My Scumbag System No Chapter 386: The River of Bad Memories

Chapter 386: The River of Bad mories

The tunnel stretched ahead like the throat of sothing dead and patient. My arms felt like soone had dipped them in lava and then decided to add so extra lava for flavor. Every step sent fresh jolts of agony through my nerves, but I’d walked through worse. Probably. The mories were getting fuzzy around the edges.

Cel kept glancing at

like I was about to keel over and die. Which, fair. I probably looked like I was auditioning for a zombie movie.

"You’re doing that thing again," she said.

"What thing?"

"That thing where you pretend you’re not in excruciating pain."

I grinned at her. Probably looked deranged. "I’m not pretending. I am in excruciating pain. I’m just choosing to ignore it until my body gives up or we find sowhere safe. Whichever cos first."

"You’re insane."

"Yeah, well. Sanity is overrated when you’re stuck in a cosmic horror’s botanical hell garden."

The tunnel widened after another twenty minutes of stumbling through the dark. The silver knife I’d snagged earlier gave off just enough light to see by, which was great except for how it also illuminated exactly how screwed we were. The passage opened into a cavern that made the previous chambers look like broom closets.

We stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking a massive underground expanse. Below us, maybe a hundred feet down, a river cut through the darkness. Except calling it a river was like calling a hurricane a light breeze.

The water was black. Not dark blue or murky brown. Pure black, like soone had liquified the void between stars and decided to make it flow. The surface moved with lazy, hypnotic currents that caught the silver light from our knife and reflected it back in distorted patterns.

And the sll.

Gods, the sll.

"What is that?" Cel covered her nose with her hand, her face going pale.

I knew that sll. Every thug who’d ever dumped a body in Tokyo Bay knew that sll. It was the scent of things that used to be alive and had given up on the whole living thing. Decay. Rot. The sweet, cloying stench of organic matter breaking down into its component parts.

But underneath that, there was sothing else. Sothing that made my skin crawl and my hindbrain start screaming at

to run.

It slled like mories.

I know that sounds insane. mories don’t have a sll. Except here, in this place where the normal rules had taken a vacation and left a note saying they’d be back never, apparently mories did have a sll.

And it was wrong.

"That," I said, "is our next terrible decision."

Cel looked at

like I’d suggested we jump off the cliff and see if we could fly. "You want to go down there."

"Not want. Need. The path keeps going down." I pointed along the cliff face, where I could just barely make out a series of carved steps that descended toward the riverbank. "And I’d bet everything I own that whatever we’re looking for is on the other side."

"Everything you own currently amounts to a baseball bat and two broken arms."

"Exactly. So it’s a safe bet."

She laughed. Actually laughed, a sound that echoed through the cavern and ca back to us distorted and strange. The river below seed to respond, its surface rippling with patterns that had nothing to do with current or wind.

"You’re absolutely right," she said. "This is a terrible decision."

"Worst one all week."

"Then why are we doing it?"

I started toward the stairs. "Because all our good decisions are what got us stuck in this nightmare garden in the first place. Might as well try sothing new."

The descent took forever and also no ti at all. The steps were uneven, carved into the cliff face by sothing that clearly didn’t understand human anatomy or safety regulations. So were wide enough to sit on comfortably. Others were barely ledges that required us to shuffle sideways while clinging to the rock.

My arms scread the entire way down. The burns had stopped bleeding, which was either good or very bad depending on whether you believed in signs of healing versus signs of nerve damage. I was choosing to believe in neither and just keep moving.

About halfway down, Cel slipped.

I grabbed her wrist with my ruined hand. Pain white hot and imdiate shot through my arm, but I held on. She dangled over empty air for a second that stretched into a year, her periwinkle eyes wide with terror.

"I’ve got you," I said through gritted teeth.

"Your arms..."

"Are fine. Completely fine. Living their best life." I hauled her back up onto the step. "See? Good as new."

She stared at my hand where fresh blood seeped through the blistered skin. Then at my face. Then back at my hand.

"You’re bleeding."

"It’s decorative. Adds character."

"Satori."

"Cel."

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Finally settled on, "Thank you."

"Don’t ntion it. Seriously. If word gets out that I’m capable of basic human decency, my reputation is shot."

We reached the riverbank without further incidents of gravity attempting murder. The black water lapped at the shore with gentle, almost welcoming movents that imdiately made

suspicious. In my experience, things in Gates that looked welcoming were usually trying to eat you in creative ways.

The river stretched in both directions, disappearing into darkness. On the opposite bank, maybe fifty yards away, I could see the continuation of the path. Stone steps led up another cliff face toward a distant glow that might have been our destination or might have been another trap disguised as hope.

Either way, we had to cross.

I knelt at the water’s edge, careful not to touch the surface. The sll intensified, crawling up my nostrils and trying to nest in my sinuses. Underneath the rot and the wrong mory scent, there was sothing else. Sothing almost sweet, like fruit left out too long in the sun.

"Can you freeze it?" I asked.

Cel shook her head, swaying slightly. "I have maybe one more ice bridge in . After that, I’m empty."

I did the math. Fifty yards. Six people’s weight distributed across thin ice versus one person’s weight over the sa distance. The numbers didn’t love us.

"Then you make yourself a bridge and cross. I’ll find another way."

"Absolutely not."

"Cel..."

"I said no." Her voice went hard, and frost gathered around her fingers despite her exhaustion. "We stay together. That’s the deal."

I wanted to argue. Point out the tactical stupidity of risking both of us when one could escape. Explain that her S-Rank potential and political value far exceeded my C-Rank trash heap status.

But the look in her eyes stopped

cold.

It was the sa look Natalia got when she decided sothing was hers and the world could go screw itself if it disagreed. The look that said arguing was pointless because the decision had already been made and reality could bend or break for all she cared.

Hell. When had I started collecting stubborn won who refused to listen to basic survival logic?