Ch 212.
Matt squeezed into a small hollow he had painstakingly cleared out between a large boulder and one of the towering trees that loomed overhead. The tree had been growing around the boulder for years, its roots entwined with the stone, as if nature intended to swallow it whole someday. However, Matt had intervened. He dug beneath the boulder, compacting the soil with each shove of his hands, and chipped away at the rock piece by piece until he finally reached the softer wood of the tree. After considerable effort, he had carved out just enough space for himself, leaving a small ventilation hole at the top, no larger than a bottle cap, to allow fresh air to seep in.
Meanwhile, the massive bird that had attacked him was perched high in a tree miles away from any disturbances, struggling to regain control over its turbulent emotions. Inside its mind, Matt’s puppet was diligently monitoring the situation, sifting through the surface thoughts that flowed easily, without intruding too deeply into the creature's consciousness. This peculiar ability baffled both Matt and his puppets; they didn’t fully grasp how they could tap into the bird’s thoughts, but they understood that, much like spoken languages, every being possessed its own unique form of communication. Without the innate skill that seemed to grant him an ‘auto-translate’ feature, Matt recognized that his parasitic puppets would have been rendered ineffective.
As he sifted through the chaotic images of one gruesome death after another, a realization began to dawn on him about how the birds distinguished one another. Their vocalizations served as the primary means of communication, but there was so much more beneath the surface. They recognized subtleties that Matt could never perceive—like a feather that was slightly longer than the others or the unique scent each bird emitted, a signature of its identity. Even if he were to seize control of one of the giant birds, he could not simply replicate this intricate ability. This limitation posed a significant challenge, as he doubted the feasibility of dominating the entire population.
The giant bird eventually regained its composure, taking off with a powerful beat of its wings, heading directly toward the very location Matt had intended to reach. This was perhaps the worst decision it could have made, as the giant bird that had left him to fend for himself was there as well having already warned the guards to be on high alert for Matt, instructing them to kill him on sight if he was spotted. Thus, when the new bird arrived, recounting its encounter with a peculiar creature that had managed to escape after a grueling battle that left it requiring hours of recovery, several reactions unfolded.
First, the guards exchanged uneasy glances, their apprehension evident; they were only peak B rank, while the newcomer was a mid B rank. This disparity in rank indicated that their prey was not as defenseless as they had hoped, and they began to worry about the challenges they would face should Matt actually make his way to them. Additionally, the giant bird that sought to incite others to hunt Matt felt a surge of frustration. It weighed the implications of allowing such a story to circulate. On one hand, it could attract more hunters eager for glory; on the other, it might deter the more cautious ones from venturing into the area.
If the region hadn’t been restricted to B ranks, the giant bird wouldn’t have been concerned, confident that an A rank could easily dispatch Matt, even at the cost of their own lives. However, it understood that any creature with sharp instincts would sense the same danger it had felt during their first encounter with Matt—a perception that B ranks were unlikely to possess.
The awkward reactions of the guards ultimately dictated the course of events as the giant bird transformed into its humanoid form and ruthlessly dispatched everyone in the vicinity. The choice to adopt this shape was a calculated move; it aimed to frame Matt as the perpetrator based on the nature of the injuries, hoping to provoke a response from A ranks eager to hunt him down. While there were certainly flaws in this plan, the giant bird felt unconcerned, confident that even if the truth came to light, it would face no significant consequences. However, in its haste to escape, it overlooked a crucial detail: the bird that housed Matt’s puppet had not perished. Instead, Matt’s puppet had intervened, ensuring its survival, despite its grievous injuries and now it possessed knowledge that complicated the situation far beyond what the giant bird had anticipated.
As the weaker of the giant birds, which Matt had manipulated with a puppet, took flight, it felt a surge of relief that it hadn’t been closely acquainted with the other giant bird. This fortunate distance meant that while it would forever remember the distinctive features of its attacker, the reverse was unlikely; the other bird would struggle to recognize it. With a newfound resolve, it decided not only to spread the word of Matt’s presence but also to weave a tale about an S-ranked bird's involvement in the massacre that had occurred within the rest area. This narrative would likely instill fear in any creature that might contemplate approaching the area, ensuring that no sane being would dare venture close for at least a galactic week.
When Matt finally stirred awake, the weight of the chaotic situation settled heavily on his shoulders. He sighed deeply, contemplating his choices. Evacuating the area would allow him to evade the imminent hunt, but he was wary of returning to the densely populated surroundings where he could easily be spotted. He considered the option of transforming himself to resemble one of the giant birds, but he quickly dismissed it; he would undoubtedly reveal himself as an impostor the moment he attempted to communicate, his words lacking the natural cadence and nuances of a true giant bird. Alternatively, he pondered the possibility of blending in as one of the humanoids he had encountered, yet doubt crept in once more. He realized he knew little about their behaviors and customs, and without a clone among them, he felt utterly unprepared to navigate their ranks.
Stolen story; please report.
Matt let out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing softly in the stillness of his surroundings. He resolved to gradually transform the makeshift space where he had just awoken into a functional base of operations. His mind raced with plans as he also began to scout for alternative hiding spots, knowing that if his current refuge was discovered, he would need an escape route. The two cycles of day and night passed uneventfully, aligning closely with Earth’s twenty-four-hour rhythm, which only added to his sense of disorientation. This strange familiarity felt unsettling, as if the very fabric of this world was woven with threads from his own.
The first revelation that struck him was that the giant bird who had transported him to this world was not the leader of the Raven Association as he had initially suspected. Instead, it appeared to hold a position as one of the vice leaders, primarily tasked with overseeing research and development initiatives. This new information left Matt in the dark regarding the true reasons behind the association’s desire to eliminate him; however, he sensed that the situation on the first world where Radoznaormr had placed him was deteriorating. The clones he had dispatched to that desolate landscape had yet to uncover anything but barren land. They were now beginning to suffer from severe food shortages. Although rain fell periodically, providing enough water for drinking, the surface remained lifeless, devoid of any vegetation or sustenance. The clones had been stranded there for an agonizingly long time without food, their survival growing increasingly precarious with each passing day.
Matt hadn’t anticipated uncovering more about that world before his puppets ultimately succumbed. Yet, a flicker of amusement crossed his face at the thought of his puppets introducing foreign biological matter to the barren landscape upon their demise. The implications intrigued him; who could say what long-term effects this influx of new material might have on the evolutionary trajectory of a world that he sensed was being subtly manipulated by the giant bird intent on his destruction? Meanwhile, the version of Matt still tethered to Earth felt an intensifying frustration each time he awoke to the latest revelations transmitted by their shared puppets.
Progress through the dungeon had steadily declined with each level he cleared, as the nature of the challenges morphed from a barrage of constant skirmishes to encounters that were exponentially more difficult. The monsters worth any experience became fewer in number, spread out over vast stretches of desolate terrain. To make it worse there were many monsters too weak to yield any experience points, yet they possessed enough strength to pose a significant threat if left unchecked. As a result, it was not uncommon for Matt to find himself lingering for days on a single level, contemplating what skill he might unlock next. A nagging voice in the back of his mind suggested that this true copy was becoming more of a burden than a boon; it deprived him of a valuable ability, and he could already sense his other self scheming ways to eliminate him in the future.
Matt felt a deep sadness at the realization that, despite the connection shared between his two selves through their puppets, they were already bracing for a struggle over who the true Matt really was. He understood the roots of this conflict; both versions of himself were haunted by the fear of being the one replaced after having taken the life of the one Spencer had killed. It was no longer a question of if one of them would fall, but when, and he knew he needed to ensure that whatever threat took them down was eliminated. His mind raced through two potential solutions: he could strive to ascend beyond S rank and leave his other self behind as he reached whatever lay ahead, or he could devise a way for them to recombine, though he was acutely aware that this option carried its own complications.
These complications loomed in the back of his mind, yet he pushed them aside as he prepared to enter the level 74 floor, his goal firmly set on reaching level 75 and obtaining his second enhanced skill. He had mapped out plans, anticipating that he might be absent for up to a week, although he hoped it wouldn’t take more than four days. A sense of urgency tinged his preparations, especially since a nagging instinct told him to brace for a particularly challenging final fight; the system would likely demand that he truly earn his next enhanced skill.
As Matt stepped into the dungeon, an overwhelming expanse of white enveloped him, the ground beneath his feet was covered with a thick blanket of snow that reached up to his knees. This frigid environment felt like the worst he had ever encountered; despite his enhanced stats rendering the cold ineffective against him, the conditions were still a nightmare. First, the heavy snow hindered his movements, turning even his strongest strides into labored efforts, and paradoxically, his own power could exacerbate the situation. Each kick sent up clouds of powdery snow, threatening to obscure his vision in a blinding whiteout. Second, the snow provided a perfect camouflage for lurking monsters, granting them countless hiding spots beneath the surface, ready to spring forth when he least expected it. Finally, although the cold did not initially bite at him, he knew that as he exerted himself and began to sweat, the chill would creep in, chilling his skin and making the environment all the more unbearable.
This was why Matt had expanded his usual preparations after glimpsing the daunting conditions of this floor. Despite his efforts, he understood that there was only so much he could do; he simply had to push forward into the thick snow and brace himself for the first attack. If the pattern held true, he would remain safe for hours, as the dungeon seemed to sap any inclination to retreat from his mind. Yet, as the minutes stretched into what felt like six hours, a growing unease settled over him. He had yet to encounter a single foe, and doubts began to creep in regarding the vastness of the floor, along with a flicker of hope that he was still heading in the right direction. With no landmarks besides the faint lines, he carved into the pristine snow from walking through it, it was easy to fear that he was meandering in a circular path.
This phenomenon was one he recognized as a peculiar quirk of human nature, a true bit of movie logic. People naturally favored one leg over the other, which could lead to a disorienting effect; if blindfolded, they would unknowingly walk in circles while believing they were moving in a straight line. So, when Matt found himself crossing an already trodden path, that realization was the first thought that darted through his mind. The next thought, however, was more sinister—what if the dungeon was toying with him, manipulating his perception so he believed he was moving in circles by having monsters craft these deceptive paths in places he was likely to traverse? The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him to ponder which scenario was more troubling as he weighed his options on how to tackle the situation.
