“Hu… hu… hu,” Alonso was breathing heavily as he reached the edge of the jungle, coming from the desert. His body was layered with cuts—some shallow, some deeper.
He threw himself down next to a tree, dropping his half-broken backpack, which had lost much of its contents along the way.
“How many?”
“158.”
“Not too bad,” he muttered, leaning his head back. He was drenched in sweat, and his entire body ached from the relentless pace he had kept for over 100 km while fending off the attacking falcons.
Reaching into his backpack, Alonso grabbed one of the few remaining coconut water containers and a small piece of food, nibbling on it as he tried to regain some energy.
After gazing at the night sky for some time, fatigue won over, and he let his body fall asleep.
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Alonso rubbed his eyes as the rays of the sun pierced through the canopy of trees. His body felt stiff, but all of the wounds had healed, with only a couple of the deeper cuts leaving scars.
He stretched, taking in the peaceful jungle scenery, though the desert was still visible not far away.
He glanced at his backpack. One of the falcons had slashed it. He crouched and tried to mend it with some vines he found nearby. After that, he finished off the remaining meat, already two days old. Thankfully, his immune system was far stronger than a normal human's, thanks to all the enhancements.
Then, with a determined sigh, he headed back toward the desert. There were still 24 scorpions left, and he needed new materials.
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His focus sharpened with every step, the familiar vibrations of the scorpions rippling through his EM Domain. He moved with efficiency, now fully accustomed to their patterns.
Each encounter was swift and decisive—scorpions lunged from beneath the sand, only to be met by precise slashes of his sword or well-aimed strikes from his sling. With each one he felled, he took the orb and gathered scraps of metal, stashing them into his half-repaired backpack.
As the day wore on, his rhythm never faltered. One after another, the creatures fell, their huge bodies littering the sand in his wake.
And so, the 49th scorpion finally fell.
> Stage 1 - 2.125%
Alonso meticulously harvested this last one. He cut away sections of meat, careful to avoid any internal organs that might spoil the flesh. He severed a pincer, its heavy, dense structure potentially useful for crafting. Then, moving to the tail, he worked carefully, slicing into the base where the stinger connected. There, he found a small venom sac, oozing a green liquid. He cautiously extracted it, ensuring none of the substance spilled—venom like this could be potent and dangerous, possibly useful for coating weapons or sling ammunition.
Just as Alonso finished securing everything, his EM Domain rippled—another scorpion. He didn’t bother to tense. With a calm exhale, he drew his sword.
The scorpion lunged from the sand, but Alonso was already in motion, his body a blur. He rushed forward, closing the distance in a blink. Without breaking stride, he leapt, sliding along the scorpion’s armored back with perfect balance. His feet barely grazed its metallic shell, the friction almost nonexistent.
In a fluid motion, he planted one foot on its exoskeleton and propelled himself upward, severing the tail in one swift strike before it even had a chance to lash out. The tail fell, the scorpion’s body spasmed, its movements erratic and pointless.
Alonso didn’t look back—he already had everything he needed. The creature thrashed in the sand, incapable of moving properly after losing its vital tail, but he was already walking away, headed back toward the jungle.
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The sun was still up when Alonso finally reached the shore. The salty air from the sea was a refreshing change from the relentless heat of the desert. He set his backpack down and wandered over to grab a few fresh coconuts. The cool, sweet taste was much better than what he’d been carrying for nearly two days in his makeshift containers, though maybe it was just the relief of the moment.
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He leaned back against a tree, letting the ocean breeze cool his skin. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to relax, his body finally unwinding after the non-stop hunt. His wounds had mostly healed, and the ache in his muscles felt more like a reminder of his progress than a burden.
"Do you reckon we could try filtering some sea water, Houston?"
"You already have too much on your plate to make that a priority. Freshwater’s low, sure, but there are still more than enough coconuts for a month's worth of water."
"Hunting, manufacturing, EM training, weapon training, physical training... I mean, come on, Houston, I deserve a break, man. Seriously, what’s the pressure here? Where’s the need for the rush?"
"If you stay idle, other humans out there will keep getting stronger, and all it takes is one lucky encounter to have you killed."
"The island is nearly 2 million square kilometers, Houston. What are the odds?"
"We don't know how many others are out there, and speaking of odds, you met four in less than a week's time."
"And? You think any random human is going to kill me? For one, not all of them are murderous psychos. And as for the one who was—well, poor Jonah."
"It's amusing how you argue with me as if I didn’t know that deep down you can’t wait to start training with your EM waves."
Alonso grinned. "EM training is fun. It’s a physics-based superpower—what more could I ask for? But the rest, man, manufacturing gear? That sucks."
"Oh, right. I forgot you like to fight your battles in the 'au naturel' style. Worked pretty well last time, didn’t it? That Asian woman with the shield couldn’t stop laughing before she walked away."
Alonso chuckled as he let his body fall into the sand. The breeze hit his face, offering a brief moment of peace. But then his nose started to pick up a foul smell—sweat, blood, bits of brain, and other less-than-pleasant remnants from the hunt.
"Shit, I smell worse than Pablo’s gym sock," he muttered, peeling himself off the ground. Without a second thought, he headed for the ocean, his mind already on the cool water washing away the stench.
He waded into the water, letting the cool waves lap against his skin as he scrubbed off the layers of grime and blood. For several minutes, he relaxed, enjoying the refreshing sensation of the ocean cleansing him. But then, a subtle ripple through the water was detected by his Domain.
Without hesitation, his hand shot out, and he caught the leech just as it neared his leg. He lifted it from the water, watching it wriggle between his fingers before calmly squeezing it to death with a firm grip. The creature popped with a faint squelch.
"Nice try," he muttered, tossing the remains into the sea before continuing his bath as if nothing had happened.
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Alonso sat down, carefully inspecting his upgraded sling. He had replaced the leather cords with strong, flexible jungle vines reinforced with scorpion tendons, allowing for faster releases and more power. The pouch was enhanced with thin strips of scorpion exoskeleton, making it durable enough to handle heavier projectiles without slowing down his shots.
He adjusted the cord length to suit his arm span, adding a knot at the release end for better control and accuracy. He had also replaced his stone projectiles with new ones made from scorpion carapace, hammering and shaping them into slightly rounded projectiles.
He tried it out and quickly got used to the improvements, noting a significant boost in speed, accuracy, and reduced release delay.
“Hey, Houston. Do you reckon… I should make another sling?”
“No comment.”
“I mean, think about it. The problem with a sling is the delay between loading and firing the next shot. But if I have two loaded ones at once, I can release two shots in a row, or better yet, simultaneously.”
“Sure, and then what? What happens when both are fired? You’ll be stuck reloading while the enemy closes in. Besides, using two slings at once isn’t exactly the easiest thing to master—coordination, timing, switching weapons… all of it gets complicated. Even if you somehow got good at it, it’s basically a one-time attack before you’re vulnerable.”
Alonso started gazing at the setting sun, a fleeting smile crossing his face.
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“Well, it doesn’t taste that bad, it’s like crab or shrimp. I mean, it’s actually better than the panther meat,” Alonso said, munching on the cooked scorpion meat.
He had a proper fire going this time, though finding dry wood had been impossible. Instead, he used dried scorpion carapace fragments and some resin he’d collected from jungle plants to fuel the flames. The resin burned slowly, giving off a strong but steady heat that was enough to cook the meat.
"I guess this means we don’t need to carry much food in the backpack and can focus more on water."
"You’ve just taken one bite and you’re already saying there are no side effects. If I were you, I’d limit the intake this time."
"Houston… you are me."