"Hmmm. Another fight?"

"You're not seriously gonna—"

Alonso changed course with a grin.

"Oh, come on, Houston. Maybe it's a poor soul in need of help," he replied, voice tinged with mischief.

"You're low on energy right now. Seriously, I'd suggest calling it a day. You've already hit the orb limit for the arthropods—nothing to gain."

"Nothing to gain? Well, we humans spend most of our lives doing things with nothing to gain. Some call it fun."

Houston sighed, exasperated.

Alonso weaved his way toward a small hill, navigating around steam vents and sulfurous outcroppings as he moved swiftly. Cresting the hill, he caught sight of a skirmish in the distance.

"They've started teaming up. Is it because of the creatures... or because of me?" Alonso mused.

"Very humble," Houston commented dryly.

From his perch on the hill, Alonso took in the scene below. Three figures were locked in a chaotic struggle with one of the giant insects, its antennae dangling, already severed. Two of them held back, working their slings with some skill, sending rocks hurtling toward the creature while the third person darted around up front, drawing its attention.

Alonso leaned in, intrigued, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "Wait a second… isn't that…," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, will you look at that? Kid's back for another round."

The boy was putting on quite a show down there, weaving in and out with surprising nimbleness, his movements just barely avoiding the insect's jabs.

Alonso chuckled, settling himself comfortably on a nearby rock. "Shame I don't have popcorn." The kid dodged a swipe by ducking low, then immediately rolled under another leg that came swinging right after.

Alonso's grin widened. "Houston, get a load of this guy. He's actually holding his own. Think Phase Two could work from here?"

Houston's reply was skeptical. "Not unless you want a garbled mess of feedback patterns. You'd need to get closer so I can map out their movements. Honestly, aside from the kid's decent footwork, I'd say there's nothing to gain here."

"Hmm. Fair point," Alonso murmured, but he didn't move, enjoying the spectacle. The other two weren't doing too badly with the slings either, rocks whizzing through the air and pelting the insect's carapace with well-aimed shots. The kid, meanwhile, had just sidestepped another strike, giving a faint whoop as he spun out of reach, managing to slip just under the creature's limb.

"Gotta give it to him, he's got some guts," Alonso mused, watching the kid brace himself before lunging to the side as another limb crashed down just inches from where he'd stood.

But as Alonso contemplated joining in for some fun, his stomach let out a loud growl, snapping him out of it. "Fine, fine," he muttered, chuckling to himself. "I guess I'll leave it to the kid today. Coast it is. A nice crab à la planche awaits, and I'm overdue for some real food."

He stretched lazily, then set off again.

After a little more than an hour and a half, he reached the boundary where the barren, toxic terrain gave way to the coastal region, lush with vegetation and, more importantly, teeming with those juicy crabs.

"Well," he mused, "I've got the coordinates of the last ones I killed, but a fresh one might get me an extra orb before calling it a day."

After drinking from a nearby river, he climbed a high hill for a better view, scanning the coastline for one of the giant crustaceans but came up empty. Shrugging, he jogged toward the coast, weaving through scattered palms and undergrowth. To his surprise, he stumbled upon a crab carcass—not one of his kills.

Interesting. So they're hunting this far out from the camp already?

Unfazed, he continued along the coast. Twenty minutes later, a faint outline of movement caught his eye. There, nearly a kilometer away, was a massive crab ambling along the shore.

Well, that took a while.

But as he got closer, he noticed something odd and then—

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"No harm. Can we speak?" A strong voice echoed in his mind, and he quickly pinpointed the source.

Not far from him, less than 200 meters away and standing still—perhaps waiting for his reply—was the huge guy from the camp. Imani, was it?

He quickly considered his options. He wasn't exactly in the mood for a conversation, but the guy seemed pretty respectful compared to the rest.

"Sure," he replied mentally. "But let me finish the crab first, I'm hungry."

Without waiting for a response, he rushed toward the crab, which quickly spotted him and charged forward.

"Let's try something different this time. Houston, ready whenever you are."

Houston sighed again.

Overdrive 60%

Finally!

I've missed this feeling—stuck at 40% in that toxic bug pit, barely getting to play.

But here? Here I'm free.

I stomp down, sand kicking up under my boot, grains hanging in the air like they can't keep up. I'm already onto the next step, and damn, this feels good.

The sea's smell is clear, strong—like I can see the breeze itself, feel every damn wave in the air. Everything's waves, isn't it?

I grin. I laugh.

Then I turn to my opponent. Well, you're a big one, aren't you, mister crab?

Its black, soulless eyes just mirror back my reflection. Hair's getting long… maybe I should cut it soon.

I speed up just as its pincer swings down, and instead of dodging, I just leap right at it.

I'm flying. Wind slams back my hair, hits my face—like sticking my head out of a car window on a freeway.

Damn, I'm fast.

My threads track the pincer; it's about to snap, but I'm ready. I sync my pulse and fire back, and…

Nothing. Perfect counter.

I use the pincer as a step, push off, and launch myself straight for its eye. Thrust with all the strength I've got—no ground to brace, but enough momentum to drive my blade right into that glassy eye.

Its other pincer's coming fast, but I'm not done yet. Feet hit the shell, and I drive my sword deeper, twisting until I feel the sweet spot.

Got it!

Pincer's closing in.

You know what?

Come at me!

I don't even dodge, just leap back, counter the momentum, magnetize my sword to send me flying even faster.

The pincer hits my blade and launches me back like a train hit me, shock slamming through my head and sending stars into my vision.

Fuck…

I grit my teeth as I crash to the ground, dropping ten meters at a solid 80 km/h. It stings, my mind's buzzing, but…

Heh. That kill? One for the records.

Alonso leaned back on a fallen log, casually munching on the grilled crab meat, letting the smoky flavor settle on his tongue as he eyed the man before him. "Imani, right?" he said between bites. "What do you want to talk about?"

The sun was dipping low, casting a warm, amber hue over the beach, highlighting the rough edges of the rocks and softening the white sand. Behind them, the ocean stretched out, waves rolling in with a steady rhythm that seemed to punctuate the conversation.

Imani nodded, his presence as calm and solid as the coastal rocks, a serious look in his eyes. He was silent for a moment, then spoke, his words short and deliberate, almost like he was measuring each one. "Wanted to speak… about peace."

Alonso raised an eyebrow, interest piqued. "Peace?"

Imani took a step closer, his stance unwavering. "Rakesh… his behavior. Apology," he explained, his voice carrying a weight that matched his frame.

Alonso chewed thoughtfully, his mind flicking back to his encounter with the sling ambusher. Was that Rakesh? So he was rescued. Guess the warning got through after all. He continued eating, eyes never leaving Imani.

Imani's gaze didn't waver. "No war. No need to hunt each other… between Climbers."

Alonso stopped mid-chew, his attention caught. "Climbers?" he asked, intrigued by the term.

Imani nodded. "Chiara's word. All of us… here, climbing The Tower."

Alonso mulled it over, the name fitting surprisingly well. "Climbers, huh?"

Imani continued, his tone steady but resolute. "Climbers… not enemies. No fight between us… same goal."

Alonso chuckled, looking back at Imani. "If that's the case, make sure your people stick to it. I'm not here to pick fights, but I'm not about to be anyone's target, either." He finished his meal, brushing his hands off and eyeing Imani, curious to see if he had anything more to add.

For now, it seemed the man just wanted to set the terms—and Alonso could respect that.

Imani stood up. "Chiara say no fight you to all."

Huh?

Now that was new. Chiara had either changed her mind, finally realizing what a stupid bitch she'd been then with her stupid plan, or this had been her intention all along. Either way, he cared little. Peace? Fine. More quiet for him. Help them? Never.

"Alright," Alonso replied, pausing between bites.

He resumed his meal, finishing off what had to be close to three kilograms of crab meat.

Imani gave a slight nod, saying nothing more as he departed, his massive frame moving with an unexpected grace over the sand, leaving Alonso to the quiet and the last bits of his dinner.

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