Gris grumbled. He pointed to his throat. He couldn’t talk, but what he really wanted to say was that he had no idea where the decoupling lever was located. He pointed to the next, and final car along – where he had come from.

“I think he’s telling us to uncouple the train,” Chloe said.

Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.

They rushed to the interconnecting area. Gris looked around for any lever. Nope, he couldn’t find it. The only cupboards that were there was a first-aid bag – that would definitely come in handy. Right now, in fact.

Jok walked into the middle of the floor. He stood on a rectangle. Crouching down, he unlatched the trapdoor, and opened it up. Right there was the lever they needed.

Alright, in Gris’s defence, his eyes were shot. Whether it was damage from the fire, smoke, or something else, he didn’t know, but his vision was damned blurry. Yeah, it was probably from the fire…

Jok pulled it, but it wouldn’t budge. The veins in his arms bulged as he tried again, but just as before, it didn’t want to comply. Bo impatiently moved him to the side as he yanked it. It didn’t move. It was stuck as much as King Arthur's sword.

Oh please, Gris also found his patience running out. Not because he was impatient. Alright, maybe a little. But no, it was the thudding of the goblins just outside as they attempted to break in. It wouldn’t take them long before they figured out they could use branches to create a ladder up to the windows

Strength surging in his arm, Gris took a breath, then pulled the lever as hard as he could. The entire thing snapped back. He heard the clinking, and saw the metal linking the two trains together detach.

Bo looked displeased, as if for the first time in his life, had spotted someone stronger than him. Was it like a male peacock that was proud of its feathers suddenly appearing in front of another with taller, shinier, and more colourful feathers? Gris didn’t know. Nor did he care. Such bravado was pathetic.

The train moved. It was like the sound of wind growing louder. Gris opened the door of the vestibule, and entered the 14th car. Outside, the wrathful visages of the greenkins passed by.

Gris let out a relieved breath as he collapsed on one of the closest seats. His adrenaline crashed. He felt so much pain all over his body that it was feverish. Worse yet, was the itchiness he felt pervading every single wound. He just wanted to dig his nails in and give it a good scratch.

But strangely, he knew that was a good sign. It was a sign that his flesh was healing. He leaned his head against the cool window.

This is all so fucked up. I want a burger and fries. Why am I so hungry? I could eat an entire greenkin right about now.

Sighing at the morbid thought, he heard sobbing? Honestly, he was too tired to open his eyes. So he listened.

“He died saving us,” Chloe said. She touched his shoulder. He would have liked the attention if it was from before all of this shit had happened, but now he just felt pain.

That’s burnt flesh, you know. That shit hurts.

She didn’t seem to care.

She continued, “If it wasn’t for him taking down that tree, we wouldn’t have–” She took a deep, steady breath. It was as if she was trying not to break down.

“Uh, Chloe?” Jok said. “I don’t think he’s dead.”

“Huh?”

Oh to hell with it. I just wanted some peace and quiet, Gris thought as he opened his eyes. Chloe stumbled backwards as she held her hands to her mouth in utter disbelief.

Gris tried to talk again. Yep. Didn’t work. He just made unsettling sounds that only seemed to make the others grimace. Chloe only panicked more. He liked the sight. That sounded wrong. Gris wasn’t evil, but it was a lot better than that cool face she always wore. It was kind of… cute.

“Holy shit, how are you still alive?” Christian asked, peering closer at him.

Get out of my face, Gris grumbled and moved further away. Shrinking closer to the window.

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Jok took out a slender potion with red liquid housed inside from his pocket. The glass was murky, impure. Whatever glass maker had created it had done a shoddy job. “Will this work?” He asked.

“What is it?” Chloe asked, curiously taking it from Jok. Just like before, she had no sense for personal space, or manners.

“I’m not sure,” said Jok. “I found it tied to one of Greenskins' waists. It tried to drink it before we killed it. Might be some form of healing thing? I remember my son arguing with others over a game he played for one.”

At the mention of his son, Gris could see struggle within the middle-aged man's eyes. it looked like he wanted to get back to his family. The feeling wasn't mutual.

Gris leaned over and took it out from Chloe’s hands. They were warm, he noted as he brought the tincture to his face. He shook it. It had the consistency of blood; just a little more watery.

Do I really have to drink this? What if it isn’t a healing potion? I mean, that would be too kind. Wouldn’t it? Ah, screw it. I can only taste smoke and blood, anyway. Anything else would be an improvement.

And so he uncorked the potion, then gulped it down as fast as he could. Thankfully, the hole in his throat didn’t leak any. It turned out to be a good decision. It tasted horrible. Like meat that had gone bad. He had tasted that one. What? After a 12-hour overtime shift, that was all that was left in his fridge. It was better than nothing–nevermind, it wasn’t.

Resisting the urge to vomit it up, he waited for–he actually didn’t have to wait for any length of time. The effect was instant. The wounds around his body healed visible to the eye. He felt his throat. The hole was no longer there. He glanced at his other wounds, namely his arm, which was the worst by far. The flesh returned in the form as a scab. The scarring was so bad, it was almost as gruesome as the healed wound. It was also red, and irritable.

“Oh my god. What the hell?” Christian said in shocked surprise at the healing wounds.

Don’t scratch it. Don’t scratch it, Gris repeated in his thoughts as a form of meditation.

Gris tested his voice first, “Th–” Then continued, “Thanks. We need to find more of those, damn.”

“We've already searched all of those monsters,” Jok said. “That was the only one. Must be rare. Considering it just healed, well, you, that must be accurate. Honestly, how are you still breathing?”

“Why did you do that?” Chloe hit his shoulder, interrupting Jok. Her vivid green eyes were puffy and red.

“Ow. Do what?”

“You damn well almost sacrificed yourself to get that tree down. We could have helped.”

That’s right. Why did he do that? That was pretty fucking insane. He was never the type of person that would self-sacrifice for others. Or atleast, he didn't think he was that type of person. Maybe he was?

But as he thought further, closing his eyes, the reason became clear. Somehow he just knew that he wouldn’t die. The only time he truly felt danger was when that goblin aimed at his head. If it wasn’t there, then he just knew that he would survive hits like those. Maybe he’d have to be careful with his heart, too?

It was obvious it was his Trait’s doing. It had not only changed his strength, speed, or resilience. But his brain, as well. Did a cockroach know how much damage it could take before it was going to die? Honestly, he skipped the cockroach-anatomy-day.

And exactly how much did it change? Did he have every single one of the cockroaches' abilities? Or only a select few of them? The Trait description didn’t tell him a lot. He had gained the biomechanics of a cockroach, sure, but that didn’t really tell him much. He’d have to do a lot of experimentation if he wanted to understand his new-found superpowers to their fullest extent.

Even more than that, was his ability to fight. He had done some martial-arts in the past like wrestling, and boxing, and while he enjoyed the sparring aspect, he’d rarely been in a true fight. He had only sparred a few times. Where did he get his fight-or-flight tenacity from? The cockroach as well?

Well, it did seem to have a want for a fight from the fact it tore up his shoes the moment it was summoned.

Little shit. Come back and fight me again, if you dare. The bottom of my shoe is waiting.

That was another thing to worry about. It seemed that if a summon died, they reincarnated, or something. They’d be given quests, just like Gris had received. And they could come and challenge the Master, kill them, and gain all their strength?

He glanced at Chloe’s demon who was standing smartly behind her with his hands behind his back. What if he chose revenge against her? She wouldn’t stand a hope in hell.

Or did one have to kill their own summon for it to activate that Revenge System? Ah, it was all so confusing.

“Gris?” Chloe asked again.

“Ah, I’m fine,” He said. “It’s because of something I received after killing my summon. I think as long as my heart isn’t pierced, or my brain isn’t squished, I should be fine. I’m not suicidal, don’t worry. At least I don't think I am, anyway."

Chloe squinted her eyes, but she nodded in the end.

“So you received something so good after killing your own summon?” Jok asked, eyeing his own summon.

Well that's creepy as shit, Gris thought as he swiftly ignored the comment.

“Nevermind Gris's well-being,” Christian said. Jeez, thanks, Gris thought. He continued, “Did anyone else kill 10 greenkins for the extra spin?”

He gazed at his dog in excitement. It tilted its head. “We can get another Summon. Amazing, right? We can Summon an army!”

Oh how wrong he was.