Ch 172.
Exhaustion loomed over Matt like a dark cloud as he battled the towering 30 to 40-foot swells that crashed around him, each wave threatening to splinter his already fragile raft. He had long since lost track of the hours spent wrestling with the relentless ocean; if it hadn’t been for the faint glimmer of light on the horizon, a beacon that seemed to promise salvation, he might have succumbed to despair. Just a few miles away lay what appeared to be the eye of a storm—a swirling mass of chaos that Matt was starting to suspect was a permanent feature of this treacherous dungeon. If that were true, he couldn’t fathom how any conventional vessel could withstand the punishing forces that his makeshift raft was enduring.
In that moment, he yearned for a smaller craft, one that would allow him to harness his enhanced stats and exert greater control over his speed and direction. Instead, he felt trapped in a maddening cycle, inching forward only to be shoved back by the monstrous waves, gaining a mere 50 feet before being pushed back 40. The frustration gnawed at him. Part of him considered diving into the frigid water to swim beneath the tumultuous surface, but he knew that would mean facing the dungeon’s lurking monsters, a prospect he was keen to avoid. Moreover, he was uncertain whether he could navigate the powerful currents swirling beneath him, even if he transformed his body into an ideal form for swimming. The truth was, he had never contemplated what such a form would entail, and now hardly seemed the right time to figure it out.
As a monstrous wave surged upward, Matt's raft was suddenly inverted, leaving him staring at the raft as it blocked the sky. It took every ounce of strength he had to push himself sideways with the oar gripped tightly in his hand as he released one of them. He twisted his body and let go of the second oar, launching himself with all his might. In that fleeting moment, he soared over the crest of the wave that had flipped him, catching sight of the distant shore. With a burst of determination, he grabbed a fragment of his first raft midair and propelled himself toward the land.
This single maneuver propelled him farther than he had managed in the last four agonizing hours, sending him hurtling forward at speeds that would have been lethal for any unintegrated human. Yet, it still wasn’t enough. As he neared the water's surface again, he pulled out his final raft and collided with it, the impact jarring his body. He felt the unmistakable crack of bones breaking before they quickly mended, and he didn’t need to glance at his health points to realize he had taken more than just a little damage. Ignoring the pain, he frantically retrieved oars from his spatial storage and paddled with desperate urgency, covering the last quarter mile to shore. In that moment, nothing else mattered; the goal he had fought so hard to reach was finally within his grasp.
Foot by foot, inch by inch, Matt practically willed his raft forward, the memory of his clones long swallowed by the relentless waves, leaving him with nothing but sheer determination to push onward. So, push he did, until he suddenly discovered that the waves had begun to cooperate, their ferocity diminishing as they calmed around him. Letting out a breathless laugh, Matt stepped off his raft and onto the soft, white sands of the island, gazing up at the towering landmass before him. It was far from small; though he couldn't gauge its full expanse from the beach, a colossal mountain loomed ahead, its slopes adorned with a lush forest that climbed toward the sky. It was evident that he could harvest an abundance of stone and wood from this mountain, but iron would likely pose a greater challenge.
Before embarking on any further exploration, Matt retrieved Radoznaormr’s anchor, carefully storing his last raft as he awaited a response. As he stood there, he cast a glance back at the turbulent ocean that encircled the island, pondering whether he would ever find a way to escape its grasp and why it had manifested in such a chaotic state. That particular question weighed heavily on his mind, more than any other, leading him to contemplate whether he should invite others to join him in facing the dungeon's trials or if he should just brave it alone.
“Finally made it,” Radoznaormr remarked, drawing Matt back from the depths of his thoughts. “If you’re curious about the dungeon’s entrance, it’s located at the base of the mountain, and that’s also where you should establish your fort.”
“Wouldn’t that make it easy for anyone on the mountain to launch an attack against us?” Matt questioned, a hint of concern in his voice. “I thought the fort was supposed to serve as our primary defense here.”
“It is meant to do just that,” Radoznaormr cautioned, his tone serious. “But it’s primarily designed to protect you from the monsters rampaging within the dungeon right now. That’s why a storm engulfs the island, and it explains why the first dungeon entrances are always situated on islands. By placing your fort strategically around the entrance, you’ll restrict many of those creatures that would otherwise run amok across this island. Remember, until someone hunts down and eliminates every last one of the monsters on the loose, this storm will persist.”
“How many are we dealing with?” Matt asked, dreading the answer.
“Currently, there are only 500,” Radoznaormr replied, “but that’s just because different types will even turn on each other once they escape the dungeon. Your priority should be to reach the entrance and eliminate every monster that emerges for about a day to stabilize the situation.”
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“What levels are they?”
“They range from level 1 to level 30, all rushing out the moment they spawn. None of them should pose a significant challenge for you, but every few days, another tier will begin to rampage. This means that by the time the others finally arrive, you’ll likely face tougher battles than expected. As for sourcing the necessary iron, I trust you can leverage your organization’s exchange to your advantage while you gather the stone and wood yourself.”
Matt couldn't help but chuckle at the realization that securing the island rested squarely on his shoulders. After receiving some brief directions, he hurried toward the dungeon entrance, only to be met with a chaotic scene; several monsters were locked in combat around it. The ground was littered with thousands of half-eaten and decaying corpses, a gruesome testament to the brutality that had unfolded. Matt understood that before he could proceed, he had to address the carnage surrounding him.
Clearing his mind of distractions, he surged forward, transforming his arms into deadly blades, embracing the role of a relentless killing machine. The monsters he faced posed little challenge; their levels were far too low to threaten him. Yet, in sheer numbers, they managed to inflict damage, overwhelming him as they charged in from all sides.
Fortunately, an hour later, Matt found himself standing alone amidst the devastation, the only survivor of the brutal skirmish. He began crafting the first of the puppets that would help him regain control of the situation. Though this initial puppet was too weak to fight, Matt quickly ignited a fire and set several slabs of monster meat sizzling over the flames, the savory aroma wafting through the air. After that, he created four more puppets, leaving them to grow to full size while he stood vigilant at the dungeon entrance. This entrance resembled a dark hole in a massive boulder, gently sloping down into the earth, promising both danger and opportunity.
Matt found that it was almost like clockwork; every 30 minutes, another wave of monsters surged forth, eager for battle. Each group consisted of four to twenty creatures, all fixated on him as they burst from the dungeon's depths. This relentless onslaught allowed his puppets to concentrate on their own needs, devouring the monster meat and growing in size while foraging for wood and other resources. As they thrived, they also crafted additional puppets, multiplying their ranks while Matt remained locked in combat against the ceaseless tide of foes, struggling to stay alert and on his feet.
After two grueling days, he felt a wave of relief wash over him as four of his puppets, each imbued with 20% of his stats, took charge of the fighting. This shift finally granted Matt the much-needed opportunity to sleep. The blissful nothingness that enveloped him did more than just restore his energy; it allowed him to absorb the experiences and lessons learned by his other puppets during his absence from consciousness. Among these insights, the most significant was the ongoing struggle faced by three of his selves still locked in combat with the formidable giant octopus.
That's right; his self that had been left inside the octopus was currently three selves, each grappling with the challenge of managing the nine brains of the colossal octopus. While each self could exert control over four of the creature’s arms, it wasn’t a straightforward command. Instead, they were engaged in a complex battle of interference, blocking the connection between the main brain and the individual brains housed in each arm, sending commands that had to navigate through this tangled web of neural pathways. This led to a relentless tug-of-war, one that seemed to exceed the adaptability of Matt’s puppets. Nevertheless, his central mind insisted they persist, driven by the invaluable experience they would gain from this arduous struggle.
After that information, a surge of details about the three puppets lost when the wave capsized his raft flooded Matt’s mind. He discovered that one of them had managed to survive, focusing intently on staying afloat amidst the chaotic storm. However, it was trapped in the tempest, clinging to life while gathering as much information as it could about the treacherous waters surrounding the island where Matt found himself. The other two, unfortunately, had perished during their desperate attempts to find a form that would enable them to swim ashore, only to be attacked while struggling beneath the waves. Regrettably, the insights they provided were limited to what forms had failed them, as neither had succeeded in discovering a viable shape to combat the relentless current.
Meanwhile, his new puppets had increased to eight, diligently focusing on essential tasks to boost their stats and prepare the area for the fort. They worked tirelessly to gather and incinerate all the decaying remnants of the monsters, ensuring the battlefield was cleared. Additionally, they salvaged anything of worth from the fallen creatures, showcasing their resourcefulness. This included skinning many of the monsters, smoking the meat to preserve it, and collecting any peculiar parts of their bodies that might prove useful. Among the most unusual finds so far were metal-plated body parts, glimmering gems embedded within their flesh, and horns that exuded an unsettling aura, leaving them puzzled as to their true nature.
Finally, among the puppets, there was one puppet who continued to wander the dense wilderness, tirelessly searching for anything of significance. Although it had yet to uncover a single noteworthy find, this puppet became a crucial anchor for Matt's sanity. Time felt warped; what should have been mere hours stretched into what felt like weeks of struggle since he had first arrived on the island. This dissonance between the actual passage of time and his perception only deepened his frustration as he grappled with the surreal nature of his situation. The fond memories of past hunts and explorations through the wild did little to soothe him, as they represented only a fraction of the myriad experiences he was absorbing from his other selves.
Yet, despite the relentless turmoil, just six hours after he had succumbed to exhaustion, Matt found himself back on his feet, re-engaging in the fight against the onslaught of monsters while eagerly awaiting the moment his puppets would reach their full potential. A smile crept across his face as he observed their rapid growth; if they maintained their current pace, each would achieve 50% of his stats by the end of the week. In a rare lull amidst the chaos, Matt seized the opportunity to compose an update in the leadership chat, marking the first communication he had sent since the onset of his battle against the storm.
