It had been a couple of minutes since they arrived at the gate. Riot had leveled up quite a bit since they did experience share. His level had shot up to fifty after a few battles. While they were fighting, Eira had started making contracts with monsters in the area and rebuilding her parade of monsters.

Riot was simply in awe at her deal making. The way she explained, bargained, cajoled, and threatened them into pure submission made Riot respect her even more. She had even successfully made a devil sign a contract with her giving up his rights to be her slave as an honor to be with her.

Not that he would ever do something so dumb. After all, his deal was absolutely worth becoming a more powerful lumberjack.

Why, at the level he was at, he could cut ogre’s torso as if it were a paper tree trunk.

He absolutely wanted to do that, but Eira had prevented him from running off. She had sent her new monster horde to search for Dalton and Malcolm.

That let Riot notice that the presence that he had felt was gone. He asked Eira about it.

“The monster behind the bone pile?” Eira asked. She was drinking tea from a thermos. “He was a being known as the Bag Man.”

“The Bag Man?” Riot gasped.

“Do you know of him?”

“No. I have never heard of him, but from the name, he brings shivers down my spine!”

Eira took a thoughtful sip. “I have no idea whether he is man or demon. Our contract was simply that he would take orders from me, if I gave him cadavers to play with. He is a surprisingly vicious fighter, he fights like a butcher.”

“The Butcher of Death!” Riot yelled out.

“Sure.” Her tone deadpanned. “I sent the Bag Man to find the two idiots. I promised him your body once you died. He was very interested in your…vigor.”

Riot burst out laughing. “He’s going to have to wait for a while before he have ownership of my body.”

Eira sipped her tea. “Well, accidents could happen.”

#

With his glowing red eyes peering from the eye holes of his paper brown bag, the Bag Man looked down upon them. Though his muscles bulged, his movements seemed mechanical as he brought his big sausage sized finger and prodded Dalton on the chest.

“Idiots?” His voice was weak, as if he were still getting rid of a persistent cold.

Dalton was so shocked by the Bag Man, that he had lost his voice. Which allowed Malcolm to answer for the two of them. A very big mistake.

“We’re not idiots!” Malcolm snapped as he dug his hand deep in his underwear.

The Bag Man turned his head. “Perverts?”

“No!” This time Dalton snapped. “Do I look like a pervert? It is clear that that man behind me is the real pervert!”

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“Just because I was ecstatic of the the limited run of Banana Maniacs issue, does not mean I am a pervert.”

The magazine in his hands begged to differ. Even in the near future of five minutes after this, as Dalton tried to remember the cover of the magazine, he could not remember. He only remembered that it was so horrific that his mind had somehow erased the image and replaced it with mosaics.

“Don’t wave the cover in front of me!” Dalton snapped. “It’s going to make my eyes bleed!”

“You’re just jealous! This magazine is well worth several million credits!”

“Give that magazine to me as compensation for scarring me and I may forgive you.”

“Ha! It’s obvious you’re just a pervert like me!” said the man digging deeper into his fourth dimensional underwear.

The Bag Man’s head cracked upside down. “Not idiots or perverts?”

“No!” The two of them yelled in unison.

A dark curtain draped over him.

“So…not pervert. Not idiot. It means Cadaver.” He reached in his bag and pulled out a giant bone bigger than his bag could possibly contain.

“Hey!” Malcolm snapped. “You can’t show him another fourth dimensional object! It makes mine less special!”

Dalton dodged the Bag Man’s cleave. It ripped through the air, and Dalton was sure if it had hit him where it had been intended, his head would have been squashed like a grape.

“Do not dodge!” His red eyes glowed dangerously.

Dalton retreated beside Malcolm. “Did you find any bullets in your underwear?”

“No, but I found-”

“If you tell me you found some stupid porn again, I’m going to leave you here for him to deal with.” Dalton glared.

Malcolm had stuffed it back in his underwear. There was no doubt, it was a porn magazine. “But I found…” And he lifted his hand to show another porn magazine.

“Is your underwear linked to your desire?” Dalton asked. “Because your priorities are in the wrong order!”

“I can’t control what comes out of the Underwear.” He was pulling more and more useless magazines. “This is just a coincidence.”

“The first time was a coincidence. It’s not a coincidence after the seventh time.”

“Why don’t you just defeat the little bastard?”

Dalton threw up his hands. “Because that thing is the opposite of little!”

“So, you’re a wimp again.” Malcolm sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Well, I guess I knew it was going to happen.”

“…You’re not going to trick me to fight it alone while you escape.”

Malcolm clicked his tongue.

“You didn’t think I saw you hide when I fought the horde? I saw you pull that body over you and pretend to be dead.” Dalton crossed his arms, shifting his weight to his other leg. “You have those muscles, don’t you? Why don’t you go and beat that Bag Man?”

“Well, Dalton, it’s because I don’t want an assassin sent for me.”

“And it’s alright if an assassin is sent for me?”

“An assassin has already been sent for you! You already shat that bed, so why don’t you just sleep in it! It’s not like it’s going to get worse for you! You can’t die twice!”

Dalton was dumbfounded. “You know we work for a corporation that reincarnates souls, right? That’s our whole thing.” Then Dalton turned to the Bag Man. He was just standing there gazing on them. “Is there a reason why he hasn’t killed us yet?”

The Bag Man pointed up. It was their turn.

Malcolm grabbed him by the shoulder. “See! Just kill him! He’s waiting patiently, so fuck the rules and kill him!”

Dalton looked up again. “I’m not even on the board. It’s just you and him.” Dalton went through his own menu. His status was Banned. It probably meant the same thing that it meant in other games. He couldn’t participate in the battle.

“What?” Malcolm looked up at the bar horrified. “That’s bullshit!”

“Well, you go take care of him now. I’m going to continue my journey to the gate.”

“Don’t leave me here!”

Dalton turned around and smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re just a distraction. This is part of the plan, for letting me run away.”

“You bastard!”

#

Malcolm was left with little choice on what needed to be done. He watched as his distraction walked away. His only hope of escaping this dreaded Bag Man.

The Bag Man was holding a butter knife and rubbing it against the stone. At first Malcolm thought he was sharpening the blade, but as he watched, Malcolm realized in horror that the Bag Man was making it duller.

“Why?” Malcolm screamed at the Bag Man.

“To kill you slowly of course.”

Malcolm blinked at the sudden change in the Bag Man’s demeanor. “Your….your voice? Why do you sound like a nobleman?”

“I was so hoping that young man would go.” He held up the butter knife in the light. “I was hoping that we could have some fun.”