I take a deep breath, letting the sound of nature seep into me as I look around. For some reason, the place feels… a little emptier, a little quieter.

I close my eyes, focusing on the world around me, letting my mental waves pulse out.

It feels strange, almost foreign, like tapping into a part of myself I usually save for battles. Without the thrill of a fight pressing on me, I'm just… listening, sensing, catching every tiny detail in a rare stillness.

Gradually, the surroundings sharpen in my mind. The ground beneath me is rough and cool, every pebble and grain distinct. Nearby, the river's currents push against the rocks, each small eddy and shift returning to me in delicate patterns. My waves catch on distant leaves, carried by the breeze.

Curious, I edge Overdrive up. Instantly, the world around me seems to hum, each pulse I send out picking up subtleties I hadn't noticed before. The soil beneath my feet feels almost alive, layers of texture grounding me here, their shape and firmness etched into my awareness.

The river's flow becomes sharper, each twist and ripple as clear as if I were swimming in it. And then, as I push Overdrive higher, the vibrations in the air shift again—small, distant tremors, the faintest rustle of a leaf miles off, waves carrying these sounds back to me with uncanny precision.

As I take Overdrive even further, the air itself comes to life. The wind flows, each particle singing, tiny currents rolling all over in waves. I can sense it all—the quiet, constant rhythm of a world in motion, alive in a way I'd nearly forgotten.

So this is Overdrive without the thrill of a fight.

I turn it back down, not wanting to give Houston any more reason to complain about my so-called addiction.

I relax my focus but keep the waves going, sending them out in high-frequency bursts, maintaining a constant scan of the 3D space around me. My range has expanded massively since back then—now I get near-perfect coverage within 300 meters and a decent read up to 500.

Well, that settles the scouting. As for combat... nah, I'll learn on the way. Right now, the focus should be on stage progress, getting used to leveraging Overdrive, and seeing if I can cut down on energy use.

Thirty-six more crabs until I max out the limit here, then I'll move on to the next zone. Let's see if I can hit that today.

Without wasting any more time, I head straight for the coast, experimenting with Overdrive—up and down—until I find a comfortable range that keeps me fast and alert without eating through my reserves too quickly.

I can't see the exact Overdrive percentage now; it's more of a feeling, which, knowing Houston, is probably intentional. Well, whatever.

After running for a little over 20 minutes, I reach the coast. The beauty of the rocky terrain meeting the vast sea never fails to strike me. Brings back a lot of good memories.

I shake it off, scanning the horizon... but wait a second.

I push Overdrive to full for a moment, and the world around me shifts.

The breeze, the scents—everything sharpens. But focus!

I look out, setting my gaze and senses on the distant horizon. And... I see it. Way out there, faint but unmistakable: a crustacean. Judging by its size and distance, it's probably a few kilometers off.

I dial Overdrive back down, grinning. I hadn't thought of using it like this—brief bursts for spotting, sensing danger, or that extra speed in a jump. Damn, why didn't I think of this sooner?

I laugh to myself and let it go.

The crab's out of sight without full Overdrive, but I've already locked on to its location. I sprint toward it, weaving through the rocky outcrops, patches of scrubby bushes, and scattered driftwood that make up this rugged coastal terrain.

As I reach it, the massive crab finally senses me, its pincers shifting slightly. But I don't stop; I keep charging forward, Overdrive steady at a comfortable level. No need to go all out just yet.

I think back to that last maneuver, the one that was risky but fast as hell. Should I try it again?

I grin. Of course I will.

Just before reaching it, I push the pedal all the way down. A surge bursts through me—my heart thunders like it's about to break free from my chest, blood pumping so fast it's almost dizzying.

The crab's pincer arcs toward me, a massive wall of shell and claw. But this time, I don't need calculations; I feel its trajectory like a second nature. In a split-second leap, I land on its pincer, using it as a stepping stone to launch myself forward, propelling my sword with mental threads for an extra burst of speed. The blade drives deep, right into the soft point I know by heart now.

No need for a second thrust—I've hit the mark perfectly and deep enough. Without stopping, I sprint along its shell, already lowering Overdrive. The whole fight ends before I've even fully landed.

I glance back at the crab. It shudders, its pincer dropping in a slow, reluctant arc. The legs buckle, and it wavers, a deep, guttural sound echoing from within. Finally, it crashes down, shaking the ground, its massive body settling in the sand. It's over.

I didn't even break a sweat.

I look down at my hands, feeling the residual hum of Overdrive fading. So this is how it's supposed to be used. Guess I didn't give Houston enough credit. The precision, the control… it's on a whole different level.

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Even mid-battle, I kept pulsing waves around me, each less than a millisecond apart, reading every tiny disturbance in my surroundings. I used to rely on Houston for that. Now, it's like second nature. Now… I am in control.

"I know you won't break your vow to stay quiet… but come on, that was pretty good, wasn't it?" I say, striding over to the fallen crab. I know he won't answer, but I feel his presence, always watching.

I sigh as I focus on the crab's mangled eye. Time for the ugly part.

Time passed quickly.

It was a monotonous day, but there was a certain satisfaction in it—the steady rhythm of movement, the sweeping views along the coast, the wind rushing as I ran, and the sharp thrill of evading the giant crabs, laughing in the face of their deadly attacks.

Just pushing myself forward, feeling each surge of Overdrive drive me on… there was something oddly satisfying in it all.

Noteworthy for the day was the moment I decided to take a break from hunting crabs and climbed up to the top of a high cliff for a better view. Out of curiosity, I'd switched to full Overdrive briefly, letting my senses expand in that familiar, sharp clarity. That's when I caught sight of them—a group of Climbers, faintly visible off in the distance.

They were surrounding a massive crab, working together to take it down. I could see their makeshift weapons—some wielded spears crafted from sharpened branches, likely hardened by fire, while one used a sling, hurling rocks at the crab's eye to create an opening. Another wielded a jagged club, probably a rock bound to a stick with sinew or vines, hacking at the crab's legs to limit its movement.

Their movements had a practiced coordination, cautious but synchronized, waiting for the crab to strike before leaping back, then closing in as soon as it pulled away. They were more efficient than last time I'd watched them in action—still rough around the edges, but they'd clearly improved. I'd smirked, amused. Primitive tools or not, they were making real progress.

Turning back, I took in the quiet stretch of coastline before me, feeling a small, quiet pride settle in.

"Do you think I should…" I started to speak, but then remembered. He didn't want to speak to me. Seriously, what was the purpose of this?

I shook my head in frustration, and I kept going. Alone.

One crab after another, undisturbed. Sometimes… no, most of the time, I just wanted to use full Overdrive all the way, but I knew I had to contain myself. There was no merit in that; it left me vulnerable afterward, requiring more food, water, and rest, and ultimately making the hunt shorter, less efficient.

Me, addicted? I've gone through too much to be addicted to this, Houston. I like it, sure. But I've never lost sight of my goals.

I will climb this Tower. I will reach the peak, wherever it is. So tell me, Houston, do you think I'll fall because of this? I'm not a kid craving sweets. I'm a monster who relishes unleashing its full potential… but a monster who knows when to stop.

And so… I went. No sarcastic or nerdy comments along the way. No voices in my head. Just me, my sword, and my stubborn desire to grow stronger and prove myself worthy.

And before nightfall, the 49th crab fell to my blade.

Stage 1 - 3.713%

I find a good spot to sleep, laying down a mat of woven palm fronds and leaves to cushion the ground.

As I settle in, I look up at the sky—a vast expanse filled with stars scattered like dust across black velvet. The constellations are striking, drawn with sharp clarity, each star a bright pinprick against the deep void.

The air is cool, still, and silent, with only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves below. The night feels boundless, stretching on with an intensity that pulls at me as I lie under its watchful light.

But I wait. I don't speak. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I've missed his voice, of all things. Childish? Maybe. Stubborn? Absolutely.

Minutes stretch on, and even though I try, sleep won't come. I can feel the weight of his silence pressing in, the same way the cold air around me does, making the quiet feel heavier.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"That went well," Houston says, his voice low, carrying that familiar edge of careful calculation. Almost hesitant.

I stay silent.

"Energy consumption during fights is down by nearly 35%," he continues, as if talking to himself. "Map and status screen updated along the way. I calculated that…"

My jaw clenches. Why am I like this? Holding a grudge against the only entity on this godforsaken island who actually helps me? A damn voice in my own head, the one companion I have here, where everyone else either hates my guts or wants to kill me.

"Houston," I mutter, my voice barely louder than a whisper. The words are there, thick in my throat, but hard to say. I bite my lip, looking up at the stars, searching for anything that might make this easier.

"I…" I pause, grip my jaw tighter. "…I'm sorry."

There's a pause. The silence stretches out, like he's waiting, gauging whether I really mean it. And for a moment, I almost expect some sarcastic reply, something mocking or sly. But he doesn't.

Finally, he speaks, calm, maybe even relieved. "It's alright. You did well today, Alonso. Really. Seeing you push through, controlling it like that—it's what I wanted to see." His tone softens, and I can feel a bit of that familiar lecturing vibe, but it's different. Lighter, somehow.

I let out a slow breath, the tension easing just a bit. "So… you can admit I'm in control?"

Houston's tone has a weary edge to it. "Are we really back to square one? Control? Maybe not entirely, but today? I saw real progress. To be honest, I expected you to be… well, you—stubborn, yelling, pushing Overdrive just to spite me. But you didn't. You held back, used it only when it mattered. It was… almost perfect." He pauses, and I can almost feel him searching for the right words. "And maybe it was your way of saying, 'See? I can handle this. I'm in control.' And that's fine. I know you're no child. In fact, your willpower is ridiculously strong—maybe too strong, and that's why you've survived this long. But Alonso, don't make me your target. I'm not your enemy."

I swallow, feeling the weight of what he's saying. "Then… why go silent? I mean, do you really think I wanted that? Houston, I… missed your voice, your constant correcting, even your snobbish, always-right attitude. I missed it. Today showed we can work together."

His voice softens, carrying a weight I hadn't noticed before. "I know you can, Alonso. But if I'm here every step of the way, guiding every single move… I steal something from you. I take away your sense of responsibility, your awareness, your instincts. You need those. You're the Climber, not me."

I close my eyes, letting his words settle. "So… you're not coming back?"

"No," he replies softly. "But even in silence, know I'm here."

I close my eyes, letting his words settle. "Why… why sacrifice yourself like that all of a sudden? What did I do so terribly wrong that we can't fix?"

"... Sacrifice? Maybe. And yeah, it hurts. But, Alonso, you're all I have—and all I'll ever have. There's nothing more to it. And this… is for the best. Trust me. Live your life, grow stronger, conquer The Tower. That's all I want."

"You're stubborn as hell."

"I guess I got that from you," Houston replies with a chuckle. "And don't start talking like I'm dying. I'm just taking a back seat. I'll still be here to give you crap during the night, don't worry."

I shake my head, sighing as I let my gaze drift up to the sky. "The night's beautiful tonight."

"Yeah. It really is."

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