Taking out hellhounds one by one isn’t too tough. Even in my current state, I could probably kill one or two of those bastards. But this time, I need one alive. After a shitload of practice, I’ve mastered the art of turning them into vegetables. Their aura’s no longer a big deal for me, but I can’t mass-produce this chipping trick. It eats up too many resources. So now, this poor, paralyzed dog-rat’s lying next to me, totally clueless about what’s going on. Here’s the deal:

  These creatures’ bodies are tough as fuck. Not just their bones, muscles, or skin. Their arteries? You could use them as tourniquets. When I figured that out, I couldn’t just ignore it. To survive in this goddamn hostile place, I need every little edge I can get. Sure, my regeneration’s handy, but if I lose an arm (and my luck’s pretty shitty), I’m done for. So, back when I was chained to that rock, I prepped some of this material. But it’s not enough…

  I tried crawling to the tool table. Thank fuck, no more monsters in sight, so I eventually made it. With every ounce of strength left, I tipped the table over. It crashed down with a loud clang, spilling the whole young sadist’s kit. I started sorting through hooks, saws, knives, hammers, and a bunch of other shit I don’t know the names of or want to imagine using. (Vyer’s imagination was pretty limited, so he didn’t use most of them.) There it is… The lip-zipper… Nah, I’m not trying to curb my whims; I just need one part of this thing. I fumbled a bit but got it—a thin metal tube. Perfect! One sharp twitchy strike, and I sliced it diagonally. Now I’ve got two makeshift needles.

  I hooked them up to the demon’s veins, rigging a blood transfusion setup. Honestly, I’ve got no fucking clue how to do this or if it’ll even help in my condition. But… screw it, let’s call it plot convenience. So, I jammed one end into the monster’s belly and the other into my vein. Sure, this won’t save my life, but it’ll buy me some time. I know there’s a huge risk… Scratch that. There’s a tiny chance I won’t croak from demon blood, but someone once said, “You are what you eat,” so let’s hope I’m already part demon. Cross my fingers and… Shit, I don’t even know what to do to catch a break anymore. Alright… Like I’ve got a choice… Wait… Wasn’t that “you are what you eat” quote from some ancient dude? Fuck…

  Hot blood surged through my veins. But I can’t relax, or it’ll all end up in my gut. First: stop the bleeding. No plantain leaves around, so I’ll borrow Vyer’s needle and thread. Desperate measures… Ugh… Whatever it takes to keep shitting in this world. I grabbed a knife, took a deep breath, coughed up blood, thought, I’m a fucking idiot, and went full seppuku. Thanks to electro-diagnostics, I knew where the damaged vessel was. Didn’t need to see it. So, remembering my dad’s words, “Your hands grow out of your ass!” I ignored the obvious physical issues and dove into my own guts with those same hands.

  You know, people have all kinds of problems. Some work two jobs to feed their family. Some are scrambling with deadlines. Some got a silver iPhone instead of a pink one. Me? I just need to stop internal bleeding before a pack of demons comes to snack on me. Way back, my biggest issue was napping in kindergarten. What a moron I was… I remember at graduation, they told us we were ready for adult life. Well… Hello, life! Here I am! Showing up like a Black guy at a KKK party. Not that they’re not happy to see me, but those friendly smiles make me uneasy.

  Alright, I’ll save my whining for better days. Right now, I gotta focus on this surgery. If my guts spill out, I’m not stuffing them back in. I carefully slid my hand deeper and deeper. What’s this feeling? Nah, I definitely don’t wanna know. Finally, I found the damaged vessel. Stitching it? Hell no. I’ll make a sleeve from the hellhound’s vein and tie it off with thread. Then let my title handle the rest. For once, I actually did something with my hands. Well… technically, I controlled them with magic. Still… The operation went… okay-ish. More like less than okay… I’m still losing blood, but not as much. Looks like I’ll need more than one hellhound. I’ll keep pumping their blood through my veins until my wounds heal.

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  Also, my entire digestive system’s gone to shit. Not sure it’s a death sentence if I don’t eat. But these are the thoughts of a guy whose medical knowledge comes from two doctor shows, one being Scrubs.

  So, done with this shaman bullshit, I stitched my belly as best I could and cauterized the wound with a red-hot knife. No more healing magic, so nothing’s saving me from some staph infection now. Next problem: it’d be nice to piece my legs and spine back together. With my regeneration, it’ll take 2-3 days for the bones to fuse. But how the fuck will they fuse without an IKEA manual? I didn’t want to walk on my hands forever, so I had to solve this puzzle. After some hassle, I split my spear in half and used it as a splint, tying it to my legs with demon veins. My legs’ll never be straight again…

  I tried aligning my lumbar vertebrae too, but no dice. Still crippled. Hope I can heal someday, but for now, I’ll have to control them remotely.

  Last problem: those damn beasts will be back soon, and my only modes of transport are two arms and gravity. If they climbed a 50-meter cliff for my sweet ass (probably a gentler slope somewhere), they won’t leave me alone. So, my only option is to hide. And where? Not much choice…

  - You…

  - Fucking…

  - Bitch…

  - Why…

  - Is your…

  - Skin so damn tough…

  Either my twitchy strikes were too weak, or my knife was duller than Vyer, but I had to wrestle hard to pierce Grok’s belly. Once I did, things went smoother. I sliced his side from hip to arm. The demon was over three meters tall, so there was plenty to cut. Weirdly, his body wasn’t rotting, even after days. What a relief… It doesn’t stink. I started pulling out his guts. Massive stomach, heart the size of my head, lungs. When I got to the intestines, I thought they were endless, like a ribbon in some shitty magician’s trick. When I finished, I couldn’t figure out how that mountain of flesh fit inside him. Doesn’t matter. I made it in time. Welcome home! I crawled inside and settled between his massive ribs. Hope the hellhounds don’t eat their own kind.

  I left my blood bag outside; there was barely room for me in here. Oddly, my gag reflex stayed quiet. It’s kinda cozy. What a difference between my tormentors. One keeps screwing me over even in death, while the other keeps saving me. Soon, the dogs showed up. I could hear the confusion in their growls. They wandered around, ate the guts I pulled out, then hesitantly scattered. They didn’t touch the demon’s body. Must be instinct. But sometimes, like they suspected something, they sniffed around my hideout. When they came alone, I’d reach out and catch them for bait. Over time, I swapped out three donors. I’m still alive, so we must have the same blood type. Or not… Back in my past life, I was O-positive, which doesn’t give a fuck about Rh factors or whatever. Wonder if there’ll be consequences? Will I get super strong, red-skinned, impotent, or just plain dumb?

  Didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

  / Attention! Your body has undergone a change. /

  / Your race has been altered. /

  / Human -> Half-Demon /

  / You gain bonus: (Half-Demon race bonus - Increased heat resistance) /

  / You lose bonus: (Human race bonus - Increased luck) /

  Uh… Excuse me! Um… I think there’s a mistake. Hello? How do I contact support? Hey, admins! It says “Increased luck”! Yo! I read that right, didn’t I? Let’s try again, real slow: In-creased-luck… Right? That’s supposed to mean it’s better, yeah? Hey! Anyone! Answer me!!!