The System isn’t answering, obviously. Only the sound of the waves and the creaking of the mast answer me. We’ve set sail. We’re sailing full tilt in the complete opposite direction of the whale.

  “Are we seriously not gonna fight?” Chris asks, hanging on to the railing, still pale.

  I let out a nervous laugh, bordering on hysterical. “Fight? Kid, look at our stats. We’ve got toothpicks and trash can lids. That thing has a health bar that looks like a phone number. Attacking it's an elaborate form of suicide. It’s natural selection on fast-forward. No, we’re fleeing. Far. Very far.”

  An hour later, the green ball on the radar stops its frantic flashing. Now it’s a steady glow, pointing straight at our wake. We’ve put enough distance between us to be out of immediate reach, but the mood on board is grim.

  Kim is sitting cross-legged, staring at the glass sphere. “It’s not possible,” she whispers, running a hand through her hair. “The victory condition can’t be to kill a level 75 Boss on Floor 4. The scaling is broken.”

  She taps the radar glass. “Maybe the ball doesn’t show the exit. Maybe it’s coded to point to the biggest mana source in the zone. Or the most immediate danger. If that’s the case, this tool is useless for guiding us. It’s just a collision warning.”

  Chris looks at the empty 360-degree horizon. “But… if we can’t kill the monster and we don’t know where the exit is, what do we do?”

  He straightens up, trying to find a logical solution. “Let’s just pick a direction, any direction, and keep going straight! Like in The Truman Show. If we sail long enough, we’ll eventually hit the dungeon wall, right? We’ll find the door on the edge of the map.”

  I shake my head, weighed down by the reality of our situation. “What direction, Chris? Look around you.”

  I point at the sky, then the sea. “We’ve got no compass. The sky is a fake backdrop with no sun, just a diffuse ambient light that doesn’t move. There are no stars, no moon. The wind changes direction every ten minutes, and the swell comes from everywhere at once. We’ve got no fixed landmarks.”

  I stomp my foot on the deck of Eeyore. “This floor isn’t a combat level. It’s an attrition level. It’s designed to lose us in the middle of nowhere. The goal? Make us swim in circles until we starve to death, after spending all our gold in the Store. It’s an economic trap.”

  I slump against the mast, looking at the infinite ocean. “We’re stuck on a liquid treadmill, without knowing where the exit is, with Godzilla patrolling the pool.”

  Silence settles in, heavy and salty. Chris’s eyes are closing on their own, and even Kim seems to struggle to keep her head up.

  “Take the chance to rest, I’m watching the horizon,” I say, wedging my shovel within reach.

  Chris and Kim don’t need to be told twice. They collapse on the damp planks, knocked out by stress and fatigue. In a few seconds, they’re asleep, rocked by the lapping water.

  But peace is a lie in this dungeon. The respite lasts four hours.

  Night is about to fall. The diffuse light from the ceiling drops quickly, turning from an artificial blue to a threatening gray, then to total black. And instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch, the vibe shifts.

  The tropical breeze becomes an ice-cold gust that makes the ropes hiss. The sea drops out from under us. The waves, once gently rocking us, turn into walls of black water. Eeyore cracks under the first slam, tilting dangerously. The storm is back, punctual, violent, exactly like the first night. The hellish cycle resets.

  “Get up!” I howl over the crash of the thunder, grabbing the tiller that’s trying to escape my hands. “The washing machine is back on! Tie yourselves down!”

  Kim and Chris emerge from sleep with a start, eyes wide with terror as a burst of ice-cold water lashes our faces. They don’t need extra orders. Survival instinct takes over. They cling to the safety ropes I’ve braided, wrapping themselves in them like sausages.

  “Hold on!” I bellow, spitting salt water.

  The ocean has turned into an industrial spin dryer set to ‘Destruction’. The waves have become walls. Five-meter-high basalt cliffs that rise before us, masking the horizon, before collapsing with the weight of a building.

  When Eeyore crests a wave, it’s instant vertigo. We’re suspended in the void, lit by purple lightning bolts that tear through the artificial sky. Then, it’s free fall. The stomach rises into the throat, the heart stops, and we crash into the trough of the wave with the sound of wood exploding.

  CRAAAAAC.

  Every impact resonates in my bones. I feel like the spine of the raft is going to give, or mine. The water is not liquid. At this speed, the water is hard as concrete. The foam sprays our faces like gravel. I don’t feel my fingers on the tiller anymore; they’re locked, clawed onto the wood, white as bone.

  I can’t see Chris and Kim anymore. I just see two soaked bundles shaking violently at every impact, drowned under the pitch-black tide.

  “We’re staying afloat! We’re staying afloat, dammit!” I shout, more for myself than for them, my voice lost in the roar of the wind.

  This night lasts an eternity. An endless loop of drownings and resurrections. But the worst part is that it doesn’t stop in the morning. The sun rises, the sea calms down, and the monsters return. We fight. The night falls, the monsters leave, and the storm returns. We survive.

  It lasts one day. Two days. Three days.

  By the fourth day—or maybe the fifth, I lost count after the fourth time I almost went overboard—the cycle finally breaks. The sun rises on a mirror-perfect sea. It’s a flawless reflection without a single cloud or a breath of wind to break the surface. The render’s almost too clean to be honest.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Calm. Finally.

  I’m still manning the tiller. I haven’t moved. I haven’t slept since… since the Safe Zone on Floor 2. My eyes are bloodshot and dry as sandpaper. I’m only standing by the sheer force of muscle tension. I look at the blurry horizon.

  “I’m going…” I croak. “I’m going to sleep. If a fish jumps… eat it.”

  I let go of the bar, collapsing face down on the damp wood.

  ***

  The voices of Chris and Kim pierce the fog of my mind, distorted and distant. I open one eyelid, heavy as a reinforced vault door. Everything is a blur. I see shapes moving, splashes, silver things flying over me. Some kind of messy fight? Chris is waving his sword. Kim is hitting something with her rifle butt.

  My brain refuses to process the information.

  Error 404: Willpower not found.

  I let the other two rest a little bit during these last four days. I held the rudder against the apocalypse, and now, I’m empty. My Mental Endurance is broken. I’m cooked. Maybe I’m dying, I think with total detachment. If this is death, I hope there’s a bar. I close my eye again. The dark swallows me.

  ***

  “Great,” I croak, throat dry as sandpaper. “And why am I trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey?”

  As soon as I finish my sentence, two heads appear in my field of vision. Chris looks tired but relieved, and Kim looks like she’s spent the night in a blender. “Uncle Ben! You’re awake!” Chris rushes to undo the knots, his hands trembling slightly. “You scared us… You fell unconscious all of a sudden. Like a stone. We thought your heart gave out.”

  “I’m fine,” I breathe as the rope falls to my feet. “I just had a tactical nap. How long was I out?”

  “About six hours,” Kim answers, leaning on the broken railing.

  I rub my wrists, looking around. Eeyore is a wreck. Cracks run up the mast, the sail’s hanging in tatters, and half the port float is gone. We look like shark chew toys.

  “The raft is toast,” I observe. “One more stormy night and we’re swimming.” “That’s what we figured,” Kim confirms. “We spent the last six hours repelling flying fish and bailing water. Chris almost died twice.”

  I look at the radar. The green ball is still pointing stubbornly toward the southeast. And it’s glowing brighter than before.

  “And the worst isn’t over,” Kim adds, following my gaze. “The whale… it’s gotten closer. Based on the light intensity, it must be a few hours away from us.”

  A heavy silence settles in. We’re stuck on a wreck in the middle of nowhere with a level 75 monster. I stand up, cracking my vertebrae one by one. I feel my HP slowly rising, and my mental fatigue has cleared. I feel brand new.

  “Okay,” I say, picking up my shovel. “We’re changing the plan. We stop running away.”

  Chris and Kim look at me, completely floored.

  “We’re going to hunt that whale. Now that I’ve rested, I’m hungry for sushi.”

  Chris widens his eyes, panic rushing back. “What?! But… do you remember its stats? Level 75! 150,000 HP! It’s the size of a cruise ship! We’ve got toothpicks!” Kim shakes her head, incredulous. “Ben, are you delusional again? Are you sure you’re okay? This is suicide. We can’t pierce its defense, even with my rifle.”

  I give them a look that’s either reassuring or terrifying, given their faces. “Don’t worry, kid. I know what I’m doing. I’ve got an idea. And it’s as stupid as it's brilliant.”

  The crippled Eeyore sets course for the southeast, straight toward the light of the green ball that’s getting bigger by the second. Chris is shaking so much that his leather armor makes more noise than the lapping of the water.

  “We’re going to die… we’re going to die…” he mutters on a loop, clutching the mast.

  “Technically, we’re all going to die one day,” I answer philosophically. “But today is fishing day.”

  Kim, posted at the front, raises her hand to signal a stop. “Visual contact!”

  I narrow my eyes. On the horizon, a colorful, moving patch blocks our path.

  “Is that the whale?” Chris asks.

  “No. That’s the buffet,” I suddenly realize.

  It’s a new Tapupu fleet. Hundreds of small colorful rafts fleeing desperately in the opposite direction from ours… which means toward us. They’re screaming, waving their little spears, and rowing like madmen.

  “The Leviathan wasn’t tracking us,” I analyze. “It was tracking its lunch. The Tapupus are its favorite treats. And to reach the Boss, we’re going to have to cross its pantry.”

  “They’re charging us!” Kim shouts.

  The toy armada hits us full force. This time, they aren’t trying to sink us; they’re trying to go over us to escape. It’s a tide of plastic panic.

  “Repel boarders!” I howl, raising my shovel.

  The fight begins. It’s chaotic, loud, and totally absurd. Chris blocks toy assaults with his shield, sending them flying into the water like ping pong balls. Kim uses her rifle butt like a mace, smashing vinyl heads with metronomic precision. I’m at the center of the deck, handing out circular shovel swings.

  “Get off my boat, you Happy Meals!”

  Suddenly, a Tapupu lands right in front of me. He’s lost his spear in the brawl. He looks at me with his big painted eyes, lets out a high-pitched war cry, “Yaaaa!” and throws himself at my leg. He clings to my shin and starts punching me.

  Bap. Bap. Bap.

  I look down. I watch him go at it. His tiny fists bounce off my jeans without even making a crease. My health bar doesn’t move a single pixel. I’m in more pain when I stub my toe on a piece of furniture.

  “You finished? Your tenacity is cute. Really. But you’re in my way.” I grab him by the scruff of the neck, like a kitten, and lift him up to my face. He wiggles, trying to bite me with his plastic teeth. “Go on, go join your friends.” I toss him overboard with a casual flick. Splash. “Next!”

  But the next one is not a Tapupu.

  A giant shadow passes under the raft, darkening the turquoise water for hundreds of meters. Eeyore rises suddenly on a hump of water.

  “He’s here!” Kim screams.

  The sea opens in front of us. The Leviathan emerges.

  The Leviathan doesn’t even look at us. He opens his maw and swallows a dozen Tapupu rafts in a single bite. The sound of wood cracking and muffled high-pitched screams is chilling.

  “What do we do now?” Kim screams, her pro-gamer calm vanished. “Do we use your shit skill? Do I shoot the eye? Say something, Ben!”

  I look at the mass of figurines fleeing in front of us. “No. We’re heading into the pile.”

  “What?”

  “We’re going toward that horde of Tapupus the whale is chasing. We need them.”

  “The raft won’t hold!” Kim protests, pointing at the floating wreck we’re standing on. “We’re going to get eaten with them!”

  “Don’t worry. Do what I say. Head for the meat!”

  Kim and Chris, having no other plan than immediate death, obey. We sail straight toward the colorful mass. Surprisingly, the Tapupus don’t attack us anymore. They’re too busy rowing for their lives. We slip right into their panicked fleet like an intruder in a school of sardines.

  The shadow of the Leviathan grows. It covers the whole sky.

  “He’s getting close fast!” Chris cries, his voice breaking. “He’s going to eat us! Do something, Ben!”

  I look at the gaping maw rising above us, blocking out the sun. It’s a tunnel of flesh and teeth—an organic dry dock from hell. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with salt air.

  “Alright! It’s time!” I turn to them. “The moment I say GO, grab onto something and don’t let go! You hear me? Don’t let go for any reason!”

  “But what are you…”

  “GO!”

  Chris and Kim cling to the safety ropes, terrified. I don’t grab anything. I raise my shovel. And I swing at the mast.

  CRAAAAC.

  The wood, already weakened by the storm, explodes under the impact. Chris and Kim look at me, shocked, their eyes popping out of their heads.

  “What are you doing? Without a sail, we’re sitting ducks! We’re dead!”

  I cling to the stump of the mast. The next moment, the world goes out. The Leviathan closes its maw on the zone. It’s a suction. The water rushes into its mouth with the force of a waterfall, carrying the Tapupus, the debris, and our broken raft.

  We’re thrown backward, tumbled in a whirlwind of foam and plastic monsters. The current is titanic. We slide down the ramp of its tongue, carried toward the darkness of its throat.

  A smell hits us. A warm, humid stench of rotten fish and ancient methane. The monster’s breath. In the slimy dark, Kim’s voice rings out, hysterical.

  “ARE YOU INSANE?! WE’RE GOING TO DIE!”

  “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Chris cries.

  I grit my teeth, water rushing into my nose, tossed around like an ice cube in a shaker. “Don’t lose your grip! Hold on!”

  And then, we’re swallowed.