Red clouded up from the Salamander’s mouth. Ike tumbled down a hot, humid tube, falling toward the Salamander’s stomach. Barely conscious, he lashed out and pressed out with all four limbs, clawing into the soft tissues of its throat. His razor was gone, vanished somewhere into the Salamander’s belly, or perhaps dropped at the bottom of the cliff. Hazy-headed, Ike struggled to place himself, struggled to remember.

Hold on. Don’t let go.

Ahead, the Salamander’s mouth opened. A wave of boiling water washed over him, and it swallowed, the thick muscles all around him pushing him down, together, inward, toward the sizzling pit of boiling acid in the Salamander’s stomach. Water scalded over Ike, a wave of pain slamming into his whole body, smashing into every nook and cranny. His body overheated in an instant, head aching, skin on fire, his organs struggling, heart pounding, stomach twisting. Still the water poured on, showing no sign of respite, no end. Heat, heat, and more heat. Burning water, searing at every ounce of Ike’s flesh. He bit his lip, forcing himself to stay conscious, to hold his breath. His lungs ached, and his vision darkened, fading in and out. His teeth dug into his lip, and his blood rushed away from him, washed with the wave. Please. Please surface.

A merciful gasp of air. Ike delighted in it, drinking that one moment of air as if it were water in a desert, an oasis before a dying man. He blinked, struggling to see, his eyes half-cooked, whole body aching. Before he could orient himself, the Salamander shook itself, trying to dislodge the bone in its throat. Determined, Ike clung on, but even as he did, he realized: he would not survive this. Sooner or later, the Salamander would dislodge him and swallow him into that sizzling acid sack, or else swallow enough water to cook him where he sat. Holding on solved nothing. Staying still meant his death.

Gritting his teeth, Ike forced himself into motion. The slightest twitch sent agony racing through his body, skin super-sensitive from the repeated scalding, the flesh beneath achy. He pushed all that back and glared at the fuzzy wall ahead of him, putting all his hatred, all his frustration, all the fury at his uncle and this shitty party into his motions as he dug his hands into the Salamander’s throat. Activating Lightning Grasp, he pierced into its slippery, soft throat, pulling and stabbing until orange blood began flowing down past him. The wound healed as he dug, but slowly, the monster’s healing worn down by the party’s efforts earlier. The Salamander roared in pain, sending another blast of cool, merciful air past Ike. Encouraged, Ike dug deeper, deeper, anything for one more rush of air. The Salamander screamed, and he dug both hands in, walking his legs up to push against the opposite side of its throat. Air. Air! A crazed man, he ferociously clawed into its flesh, seeking more of the life-giving stuff, even thick with sulfur as it was.

Again, the Salamander thrashed. Another wave of water slammed into Ike. His body screamed again, every piece of him on fire, not a single centimeter unscathed. Ike gasped, barely resisting the urge to scream. He couldn’t move, couldn’t twitch. Everything hurt. Motion. Breathing. Thinking.

The water drained away, rushing out of the creature’s gills. Gasping a thin breath, Ike mustered all his willpower and pushed through the pain. He struggled on, sinking his hands deeper into the Salamander’s hot flesh, pulling out chunks of gore, boiling orange blood all but cooking his fingers as he dug, and dug, and dug. He craved winter, ice, a cool wind, cold water, a chilled drink, but instead, he pierced deeper and deeper, the Salamander’s meat searing his palm, its blood singing his forearms as it ran to his elbow. His own blood rushed down his body from where its teeth sunk into him, sizzling into the monster’s stomach. Ike shivered, trembling all over, but dug deeper anyways, blind to everything but the hole he dug in the monster’s throat and the brief relief of the monsters’ pained roars.

Deeper and deeper. More and more blood. His hands slipped. For a moment, he plunged toward the acid before he caught himself on the throat once more. Braced there, barely holding on, he heard the gurgle of another wave of boiling water rushing his way.

Limbs trembling, every bit of him exhausted, Ike forced his aching legs to tense, then leaped. He latched onto the hole he’d dug in the creature’s throat with both hands and hung there. The water washed over him. Everything burned. Everything ached. But he held on, refusing to let go.

The water passed. Lifting his hands again, Ike clawed on. Another handful of flesh. Another.

A throbbing vein appeared before him. Ike stared. No way.

The wound began to close, and Ike startled back into motion. Launching himself forward with all his remaining strength, he bit into the Salamander’s vein. Hot orange blood ran down his throat. Ignoring the searing pain, he tore again and again. Blood poured past him, rivers of it, rushing down into the creature’s stomach. Ike clawed his hands into it, biting, tearing, pulling.

Air. Sweet, cool air. Ike heaved a breath, exhausted. Using both hands, he ripped through the monster’s flesh and out into the world, burrowing out of the side of its neck. The water had receeded, leaving damp, temporarily cooler sand behind. He fell down into the wet, exhausted, panting, his whole body stained with blood and flesh, every inch of him bright red with burns. Outside felt icy cold. He shivered, and couldn’t stop, as cold as though he laid in pure snow instead of sand so hot it steamed. Ike struggled to move, whole body stiff.

Behind him, the Salamander gave one last great thrash, then went still. It thumped down beside him, its great maw hanging lifelessly open centimeters from Ike’s body.

Rank Up! Congratulations on Rank 1!

Ike gazed at it, the immense, dead thing. I killed that. I did. I…killed it.

And now I’m going to die.

Something rolled out from the Salamander’s mouth, rattling over the sand to Ike’s fingertips. Numbly, his hand closed around it.

Dimly, he heard the party jump back into the pit. Boots slopped through wet sand. A shadow fell over him. With the last bit of his strength, Ike turned, and watched as Joseph lifted his boot. Leather treads hung over Ike’s head.

“First you injure Tana, then you steal the kill? Bait should act like bait, and die,” Joseph spat, slamming his boot down.

As the boot hurtled down, Ike clenched his hand. In his head, he shouted, Absorb!

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