The tension inside the motorho was thick.
Ignoring the apprehensive looks around him, Daniel kept all his attention on the kitchen counter.
In his hands, he held a thick glass bottle filled with an amber liquid of questionable origin.
With precise movents, he twisted a sheet torn from a notebook and shoved it into the bottle's neck until it was firmly secured.
I don't even drink anyway, he thought, studying the Molotov cocktail.
"Jim, give a hand here."
He passed the bottle with the improvised wick to the engineer and then handed him a second one containing only the flammable liquid.
"After I throw the grenade, hand the Molotov. Right after that, the other bottle."
Jim took them firmly. His knuckles turned white around the glass. Without saying a word, he simply nodded, his expression grim.
With the logistics settled, Daniel walked to the door and slowly inhaled through his nose.
Activating Danger Wi-Fi.
A translucent map appeared in his mind.
Two red dots were much closer than the others. A quick glance at the caras confird their positions.
The spot would do.
Earlier, he had parked the motorho on the far side of the sheriff's station to avoid damaging any houses.
"Ready?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Yeah."
Jim was already standing only a step away.
Julie, who had been watching the whole thing with her arms wrapped around herself, couldn't hold back any longer.
"Be careful, you idiot."
A faint smile appeared on Daniel's face.
Then he unlocked the door. The tallic click echoed through the vehicle.
In one smooth motion, he pushed it open.
The cold night air rushed inside.
Two figures stopped walking.
A man wearing a white 1950s milkman uniform and a woman dressed like a librarian.
Their pale faces turned toward the vehicle with unsettling slowness. Their grotesque smiles stretched even wider the mont their eyes found Daniel.
Unhurried, moving with the sa sickening grace as always, they began approaching.
Farther back, several other silhouettes changed direction as well.
Without hesitation, Daniel pulled the safety pin with his index finger and hurled the military explosive directly onto the grass between the two creatures.
"Give it." His fingers snapped.
Jim passed him the Molotov.
Daniel's free hand was already holding the lighter. The sharp tallic snap and the crack of the spark ca a fraction of a second before the deafening detonation.
"Art is an explosion."
The words escaped automatically, pulled from a mory involving a certain blond terrorist obsessed with clay.
A cloud of dirt, smoke, and shrapnel blasted into the air.
With the wick lit, Daniel threw the Molotov directly into the center of the newly ford crater.
The glass shattered against the ruined ground.
Flas spread instantly.
The second one followed right after.
Daniel hurled it into the sa spot, feeding the growing fire consuming the lawn beside the sheriff's station.
From the corner of his eye, while watching the map glowing inside his mind, he noticed four new red dots advancing along both sides of the vehicle.
Wasting no ti, he grabbed the handle and pulled the reinforced door shut.
The security locks snapped into place one after another, sealing the interior once more.
Daniel accessed the vehicle's control panel and rerouted the feed from the external security cara, normally restricted to the small control screen, directly to the large television in the living area.
The high-definition image illuminated the dark interior, revealing flas dancing violently across the torn-up grass.
On the other side, at the sheriff's station, the explosion echoed like thunder.
Boyd was in the middle of a miserable bath.
With no running water available, he was washing himself using a bucket and a plastic cup.
The instant the blast made the wooden walls tremble, the cup slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor.
Nearly giving himself a heart attack, the sheriff grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist as best he could.
His heart hamred against his ribs as he rushed across the room.
He slipped once, barely recovered his balance, and continued until he reached the side window.
Boyd pressed his face against the glass, trying to see through the gaps between the wooden boards.
The lawn was on fire.
He blinked several tis, forcing his eyes to focus.
The flas illuminated two figures sprawled on the ground.
Any human being would have been screaming in agony, thrashing desperately while their skin lted away.
But those figures didn't make a single sound.
An unpleasant chill crawled down the sheriff's spine.
That was when he realized what he was looking at.
The creatures.
With unnatural calm, the first one planted its charred hands on the ground and began pushing itself upright.
The flas were still consuming its torn clothes, yet it rely adjusted its partially lted glasses as if mildly annoyed by a light rain.
The other one tried to do the sa.
It managed to stand for two seconds.
Then one of its shattered legs gave out, and it collapsed onto its knees.
The blaze continued devouring its body.
More creatures erged from the darkness.
One by one, they approached and ford a circle around the pair.
None of them offered help or showed concern. They just watched.
Gradually, the fire consuming the librarian died out from lack of fuel, revealing a scorched, cracked face.
The smile was still there.
The milkman, however, had taken the full force of the second bottle.
He remained motionless as he burned, not letting out so much as a groan, until he finally toppled face-first onto the grass.
When the flas finally died out, only a blackened, twisted carcass remained.
For a few monts, nobody moved.
Then, as if they had lost interest in a boring show, the monsters simply turned their backs.
They abandoned their fallen companion and resud their slow walk through the area like people strolling through a park on a Sunday afternoon.
Inside the motorho, the atmosphere was completely different.
"We did it, right?!" Julie pointed at the television.
Her voice cracked with a sudden surge of hope. "You killed one of those things!"
Jim let out a shaky breath while running a hand through his hair.
Tabitha covered her mouth, her eyes shining.
Beside her, Ethan gave Daniel an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
But Daniel remained leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and a slight frown on his face.
No notification appeared.
"System, where's the mission reward?"
[You destroyed the body. But the creature's soul remains intact. Congratulations on doing half the job.]
Daniel rolled his eyes, though deep down, he had expected sothing like this.
Eliminating pseudo-immortal monsters was never going to be that simple.
"Don't you think that, considering how difficult it is to kill a damn immortal, the reward should be much bigger?"
After all, it was only 5 Attribute Points, 10 Skill Points, 5,000 Silver Coins, and a New Skill.
[Like I said, the skill is the real reward.]
"It better be completely broken to make up for this headache."
"Did sothing happen?" Julie asked, noticing his prolonged silence.
"Nothing." Daniel shrugged. "I was just thinking about the results."
Jim stepped closer to the television, his mind already working at full speed.
"Then fire is their weakness. The extre heat destroyed the tissues before they could regenerate."
He rubbed his chin.
"But we need to determine whether it was the fire alone that killed it, or if the grenade's shockwave caused internal damage severe enough to prevent regeneration."
"We can theorize about their biology later. Right now, it's ti for dinner." Daniel said
Tabitha, still riding the high of their victory, offered to prepare dinner. She used so of the boar at stored in the refrigerator.
Before long, the sll of roasting at filled the motorho, bringing an oddly normal feeling to a night that had begun with an explosion and burning monsters.
During dinner, the Matthews family talked far more animatedly than they had in days.
The simple idea that those creatures might not be invincible rekindled sothing inside them.
Daniel ate in silence. He had no intention of ruining the mont.
Letting them believe that would be good for the group's morale.
After the al, the routine settled back in.
Ethan resud his Dragon Ball Z marathon until his eyelids started growing heavy.
Noticing that, Daniel prepared the living area for the night.
The large couch was converted into a bed for Julie and Tabitha.
A few improvised cushions were placed on the retractable table to turn it into Ethan's bed.
Jim, in a classic paternal sacrifice, ended up with nothing more than a simple mattress on the floor.
"Good night."
Daniel erged from the bathroom wearing clean clothes, his hair still damp.
Julie cast a furtive glance in his direction. There was a clear hint of frustration there.
Daniel pretended not to notice. The agreent was to respect the presence of her family.
And he intended to keep his word.
Shortly afterward, he entered the rear bedroom.
...
At four in the morning, his eyes opened in the darkness.
Without making a sound, he got out of bed and walked to the bathroom.
When he ca back, he sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled up the leg of his pants, exposing his right thigh.
The small tallic needle appeared between his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he channeled Spiritual Energy into the glowing tip.
The needle pressed against his skin. A faint sizzle echoed through the room.
Daniel clenched his teeth. The pain hit hard.
Nothing like a normal tattoo.
It felt as though soone were pouring molten tal directly beneath his skin.
The first lines were manageable.
The next ones weren't.
When the rune reached roughly twenty percent completion, his hand faltered.
The line almost ca out crooked.
A drop of cold sweat slid down the side of his face.
Shit.
He corrected the movent at the last second, but a few monts later another wave of pain shot through his leg.
The problem wasn't even the physical suffering.
It was the concentration. The rune demanded precision.
If he lost focus for even a mont, all the work would be ruined.
Daniel tried to continue. The needle advanced another few centiters.
His hand trembled again. This ti, worse.
For a mont, he considered giving up.
Then a familiar sound echoed inside his mind.
[New Skill Acquired.]
[Pain Tolerance – Level 1 (0/5)]
Type: Passive
Description: Through repeated exposure to suffering, your mind has adapted to endure greater levels of pain.
Effect: Allows you to voluntarily reduce your perception of pain by up to 50%.
[Who could have guessed that repeatedly subjecting yourself to excruciating pain would increase your tolerance to it? A truly groundbreaking discovery.]
Daniel stared at the notification. A tired smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
How convenient, he thought.
Then again, he had already suffered enough during the transformation to Level 2, so it was understandable.
Without wasting ti, he adjusted the skill to its maximum limit.
The relief was imdiate.
Now more stable, he returned to work.
This ti, without interruptions.
When the geotric line was finally completed, the rune shone with an intense white light before slowly cooling down.
The symbol remained engraved on his thigh. It looked like a perfectly symtrical white tattoo.
It was roughly five centiters long.
Without hesitation, Daniel concentrated half of his remaining energy into the newly created rune.
The symbol absorbed it all.
His energy gauge imdiately dropped to exactly fifty points.
He covered his leg and stared into the darkness of the room.
Now, if the Boy in White or any other spiritual entity crossed his path, he would be able to see them.
To fill the remaining ti before sunrise, he materialized the handheld gaming console from his Inventory and lost himself in a few action gas.
The peace lasted until the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon.
A series of firm knocks echoed through the motorho.
Jim jolted awake on the mattress, rubbing the sleep-crumpled look from his face while Tabitha and Julie sat up in alarm.
Daniel stored the handheld console away and crossed the motorho in long strides.
When he opened the door, he found Boyd standing outside.
The deep circles beneath the sheriff's eyes made it obvious he hadn't slept a single minute since the explosion.
Before coming over, he had gathered what remained of the charred creature and hidden the corpse inside the sheriff's station.
Even so, the image kept replaying in his mind.
"Was it you who caused all that commotion last night?"
"I did," Daniel replied calmly.
"Tell exactly what happened," Boyd asked far too quickly.
This wasn't re curiosity. It was the first ti he had ever seen one of the monsters killed. That changed everything.
Without hiding anything, Daniel began explaining.
When he finished, the sheriff remained silent for several unsettling seconds.
"How did you get a grenade?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Were you military?"
"No."
"Then how did you get one?"
"It was a gift." Daniel shrugged as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Boyd waited for an explanation that never ca.
Silence stretched between them.
"You still have more?"
"A few," Daniel said casually.
That carefree response made a vein throb at the sheriff's temple.
In Boyd's mind, there were only three logical possibilities. Either Daniel's generous friend was military, part of so criminal organization, or Daniel himself was part of one.
Maybe all three options were true at the sa ti.
"Anything else, Sheriff? I've gotta get my breakfast."
Boyd sighed. The truth was, he wanted to confiscate every one of those grenades.
Explosives in the hands of a reckless young man were a disaster waiting to happen.
The problem was that he knew Daniel wasn't the kind of person who respected authority simply because soone carried a badge.
Nor could he use the old trick of threatening to throw him out and leave him vulnerable. The kid lived in the damn motorho.
"The next ti you decide to blow sothing up," Boyd warned harshly. "Tell beforehand."
Daniel imdiately straightened his posture. He raised a hand to his forehead.
"Yes, sir."
The military salute was perford with such obviously fake seriousness that it only irritated Boyd even more.
He let out a grunt, shot Daniel one last furious glare, then turned around and left.
As soon as the man's figure disappeared from sight, Jim stepped closer. "Why do you always act like that around him?"
"Maybe I just don't like being told what to do. That's pretty much what authority figures are for." Daniel said it as though it were sothing trivial.
Jim opened his mouth to argue, probably about to launch into a lecture on living in society.
Daniel raised a finger, cutting him off before he could start. "And no, before you ask."
"Ask what?"
"I've never been arrested."
Jim pressed his lips together and looked away. For so reason, that answer wasn't reassuring at all.
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