Arnold wanted to imagine sticking his dick inside of the vagina of Kat, which had basically been his sole goal for almost every action he took these past few months. The only reason he bought the game, really, was so he could make sure Kat was forced to fall in love with him, and then he could have all the best superpowers in the real world, to boot.

All this time, he’d been forced to play this stupid fucking RPG, all because he couldn’t think of a better way to make that bitch Kat fall in love with him, because she only ever fucked the bad boys as well as that other bitch Anna.

Right now, the best thing in the world would be to sit back and meditate, to imagine his throbbing hard “little Arnold” entering Kat as she submitted to the superior will of the best Jacques family member--even if he had never experienced or even seen something like that in his life before, he understood it in essence and very much had the ability to think about it deeply.

However, he couldn’t.

He was in too much pain to think about much of anything but the agony of existence.

That agony, was, of course, caused by the fact that several limb-sized spikes stuck through his torso, a couple through his arms, and one right through his groin.

Any amount of libidio he had, any semblance of an erection he could receive, was offset by the fact that his body was rapidly bleeding out and every single part of him screamed out in pain.

You see, Arnold had been backhanded off a cliff by Dorrik during their extremely fierce, extremely fevered battle. Dorrik, that man who was definitely male, was also a fucking BEATER.

(For those who are not well-versed in the lore of the classic hit anime Sword Art Online, “beater” is the term for beta testers who were also cheaters; they were usually forced to play solo due to the discrimination against them, and Arnold too was very much in that pro-discrimination camp.)

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Dorrik cheated during their fight, and clearly that was the only reason why Arnold didn’t kill the motherfucker and come out on top. Because Dorrik cheated, he’d probably never see Kat naked on her back, not even once.

Arnold was dying.

A lesser man--an effeminate man who drank soy milk and made a big open mouth when talking about the Nintendo Switch--would stop right now to consider his life and wonder where things went wrong. Arnold refused to do any of that, not only because he was in so much pain that thinking about negative things was simply creating a brand new definition of suffering in each individual moment, but also because he wasn’t a wuss or a homosexual, and deep in his heart he knew he was right all along.

He was right, and he was infinitely pleased about it. Who cares if he was about to have his existence expunged? Who cares if his entire being was in utter exhaustion from the sheer nerve overload of every second? He was right all along about his thesis: Nice guys finish last, and the whole world is geared against the really good guys in this world. That’s the thesis Arnold wanted to test with this whole “have sex with Kat” experiment, and his results were finally in.

He heard Dorrik and Kat fucking up on the cliffs, just moaning and panting and slicing their swords around for some reason. It filled him both with rage and happiness. That bomb-ass chick with the big titties poking out of every clothing item she ever wore, and that beefy lizard with scales from here to the end of the universe...

Even as Arnold screamed in pain, he suddenly found it possible to imagine these situations of his in much greater detail than he ever would have expected.

He began to synthesize the pain. Embrace it. Meditate with it.

These were REALLY BIG spikes sticking out of him, after all. Stiff, rigid, tower-like spikes that entered his body relentlessly.

No, he could not control his limbs, and he certainly didn’t have a box of tissues with him, but he could finally feel his “little Arnold” getting all excited, just thinking about the whole situation. The pain was beautiful, and so was finally knowing that Kat, all along, was a bitch who loved to do it with lizard men.

He kept on thinking about it, imagining that bare arched back and that giant lizard tongue lashing around... Just so many fluids sloshing around on the cliffs and maybe some of them would drip down here onto where Arnold’s viscerally destroyed body laid.

What a great scene. What a lovely time.

Oh, boy, Arnold never died better than he did in the ice caverns.