After hours in absolute darkness, the sun hits us like a punch to the face. I squint, blinded, my dilated pupils screaming in agony. A blast of tropical heat, heavy with brine and salt, replaces the stifling air of the dungeon.
When my vision returns, I just stand there with my mouth open.
“You gotta be kidding me…” I breathe.
We’re on a beach. White sand, fine as flour, turquoise water licking our boots covered in Kobold blood, and a few coconut trees swaying gently under a perfect breeze. The islet is tiny, barely sixty meters wide, lost in the middle of an infinite ocean.
“It’s… it’s beautiful!” Chris exclaims, running toward the water, instantly forgetting he almost died of fear ten minutes ago.
I stay cautious. I kick a bush with my shovel. Nothing comes out except a few green crickets jumping lazily.
[Name]: Sand Cricket | Level: 0 | [Status]: Harmless.
“Okay. It’s the ‘Beach Level’,” I analyze. “The calm before the storm.”
We take advantage of this unexpected respite to take a break. We collapse on the warm sand. Chris eats a protein bar while watching the horizon, Kim sits cross-legged with her rifle on her knees, and I take off my boots to empty the sand that’s already worked its way in. I hate sand. It gets everywhere.
I take this moment of calm to glance at the [Deity Chat] scrolling in the corner of my vision. Most messages are commenting on our miraculous survival, but one of them, written in candy pink, catches my eye.
[Aphrodite Love Coach]: This is deathly boring… We are at Floor 4 and there is still zero romantic tension? Not even a little slow burn or an enemies-to-lovers arc with the sniper? The audience is falling asleep! We want romance! Put some feelings into this brutal world!
I roll my eyes, dropping my sand-filled boot. Without shouting, I address the void with Olympian calm.
“Romance? Seriously? Look at us. We smell like death, cold sweat, and fermented Kobold. My hygiene bar is in the negative and my two companions are an angsty teenager and an armed psychopath. The only thing I’m going to kiss lovingly in this tower is the neck of my next bottle. So keep your fanfiction fantasies to yourself.”
I’m about to close the interface when a loud chime stops me.
Tching!
[Lightning Contract Proposal]: [Aphrodite Love Coach] Reward: 5,000 Cosmic Gold. Objective: Kiss the sniper on the mouth. Now. With tongue. Message: “Do not be shy! It is for the ratings! You want gear? Take some risks!”
Immediately, the chat goes wild.
[The Scarlet Sovereign]: LMAO! I double the stakes! I want to see this. He’s going to get headshot at point-blank range. XD
[Primeval Chaos Troll]: 100 bucks she stabs him before he touches her lips. It’s assisted suicide!
[God Of Bloody War]: Blood will flow. I approve of this romance.
I look at Kim, sitting a few meters away. She isn’t looking at us. She looks about as approachable as a cactus wrapped in barbed wire. I sigh and look up at the sky.
“Five thousand bucks? That’s all? You’re overestimating my love for money and you’re underestimating her love for violence. This girl cleans her gun like it’s a pet. If I approach her with romantic intent, I’ll end up with a mana bullet between my eyes and my own trash lid shoved up my ass. Keep your gold, you freaks.”
I close the window with an annoyed flick. They never let it go.
I’m shaking out my sock with the energy of despair when Chris, who’s finished his bar, gets up to scout the place. Given the ridiculous size of the island, it takes him about thirty seconds. He goes around the small grove of palms in the center and shouts.
“Uncle Ben, look! There’s something hidden on the other side!”
I put my boot back on, grumbling, and join him by going around the vegetation. On the other side of the islet, washed up on the sand, a raft is waiting for us. It’s a handmade catamaran, two wooden hulls connected by a platform, with a crude triangular sail. It looks a lot like Moana’s boat, but the shoddy weekend DIY version.
I approach the hull. Carved into the wood with a knife, there’s a name.
“Eeyore,” I read aloud. “Seriously? We’re going to trust our lives to a raft named after the depressed donkey from Winnie the Pooh?”
“It’s cute!” Chris defends.
On the deck, there’s no helm. Just a mast and, fixed on a wooden base in the center, a strange mechanism. It’s a glass sphere containing a glowing green ball floating inside. Kim approaches and taps the glass. The green ball moves, pivoting to point stubbornly toward the open sea, North-West.
“It’s a radar,” she analyzes. “Or a quest compass. The ball indicates the exit.”
I look at the ocean as far as the eye can see. Water, everywhere. Not an inch of land on the horizon.
“Great. A naval quest. I hate water levels. Water physics are always bugged.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Kim says, pushing the raft toward the water. “Come on, boys. Let’s board.”
***
An hour later, the islet is nothing more than a tiny dot behind us.
The sea is flat as a pancake. The sun is beating down hard. Chris manages the sail since his Porter class gives him a bonus for pulling ropes without getting tired. Kim watches the horizon with her scope, and I’m sitting at the back, holding the makeshift rudder, trying to follow the direction of the green ball.
“It’s almost… relaxing,” Chris says, stretching. “It feels like a vacation.”
“Shut it, you fool,” I cut him off sharply. “Never say that in a game. That’s the universal trigger for…”
SPLASH.
A spray of water explodes ten meters off the port side.
“Contact!” Kim screams.
They aren’t dolphins. Silvery, streamlined shapes burst from the water like missiles. Man-sized fish, with jaws full of saw teeth and fins as rigid as shark dorsals.
[MONSTER ANALYSIS] Name: Leaping Swordfish | Level: 4
[Statistics]
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
- HP: 150 / 150
- Attack: 15
- Speed: 50
- Defense: 12
[Special Attack]: Aerial Breach.
They don’t attack us from below. They jump. The first fish takes its momentum and leaps out of the water, aiming directly at the raft deck to mow us down as it passes.
“Get down!” I howl.
I throw myself to the floor. The scaly monster passes over me with a wet hiss, nearly taking my nose off, and falls back on the other side of the raft.
Splash.
“They’re strafing us!” Kim shouts. “They’re using us as an obstacle course!”
Three more rocket out on the starboard side.
“Chris! Shield! Kim, pull!”
Panic sets in on Eeyore. The raft is small, unstable, and the fish are bombarding us from all sides. A swordfish leaps straight at Chris. The kid raises his shield just in time.
BOOM.
The fish hits the shield with the force of a wet battering ram, making Chris slide on the damp wood.
“They’re heavy!” Chris yells while finding his balance.
“Shoot, Kim! Shoot!” I order.
Kim is in a precarious balance, legs spread wide to compensate for the roll. She aims at the sky.
BANG.
She picks off a fish in mid-air. The mana bullet tears through the head of the creature, which explodes into blue pixels before it even hits the deck.
“That’s one less!” she says.
But there are dozens of them. It’s a chaotic ballet. I let go of the rudder, grabbing my shovel with both hands like a baseball bat. A fish leaps toward me, jaws wide open.
“Home run!” I scream.
I pivot my hips and swing with all my strength using the flat of the shovel.
CLANG.
The sound is magnificent. The fish is sent back to where it came from on a curved trajectory, crashing into the water five meters away.
For twenty minutes, it’s hell. We slide on the soaked deck, we dodge the jaws snapping in the air, we hit, and we shoot. Chris gets knocked down twice, and Kim almost goes overboard while dodging a thorny tail. Then, as suddenly as they arrived, the fish disappear.
We stay there, panting, soaked, and covered in scales.
“I hate… the sea…” Chris breathes.
The respite is short-lived. The sun starts to set, and night eventually falls, wrapping the ocean in a natural and oppressive darkness. And then, the level changes phase.
“The monsters are gone,” Kim remarks while scanning the water.
“Yeah,” I say, looking at the clouds piling up. “Because they’re afraid of what’s coming.”
The wind rises. Violent. Howling. The sea, which was flat as a pancake, rises like a liquid roller coaster. At night, there are no monsters. There’s the Deluge.
Three-meter waves crash down on poor Eeyore. The raft cracks, groans, and pitches at forty-five degrees.
“Tie yourselves down!” I howl over the crash of the thunder. “Chris! Hold the mast! Don’t let go of the mast!”
Chris hugs the wooden pole, his skills allowing him to stay anchored despite the gravity trying to eject him. Kim has flattened herself against the floor, clinging to the ropes. I’m fighting with the rudder to keep our course on the green glow of the ball, which is the only visible thing in this chaos.
It’s a washing machine. We’re swallowing water, we’re tossed around, shaken, and chilled to the bone. It lasts all night. An interminable night of fighting against drowning.
The sun rises on a pathetic sight. The storm stopped dead, leaving the sea flat, but the damage is done. Chris is bent double over the railing on the port side, vomiting his guts and the salt water he swallowed all night. Kim’s no better. She’s slumped on the starboard side, face green, hair matted with salt, spitting bile. The seasickness got the better of the elite sniper and the paladin.
I’m manning the tiller, my eyes burning. We haven’t slept for a single second since the Safe Zone on Floor 2. Exhaustion is a hard drug, and we’re overdosing. My hands tremble on the wood.
“It’s going to be okay…” I mutter to myself. “It’s calm. We’ll be able to close our eyes for just a…”
Doum… Doum… Doum…
A dull sound. Rhythmic. Deep. It doesn’t come from the sky, it comes from the horizon. It reminds me instantly of the Jumanji intro, the kind of tribal beat that tells you the jungle is coming to claim you.
I straighten up, squinting my eyes. In the distance, a line of black dots is charging toward us, cutting through the calm water. Sails. An armada of miniature rafts.
“Kim,” I say in a thick voice. “Scope.”
Kim, despite the nausea, brings her rifle to her shoulder by pure professional reflex. She adjusts the zoom, holds back a heave, and looks.
Her face falls.
“It’s not true…” she breathes.
“What is it? Pirates? Dwarves?”
“Worse. You see those trendy designer figurines? The ones that cost a fortune and everyone scrambles to put on a shelf? Labubus… Nababus… oululu? I don’t know anymore.”
I frown.
“The things that look like rabbits on acid with saw teeth?”
“Exactly,” she confirms. “Except these ones are alive, they’re covered in war paint, and they look like they really want to eviscerate us.”
She adjusts her aim.
“They’re about 30 centimeters tall. There’s a vanguard of three surfboards speeding toward us, propelled by… magic? But the bulk of the troop is behind them. An armada of small sailing rafts, towed by schools of fish acting as engines. And they’re armed to the teeth. Spears, blowguns, small daggers.”
I look at the approaching swarm to the sound of drums.
“Great,” I sigh. “We’re about to be raided by a marketing campaign. If I’m eviscerated by a limited edition designer figurine, I’m warning you right now, I’m not dying. I refuse. My soul will stay in my body out of pure indignation. You can’t put ‘Killed by an ugly keychain’ on a tombstone, it’s forbidden by the Geneva Convention.”
Kim cocks her rifle, even though she still doesn’t have any ammo.
“They’re coming fast, Ben. Very fast. And there are hundreds of them.”
I narrow my eyes to distinguish the colorful shapes charging at us, trying to put a name to this absurdity.
[MONSTER ANALYSIS] Name: Tapupu | Level: 4
[Statistics]
- HP: 120 / 120
- Attack: 18
- Speed: 40
- Defense: 10
[Skills]
- [Kawaii but Deadly] (Passive): Target has a 5% chance of hesitation due to the ‘chibi’ design.
- [Plastic Charge] (Active): A diving suicide attack.
“Tapupus,” I read aloud. “They really are collectible toys.”
The three motorized surfboards break away from the pack and accelerate.
“They’re here!” Chris shouts while raising his shield.
The first surfer uses a wave to take off. He flies toward us, a little ball of fur and hatred in the air.
“Not in my house!” I roar.
I pivot, using my trash can lid shield like a tennis racket. The Tapupu slams against the metal with a loud BONG and flies back into the water, unconscious.
But the other two land on the deck. They’re fast. Vicious. One of them drives its dagger into Kim’s boot. She swears, grabs the creature by the ears, and sends it flying with a kick before pinning it to the floor with her knife.
The third one jumps on Chris’s back, trying to find a gap in his armor. Chris spins around like a panicked top.
“Get it off! Get it off!”
I bring the flat of my shovel down on Chris’s back. The Tapupu bursts into pixels.
“First round over!” I breathe.
But that was just the appetizer.
The rest of the armada hits us. The fish engines stop, and hundreds of figurines jump from the rafts to climb onto Eeyore. It’s an invasion. They’re everywhere. On the floats, on the mast, on our legs. It’s trench warfare against evil plushies.
“Back to back!” Kim orders, wielding her dagger like a mad surgeon.
We stand back to back around the central radar. Chris is a wall, his shield pushing back entire clusters of attackers. I’m a windmill. My shovel slices, bludgeons, and crushes. It’s total chaos. I’m fighting living keychains and the worst part is that they actually hurt. Their tiny weapons cut my skin and tear my clothes.
“There are too many of them!” Chris yells.
Suddenly, a shrill noise drowns out the din of battle.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!
The green ball of the radar in the center of the raft stops spinning. It flashes frantically, lighting up the deck.
“The radar!” Kim shouts while stabbing a Tapupu in mid-air. “We’re here! This is the exit point!”
I look around us. There’s nothing. Just water, the enemy armada, and us.
And then, the sea stops.
Literally. The small waves freeze. The fish pulling the enemy rafts flee in total panic, capsizing half of the Tapupu fleet. A massive, titanic shadow rises from the depths, darkening the turquoise water for hundreds of meters.
“Grab onto something!” I howl, realizing too late what ‘arrival point’ meant.
The sea explodes.
It’s a maw. A massive, gaping maw. The monster is colossal, the size of the largest cruise ship in the world. Its mouth is an endless abyss lined with twisted teeth as sharp as rusty harpoons, capable of crushing an aircraft carrier hull like a soda can.
The Tapupu armada is floating right in the middle, just above the gaping mouth rising toward the surface.
With a sucking sound that makes my bones shake, the whale closes its jaws on almost the entire enemy fleet. Hundreds of figurines, their rafts, their weapons… everything disappears into the black gullet of the monster.
Eeyore is lifted by the massive swell. We’re propelled backward, surfing on the tsunami caused by the beast, narrowly avoiding becoming toothpicks. We land violently fifty meters away, the raft creaking everywhere.
I stand up, soaked, my heart on the verge of failure, and look back. The thing falls heavily back into the water, swallowing its ‘limited edition’ meal. I stare at the titanic monster before it disappears under the surface.
“Analyze,” I whisper, terrified.
[MONSTER ANALYSIS] Name: Leviathan | Level: 75
[Statistics]
- HP: 150,000 / 150,000
- Attack: 4,500 | Defense: 8,000
- Magic Attack: 1,500 | Magic Defense: 6,500
- Speed: 40
“There’s always a bigger fish…” I mutter, paralyzed.
Kim doesn’t answer. She’s frozen, her face pale, her gaze locked on the raft deck.
“Ben… Look at the radar,” she whispers.
Her voice is so weak it’s covered by the lapping of the water. I look down at the glass sphere in the center of the deck. The green ball is no longer pointing toward the horizon, toward a distant island or a portal. It’s pivoted. It’s now pointing toward the water, tracing a direct and moving line toward the exact spot where the Leviathan dove back down.
“It’s following it,” Kim breathes, horrified. “The arrow… it’s not showing the exit. It’s showing the monster.”
A cold silence falls over Eeyore, heavier than during the storm. We all three look at the green ball, then the ocean, then the green ball.
“Is this a joke?” Chris squeaks. “The goal of the floor… is to kill that?”
“It’s impossible,” I state, cold sweat running down my back. “I saw its stats. Level 75.”
I turn toward the sky, furious, my hands shaking.
“Hey! System! You said the monster levels matched the floor! We’re on Floor 4! We should be hitting level 4 crabs or seagulls! What’s a level 75 monster doing here?! We’re not even at the Floor 5 Guardian yet! What’s this bug?!”