“Ah, we can already hear the next trap,” Phisola said.

“That screeching?”

“Yes. Can you guess what it is?”

“I guess something got caught.”

She ruffled Eric’s hair as if he was a child: “Bravo! How did you guess?”

“I must point out that your sarcasm is extremely unintelligent. There’s nothing witty about it.”

“Perhaps. But I’m so used to you being a useless, irrational idiot that I’m genuinely surprised when I hear you making some sense.”

The screeching only got louder as they approached. It didn’t take long for Eric to realize that wasn’t just panicked screeching. Whatever was the cause of it was clearly in quite an agony, calling for help in desperation.

“I’m not going to like this, won’t I?”

“Why wouldn’t you? We’re getting the blood we need.”

“I don’t like seeing animals suffer.”

“Ah, that’s what you’re talking about. It’s fine, you’ll get used to it. Besides, look on the bright side. We’re essentially the angels of mercy to whatever got caught. We’re coming to rid it of its misery.”

“You’re forgetting the part where we’re cause.”

“We? I don’t remember you making or even planting any traps, so you don’t get to take the credit. As for me being the cause, it’s all about perception. I may be the evil devil, but you can get to play the role of savior if you want.”

“Good cop bad cop, huh?”

“Sure, whatever the kop is. But you can become a hero easily while working with a devil. I get to make all the ruckus I want, and you get to always be at the right place and at the right time. You just need to convince some fools that the gods are telling you where the devil will appear next, and voila! You’re a hero all of a sudden!”

“But first, we have to get out of these caves.”

“Smart people think upfront. But hey, I guess that would be asking for too much from you.”

“I’m much more concerned with bare survival right now and don’t care about much else. That and getting out of here before I become an old man.”

“Oh, look, a trap. I really wanted to roast you some more, but I guess the job comes first.”

They finally got to take a look at the source of the screeching. It was yet another one of those rodents, one of the many glued to the trap. However, this one wasn’t dead yet, even though a good portion of its body was melted and fused with the trap.

“It’s no wonder this idiot is screaming so much,” Phisola said, sounding somewhat frustrated, “Instead of going head first, its side got caught! How the fuck did it even manage that?”

“Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“No. The trap imitates the allure of the food, so it’s only natural for the catch to go head first. That way, they die quickly since the blood from their brain gets drained first. But sometimes you get a retard like this, who feels like walking towards the food ass-first for some reason! Serves you right, dick-head.”

“We can’t just leave it like this!”

“I agree. The screeching is way too annoying. Come on, kill it.”

“Me?”

“You want to put it out of its misery, right?”

“Well, yeah, but …”

“Then fucking kill it! Put it out of its misery!”

“But … but I’ve never killed before! If we don’t count fish.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Oh my fucking god!” She grabbed her head in frustration.

“How should I even go about it? What would be the least painful method of doing it?”

Phisola vigorously shook her head left to right, murmuring something under her breath. Putting the bag on the floor, she took the bottle filled with blood out of it, uncorked it, and placed it next to the trapped creature.

Then she approached the poor creature and grabbed what remained intact of its body with one hand while grabbing its head with the other one.

After which, she pulled its head off just like she did with the cork, showing no emotion whatsoever.

“There!” She said while putting the torn-out head above the bottle so the blood would pour into it, “See? It’s not that hard. It’s not philosophy. You don’t have to think about it that much.”

“Sorry, it just … it’s just not in my nature.”

“Bullshit!” She raised her voice briefly at him, “You’re just divorced from your nature for some reason. How can you claim you’re a product of evolution while refusing to accept the rules of nature? It’s not as if the gods have created you to be pure or something. You’re not an angel.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not a devil either.”

“Unfortunately for you, you’re not,” she tossed the head away once the blood stopped dripping out of it, “Anyway, start scraping this one first.”

“The one you’re holding?”

“And what other could it be? All the blood will pour out it if I let go! We’ve already wasted enough of it to shut you up.”

“What would you do if I wasn’t around to scrape it? Something tells me you wouldn’t just hold it like that.”

“If you weren’t around, I’d just leave the fucker as it is.”

Eric’s face became expressionless, “… you’d let it suffer?”

“It wouldn’t suffer any more than the rest of them. Helping one out hardly makes a difference. The only difference is that we get less blood out of it. But I know you’re a pussy and would nag me about it all the way back.”

“I just … I mean …”

“More scraping, less thinking!”

“Ok, ok. I just …” he kneeled beside her and got to it, “I understand it needs to be done. And I understand this is far more efficient than chasing after them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging you. I have no right to.”

“You got that right.”

“Especially since you promised you’d get me out of here too. And you’ve also stopped abusing me. Physically, at least. So I won’t nag or judge you now when you are fair with me.”

“But?”

“But I’m just built differently, that’s all. The most I’ve killed are bugs. I’ve never killed something that can show emotions.”

“Emotions are nothing but survival mechanisms. Don’t read too much into them.”

“Perhaps. But they’re a damn useful one. Especially when dealing with people who have some empathy.”

“Oh? You think you have empathy?”

“I like thinking that I do. But I also understand the hypocrisy of that statement. Claiming you have empathy is easy when you have someone else doing the killing for you.”

With the scraping done, Phisola placed the headless rodent over the bottle, turning it upside-down: “That’s good. You’re surprisingly insightful right now.”

“I never really thought about it before, but I understand it now. Just because I never did anything bad personally doesn’t mean I’m not dependent on someone else doing it.”

“Wait a moment … are you nagging to yourself now?” Phisola stared at him in disbelief.

A tired smile appeared on Eric’s face: “I guess I am. I’m just trying to deal with what I saw, in my own way.”

“It’s just one stupid rodent,” she swung the headless carcass left and right for emphasis while holding its tail, “It’s not like I’ve killed an intelligent creature. It’s not like it had family and friends. It’s not like it was useful and paying its tribute. These are called pests for a reason, just like the bugs you’ve mentioned. Don’t let it get to you just because it knows how to scream.”

“But doesn’t the ability to scream show a certain level of emotional capability? Actually …” he stopped talking for a moment before shaking his head hard, as if hoping something would fall out of it, “You’re right. I’m overthinking it. Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok if you’re stressed about it. And there are interesting ways to reduce stress, you know.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Let’s just get this over with.”

“That’s why we’re here. Scrape those fuckers, and I’ll get the blood.”

They worked for some time in silence. As soon as Eric did his part of the work, Phisola grabbed the trap bottle by the top and swung it to the side so the blood would pour into the other, larger bottle she brought with them. Instead of picking it up and turning it upside-down so all the blood could get out, she only took a portion of it, leaving about a quarter of the blood still in the bottle.

Then she took the third, smallest bottle and poured some of its blood into the trap.

“I take it that’s my blood?” Eric broke the silence.

“That’s right. Your blood has no magic but can work as fuel in specific circumstances. Or, to be more accurate, it can enhance the efficiency of my magic so I don’t have to spend as much of my mana to fuel the thing.”

She put the small bottle back in the bag after pouring a small amount of blood out of it. Then she put the cork back on the trap, but her hand still hovered over it. Taking a good look, Eric saw her touching the cork with her index finger. She sat like that for a few moments before finally standing up.

“Come on, let’s go!”

“Did you put your magic in it just now?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn’t … so, just touching it like that is enough? With just one finger?”

“And what did you expect?”

“I … I expected it to be flashy, I admit. I expected there would be a flash or a glow or something.”

“That would only drain more of my mana away. And why the fuck does it need to be flashy? We‘re not in a circus.”

“Ah, forget about it,” Eric waved with his hand as if to chase a fly away, “That’s just what my people imagine magic looks like. We think magic is flashy and glowy and stuff. That makes it look cooler.”

“I see. True, some show-offs will do that, but it serves no purpose. And the last thing we need right now is wasting magic on stupid bullshit. Come on, there are more traps to take care of.”