Sliced Pain

A giant, Elias felt the weight in his hand—about two or three pounds, heavier than expected. It had a hand crank on one side and a jagged metal spike at the end, the kind meant to puncture tin lids. It looked old, the wooden handle slightly warped, the metal worn but still sharp.

He stared at it. Then at Dot. Then back at the can opener.

"…Dot's," he said slowly, "you realize we're fighting for our lives here, right?"

Dot puffed up, indignant. "And you realize that thing can rip through reinforced steel cans, right? You said you needed to break through a hard shell—what's tougher than 50-year-old survival rations?"

Elias opened his mouth, his mind still trying to process the sheer absurdity of his situation. "Where the hell did you even learn about this!?"

Dot's voice rang out instantly. "It was in the book—"

"Hey! Focus!" Junjio's voice cut in, sharp and urgent.