As Alonso was dwelling on his predicament, he received more images from Ayu that outlined exactly what he had been thinking.
Ayu’s images showed Siddharth's group returning two days later, right at 7:00 AM, waiting to cross the disappearing path. She then sent a stick-figure version of Alonso heading toward the tunnel the next morning, only to awkwardly bump into Siddharth’s group on their way back. Both groups stood awkwardly on the tiny island, the path not yet reappeared—an undeniably uncomfortable situation.
Ayu added a skull emoji over Alonso in that scenario, followed by a funny image of him dramatically dying, with his cartoonish soul ascending to the sky. Alonso had to bite his lip to contain his laughter at the exaggerated animations. Is she getting better at this? he wondered, impressed by how fluid her image communication was.
Ayu gave him a moment, then sent another image: her shaking her head, arms crossed, and a huge red "X" over a stick-figure Alonso heading toward the tunnel. No words, but the message was clear—Don’t go.
But then, why are you telling me all this? Odd.
Ayu followed up with another image, this time showing Alonso sitting cross-legged, calmly training. She was clearly suggesting he focus on honing his skills for now instead of rushing into the tunnel.
While training was important, Alonso wanted to reach the highest stage progress possible beforehand to make the training truly effective. He thought for a moment and sent Ayu a crude image of himself swimming to the tunnel right now, dodging sharks, and reaching the tunnel with a happy grin.
Ayu smiled and responded with a cartoonish version of herself laughing on the shore as Alonso was quickly eaten by sharks, barely making it a few meters before disappearing into the water.
Okay, that didn’t help, Alonso thought, grinning despite himself.
Alonso pondered how to ask Ayu why she had told him about the tunnel in the first place. Was there another option? It made no sense to explain the whole thing, only to tease him and then outright say he couldn’t go or he’d die.
“Maybe she’s testing you,” Houston mused.
“Testing what? Whether I’m brave enough to face Siddharth’s whole squad on a 20-meter island in the middle of a lake full of sharks? Or if I’m dumb enough to swim there?”
“Well, maybe it’s more like, ‘I don’t know how you’ll pull this off, and you probably shouldn’t, but if you don’t try, you’re never beating Siddharth.’”
“And the whole training image? What was that about?”
“That’s the ‘I surrender’ option, my friend. Look, Alonso, sit down for a second. Analyze this from her perspective. Does she owe you anything? No. So why help you? Why guide you toward survival, even if the path’s full of hazards?”
“She sees potential. Maybe she wants me to join her faction because I show promise.”
“In part, yeah. She thinks you might have a shot—a small one—but it’s still a gamble. A long shot. And she knows it. But here’s the kicker: I think she’s amused. You’re a bit of a wildcard, a break from the usual tension around here. You awkwardly met her at the beach, took down three of Siddharth’s guys, and now you’re running around killing some sharks and trying to figure out how to survive a spider-infested tunnel. She’s probably thinking, ‘This guy’s interesting—let’s see where this goes.’”
Alonso let that sink in. “So, I’m her entertainment?”
“Yes, entertainment that may only last two days, but a good break from the monotony nonetheless. And it’s not like she’s stopped her own training or anything, so she’s not really wasting time.”
“So basically, she showed me the path to the island and the potential danger of meeting Siddharth’s group just to... spice things up? See how I react?”
“Took you long enough.”
Alonso glanced at Ayu, who wore a refreshing, innocent expression, completely unfazed by the silent mental turmoil she had set off. He nodded, gave her a thumbs-up, and sent her a simple image: him sitting with a question mark hovering over his head, with two images side by side—training on the right, and him heading toward the rocky outcrop in the middle of the lake on the left.
Ayu nodded in response, before turning and walking away. She stopped a few dozen meters off, sitting in a meditative state as if nothing unusual had happened.
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Alonso sighed. Right. Time to think. His gaze turned back to the lake. How do I cross a lake filled with sharks without ending up as shark bait?
His mind went wild, trying to think of creative ideas. He briefly considered pole vaulting—using the sharks themselves as springboards to propel himself across the lake. But he quickly dismissed the idea. Crafting poles strong enough to withstand the force of the sharks with the limited materials he had would be nearly impossible. And then there was the drag—pushing heavy poles through water would slow his swimming down significantly, leaving him vulnerable with sluggish reaction time. The whole idea was far too impractical.
Okay, what else? he pondered. Maybe I could build some sort of raft? It seemed feasible for a second, but then Houston chimed in.
“Raft, huh? Yeah, brilliant, Alonso. Because sharks are totally known for ignoring floating wooden structures with a tasty human on top in their turf.”
Fine. Scratch that, he thought. What if I create some kind of long rope and zipline across?
“Sure. If you happen to have a rope long enough to span 5 kilometers and a conveniently placed high point to attach it to on both sides. And, of course, that’s forgetting sharks can propel themselves out of the water. Come on, don’t just spit out any crazy idea that pops into your head. Be realistic.”
“Well, why don’t you come up with an idea for a change?”
“Nah, my role is to shoot yours down.”
Alonso's eyes scanned the lake again, the surface deceptively calm. He knew from experience it was anything but. The sharks were lurking below, waiting for any disturbance.
Suddenly, a thought flashed in his mind. The simplest solution is often the correct one.
He straightened up, eyes wide. “Houston... Occam's Razor.”
There was a brief silence before Houston spoke again, sounding dubious. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious,” Alonso replied. “I’ve been overcomplicating this. What if, instead of trying to outsmart the sharks by building some convoluted contraption, I just... swim?”
“Let’s get this straight,” Houston said, laying out the situation. “One: it’s a 5-kilometer swim. Two: the lake is crawling with hundreds of bloodthirsty sharks, ready to rip you apart the moment they sense the slightest motion. Three: you’re not a pro swimmer. Four: you need to bring at least your sword and your sling if you want any chance of dealing with those spiders in the tunnel, and those will drag you down. That’s assuming you leave your armor behind—otherwise, you’ll be swimming slower than a slug on land. Five: even if you can detect the sharks in time, your reaction in water will be way slower than theirs. You can’t outmaneuver them.”
“Well, besides the fact that you just repeated a few points to make your list longer, the only real problem here is the sharks. Swimming five kilometers with my current strength isn’t a big deal.”
Houston interrupted. “Oh, right, I forgot to add that you’re heavier than before—by at least 20 kilos. Your bones and muscles are denser now, and that’s going to weigh you down.”
“That won’t be an issue. My current physical prowess will more than compensate for the extra weight. And as for the sharks, sure, they’re fast, but I can rely on Simulation and Fake Reality. If one comes at me, I don’t need to outswim it; I just need to avoid its mouth. I could slide over its back, use a knee on its nose. I can even guide them toward a decoy or something further away. Heck, I could even use their momentum to propel me forward.”
Houston scoffed. “These sharks weigh at least 200 kilos. If one hits you at full speed, and you try to ‘use’ that momentum, you’re going to end up with dislocated legs—or worse.”
“Enough talk, Houston,” Alonso said, cutting him off with a determined look. “Let’s simulate it.”
Houston sighed. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“...”
After a brief pause, Alonso raised an eyebrow. “...Well, that wasn’t too bad.”
“Extend it to 5 kilometers,” Houston added
“...”
“...” Alonso remained silent for a moment before responding. “So... odds aren’t zero. It’s feasible.”
“Feasible?” Houston’s voice was incredulous. “An 8.6% chance of success is what you call feasible? You realize you’d have better odds just making a run for it back to the beach, right?”
Alonso frowned, his mind racing through the variables. “Alright, I made some bad calls. Let’s go through it again. This time, remove the bag with projectiles—I’ll find some rocks in the tunnel to use as ammo. Ditch the boots, all the metal parts of my armor, and the buckler too.”
Houston gave an exasperated sigh. “Sure. Shall we simulate it again?”
Alonso nodded. “Yes. Let’s go.”