I stare at the message before my eyes. It stares back at me.

What…?

There’s a little sound below and I look down to see Simel’s face twist in pain. He gives another whimper. My mind is whirling. What? What? What? What?

Slowly, I stand up. Then I back away, over to the other wall. I sit down.

What is going on? What does that mean? What is the right thing? What is right? What is wrong? What does this mean? What is expected of me? I don’t…

I don’t know anything.

watches you with pity.>

…Uhuh. Right. I just…

But I can’t think anymore, because across the room, I can see Simel slowly rise from where he lies. Still hunched over, he wipes the tears from his cheeks and the snot from his lips. I watch in silence as he carefully stands up, legs wobbling slightly, and steps over to the cactus. He sits down, and without looking at me even once, takes a piece from the cactus. He brings it to his face, takes a bite, chews, and swallows. And then another bite, and another.

I watch, enraptured, as Simel actually eats.

After a few minutes, he stops, stands up, and walks over to the lung bed. There, he lies down. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes but it felt like a lifetime.

Would it be inappropriate to tell him a goodnight story? How about a hug? No?

I watch him where he lies, silently, his body turned away from me. After some time, his breathing becomes slower, deeper. As quietly as humanly possible, I stand up once more and tip-toe over to the bed. Saying nothing, thinking just as little, I remove one of my bear skins from my inventory and drape it over his form. Then, I walk away, back to the other corner of the crib.

There, I sit down, cross my arms, and let myself fall into gentle meditation.

I watch the darkness in my head with curiosity. Maybe it’s different? The floor clear requirement changed, so maybe, for once, the canto might actually be somewhat useful?...

<[O vengeance of the Lord, how you should be

dreaded by everyone who now can read

whatever was made manifest to me!]>

…I take it back. This isn’t useful in the least. This is, miraculously enough, even more useless than the previous ones. Amazing! Stunning! I am so impressed!

…Haaaah… What is even happening anymore?...

Do the right thing. The heck does that even mean?

Without really thinking, I glance over to one of the fleshy walls.

…Yeah, that’s still the boss.

I turn my eyes to look at Simel where he lies on the bed.

I blink at the message. Hey. Whoa. That’s… that’s new. And weird.

An hour ago, you wanted me to put this giant out of his misery. Is that no longer on the table? Or are you just testing me to see whether or not I’ll still kill him? Is that it? The gods seem to think he should be killed, but does that mean that it’s the right thing to do? He doesn’t have a level or anything. By that logic, he shouldn’t even be necessary to kill to beat the floor.

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

And, honestly. How am I supposed to know what the right thing to do is? Isn’t the whole not-knowing thing a huge part of moral and ethical philosophy? Morality is supposed to be subjective, nobody knows what’s truly good or evil, or even if either one of those exists at all! Even things that seem clearly good or evil, like helping people in need or killing another human being, can become just the opposite depending on the situation. If you help someone in doing bad stuff, then what does that make you? Likewise, it isn’t evil to kill someone who’s trying to kill you. It’s all subjective, so trying to keep track of what’s right and wrong is a pointless exercise that only serves to over-complicate the simple.

I shouldn’t need to think too hard about my everyday actions. If it feels right, then it is right. You shouldn’t need to ponder any further on it, because then you can easily think yourself into a corner.

Across the room, Simel whimpers in his sleep. I pause my grumbling to look at him. But he doesn’t whimper again, so I guess he’s fine.

…Simel, huh… Yeah, I really have no idea.

Logically speaking, if I did kill the giant and it let me beat the floor, wouldn’t that also be bad? I mean, that’d leave Simel in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do but starve and die in this infernal heat. I’d basically be sentencing him to death for no reason whatsoever.

I shake my head. Yeah, no. No matter what, I can’t let my goals here get Simel hurt.

<03:56:10

Day 364>

20:03:50>

will begin in 20:03:50.>

The grand conference, huh?...

Moleman will be there. I should be able to ask him about it. He should know what the right course of action is. Sure, I’m not exactly immoral or anything like that, but in this situation, there’s no way I can assume to know what the gods think is the right thing to do. Hm. Combined with the fact that I don’t get taken back to the lobby with each attempt, isn’t there a chance that I may be stuck on floor 15 for months and years until I do the right thing?

Either that, or the right thing is a matter of my own mindset and not that of the gods. Who knows, really?

Since the situation is complicated enough as it is, I might as well get my thoughts off the matter by doing a little training. I’m just about to take a big bite out of my left hand when I notice Simel shifting in his sleep. Considering the way he looks at most meat, he might not want to wake up to a blood-covered floor. And, sure, it’s already covered in a bit of blood, and it is made of meat, but… yeah.

Standing up, I tip-toe over to the door and creep outside, closing it behind me so gently it doesn’t make a sound. The second I step outside, my breath turns to a milky white and goosebumps spread across my body.

Cold Resistance Lv.8>

Ah, yeah, there it is. Nighttime in this desert is certainly not for the warm-blooded. You’ve gotta have antifreeze for blood to get far. Well, either that, or you could just embrace the whole my-entire-body-is-freezing-over thing. Don’t people say challenges are good for building character? Yeah, exactly.

The kind of funny thing about this desert is that even though the air is as cold as the surface of Pluto, the sand below the soot is still warm. Yeah, see, the soot acts as an insulating layer, keeping the sand warm for the majority of the night. Most small creatures, therefore, choose to burrow down into said sand, keeping their tiny little bodies all huddled together like a group of adorable bunnies.

Or, as is common with burroworms, they may instead seek refuge inside the flesh of the crib. I haven’t cleaned them out in a couple of days, so it’s really about time I gave the crib a nice de-parasite-ification.

Oh, uh, not counting myself, of course. Evicting me would be counterintuitive to my general goals.

Now, let’s see, where do we have those worms… Circling around to the back of the giant, I keep my back hunched and my head angled to see the underside of his flesh. Nothing, nothing, nothing… Oh, here we go! Almost invisible to the untrained eye, but very much visible to mine. Kneeling down, I bring my eyes level to the little hole. It’s about the same diameter as a baseball, and it leads right into his flesh. The first time I met these little buggers, I was just excavating the hallway leading from the door, only to find one of these things popping out at me like a spring-loaded snake-in-a-can.

But now, they’re hardly a threat. Same as how I’ve done it every other time, I slit an incision along my palm before sticking my entire hand into the hole. No hesitation whatsoever.

The giant’s bodily temperature is weird. His skin is lukewarm at most, but once you get a bit further inside, it turns room temperature. A relaxed, lovely thirty-seven degrees. But, in reality, the burroworms would prefer something warmer. Such as, for example, my blood and flesh.

Lo and behold, after less than a minute of waiting, something sharp and wet prods at my hand. I let it nibble for a few seconds, but once it takes a full-hearted bite, I grab hold of it and pull it out with all the strength and panache of a master fisher, the several metre-long thing flailing out into the cold night air, the sheen of its blood-slick skin reflecting the light of the several moons above.

It’s basically like a big pink eel, but with an exceptionally toothy mouth and a bunch of insect-like grabbers by the front and. Not a pretty thing to look at, but it doesn’t taste too bad.

Before it has time to try to burrow inside my arm or chest or whatever, I bring its mouth-part to my face and bite off its head, swallowing it in one piece despite its tumultuous size. The body of the burroworm starts flailing frantically and without any sort of logic. To dissuade this, I bring the other end of the worm to my face and bite off the second head as well. Yeah, that’s an interesting thing—it’s got two heads. I have no idea if this is to make it easier to turn around, or maybe to fight predators, but it makes defeating it a two-bite deal instead of a single-bite one.

<[Level Up]>

Strength has increased by 3.

Stamina has increased by 2.

Magic Power has increased by 1.

Burn Resistance has increased by 1.

Frostbite Resistance has increased by 1.

Climb has increased by 1.>

Neato. Alright, well, I’ve got a whole night to waste, so I guess I might as well get to it.