Slow.

Too slow. He was too slow.

Each punch was flawed. He struck without conviction. There was force behind it, but there was no efficiency. His fist was soft, his knuckles uncalloused, and his arms weak. Each strike should have been a haymaker, but instead, they were barely jabs.

Otto tossed and turned in his bed in the infirmary. Every couple hours, the doctor checked in, but he never found anything physically wrong. Eventually, he got frustrated and chalked it up to ‘humans and their annoying biology,’ leaving him to whatever was causing the soft flailing.

Otto dreamed.

He was in the water again with the leviathan, but this time, it wasn’t so kind. Tentacles attacked from every angle, and unless he fended them all off, he would be crushed.

He already had been. Several times.

The pain was excruciating, and he lived through it again and again. In the real world, sweat beaded down his forehead, a fever dream with no fever. The doctor reluctantly put a cool-pack on his forehead to help, unwilling to really abandon him.

His fists connected with the tentacles and sent them hurtling back, but they always came again. He couldn’t win, and he knew it.

Why is this happening? He yelled into the ocean. There was no response, only a single giant eye staring back, impassive.

Why are you doing this to me? Bubbles drifted upwards into the darkness.

Tentacles struck him again, this time not wrapping for the kill. They did that sometimes, hitting hard enough to bruise – or shatter bones if it was the real world – before pausing. Then, they would come again.

Otto was forced to defend himself again and again. He struck back, trying desperately to avoid being crushed, but no matter what he did, he failed.

Slow. The word rang in his head again. He was too slow.

Otto swung a fist against a tentacle, connecting with a meaty thud. He looked down at his arm and frowned.

That…was a bit slow. He thought to himself. It was almost unnoticeable, but he was moving slower than he usually did. His swings were sluggish, and while he wanted to chalk it up to water resistance, that didn’t feel right.

The tentacles had stopped for some reason, but he didn’t even notice. He experimentally swung once, and then, he dropped [Leviathan’s Mass]. He swung again.

It was faster. Not by much, but it was faster. Less slow.

The tentacles returned with a frenzy, and he pulled on [Leviathan’s Mass] to it’s full potential once more.

What good is speed if I can’t hit hard? He growled to himself, blacking out in pain as another tentacle wrapped around him.

He breathed hard even under the water. It began the same way: the eye opened, a sun blossoming in the depths. The pupil focused on him, and the tentacles emerged from the darkness, giant snakes the size of pillars that sought to squeeze the life from him or break bones.

It always began the same. The end result was always the same.

Why are you doing this? He yelled again. There was no response; only tentacles.

He threw a punch, and it struck the dark purple appendage. Instead of blasting it away, the tentacle kept coming. It struck him hard in the chest and sent him flying; Otto tumbled over himself while he flew away, struggling to right himself in the water.

I forgot to activate my skill. He thought. No wonder he felt so quick.

The tentacles returned, and for the moment, he evaded. He couldn’t place why.

Something about that felt…right.

Mass times velocity. I’m increasing my mass; how do I increase my velocity?

A tentacle whipped towards him, and he swung with all his natural strength. Then, just as it was about to impact, he activated [Leviathan’s Mass].

He struck with more force than he anticipated. The tentacle shot away, and he nodded in satisfaction. That was right. That was less slow. He fought the tentacles off with this new technique, activating [Leviathan’s Mass] as late as he possibly could to reduce the drag it caused, and the results were promising. He was faster at evading, and he struck nearly just as hard as when it was at full potential.

Nearly.

It still wasn’t enough. He knocked two tentacles aside, but a third wrapped around his body before he could react. It squeezed, slow this time, and he felt his bones crack.

He yelled out in pain, and just as it was about to take a step beyond merely unbearable, he floated in front of the eye again. It opened, and he repeated.

I need more. He thought. More mass.

He swung and hit, but it didn’t feel right. He realized the issue after he was crushed again.

I’m not fully activating [Leviathan’s Mass] when I use it last minute. It takes a bit to charge up.

He frowned. He swung again, this time pulling as hard as he could on the skill in the instant before his fist connected.

Better. It felt better. His fist impacted hard, and he was denser than he had been on the others. Still, it wasn’t enough. He felt it: he wasn’t capping out on [Leviathan’s Mass]. In percentages, he was only getting about eighty. He wanted the full hundred.

Otto punched and punched until his body was sore and crushed to pieces, and he woke up and tried again. It was torture, but he felt determined now. His form was wrong. It was a fact that nagged at his brain, never leaving the forefront, to the point that he was willing to put up with the pain. If he was offered a chance to exit the fever dream now, he would have said no. Not when he felt so close to a breakthrough.

Another tentacle, another punch. This time, he felt his fist press into the flesh deeper than usual. Eighty five.

He punched again. The tentacle shuddered as it was knocked away, receding into the darkness. Ninety.

Ninety five.

It felt right. He didn’t feel slow, and he didn’t feel weak. His fist glided through the water, and he couldn’t even tell it was there. He knew that this was the one: when his fist hit the tentacle, he knew it would blow it out of the water, and the leviathan with it.

It connected.

The tentacle flew back. Another snaked from beneath him, wrapping around his chest. His ribs shattered.

The pain vanished, and he opened his eyes underwater. The eye was already looking back.

What? He wondered. He was genuinely stunned. That had felt right – how was it not enough?

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He kept punching the same, feeling in his gut that he was doing it right. He couldn’t physically hit any harder, any faster. How was he supposed to improve anymore?

He got crushed again. Then again. Then again. They started getting worse; slower, and more experimental. He would get crushed by one tentacle on his upper half and one on his lower. A tentacle would bludgeon him within an inch of his life before finishing him off with a crush.

His mind was frayed to the edge. He punched and punched, and he could smell the dry air of his grandfather’s basement. Each tentacle felt like the old leather punching bag kept down there, and his fists moved like water. The rhythmic impacts filled his ears, and he flowed.

More. He thought. He drew harder on [Leviathan’s Mass] than ever, and it refused to budge.

More. He thought, sterner this time. A picture grew in his head, one of himself pulling on a rope. At the moment, it was completely taut. Unable to be pulled back any further, he had pulled the rope to its limit.

But he wanted more. Needed more.

He pulled harder.

A quarter of an inch. Then two. A full inch.

The rope moved.

It took everything in his body. The tentacles were endless, but so were his fists. They impacted with enough force to invisibly bruise the dark purple flesh, then, the skin broke. The tentacles leaked blood into the water, but he barely noticed. His mind was fully occupied with the rope, and his body did the rest.

He pulled it until he felt like he was at 125%. The rope stopped, and this time, he could tell there was no more. He had exceeded his limit already; to go any further would be purely harmful.

He punched a tentacle out of his face and twisted out of the way, already shifting into another punch downwards. The tentacle that had snaked around him time and time again was knocked back, and he turned to hit the next.

There was none. His shoulders rose and fell, his fists were stained bloody, and not all of it was the leviathan’s. The eye stared back.

It blinked, and somehow, Otto felt approval.

He woke up.

* * *

The next days were slow.

In the wake of him venturing out to kill a Feeder, nothing changed.

Nothing other than earning himself a pair of his own stiff-gloves.

Otto entered the conference room, and heads glanced up to look at him. Braes and Karro looked at him with a new level of gratefulness, one that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, even if he was flattered. Jola looked guilty for making him do it in the first place, but the rest were just confused.

”What did you having happen to your hands?” Lapo asked. He had a box of rocks on the floor beside him and was stacking them on the coffee table. Yaris sat on the couch and had an old recorded movie playing. Otto had seen him watch it at least a dozen times in the past two days.

He glanced at Karro and Braes. Both of their eyes widened, and Otto silently screamed.

Did you really not expect this? He thought to himself. My hands are both broken. You had nothing planned? Nothing at all?

Okay, they weren’t broken, but they were close to it. The doctor had simultaneously chewed him out and questioned just how he had done it, but the bottom line was that he had many hairline fractures in the bones of his hands. In time – with the assistance of stiff-gloves – they would heal completely, but in the meantime, he wasn’t allowed to do anything strenuous. Like punch things.

“I…” he hesitated. Fell was too obvious, and was what happened to Yaris. 'Punched something' seemed like it was would raise too many questions.

“…a door closed on them.” He said. Lapo blinked, and Otto reddened.

“It was malfunctioning and got stuck halfway open. I tried prying it, and it closed instead.” He said. It was the first thing he thought of that didn’t seem completely improbable or raised more questions than it answered. Maleera and Lapo’s eyes widened.

“Oh no!” The former said. “That’s terrible!”

“I can’t believe that!” Lapo said. Otto panicked at the words on their face, but realized that Lapo looked completely genuine. He felt bad for him.

Yaris glanced at his hands from the couch and up to Otto, a rare occasion.

“The doors have safety features to avoid that.” He grunted. Otto felt sweat trickle down his back. He opened his mouth to reply with more half-baked lies-

“Well, you know how things have been malfunctioning.” Karro cut in abruptly. “With the power going out, relying on the generator…things happen.” He said. Nervously.

“He’s right.” Braes added stiffly. “Doors are among the most dangerous things in this facility. In an emergency. Without their safety features. Which that one was.”

Otto resisted the urge to put his palm against his face, but Lapo and Maleera were both nodding in understanding. Yaris looked at Otto's hands for a second more and shrugged.

“That sucks.” He said. Otto relaxed immediately.

Safe. The umpire of his mind chimed. For now.

Otto sat at the conference table near Braes, Jola, and Karro. Shortly after he sat down, Jola stood up and hurriedly left the room. He glanced at the two of them, but they shrugged.

“Anything happen while I was asleep?” He asked. According to the doctor he had fallen into a fever-dream-coma of sorts for about a day and a half. He had his own recollection of what happened, and his own theories, but voicing them to the doctor would make him look both insane and…actually, just insane.

To everyone except the doctor, they thought he was just sleeping for a long time after getting injured, including Braes and Karro. Medical privacy existed in Jarran culture as well to his mild surprise, and the doctor was staunch on it. He wasn’t sure the man would give information to someone Otto asked him to, let alone one he didn’t.

Braes rapped his fingers against the table in thought. Karro shook his head.

“Nothing really. The surrounding ocean has been quiet.” He said pointedly, and Otto suppressed an eyeroll. The odds that one of the others pieced together what happened were minuscule, but Karro was still about as subtle as an anvil.

Braes snapped her fingers.

“Oh, there was one thing.” She said. She pulled up her tablet and flipped through a few tabs, settling on a digital rendition of the facility. He couldn’t help but wonder the point of the physical map was. She panned down to the bottom of the facility.

“The mainframe picked up movement down here.” She said, pointing to the two tunnels leading to Ameris’ quarters. Both were colored in red.

Otto cocked his head. “Really? Did the tunnels collapse?” The only thing he could think of was that the movement were fish passing through after a tunnel collapse. Otherwise, he didn’t think anyone – even Ameris – was insane enough to try passing through. He no doubt had access to the same information Braes did. Otto knew that with [Abyssal Body] he would survive out in the water, and he still didn’t want to go into one of those tunnels.

Braes shook her head. “They didn’t. It was humanoid movement, apparently.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Was Ameris trying to get out? Did he cross?”

If Ameris was trying to escape, reluctant or not, they would have to go help him. The tunnels were in bad shape, and Ameris wasn't nice, but leaving the man to die left a sour taste in Otto’s mouth, no matter how rude he tended to be.

Besides. He would love to see his reaction to getting saved by a lowly ‘bondsman.’

Braes, to his surprise, shook her head again.

“That was the strangest part” She said, zooming in a bit. “The movement was here, but it wasn’t going this way.” She said, gesturing from the quarters out into the rest of the facility. “It was going the opposite.”

Otto felt something tickle at the back of his mind, and he surreptitiously glanced at everyone else in the room. “Do you think…?” he said in a low voice.

She shook her head. “I don’t. Everyone was accounted for; it was late last night. I have no idea what it could be.”

Karro picked at something in his teeth, “It was probably just an error on the mainframe’s part.”

Braes shot him a glare. “You always are having say that.”

He shrugged. “It’s usually right. Especially running on a generator, errors happen. This was one of them. It’s not like we’ve never had a phantom reading before.”

“This happens often?” Otto asked.

Karro looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“I wouldn’t say often, but it’s not that infrequent. Recently, especially, with the generator and all. It happened a few days ago, and a couple before that. Usually not in the same place; we’ve seen them all over.” He frowned. “They happen around Ameris’ tunnels most, though. Probably because they’re so damaged.”

Braes sighed. She glanced at Karro before looking back to him.

“It’s not the first one, it’s true. I wouldn’t have even told you if you hadn’t asked, to be honest. Other than that, nothing interesting has happened, and even that was…” she deflated. “Probably just a glitch. If it were Ameris or his assistant, they would have contacted us.”

Otto raised an eyebrow. “Do you know his assistant’s name?”

Braes and Karro both shook their heads.

“Nope.”

“Never learned it.”

“…How?” Otto asked. “You’ve been here for a while. You never learned their name.”

Karro stopped picking at his teeth and awkwardly straightened.

“Well, they never offered it on the first day, and Ameris never introduced them. Then, the next day I forgot to ask, and the next I never got an opportunity…”

“Eventually it was too awkward to ask!” he said defensively at the look Otto was giving him. “How am I supposed to look them in the eyes and say ‘Hello, my name is Karro. You’ve known this for weeks now. What’s yours?’”

Otto looked at Braes. She flushed.

“…Same story.” She muttered. “I never asked. Truthfully, I forgot faster than Karro. I always forgot they were even there. They’re always trailing behind Ameris, and he’s, well, Ameris, so I never really noticed them. He tends to steal the show."

Otto slumped back. He wanted to rap his fingers against the table like Braes, but they were locked away in a stiff-gloved prison.

He shook his head. “Well, at least I’m not the only one.” He said.

Despite it being a mainframe error, he made a mental note to check out the tunnels, just in case there was any sign of someone being there. If Ameris or his assistant had been crossing and going back after somehow missing them, he wouldn’t want them believing the rest of them were dead – or maybe worse, rescued without them.

Besides. You could never be too safe.

Dread started to seep into the back of his mind, and he forced himself to look at the movie Yaris was watching. Anything to distract himself.

Monster. The back of his brain whispered. It’s time for the monster. Freddy’s home. Jason’s back. Pennywise is lurking.

Or maybe it’s just The Thing.

It giggled loud, and Otto felt the pit in his stomach grow.