I Siphon the Dead to Become the Strongest

The tunnel narrowed, the walls pressing in, painted with enough moss and shadow to make a claustrophobe weep. The only sounds were our squelching footsteps and the distant, eternal drip.

”So,” Lindis said, breaking the quiet as she fiddled with a strand of her dusty pink hair. ”You said you had a sister, right?”

The sudden shift to personal territory sent a different kind of alarm through me. ”Yeah,” I said, keeping my eyes on the gloom ahead. ”And I think she’s gonna be monumentally pissed when I get home and haven’t started dinner. I’m probably just gonna buy some tteokbokki from the stall on the way. Bribery via rice cakes. It’s a survival tactic.”

Lindis laughed, a warm sound in the cold tunnel. ”What year is she?”

”First year of high school,” I replied, the words automatic. ”Smart. Too smart for her own good. I want her to have a normal life. You know, the fun, enjoyable kind. Not the ’big brother comes home smelling like a sewer and existential dread’ kind. So I’m... doing this. For her sake.”

”Aww,” Lindis said, her voice softening. ”You’re a good brother.”

The praise felt like a hot coal in my stomach. ”Am I?” I mused. ”I’m not giving her a future. I’m just... trying not to take the one she already has away.”

She was cut off by the soft, shuffling sounds that suddenly emerged from the shadows all around us. Six pairs of beady red eyes blinked into existence. We were surrounded by a semicircle of Common Forest Stinkers, their chipped weapons gleaming.

Lindis’s posture shifted instantly, all softness gone. She hefted her axe. ”Hmph. They’ve got us surrounded, huh?”

I cracked my neck. ”Perfect. Now we can attack in any direction.”

I charged the closest one. It screeched and swung its stone sword. I ducked under the swing, came up inside its guard, and drove the tip of my extended baton straight into its forehead with a sharp CRACK!

Its head snapped back, dazed. It was the perfect setup.

“Special Technique,” I announced, my voice flat. “Brotherly Advice: No Ball Games.”

My foot shot out in a blur. Not a kick, but a precise, piston-driven tap.

PING-CRUNCH.

The sound was small, specific, and utterly devastating. The goblin’s eyes bulged. All the rage in its tiny brain was instantly replaced by pure agony. The force of my kick launched it upwards. Its head smacked into the low ceiling with a definitive THONK,and it slid down the wall in a groaning heap.

I turned to see Lindis’s reaction. One of the goblins had taken advantage of her stunned focus to rake its claws down her forearm.

SCRITCH-SCRAPE!

No blood was drawn—her Stone Skin held—but a long, white scratch appeared on her skin.

”Oww!” she yelped, glaring at the offending goblin.

Lindis didn’t bother blocking. She vanished from its frontal assault, appearing at its side in a blur. Her axe came around in a wide, horizontal sweep using the flat side again.

THWUMP-CRUNCH!

The flat of the axe connected with the first goblin’s torso, carrying it directly into the chest of the goblin behind it. The two became a single, tangled projectile that SMASHED into the wall. Lindis didn’t pause, lunging at the last remaining goblin with the blade.

SHLICK-THUNK.

Clean. Efficient. She stood amidst the quiet, breathing heavily, rubbing her arm. She looked at me, her eyes wide.

”What,” she said slowly, ”was that kick?”

I shrugged. ”Oh, that? Just a little something I’m workshopping. Target acquisition enhancement. Very... specific.”

She stared at me, then at the goblin still twitching by the ceiling pipe. A slow, horrified grin spread across her face. ”You... you kicked it... there.”

”I kicked it precisely,” I corrected, raising a finger. ”There’s a difference.”

Lindis burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the tunnel. ”You’re insane! And gross! And... weirdly effective!”

The silence after the last goblin fell was brief. A new, more concerning sound echoed from the unexploded tunnel ahead—a wet, squelching preparation.

I cut Lindis off, my eyes wide with sudden, primal understanding. ”You know what’s scarier than sewer slimes?”

”Yeah, they ambush you, outnumber you...”

”Worse,” I said, my voice dropping to a horrified whisper as the first glistening, brown projectile sailed out of the darkness and slapped against the wall near us with a sickening SPLAT. ”They weaponize their own... biological byproducts.”

Lindis’s face went from confusion to stark, unadulterated horror. ”No. NO. They wouldn’t.”

Another one flew, this one closer. It was aimed to desecrate.

”THEY ARE! THEY’RE THROWING THEIR OWN POOP!” I yelled. ”THIS IS A WAR CRIME! A SMELLY, SMELLY WAR CRIME!”

”OH, COME ON!” Lindis shrieked, ducking as a third projectile whizzed past her head. ”I wish I could cleave them all into atoms! But I don’t want a single speck of... that... on my axe, my clothes, or my person!”

”Agreed! Tactical retreat!” I declared, spinning on my heel.

We ran. A full-bore, panic-driven, dignity-be-damned SPRINT.

We skidded to a halt at the final stretch, the cleansing white light of the exit portal shining like a promise of soap and salvation—a promise promptly blocked by a seething, snarling wall of green flesh and beady red eyes. Dozens of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder between us and freedom.

“Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me!” Lindis groaned, hefting her axe.

The wet, splattering sounds behind us grew closer. The poop-bombardiers were advancing.

My brain did a quick calculation. Option A: Stand and fight the poop-throwers. Option B: Fight the clean(ish) goblin wall.

“THEY HAVEN’T STARTED THROWING YET!” I shrieked. “CHARGE! FOR THE SAKE OF OUR LAUNDRY!”

“FOR THE SAKE OF OUR LAUNDRY!” Lindis echoed with holy fervor.

I launched myself at the left flank. My world narrowed to precise, brutal calculations.

Step. PING-CRUNCH. A goblin folded as my boot found its target.

Pivot. CRACK-THWACK. My baton snapped out, smacking a temple.

Grab. My Three Times Grip Strength clamped down on a bony wrist, slamming the creature into the stone floor. SLAM.

I punted the unfortunate creature with one final, mighty heave. It sailed through the air and crashed into three of its comrades like bowling pins.

Beside me, Lindis was a whirlwind of violence, spinning like a top so she wouldn’t stand still and become a target for incoming packages. Her axe lashed out in wide arcs, batting goblins aside like insects.

“CLEAR A LANE!” she bellowed. “I AM NOT DYING COVERED IN THAT! MY HAIR IS PINK! IT WOULD STAIN!”

It was the least heroic, most biologically motivated breakout in hunter history—and somehow, we made it to the light.

---

Author’s Note:

A thousand thanks for the support and for diving into this strange, slow-simmering pot of sewer slime, awkward revelations, and... tactical crotch shots. It’s been a joy to slowly unfurl this slice-of-monster-hunting life, where action is as messy and unglamorous as it is absurd, and character moments happen while dodging worse-than-death projectiles.

Your patience with the pace means everything.