The fire crackled again.
Normal.
Too normal.
It was the only sound left now, aside from the occasional ragged breath.
No one had moved for minutes.
The woods around them felt like they'd exhaled.But not in relief.More like mockery.
Alex sat hunched beside the van, still pale, sweat clinging to his skin. The system's interface was flickering — stuttering between error screens and corrupted code like it had felt the voice just as much as he did.
[System Malfunction: Core Integrity 26%]Warning: Artifact Signal Overpowering Data Channels— Fragmented Authority Detected —
He closed it with a shaky hand.
The strength was still gone. His limbs felt heavy. Everything had the weight of drowning.
Deadpool finally broke the silence.
And of course, he did it loudly.
"Well, holy Mother of Middle-earth! Did we just get cursed by a walking Bible verse?!"
He pointed toward the woods, mask lifted just enough to let his mouth scream freely.
"'THOU ART TRESPASSING, MORTAL' — okay, Shakespeare! We get it! You're a thousand years old and you missed therapy! What's next, ye olde Yelp review?!"
Frenchie tried to speak but ended up just muttering something in French that translated loosely to "We are so completely screwed."
Butcher sat on a log, eyes fixed on the embers. Arms crossed, but tight — not casual.
"Told you," he said, voice low. "Thing ain't human. Didn't come to scare us. It owns this place."
Hughie piped up, hesitant. "Is it… like some ancient guardian? Or a cursed soul or—?"
Deadpool pointed a finger at him.
"Don't you dare try to lore-drop this into a neat box, Hughie. That thing just fear-debuffed our main character like a glitched boss fight on hard mode."
Alex winced. "He said the system won't help me."
Deadpool grinned nervously. "Cool, cool. Just love hearing that the only guy with stat sheets and cosmic cheat codes is currently nerfed into a paperweight."
Kimiko signed something to Frenchie.
"She says that blade in his chest… it's the artifact, isn't it?"
Alex nodded slowly. "The system confirmed it. That's what we came for."
Deadpool threw his arms up.
"Oh, great! So it's embedded in the unkillable night creature that hates light, time, and modern vocabulary. Awesome."
Butcher leaned forward. "Alright. We need a plan. One that doesn't involve runnin' in blind or gettin' gutted."
Frenchie raised an eyebrow. "And what plan would that be, exactly?"
Butcher looked at Alex. "How long 'til that system of yours gets fixed?"
Alex shrugged. "No idea. It's repairing slowly, but that sword — his presence — is corrupting it."
Deadpool was pacing now. "Okay, okay. So we either need to stab the unstab-able, rob the unstoppable, or somehow negotiate with the gothic version of the Grim Reaper."
He paused, then turned to the invisible camera.
"And I swear, if the author throws another dragon in the next arc, I'm unionizing."
Butcher stood.
"First thing we do is track that bastard again. Map out where he appears. Learn how he moves. That sword's stuck in him — which means if we want it…"
"…we'll have to pull it out," Alex finished, almost whispering.
Everyone looked at him.
And no one liked that thought.
Deadpool shook his head. "Yeah, cool. No big deal. Just casually un-Excalibur the cursed blade from the death ghost's chest while the trees whisper about our trauma."
Hughie spoke up, surprisingly steady.
"We find his path. We figure out his pattern. We set a trap. We don't fight him head-on. We outthink him."
Everyone paused.
Deadpool blinked.
"…Okay, plot twist. Hughie's growing a spine."
Butcher cracked a grin. "He's right. We hit him clever. Not loud."
Alex leaned back against the van, breathing a little steadier now.
Even at 10% strength, the pressure was real.But for the first time…
They had a plan.