Greg suddenly understood why Jack didn’t push harder to get on that door. He didn’t know how long it was going to take for rescue to come, and his plums would surely fall off in that time. Honestly, better off dead.
Growing up swimming in the Pacific, he knew that eventually his body would acclimate to the cold. At least it did before he was stabbed, ripped apart traveling through space, and then put back together in a ritual circle, but surely things hadn’t changed too much. Just gotta move. The smoke bubble was working perfectly, so there was one upside.
There was just enough visibility for him to see about five feet in front of his face. If there was a predator down here…well, hopefully it was operating by sight too. Greg circled the thick concrete pilings, keeping a close eye on the workers. A tether connected each of them to a railing at the top, and a partner behind that. All they needed to do was tug on the tether, and their topside partner would pull them up.
Greg swam over to the frontmost column and pushed his fingers into the deep grooves that had been dug into it. The first thing he noted was how unbelievably smooth they were. Except the bits where the material had obviously cracked under the pressure, it wouldn’t have been farfetched to say the grooves had been there since the pilings were set. Then he followed them around. The was not a single gap. The uniform grooves started about two feet from the sandy floor, and went up the front piling every two or three feet from there.
Scanning…
Concrete Piling
Heavy post driven into the ground to support a large structure. This one is likely reinforced with a steel core.
Worth a shot. Greg started his patrol again.
The freezing water still felt like pins and needles on his skin, but he’d gotten over the initial shock and could move normally now. After another few minutes, the first set of carpenters lifted out of the water. Their replacements came down not long after. They must be halfway done. Honestly, he was a little disappointed nothing had happened yet.
Something smooth and thin slipped around his ankle and yanked.
Greg was ripped right out of his shirt and out to sea. He tried to curl up. Create some friction to slow himself, but he was moving too fast. Saltwater was bursting through the bubble as he screamed, filling his nose and lungs. It eventually slowed enough that he could turn to look at whatever had snagged him. He was not alone. The replacement for the first post was a few feet ahead, limp as blood leaked from his skull, with a thin purple tentacle wrapped around his leg.
Greg pushed his hand into his storage space, pulled out his sword, and swung. In his mind he had this vision of how heroic it would look, cutting himself free with one slash, swimming over and saving random carpenter number one. In reality swinging a sword underwater was fucking impossible. Maybe Mr. Eighty-two strength up there could do it, but there was so much drag he’d almost dropped the blade.
Random carpenter number one, in the meantime, was slowly being dragged back toward the source of the tentacles. He was not excited to find out what it was, but he had to try to save him right? He curled up and sawed at the tentacle around his ankle with the blade, using his radiant strike ability in hopes of helping carve into it.
The blade was making slow progress, but the tentacle just tightened around his ankle. Once he’d gotten through the outer layer of skin, he quickly turned the blade down and shoved it through with a flame strike. The surrounding water bubbled, and the appendage let go, retreating with his sword still buried in it.
NEW QUEST!
Don’t let any of the workers die.
Survival rate declining rapidly.
Reward:
400x silver obols
1x gold obol
1000 experience
Greg dismissed the quest message with a thought and swam as fast as he could, chasing after the limb. The carpenter came into view first, every bit of him—save his head—wrapped up like a purple mummy. Then he saw the source.
Otherworldly yellow orbs met his eyes.
He could feel its intelligence.
It was almost mesmerizing.
He should just let the carpenter go. It’s just a hungry young sea monster.
Greg stopped swimming, feeling the tentacles start to slip around his legs again. He was food now too. And that was okay. It was such a magnificent creature. Must have been twenty feet long from mouth to the top of its cute little head fins. If there was a way to go, feeding this beautiful beast was as good as any.
Maybe this is what he was meant for.
It wouldn’t mind if he scanned it first, right?
Kraken (Juvenile)
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Children of massive deep-water predators. Emits a low frequency psychic compulsion that floods the target’s mind with feelings of calm, warmth, and acceptance.
Victims commonly experience:
— Sudden emotional withdrawal
— Feeling of “being chosen”
— Loss of fear response
— Extreme lightheadedness from strangulation and/or blood loss
— Peaceful, yet incredibly painful, death
[Fragment Surge-Error]If you’re thinking “This doesn’t seem that bad” right now, you’re probably fucked.[Persona Contained]
That’s odd. Greg tilted his head as he watched one of the carpenter’s legs sever at the ankle as it slipped into the circular toothy maw. Was he okay with being eaten?
Wait. No.
He didn’t want to be eaten.
His eyes went wide as the reality of what was happening set in. He had to do something. Still buried in the tentacle, Greg spotted his sword and went for it. The kraken had not expected him to break from whatever charm it put on its prey as he was able to slip its grasp with no problem. It probably helped that it was already snaking on another bit of carpenter leg.
He ripped the sword from the tentacle and pushed himself as hard as his level two stats would push. Driving the sword into the mantle of the kraken with a flame strike, he quickly pulled the shield from his inventory and jammed it into the beast’s mouth before it could take another bite of its victim.
The blunt, crushing teeth of the creature were already splintering the shield as Greg ripped out the sword and started hacking at the tentacles around Random Carpenter One. He was not going to allow him to be kraken food. He may have been dead already, way too hard to tell, but it didn’t matter. Get him out.
He carved the last tentacle off the man and wrapped his arm under his shoulders, kicking as hard as he could. It wasn’t that deep. The light was right there. It couldn’t have dragged them out that far. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the water as he broke the surface.
“BRANNOC!”
Was all he got out before water flooded the bubble, and consequently his lungs, as he was ripped under again. Even through the murky lens, he’d spotted something impossibly fast hit the water from above and grab the man. Random Carpenter One was saved. He didn’t have the strength to fight, but somehow…that was okay.
He’d saved a man. Maybe more than one in the long run, but at least one. Maybe he hadn’t killed the beast, but as the light above faded, a smile crept along his lips. Maybe she’d be proud of him.
###
Greg looked up to find himself in a white room. Blue cabinets lined the far wall, with a sink and countertop beneath them. He was on an examination table, wrapped in hospital gown and fluffy beige socks.
“Here.” An older man suddenly appeared to his left. “Is your MCL, ACL, and LCL.” He tapped a pen against the backlit MRI of his knee with each acronym. “I’ll be going in to repair what I can with grafts from your patellar and hamstring tendon,” He tapped another bit of his knee under the kneecap.
“If you’re using his own tendons, won’t that weaken the ones you’re grafting?” His mother formed out of thin air, her fingers intertwined in his as if she were afraid he’d crumble to dust if she let go. “Would he still be able to play?”
“An autograft is the safest option. We’d be using your son’s own tissue, so there is no chance of rejection. In either situation, it’s unlikely that you’ll return to pre-injury levels, but with rigorous physio and recovery time you’ll be back to eighty to ninety percent, no problem.”
The room fell out from under him.
Then the pain came.
He opened his eyes with a scream through gritted teeth. His swollen leg had turned a dull red color, and yellow pus oozed from the incisions. Floating in the empty vastness of space, all he could do was relive the agony of the post operation infection.
“The graft failure gives us far fewer options.” His doctor’s voice echoed impossibly through the vacuum. He no longer spoke to him. His words dropped into the empty void. “We can get him back to the point where he can walk, maybe eventually even run, but impact sports will never be an option.”
He felt the last comfort of his mother’s grip on his fingers release without warning, leaving him alone and broken in the inky darkness.
###
The crackling warmth of the fire stirred him awake. One eye cracked open to find himself laying across the familiar overstuffed couch, Brannoc back in his normal spot slowly rocking in front of the fireplace. A handful of messages clouded his vision, but he dismissed them all for now, sending them to the blinking abyss that was the notification tab on the right side of his vision.
“That didn’t go well.” Greg croaked out as he slowly lifted his torso and checked to make sure his limbs were still intact.
Brannoc glanced over at him, but gave a casual shrug. “Did pretty well, considering.”
“Did Mr. Miyagi just give me praise?” he chortled lightly and pushed still damp hair back from his face. “Maybe I am dead.”
“I didn’t anticipate a kraken.” Brannoc said with just a tinge of self-admonishment in his voice. “Wouldn’t have sent you down there if I had. You saved that man’s life though. That’s to be celebrated.”
“He lived?” Greg’s tired eyes lit up for a moment with a smile. “I was afraid it was too late. How’s his leg?”
Brannoc let out a puff of smoke from his nostrils and waved his hand dismissively without lifting his arm from the chair. “State of prosthetics these days? He’ll be better than normal in a few weeks.”
Greg eased himself into the corner of the couch, crossing his legs beneath him. “Does that mean you’re not going to let me go on the rest of those jobs?”
A slow, roiling cloud of smoke plumed from Brannoc’s nose. “You’ll rest for the rest of the day and tomorrow. After that you’ll go with Clover and Ricard to hunt the sea snake if it hasn’t been taken care of yet. Probably be able to look for the ring while you’re down there.”
Greg grinned wide. That was why he’d picked those jobs up together. MMO logic said grab all the quests you could in one area and complete them all at once, but that’s not what was important here. Slowly but surely, Greg was gaining Brannoc’s respect.
When his reluctant teacher didn’t say anything more, Greg pulled up the notifications he’d missed.
QUEST COMPLETED!
You freed the carpenter from certain death.
Reward
400x silver obols
1x gold obol
1000 experience
New Ability
Anchor to Self (Passive)
Level 1 (o of 100)
You’ve been alone in the dark before. Your mind is hard to breach.
This passive ability increases resistance to charm effects. Charm effects include any attempt to alter your attitude to view the source of the effect in a positive light. Will not stop outright mind control.
[Fragment Surge—Error]
You almost died!
Maybe I’m just a passenger on this ride, but I’d prefer you get a little stronger before battling the most formidable creatures in the sea, even in its infinitesimal form!
[Persona Contained]
