[The Creator has a message for you…]
His legs froze.
He skidded to a stop so hard his toes scraped moss off a rock.
His heart thudded.
His eyes widened.
"The… Creator?"
'What the hell is that supposed to mean?!'
Was it God? Was it System Daddy? Was it the fucking Game Dev?
He stood dumbfounded, not noticing the dead beast corpses littered around him.
Giant wolves with their heads snapped.
Bears with their guts spilled open like dropped soup bowls.
The air smelled like blood and iron and something older.
But he was busy staring at the floating message like it was a DM from a hot girl.
'Why would the creator message me?'
'Did he see me motorboat Melissa?! Is this about taxes??!'
WHISTLING.
A slow, cheerful tune drifted through the trees.
Not hurried. Not afraid.
Just whistling.
Rae's instincts screamed.
He dove behind the thick trunk of a tree and slapped a hand over his mouth, his other hand on his tiny goblin crotch.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
