As Alonso crossed the 700 km desert mark, or 770 km measured from the shore, he was assaulted by seven falcons simultaneously. But… this was nothing unexpected.
He quickly analyzed their misdirected trajectories, calculating the optimal way to break through. With pinpoint precision, Alonso identified the exact positions and timings, knowing he could deflect two falcons with his buckler at 45.87 and 41.23 degrees respectively, and avoid the rest.
To handle the situation, he activated Simulation LITE—a faster version of his usual Simulation system, optimized for scenarios where time was a constraint. It accounted for fewer variables, trading accuracy for speed, and was perfect for reacting to fast-moving enemies like the falcons.
In sync with the simulated plan, Alonso executed the movements flawlessly. He misdirected five falcons and blocked the last two with precision, breaking through the assault without a scratch. With that, he crossed the boundary from the desert to the oasis. But the battle may not be over yet.
As he crossed that point, he gazed at the three humans approaching, still a fair 500 meters away. They momentarily stopped as he crossed the checkpoint, and he could see a similar expression on their faces: surprise? Was it unexpected that he got through the falcons?
In terms of their configuration, the group consisted of two men and one woman. Their armor appeared uniform at a glance, though there were subtle variations in how their protective plates were arranged and how the leather straps were secured.
It bore a resemblance to his own gear, though Alonso noted some critical flaws. In his assessment, certain joints lacked adequate flexibility, potentially restricting their range of motion, and some vital areas, particularly around the abdomen and lower torso, were insufficiently protected. Of the three, the man in the center stood out the most—a pale, blond, middle-aged figure with a thick beard. The leader?
Alonso couldn’t deny it—despite preparing for weeks specifically for a scenario like this when he reached the center, the situation was still incredibly dangerous. It was one against three, after all, and they had the advantage of better stage progress.
He was afraid. Afraid that his trump cards might fail. After all, if he could figure out these strategies, what was stopping someone else from doing the same?
“What do you reckon, Houston?”
“Well, you can’t use Stealth Reckoning from this distance, so it's hard to tell if they have any hidden weapons, but you might have a chance.”
“What are the odds of a fight breaking out?”
“Sincerely, that depends on how passive you’re willing to be. Three of them together, possibly patrolling this area—they might just be guarding a base or something, maybe just checking on you. Then again, they could be waiting to kill you for the orb, so it's hard to say.”
“So, we talk it out while prepping to engage.”
“As always, just try not to get killed.”
Alonso watched as they slowly moved forward... yet their weapons remained drawn. 400 meters, 300 meters, 200 meters, and then they stopped just shy of 100 meters between them. On the surface, Alonso appeared calm, casually staring at them, but his heart was pounding in his chest. If they took a few more steps forward, he...
“English?” the man in the middle suddenly shouted, his voice thick with an accent—Russian, perhaps?
Alonso nodded.
“Well, hello and welcome to the Oasis. My name is Oleg. May we know yours?”
Alonso frowned slightly but answered, “Alonso.”
"Why so dry, huh? When it was Chiara, you guys were all smiles, but now you're treating this guy like he's another Jonah? Bet if it was some cute young woman, the tone would be way different."
“First, you tell me to be ready to kill, and now you're asking why I’m serious when three armed people come at me? Should I just smile and let them give me a lovely tour of the oasis? Anyway, how long to map Simulation based on Stealth Reckoning?”
“0.7 seconds for the Lite version, 11 for the full.”
“Go full.”
Oleg continued, the entire conversation inside Alonso’s head having transpired in a split second.
“A pleasure to meet you, Alonso. It’s good to see more new faces reaching the middle of the island. There’s been a noticeable drop lately.”
Alonso remained quiet for a moment, then nodded. “So, there are more human survivors in the center?”
“Yes. Altogether, there are more than 50 who’ve made it to this point. As for how many are still lingering outside, we’re not sure, but it can’t be too many.”
“And the next stage of the trial? I assume reaching the center isn’t the final task.”
Oleg gave a slight chuckle. “Yes, there’s always something more, right? These alien trials never seem to end.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Alien? Was that just a metaphor, or did Oleg know something more?
Alonso feigned a smile, mirroring Oleg’s forced laughter. So far, there seemed to be no immediate reason to engage in a fight. But just in case...
“It’s ready. The two males have blowpipes, likely with poison darts. The female has a sling and a hidden dagger in her thigh.”
“Did they probe?”
"Yes. All three did. I revealed one sling, the normal projectiles, and the dagger."
"How likely they also have Cloaking and Mirage?"
"The man in the middle has some basic EM cloaking, but it’s easy to break through. The other two? No cloaking at all. As for Mirage? Not a chance."
“Did they react to Stealth Reckoning?”
“No.”
“Odds they can bypass my Cloaking or Mirage?”
“Less than 1%.”
“So, what are the outcomes?”
“Well, if you don’t use Fake Reality, there’s a 98% chance you die. If you do… well, you already know how that plays out.”
Alonso internally relaxed. His worst fears had passed. Now, he was in control. Everything he planned to use today wasn’t a gamble; he had tested and prepared for every possible scenario. He had tested the poison on himself, used Fake Reality on every creature on the island, calibrating it for weeks, and even simulated himself facing his own strategies.
Though he kept a poker face, his heart rate slowed. The tension eased from his body—he had prepared for this moment. He was confident.
Oleg continued, stepping forward slightly with an open, friendly posture. "Here at the Oasis, we’ve formed a small and safe community. We have rules, and we mean no harm, but we do need you to hand over your weapons temporarily and follow us. We want to handle this peacefully."
Alonso raised an eyebrow. The word "peacefully" lingered in the air like an unspoken warning.
“Hand over my weapons?” Alonso asked, his tone measured but sharp.
Oleg nodded. “It’s just a precaution. We’ve had trouble with newcomers before, so we can’t take any chances. Once we’ve established trust, you’ll get everything back. We just want to avoid misunderstandings.”
Multiple scenarios flooded his mind—almost all ending in conflict if he did not want to put himself in a passive position. His brow furrowed as he processed the calculations.
“And if I don’t comply?” Alonso asked calmly.
“You know they’re not entirely wrong in this situation.”
“I know. But… I can’t take any chances. This world isn’t governed by human rules. We don’t choose the laws—only power does. They’re trying to assert dominance, but if I submit, it shows weakness. If they decide to kill me, everything I’ve worked for, all my progress, becomes meaningless. I don’t want to fight, but I won’t submit to some small community’s self-made power structure.”
Oleg’s smile faltered for a second before returning. “Well, we’d rather avoid that outcome. But if you don’t follow our rules, things could escalate. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, right?”
Alonso could sense the tension building. His eyes flicked over the group. The two men subtly shifted their stances—preparing, perhaps unconsciously, for a fight. The woman’s hand hovered near her waist, ready to grab her sling. They were poised to act.
His voice was calm when he spoke. "I’d rather not fight, Oleg. But if you insist on disarming me, things might get... complicated."
Oleg's expression tightened ever so slightly, betraying his frustration.
“They communicated using waves.”
“I know.”
"As we discussed," Oleg began, trying to maintain the facade of diplomacy, "this is for your own safety. Hand over your—"
Before Oleg could finish, Alonso dropped his backpack and surged forward.
Simulation.
Alonso saw them reaching for their blowpipes and slings in slow motion, but he was already a step ahead. He sent his hide cloak forward just in time to block the two poison darts, and cut off their line of sight.
Fake Reality. His magnum opus. The skill he had worked on for two whole weeks, enduring hundreds of thousands of failed attempts until it was perfected. It was a fusion of EM Cloaking, which rendered him and selected objects invisible to others' EM detection, and EM Mirage, a skill that projected decoys into the electromagnetic field. The concept seemed straightforward, but the execution was far from simple. The result, however, well....
In an instant, Alonso obscured himself from their EM waves, not before creating an EM decoy that overlapped his position. The replica was perfect, mimicking the interaction any EM wave would have had with the real him, effectively creating a ghost version of himself that only existed in the EM space.
The decoy shifted left, pulling the focus of his opponents. Meanwhile, Alonso silently moved to the right. With precision, he loaded his two slings, each carrying poisoned darts carefully wrapped in plant fibers. Timing was everything now. He needed to force them to counter the projectiles at a specific angle and with their swords, not their shields. He orchestrated that moment—created the perfect distance, the perfect timing.
He emerged from the right side of the cloak, catching them off guard. His slings were ready as he launched both projectiles just as he appeared. One flew toward Oleg, the other toward the man whose name Alonso didn’t bother to ask.
As expected, they were forced to deflect the projectiles with their swords due to their stance and reaction time. The bags broke upon impact, scattering shards coated with scorpion venom at their faces, blinding them and sending the poison into their systems. It would take only a few moments to paralyze them—based on the experiments he had conducted on himself.
Now the woman with the sling was a problem. She was ready to fire, and Alonso had only 0.3 seconds, factoring in the shock from the darts and the change in his position from left to right.
He pushed off with his left leg, retreating behind the cloak that was now slowly falling due to gravity. He crouched and jumped slightly off the ground as he cloaked himself again, creating a decoy that appeared to be rolling backward.
0.3 seconds.
The projectile came, tearing through the thick hide cloak like paper, but missing Alonso by an inch as it targeted his decoy instead.
Simulation Lite: Update.
Current chance of success: 99.97%.