system’s mistake in thinking that you were supposed to be dead.”

The goldfinger was now just subtly implying that his lack of luck was entirely his own fault. And honestly, at this point, he didn’t want to talk to it anymore. All it was saying was that he missed out on some perks, somebody wanted to kill him but not to worry because that guy was already dead, and then, “never mind, time to worry again because there is a completely different guy who’ll want to kill you.”

He didn’t have the energy to deal with its bullshit while he was freezing to death in this water, so without informing it, he tuned out from the connection. Then, not satisfied with that measure alone, he muffled the connection further so that not even the buzzing sounds would go through. The goldfinger had been a fool to teach him how to mentally communicate, as that had allowed him to figure out the total-mute button, too.

Now, with his mind quieted, there was a new question that he would have to answer himself. Where was the gods-damned exit to this water?

Interim

Fatigue ruled his body, his legs were leaden, his focus fleeting, and his senses shot. Several hours had passed since he silenced the goldfinger, and not only had he been wading through water for all of them, but it also was gradually getting colder.

At one point, he’d found the spot where he could sit that he had wanted, only it was a crevice that was less than two feet high, with only two or so inches of breathing room above the water. It was also quite narrow, barely wide enough for his shoulders to pass by.

Through this narrow, short crevice he went, as turning back was not an option. The water level in the cave had been rising, slowly but surely, until the only way he could keep his head above water was by either walking on his tippy-toes or by swimming.

It didn’t help that his path through the cave system had been on a gradual, uphill trend, as that meant that the area he had started in was likely totally submerged by this point in time. Regardless, that was now behind him, in the past, not his problem anymore. Unless he died and revived back in the submerged cave, then it’d be his problem once more.

On the bright side, as he crawled further and further through the crevice, it started to widen out and increase in height, until eventually, he was able to actually sit for once and breathe in the stale air. Once again, he reaffirmed that it would be difficult to ever truly prepare for whatever the dungeon had in store for him in a given day.

It also didn’t help that he was expecting a quick-paced, epic battle with monsters, and what he was left with was a slow slog without a single monster in sight. Although he didn’t know how long that trend would continue for, as the monsters likely needed to breathe, just like him. This, of course, meant that they would be attempting to flee further up into the cave system, just like him.

He almost wished it would happen soon, as tired as he was, as it seemed like he would only become more fatigued as time went by. However, it was not meant to be, as the crevice only got wider and taller, until the point where it was back to being a cave like earlier. Only, it did not stop at that point, it continued to expand and grow larger, until he finally reached a natural threshold that denoted the end of the branch of the cave that he was in.

He now stood between his tiny, little hollow and the massive cave that had opened up before him. There were spires and slopes with bridges of rocks connecting them. Some areas were slightly above the water level, while others were dozens of feet up in the air.

Entrances to other cave offshoots dotted the walls of the massive cave, with some being at the bottom level, like his, and flooded with water, while the ones high up appeared to be dry. Not of all the caves up high were dry, mind you, as some had waterfalls cascading down from them.

The scenery made Edward wonder how a cave system like this would form. He also questioned where it would be, as the seemingly endless supply of water did not seem to run in any particular direction, meaning it might not be draining anywhere.

Of course, the entire cave could be a construct, not actually existing or being based on any actual place in reality. Honestly, he kind of hoped the dungeons weren’t based on any place in reality, as if they were, that would mean that skinwolves actually existed. Or at least, existed in his world.

The goldfinger had been making it plenty clear that it, at least, believed that there were other worlds out there full of people, or whatever constituted people in those other worlds. So maybe he could hold out some hope that skinwolves were beings taken from a different world and shoved inside the dungeon to mess with him.

Seems like a lot of effort just to torture little old him, but if even the kingdom was willing to plan out a secret kidnapping mission to capture him, who knows what other people might do to get to him. Did that, perhaps, mean that he was actually a really valuable individual?

Edward’s head shook after a brief delay, that couldn’t be right, especially with how they’ve been treating him. Wouldn’t they try to either bribe him to win him over, or coerce him into working for them? This hands off, wishy-washy approach had only made him very irritated with them, to say the least.

What was he thinking about before he went off topic? Eh, probably didn’t matter. Was likely something about the cult being stupid and the goldfinger just being plain weird.

In any case, it was time to focus up because for the first time ever, he had spotted an enemy in the dungeon before they spotted him. Now granted, he could say that he had spotted the first skinwolf he had encountered first, but he didn’t really want to count that as it had then spotted him seconds after. What he would count, is this time, where he had spotted an enemy while being in no danger of being spotted himself.

Now all that was left to do was silently approach it, get the jump on it, and bludgeon it to death with his fists and feet. Simplicity itself.

The plan was already being put into motion before it could even complete itself in his mind. Approaching silently was quite easy, the sounds of the various waterfalls covered up whatever noises he made, and due to his lack of energy, his movements were slow and cautious by default.

Still, he remained tense, he had no clue of the capabilities of the monster that he was targeting, nor was he aware of whether or not it was by itself. The thing could have thirty of its closest homies chilling right over the ridge, where he couldn’t see them, and the moment he tried to take it on, they would counter-jump him.

That’d be an embarrassing way for his first fight to go, bludgeoned to death by those he sought to bludgeon to death. Never to fear though, for all he had to do to ensure that such a horrid fate would not come to pass was not mess up. And honestly, how hard could that be to do with his coordination all jacked up?

Well, at least as he approached, he figured out that he didn’t have to worry about the creature overpowering him. After all, it was one of his good friends that he was very well acquainted with, a skinwolf.

Those raggedy, skin and bones, loser ass, fake wolves pretending to be men had next to nothing on the power contained within his own body. And how could they, they were, quite literally, only composed of skin, bones, and rotten flesh, where was the muscle in all of that?

Now, one could make the argument that as undead, reanimated through magical means and hatred, they didn’t actually require any muscle to be strong. However, that was the argument of a weak-willed nobody who didn’t accomplish anything for fear of “magical strength” that may or may not actually exist.

Still, a little bit of caution never hurt anyone, and although he’d forgotten the fear he’d held towards the beasts, that did not mean he was stupid enough to think that they were completely incapable of killing him. As such, he came up with a brilliant plan. This plan would have made all of the top brass of the kingdom cry, as they would have been so inspired by its greatness, that they would have lost all confidence in their own abilities.

It was quite simple, he dove underwater, searched around for a couple moments, and grabbed the largest rock he thought he could wield with any sort of efficiency. Now, the contest between him and the skinwolf would not be decided merely by their strength, as he had an advantage in weaponry.

He had positioned himself beneath the rock outcrop the skinwolf was standing on, the path that he’d have to climb to get up to it was not too challenging, the only real issue he foresaw was the sound of water dripping off of him. Luckily, he did have any clothes on to soak up the water, so as long as he went slowly, the majority of the water would silently run off of him, and no longer be an issue.

The climb had proven to be surprisingly hard, as he had forgotten to consider the fact that he needed to go slowly to let the water drip off of him, while also carrying the rock in one of his hands. Still, his double shot of caution proved to be the correct decision, as the skinwolf had not heard him, even as he crawled up onto the rock right behind it.

Only, the caution that had worked out in his favor was counterbalanced by his terrible luck, as he locked eyes with a different skinwolf that was standing off to the side, in a spot that was outside of his vision from below.

Why, of all times, did one of his theories actually come true? Couldn’t he have had an easy first combat experience? Well, you know what they say, strike first, and put the fear of gods into the rest of your enemies.

With that thought, Edward rushed forward towards the skinwolf that was near, already preparing to cave in its skull with his rock. Simultaneously, the skinwolf in the distance that had locked eyes with him let out an ear-piercing scream as it began to stumble its way towards him.

Its warning would not save its ally, as just as it turned to see what the commotion was about, he smashed the rock across the side of its head. Then, he rammed into its side with his shoulder, knocking it to the ground.

Not a moments hesitation was in his actions as he straddled its torso and proceeded to bring the rock down on its skull again and again and again, until the bones that made it up were nothing but fragments and powder. The rock had broken from the effort, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the impacts with the skull, or the eventual impacts with the ground after the skull had caved in. Either way, the skinwolf’s body lay on the ground beneath him, unmoving.

Breathing heavy, and with one of the two skinwolves dead, Edward turned towards his remaining opponent, ready to finish the fight with nothing but his fists. Only to see the creature followed by several more of its kind, with every single one of their ribcages already cracking apart, as they began to mimic the laughter of people.

A strategy that would have worked greatly, if he had any fear towards them left in him.