Ch 203.
Matt deftly sidestepped another barrage of dirt, rocks, and other debris hurled at him by the massive sand golem. A full minute had ticked by since it emerged from the beach where Spencer should have succumbed to the waves, yet the relentless assault showed no signs of abating. Even if Spencer had somehow managed to encase himself within the golem, he should have been succumbing to the very puppet that was meant to protect him, dying slowly as it suffocated him from the inside out. But now, a nagging feeling crept into Matt's mind; something was amiss. It shouldn’t take this long to extinguish the life of someone ranked B, especially after effectively shutting down their body from within.
This realization pressed heavily on Matt, compelling him to devise a strategy to confront Spencer, whom he could only pinpoint within the towering sand golem by the tenuous connection he maintained with his puppet. Although he couldn’t control it directly due to the fragmentation of his own consciousness—after all, the self controlling Spencer’s body now wasn’t his true self, even if he could sense that Spencer was ensconced at the very core of the golem. This only deepened the questions swirling in Matt's mind. After all, unless there was an unexpected pocket of air within the sandy construct, Spencer should have no means to breathe, no way to see, and no awareness of the chaos unfolding around him.
As Matt wrestled with his thoughts, a sudden grasping motion erupted from beneath him, forcing him to dodge instinctively. He rolled to the side and pushed himself back up, eyes widening as he spotted another humanoid figure taking shape from the dirt where he had just stood. In that instant, realization dawned on him; Spencer was fully engaging his enhanced skill, manipulating the earth with fervor. Without wasting another moment, Matt turned and sprinted toward the water, urgency propelling him forward. Spencer could undoubtedly feel every movement Matt made, and though Matt suspected the new form had only been conjured once he was on solid ground, he knew that the sand would make it harder for Spencer to sense him accurately.
Reaching the water's edge, Matt plunged into the cool embrace of the sea, swimming out toward the horizon. He briefly considered summoning a raft for added speed but quickly dismissed the idea; his own athletic prowess allowed him to navigate the waves with surprising agility. The thought flickered through his mind that running atop the water might be within his capabilities if he truly focused, yet he opted against it, knowing he had stored everything but his underwear in his spatial storage.
Silence enveloped him as he swam, but a glance over his shoulder revealed the chaos Spencer was unleashing. Hundreds of balls of sand, dirt, and rocks erupted from the shore, hurling themselves into the ocean like a wild storm, each projectile a testament to Spencer's desperation and determination.
Most of these attacks surged in a straight line from the point where Matt had plunged into the water, radiating outward like the ripples of a disturbed pond. A number of projectiles spread further afield, some even splashing perilously close to him as he adjusted his trajectory, narrowly evading an impending strike. Only Matt perceived the peculiar phenomenon that none of the sand and debris balls were sinking; instead, they bobbed on the surface like grotesque buoys. A sudden realization washed over him—Spencer was effectively casting a net. With urgency pulsing through him, Matt dove beneath the surface, pushing himself to swim with all his might, driven by the instinctual need to escape the perimeter of the floating projectiles that threatened to ensnare him.
Pain, excruciating agony, coursed through Spencer as his body struggled to function. The moment he felt the cool embrace of water, he realized that even within its depths, there was soil. This sediment was too thin and diluted to be of much use to him under normal circumstances, but as it flooded into his body, it became his lifeline. It didn’t restore control over his limbs, but he instinctively channeled the earthy substance toward his heart and lungs, forcing both to keep working against the odds. It felt as though invisible hands were squeezing and tugging at his vital organs, and despite his HP refusing to recover, the sensation was far more bearable than the suffocating darkness he had endured just moments before.
Yet, a grim understanding settled over him; he knew that only by killing Matt for a second time could he free himself from the torment inflicted upon him. Even though he had managed to halt the internal bleeding, that was merely a temporary reprieve. He couldn’t speak, nor did he dare attempt to manipulate his eyes, and the thought of walking seemed almost absurd. If he wanted to use his real legs, it would require a level of fine muscle control that felt impossible compared to the ease with which he could manipulate soil and the constructs he created from it.
A part of him longed to abandon his physical form entirely and merge with the earth, becoming a being crafted from soil. The thought danced tantalizingly in his mind, especially if his circumstances continued to spiral into hopelessness. Yet, he hesitated, unwilling to forsake the simple joys of life—savoring a delicious meal or relishing the warmth of human connection. To relinquish his humanity would be a fate worse than death itself, and he feared that if he succumbed to such despair, he might find a way to end his own life after emerging victorious in this brutal struggle.
Deep down, Spencer recognized that he bore the weight of responsibility for his current predicament, which left him feeling unworthy of truly hating Matt for the pain inflicted upon him. No, he was a ruthless individual, but he never deceived himself about his nature, nor did he take his actions to heart. Instead, he reveled in the chaos he created, finding amusement in how others responded to his cruelty. In a twisted way, he couldn’t help but smirk at the desperation coursing through him as he fought to locate and eliminate Matt using only his skill to manipulate the soil around him.
Initially, he discovered he could command tiny particles resting on the surface, feeling their movements as they stirred beneath his will. As he gained focus, the ground solidified under his influence, allowing him to sense the vibrations caused by Matt’s movements nearby. This newfound awareness filled him with a surge of confidence, igniting a flicker of hope amid the turmoil.
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That was when Matt sprinted toward the beach, and before Spencer could react, he leaped into the crashing waves. Had this been prior to his realization that soil existed within the water, Spencer would have simply surrendered, seeing no path forward. Now, however, he conjured hollow spheres of earth, launching them into the surf with a flick of his wrist. After that, he painstakingly began to merge the soil suspended in the water around them, striving to create a cohesive connection among all the particles. Unfortunately for Spencer, this effort triggered an intense, crippling pain as he suddenly felt his ability to manipulate the earth slip away from him like sand through his fingers.
As his sand golem began to disintegrate, he sensed the chilling absence of a heartbeat, the air in his lungs growing stagnant. He understood with a sinking dread that his death loomed near. In a final act of desperation, he detonated all the hollow spheres he had cast into the ocean before the link to them faded entirely. In that moment, a harsh truth struck him—every skill had its limits. Each manipulation drew from his very essence, and this revelation sparked a troubling thought about Matt’s puppets. He remembered his conversations with Rose, where she had mentioned that they could essentially function independently of Matt, with him commanding more than a dozen at times. Was there truly something fundamentally different about Matt? That question lingered in his mind, the last spark of clarity before a seething rage surged from deep within him one final time.
The image of Song Xiang’s smug face, twisted with self-satisfaction as he seized control of their group, filled Spencer's mind like a dark cloud. He refused to succumb to death without exacting his revenge; after all, why had he orchestrated everything if he wasn’t going to eliminate the bastard? Thoughts swirled around in his head—how Song Xiang was intricately linked to those in power, how he envisioned himself as the one destined to rule over all, and the unsettling realization that the only reason this infuriated Spencer was that he was consumed by jealousy. Yes, every action Spencer took was fueled by envy of his so-called leader. It didn’t matter that the order to eliminate members of Scattered Stars had originated from Song Xiang; no, Spencer was determined to kill Matt to dismantle Scattered Stars and deprive Nightguard of a rallying point for unity.
These tumultuous thoughts were the last fragments of consciousness that Matt’s puppet received before Spencer slipped away, desperately trying to form a message for Matt. In that fleeting moment, Spencer’s final act became a warning about Song Xiang, a plea hoping Matt would rise to the occasion and eliminate the threat himself. Though he had failed, it hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Matt’s puppets had evolved to the point where they could grasp the thoughts of their host, even without conscious effort to communicate. This remarkable leap had been largely due to the giant octopus, which had facilitated significant advancements in their understanding. Ironically, this was also the reason Matt loathed performing the very act he had just completed. Now, he bore witness to the final, desperate thoughts of his victim, including the frantic will to survive and the overwhelming hopelessness that enveloped Spencer in his last moments.
As Matt’s head broke the surface of the water, he was met with an unsettling sight: the sand golem and all the floating spheres of soil had vanished. Unwilling to assume victory just yet, suspicion gnawed at him—this could be a ruse. He hesitated, on high alert. This uncertainty forced him into a skirmish with a few ocean monsters, creatures that he now dismissed as mere nuisances; none of them posed any real threat to him anymore, nor did they offer worthwhile experience points. Even as he dispatched the weak foes, he anticipated some dramatic turn of events, but nothing materialized. With a cautious determination, Matt began to swim toward the shore.
Upon reaching the sandy beach, his gaze fell upon Spencer's lifeless body, partially buried in the remnants of the sand golem, which was gradually being eroded by the relentless waves. A flicker of instinct urged him forward; he could sense that Spencer clung to life, albeit by the thinnest of threads. The puppet had managed to shut down his lungs and heart, yet something deep within Matt told him that Spencer still breathed, even if faintly. This revelation sparked a question in Matt's mind: just how much punishment could B-rank entities endure? As he approached, he made the grim decision to behead Spencer, putting an end to his suffering. In the aftermath, Matt discovered that Spencer was only level 66, rendering the experience gained from this encounter nearly negligible for him.
Once again, frustration bubbled within Matt as he cursed the system and its arbitrary decisions on what constituted valuable experience. The recent battle had pushed him to his limits, leaving him gasping for breath and teetering on the edge of death, yet the reward was hardly more than a trifle—barely comparable to a single skirmish with a lowly mob at his current dungeon level. It made him ponder the plight of those who stood at the peak, grappling with their own stagnation, and how many lives had been lost due to the cruel mechanics enforced by the system on S-rank entities. He cast a critical gaze at the dungeon once more, contemplating the daunting requirements necessary to elevate it to S rank before its growth period expired and the dire implications that would hold for Earth.
After ten minutes of deep contemplation, Matt found himself seated beside Radoznaormr’s anchor, the weight of uncertainty heavy in the air as he spoke. “What will happen to Earth if I manage to elevate the dungeon to S rank?”
“That is unknown,” Radoznaormr replied, his voice tinged with concern. “Such an event would be announced throughout the universe, and according to my records, it has never occurred before.”
“Then how am I supposed to create a pathway for you or any others to come here and assist me in making it happen?”
“We cannot directly influence that outcome; only a native's clear rate holds significance. Bringing us there would merely allow us to rush through the dungeon, exploiting the opportunity for accelerated growth temporarily.”
“Great, so I need to hit level 257 before Earth’s integration concludes.”
“No, you must reach level 513, a milestone that has never been achieved,” Radoznaormr corrected him. “Only by fully clearing a rank during its growth phase can a dungeon attain that status. You should also be aware that achieving such a feat could spell doom for your world.”
“How so?” Matt asked, his brow furrowing at the sudden revelation.
“It would mean that the weakest floors would be classified as A rank, and your world would reflect that reality on its surface. Children would struggle to survive, and countless organizations would turn their sights toward conquering your world. This is why you must gather allies before attempting such a monumental task, and even if you curse me for where I send you, you must step through the portals I open for you. Now, rest well so you can prepare to recreate your copy and initiate your diplomatic missions.”
Matt felt the urge to argue, to unleash his frustrations, but he held back with a resigned sigh. He understood that now was not the time for such concerns. After all, he could simply choose to halt his progress at the level 511 floor, allowing Earth to transform into an A-ranked dungeon world if he wished. Then, he could be the only one to uncover the mysteries that lay beyond S rank by reaching level 513 on that floor.
