Ch 168.
Approximately two months after his return to Earth, Matt stood on the rocky shoreline, gazing out at the vast expanse of the ocean, deep in thought about the daunting task ahead. He needed to traverse 500 miles of treacherous waters, a feat that seemed almost impossible unless he could maintain a perfectly straight course—a miracle in itself given the unpredictable nature of the sea. Without Radoznaormr’s anchor, he would have felt utterly lost, unsure how he would even attempt such a journey. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him, especially knowing that the others would face even greater challenges. None, however, would suffer more than Rose. Radoznaormr had already delivered the grim news: she was captured, and every one of her messages was sent under duress, tainted by the threat of violence. The urgency of her situation gnawed at him, and Radoznaormr had made it clear that if Matt wanted to save her, he would need to orchestrate a way to lead both her and her captor directly to them. If he failed, the chilling reality loomed—she could be discarded like a broken tool, deemed useless to those who held her captive.
This news ignited a fierce determination within Matt as he swore to kill Spencer and liberate Rose from what sounded like a particularly vile skill. A skill that embodied the kind of abuse Matt could not tolerate, as it would take little effort to enslave others through its use. With that in mind, he knew he had to reach the island and ensure that he guided the others safely to him. Faced with no other viable options, he began cutting down trees along his path, each one carefully chosen to be under 50 feet long. Now, he stood on the beach, unloading the logs with a sense of urgency. The length restriction stemmed entirely from his spatial storage's limitations, but he reminded himself that even this was better than nothing. He felt a flicker of confidence that this plan would come together.
Over the following week, Matt, alongside three puppets he had conjured, worked tirelessly to lash the logs together, crafting four rafts, each measuring about 35 feet long and eight feet wide. Each raft was equipped with crude oars, along with spare ones ready for use in case any were lost but the raft remained intact. His plan was straightforward; instead of searching for a single ship willing to carry him, Matt aimed for each raft to cover approximately 125 miles. However, as he turned to look at Bob, who had followed him every step of the way, he realized there was just one issue that needed addressing.
“Are you certain you won’t take the risk?” Matt asked, a sinking feeling settling in as he anticipated Bob's response.
“No,” Bob replied with unwavering resolve in Matt’s mind. “Even if I can swim, I doubt I could hold my own in a fight while submerged, and my regeneration isn’t as quick as yours. I’ll remain here and wait for Apricity, Cassie, and the others on this continent to arrive and build a proper ship before I join you in the dungeon.”
“That could take months,” Matt said, his brow furrowing with concern. “I can have a puppet ready to heal you at a moment’s notice.”
“That strategy will only work a handful of times,” Bob remarked, turning away with a heavy heart. “And if we’re attacked, it’s highly likely we’ll become separated.”
“Alright, just promise me you’ll stay safe and steer clear of anyone unfamiliar,” Matt urged, anxiety lacing his voice.
Bob began to walk away, his footsteps crunching on the gravelly beach, as Matt turned his attention to the lone raft that remained outside of his storage. Each of his puppets possessed only 20% of his stats at that moment, yet two of them would take turns rowing alongside him, each gripping a single oar while Matt wielded both with determination. He envisioned making five miles of progress toward their destination every hour, which would allow him to reach it in just over three adjusted Earth days. Still, if he could manage to arrive in under seven days, he would be overjoyed. With this hopeful thought fueling him, he launched the raft into the churning surf. As he battled the waves, he felt the salty spray on his face and the relentless pull of the ocean beneath him. Once he found his bearings, he oriented himself using the shoreline he had just left, ensuring he was headed in the right direction, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
What followed was an endless stretch of boredom and frustration as Matt struggled to maintain a steady rhythm while rowing, all the while fighting against the urge to veer off course. The responsibility of navigation fell primarily to his lone puppet, the only one not currently taking a turn at the oars. It was scanning the horizon, using the sun's position and any distinguishable landmarks to alert them if they strayed from their intended path. Once the shoreline faded from view, they had no fixed points of reference until nightfall, making the task increasingly challenging. This left Matt feeling utterly adrift, a sense of isolation creeping in as the hours dragged on. At last, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first stars began to twinkle in the vast sky, he settled down in the center of his raft and retrieved Radoznaormr’s anchor. The last time he had taken it out, he had carefully wrapped several ropes around it, ensuring it wouldn’t be lost to the depths, a precaution insisted upon by Radoznaormr. Yet, if he were honest with himself, there was a part of Matt that mused losing it in the tumultuous sea might not be the worst fate; it would mean less weight on his mind at the very least.
“How close are we right now?” Matt asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach as he braced for the answer.
“You’ve traveled 90 miles, but you’re still about 455 miles from your target,” Radoznaormr replied, his voice steady yet tinged with an unsettling gravity.
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“So, half the distance we’ve covered has been lost due to a bad heading,” Matt murmured, frustration creeping into his tone.
“Yes, but think of it this way: you are almost ten percent of the way there. If you can maintain a better heading during the night, you might even cover over a quarter of the distance in a single day.”
“Right,” Matt muttered, his spirits sinking further. “Just tell me if there’s anything I should be warned about or if anyone needs to adjust their course.”
“Everything is up to luck at this point. You could be ignored by all that lurks beneath you, or you could find yourself facing countless monsters that can swallow you whole. Even if they’re below your level, such dangers shouldn’t be underestimated. It’s why Bob didn’t come with you.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” Matt snapped, irritation flaring. “Just like you don’t need to lecture me on how my plan is foolish when I could simply wait for others to arrive and build a proper ship.”
“No, I understand why you’re doing this,” Radoznaormr stated, his tone grim and contemplative. “You fear being there and letting someone down more than the possibility of not being there and them perishing. It’s a rather self-defeating mindset, but one I can comprehend despite everything.”
“The one puppet that survived the integration and made it back to Earth should be with them,” Matt countered, determination edging his voice. “If he can’t save them if things go wrong, I’m not sure I would have been able to do anything even if I was there.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Radoznaormr taunted, a hint of mockery lacing his words.
Matt didn’t respond as he carefully stowed Radoznaormr’s anchor back into his storage, shifting his attention to the rhythmic motion of rowing and the brief moments of rest in between. The night unfolded around him, with the puppet at the helm of navigation performing admirably, guided by the scattered stars that twinkled overhead. Despite its efforts, their navigational skills were rudimentary at best; they had only practiced stargazing during the week leading up to this voyage, leaving them with little experience to rely on. As dawn began to break, casting a soft golden glow across the water, Matt sensed it was time to consult Radoznaormr about their position once again. Just as he prepared to pull out the anchor, he felt an unexpected surge beneath him—the entire raft lifted from the water, leaving him momentarily disoriented.
Bracing himself, Matt frowned as he felt the raft shudder violently, nearly coming apart beneath him as a tailfin over sixteen feet wide sliced through the water. Panic surged through him as his mind raced to conjure images of a massive shark. Yet, upon closer inspection, he noticed that the fin was horizontal rather than vertical, and a wave of realization washed over him—it was a whale. Uncertainty gnawed at him; had it merely bumped into his raft while surfacing, or had it intended to attack? Either way, adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he remained on high alert, his heart pounding in his chest. He and his puppets abandoned all other thoughts, fixating their gazes on the undulating surface of the water, every ripple and splash demanding their full attention.
Matt couldn’t shake the thought that the ocean had never been this crystal clear before; he could easily see at least 20 feet down, the sunlight illuminating the sandy bottom and darting fish. Just as he marveled at the clarity, a large, rounded head surged toward him, breaking the surface with alarming speed—he realized he was about to be struck. Determined not to lose his raft if he could help it, Matt swiftly stowed it away, propelling himself and his puppets into the water. The moment he did, the massive, 55-foot-long body of the sperm whale breached the surface, crashing back down with a thunderous splash that sent waves rippling outward, effectively separating him from his puppets in the tumultuous sea.
Yet, Matt also knew that the whale had paid a price as he had shifted his arm into a blade and let the creature run its own body along the sharp edge. While shallow, the cut was enough that Matt could see crimson blood clouding the water, and he wondered if the whale would return or flee after being injured. Either way, Matt didn't feel like sitting still as he looked toward his puppets who were all at least 30 feet from him. He pulled the slightly damaged raft back out in front of him, the wood splintered along one edge. However, he just kept a hand on it as the others swam towards it while he watched the depths below. Sure enough, not even two minutes later, the whale was headed right for the raft like it was determined to sink it, its massive form a dark shadow beneath the waves.
As he returned the raft to his storage once more, Matt had a feeling that if all sperm whales were this aggressive, it didn't look good for anyone trying to cross the ocean. Yet, rather than panic, he just smiled as he worked out how to fight the whale. He pulled out several branches that he had sharpened into crude spears, their points whittled to deadly precision. As the whale breached, water cascading off its enormous form, he threw one with all his might. Had this been back on Earth before power relied more on stats than anything, the crude weapon would have just bounced off. However, now it shattered on impact and opened a large bloody wound on the whale's flank as Matt watched it dive into the deep once more, leaving a trail of red in its wake.
This time it didn't return. Once he pulled out his raft and he and his puppets were next to it, they got back on as they considered what had just happened. Still, the biggest issue was they knew their heading was very off, and Matt was hesitant to pull out Radoznaormr's anchor. However, he knew he had to, and so he did just that as his three puppets all looked warily into the water. Matt started to speak before Radoznaormr could.
“Now is not the time for anything other than telling me where to point the front of the raft so we can get moving again.” Matt’s voice was firm, urgency lacing his words.
“I see, yes, that nuisance would indeed create complications for you,” Radoznaormr replied, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and seriousness. “However, I don’t think you fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Its injuries are likely to attract other predators from afar, and you must chart a course to avoid them, even if it means sacrificing some progress. You need to head southeast rather than southwest today.”
“Fine, just tell me which way to point!” Matt snapped, frustration bubbling beneath his surface.
Radoznaormr chuckled softly, a sound that grated on Matt's nerves, but within a few minutes, he was back on his way, eyes scanning the water for any signs of trouble. He felt a flicker of relief that it hadn’t turned out to be the worst-case scenario, where a monstrous creature could open its maw wide enough to swallow the entire raft whole. If that had been the case, he imagined he would have likely lost not just the raft but also a puppet or two in the ensuing chaos. The thought of having to carve his way out of such a beast, as if he were some sort of action hero, sent a shiver down his spine. That was a scenario he was more than content to avoid.
