I asked Stronges with all the humbleness and respect I could find in my heart—other than cholesterol—to fix Jack's dead body.

I didn't know how to fix him myself. The last thing I "fixed" was my Wi-Fi, and that ended with a melted router.

So I turned to the only one who could do miracles—Sexis' mom.

And since I'd asked so nicely, I was sure she'd say—

"Hell no."

Motherfu—

My head snapped up faster than a politician changing opinions.

"What did you say?" I asked.

"No. I won't fix his dead body."

"Why!?"

"Because I don't want to. He's a pervert. I don't like perverts. They disgust me. They're the weakest of men. They can't control their urges—and there's nothing more disgraceful than that."

Alright. Fair. No woman wants to fix a corpse that once said he wanted to die between boobs. Understandable. Tragic. Disgusting. Heroic, even.

But I'd promised Jack I'd fix his body. I'm a man of my word, even if my words are usually stupid.

"I understand what you're saying. But if you fix his body, he can be useful in our fight with Malthus."

She frowned, suspicious. "How so?"

Right. Now I had to think.

Jack could be helpful in battle because… he drops his pants and distracts the enemy? No. That'd be a war crime.

Then what should I say—

"For starters, I could pass through things."

Huh?

I turned around.

Jack answered the question himself.

Well, that saved me the effort of lying.

"Yes! He could pass through things!" I repeated, pretending I was the one who thought of it. I would've said that eventually. Probably.

Stronges nodded slightly. "Passing through isn't that special. Can he kill someone?"

I didn't know. But Jack, bless his horny ghost heart, answered again.

"I don't know about that. But I have a Skill for sure."

Huh? He has a skill? Other than mind reading?

[ Did you forget? I distributed Skills to your allies a few minutes ago. Your memory is the same as your penis. Small. ]

'Alright. Don't get personal. Amidst this tension, of course I forgot. What skill did you give him anyway?'

[ Hear from the man himself. ]

The system stopped talking.

"What Skill?" Sexis' mom asked Jack.

Jack didn't reply—just raised his hand and snapped his fingers like a budget Thanos.

Everyone waited. Nothing happened.

Maybe his skill was "useless finger snap."

"I see. This is a good skill," Stronges said suddenly.

We all frowned.

Then we noticed her eyes—those big red monster eyes—had turned white.

"What happened?" I asked.

Stronges smiled. "He made me blind."

My brows shot up so high they could've touched God.

"He did what!?"

"I took her sight," Jack said. "But only for ten seconds. I can blind anyone, but only for ten seconds."

Everyone nodded, impressed.

Ten seconds might not sound like much, but in battle, that's enough time to do taxes, cheat on someone, or die twice.

Also, Stronges had said "I see" right after being blinded. The irony was so thick you could butter it.

"This is not the strongest of skills," Stronges said, eyes turning red again, "but if you can blind Malthus for ten seconds, it could prove fatal. Someone might land a final blow."

We all agreed. But then Jack started clapping—like a proud father at his own funeral.

We all stared.

"I made you blind," Jack said, "but not even for one second did you flinch or act scared. You truly deserve to be our trainer. You're stronger than our Hero King. No offense to anyone."

I nodded.

This was nothing to be disrespected about. She really was the strongest. I mean, she didn't know she was only blind for ten seconds, she could have been blind forever and yet, she showed no surprise or fear. She was a formidable female. The kind of woman who could lose her sight, her man, and her phone charger in one night and still go, 'meh.'

Stronges waved her hand as if to say, "Yeah yeah, I'm the GOAT, move on."

"So?" I asked again, "Will you fix his body now?"

"Yeah. His skill will come in handy. I believe he'll only use it once his body's complete. I'll fix it."

A smile plastered itself across my face like glue on a kindergarten table.

Jack grinned too, probably imagining his new body doing unspeakable things again.

Sexis' mom went and picked up Jack's dead body.

Didn't even flinch. Woman's hands have held trauma, men, and laundry—this was just another day.

She said nothing to us and vanished into one of the rooms.

Though, she made sure to tell us that we were not allowed to enter any of the rooms. We shall stay where we were. In the cold concrete floor of the basement.

We were all fine with that.

The floor was cold and hard, like the reality of adulthood.

So we sat. Talked. Laughed.

I told a few jokes—people laughed out of pity, so I stopped.

Then I started roasting Sexis and Jack.

They teamed up and roasted me back.

That's fine. I believe in karmic comedy.

If I can't take a joke, I have no right to dish one out.

Plus, the prisoners were laughing.

If I could make even one depressed murderer smile, I considered that a win.

After an hour, the robots brought us water—blessed, divine, shiny water as Stronges had said and we drank it. The water was tasty and my parched throat felt like it was the bath water of Goddess Athena.

After that, we didn't even notice when the laughter turned to yawns, and yawns turned to sleep.

One by one, everyone dropped like toddlers after a sugar crash.

My eyes were closing on their own.

Sexis and Erect slumped their heads onto my shoulders like affectionate pigeons.

Sexis' antennas tickled my face, so I shoved them back gently like annoying Wi-Fi cables.

And like that, all of us—heroes, perverts, prisoners—slept together on the cold concrete floor, the way gods never intended.

Next day.

My eyes opened.

And the first thing I saw was six massive, glowing red eyes staring at me from point-blank range.

I froze.

Then I figured they were Aliens.

Or maybe it was just Monday.

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