Craven went slack, and a scream of purest anguish echoed through the chamber – until Echser slapped his hands over his mouth. Craven is dead... he's dead, damn it! This meant that he was as good as gone as well. Mortin Cornelius Echser, the most magnificent master of the scientific arts, would die down here in this stinking nightmare of a place. He wanted to weep. It just was so unfair! He deserved better. No, the world deserved better! At least, the matriarch still focused her attention on Craven. She poked him with one of her claws, the dagger-like fingernail going in several inches each time, yet drawing no reaction.

"Dead?" she muttered, poke-stabbed the bounty killer again, nodding. "Dead as a doorknob..."

Echser cast a despairing glance over his shoulder. Perhaps he should just run. From what he could see, Craven managed to slay all the ghouls except the matriarch, and that monster would have a hard time chasing him down belly-burdened as she was. No sooner had he finished the thought, as that idiot Stefan had to spoil it all by suddenly sitting up, gasping at the sight and shouting, "Mother, no!"

Echser could have throttled the fool; he might have if the matriarch had not turned her dinner-plate-sized eyes on them. He froze, his heart close to bursting from his chest, it was hammering that hard.

For a moment, there was no comprehension in the matriarch's features, and then a smile crept over the horrid visage. "Such rowdy friends you have, Stefan, we will have a talk about this, young man – after dinner."

With that, her features split apart, once more unfolding like a flower. Stefan screamed, which did nothing to stop the matriarch from readying Craven for her gullet. Echser just stared. Perhaps, he should just let things unfold and good riddance to the lich hunter. The maniac had landed him in this mess after all. Besides, once he joined Hornbach in the monster's belly, there was no way that gluttonous atrocity could chase him through the tunnels.

Yes...

He needed light, though. A torch or one of their lamps... There! One of the latter had rolled against the wall. Still burning, although cracked and leaking oil. Another lay not too far away. He snatched it up, ready to run – and found he couldn't. What was he doing? He couldn't leave – not without his book!

Echser whirled around. A plan! I need a plan! Think. Think, damn it!

His gaze fell onto the other lamp, the one leaking oil. He blinked. Oil. Fire!

If he managed to set the matriarch and especially Craven aflame, the bombs on his person would detonate and blow the hideous ghoul queen to smithereens. At the very least, it might set her aflame and allow him to rush past and grab his precious treasure.

Yes, it could work – it has to work!

He snatched up the lamp, his highly scientific mind calculating the flight's trajectory, the angle, and force he had to use. His heart hammering, a strange jumble of emotions making him feel hot and cold at the same time, he took aim. He could do it, of course, he could! He had always been good at throwing things, something that his former lab assistant would gladly endorse as nothing but the utter truth. Echser drew back – then froze as the matriarch lifted Craven to her twitching maw. Had the bounty killer actually moved, or was it just a trick of shadow and light?

A trick, just an optical illusion, had to be...

Then again, it might not be...

The matriarch's tongue slithered around Craven's neck and began pulling him into her gullet – and Echser made his decision. Yes, better burned than digested alive, much better. He threw the lantern with all his might. "For Science!"

It hurled through the air with all the grace a gravity-defying, irregular object filled with viscous liquid could muster, spinning directly towards the towering horror. His aim was true – he knew it, saw it, felt it in his guts, even though the application of force could have been better. The stupid lamp was already dipping in its ark, spilling burning oil everywhere.

Come on. Come on!

Perhaps, she'd seen the light racing towards her. Perhaps, it has been his meek battle cry. Whatever the reason, a heartbeat before his masterfully thrown missile would have shattered upon her withered frame with doubtless terrifying effect, the matriarch lashed out, battering the lamp aside. Echser's jaw dropped – then he almost screamed as it hit the nearby wall, shattering on impact. Burning oil exploded every which way, showering the rags, the bodies – and in the cruelest twist of fate imaginable – his precious book!

"Nooooo!"

The scream tore from Echser's lungs as all his hard work, all the sacrifices, all the suffering just went up in flames. What have I done? What have I done!? He began running towards the fire, desperate to rescue his Magnus Opus – the work that had cost so many so much. It couldn't burn. It—

BOOOM!

A sound like the breaking of the world rushed over him, picking him up and hurling him through the air. Up became down. Down became up. Tumbling. Tumbling. Crashing into something hard, air exploding from his lungs. Pain. Pain and... darkness. Blissful, blissful darkness of the kind a man could learn to love – except, it did not last.

Echser's eyes snapped open, and then he had to close them again, the world spinning madly. Everything hurt. Everything. He groaned, liked it, and groaned some more, his eyes fluttering open once more. The spinning had stopped but what he saw now was utter insanity. A terrible fire burned at the ceiling, smoke sucked down into the many holes of the bowl-shaped floor. He blinked. No, that wasn't right! Smoke should not behave this way! His scientific soul screamed at this blatant disregard for the natural order of things. It was an outrage! It—

It was him.

The legs on the periphery of his vision were the giveaway. His legs. He was propped up head-down against the wall, his neck bent, all the weight on his shoulders, his butt sticking up in the air in a most undignified fashion. Having survived more than one laboratory explosion over the years, this wasn't the first time he ended up in such a situation, far from it. He couldn't help but think, Why me? Why do these things always happen to me? This would have never happened to Zweistein or Da Venici.

On the other hand, he was still alive, while his two role models were decidedly not – which was worth something, wasn't it? With the kind of titanic effort that only mothers who had given birth could appreciate, he managed to slide onto his side, the inhuman exertion leaving him panting like a dog.

He sniffed. "Yes, still alive. Still alive." He sniffed again, the acrid stink of burning rags mingled with the disgustingly mouth-watering aroma of roasting pork, bringing him fully back to his senses. He should probably start crawling towards the exit, where the air was fresher. Yes, that would be the smart thing to do, and he was smart, wasn't he? If not for the many smaller tunnels that worked as flues, he might already have suffocated from the smoke. Yes, he should start crawling towards the tunnel. He would, too. Any moment now, any moment... He just needed to gather his strength a bit longer. By Science, but he was tired, so tired... "Need to collect my strength. My strength..." Echser closed his eyes – and the picture of a burning book instantly assaulted him.

His book.

His beautiful, damned book...

Echser's eyes popped open. "Shoot!"

He looked around wild-eyed, trying to make sense of where he had last seen it, but hadn't a clue and thus started crawling deeper into this hell of smoke, flames, and dancing shadows. One thought hammered through his mind with every frantic beat of his heart. My book! I must rescue my book! If he failed, all would have been for nothing. All his work, all his suffering, and all the deaths he had caused would have been for nothing.

"No-no-no-no-no," he muttered in a constant stream, rooting through the disgusting grave-flotsam and unidentifiable chunks of meat on the floor. "Where is it?" Tears blurred his vision. "Where is it?!"

Echser crawled on, searching with all the desperation of a beggar that had seen a gold coin dropped into the gutter, ignoring everything around him. He was blind to the smoke, to the odd body, or body parts of ghouls in his way, disregarding the devilish heat, discounting the massive boulder with its baleful eyes as he bumped into—

He froze.

A boulder? With eyes?

He turned his gaze – and eyeballs big as dinner plates looked back at him. His lips started trembling. "Oh shoot..."