An explosion ripped through the air behind Joel, its deafening roar closing in like a predator as he dove headfirst into the cold, churning waters below. For a split second, the searing heat from the fire licked his back, stinging his skin before the icy ocean swallowed him whole. The freezing water was a sharp, violent contrast, as if a thousand needles stabbed into him all at once, jolting every nerve in his body.
Before diving, Joel had hesitated, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic scene—injured men struggling, some barely conscious, their faces twisted in pain. For a brief moment, his instinct was to help, to save those who couldn’t save themselves. He cursed the old gods, cursed the fire, cursed everything that led them to this hell. But the rig was collapsing, and there just wasn’t time. Every second counted. His heart weighed heavy with guilt as he turned away and leaped into the abyss.
The force of the blast collided with the water just above him, sending a shockwave that tore through the ocean, throwing his body around like a rag doll in the fierce current. The impact twisted him, limbs flailing as the angry sea pulled him deeper into its chaos. He could barely tell which way was up as the churning waters spun him, slamming him against debris and pulling him away from the sinking rig.
The water soaked through Joel’s thermal coveralls, turning them into a heavy, sodden weight that clung to his body like lead. Each movement became harder, the fabric dragging against his skin and making it nearly impossible to swim. The icy water seeped into every crevice, chilling him to the bone as the added weight tried to pull him under. His muscles strained against the force, his legs kicking desperately to stay afloat, but it felt like the ocean itself was determined to drag him down into its depths. Every stroke was a battle against the relentless pull, as if the sea had claimed him as its own.
Underwater, Joel fought to orient himself, but the currents were merciless. His muscles burned as he struggled to maintain control, the icy water making every movement feel sluggish. The salt stung his eyes, and he barely made out the swirling chaos around him—debris, oil, and jagged pieces of the rig sinking deeper into the abyss. A rush of water slammed into him, sending him spiraling backward until his spine collided hard against something solid.
The lifeboat.
Pain flared in his back, but there was no time to process it. The currents spun him again, disorienting him as he tumbled through the water. His lungs screamed for air, the pressure building in his chest. He kicked hard, propelling himself toward the surface. With a final push, Joel broke through the surface, gasping for breath, the taste of salt and oil coating his lips.
The sight that greeted him was pure chaos. The rig, now a towering inferno, continued to explode, sending flaming debris high into the sky before crashing into the sea. A cloud of steam rose from where the wreckage met the cold water, casting a thick haze over everything. Joel coughed, trying to clear his throat as he searched for the lifeboats.
They were sinking.
Joel’s arms flailed in the chaotic waves, his muscles screaming with exhaustion when his hand brushed against something solid. His fingers instinctively latched onto it—a piece of floating debris, likely torn from the rig in the explosion. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself toward it, wrapping his arms around the slick wood like a lifeline. The rough edges bit into his palms, but he didn’t care. It was the only thing keeping him from sinking into the depths below, the only thing anchoring him to the surface as the ocean raged around him.
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He could feel the weight of his steel toed boots pulling him into the abyss. He then looked around himself again. What he saw hit him hard, emotionally.
The lifeboats were sinking.
Each one, twisted and broken from the explosion, they were being swallowed by the relentless waves. The realization hit him like another punch to the gut. His heart raced as he scanned the wreckage, panic threatening to take hold. His mind was racing even as the cold water sapped his strength.
Then, far off in the distance, he saw them—a small group of survivors. Five figures crowded onto an inflatable raft, paddling with desperate energy, trying to put as much distance between them and the sinking rig as possible.
They were his only chance.
Ignoring the pain and exhaustion, Joel forced his limbs to move, cutting through the water with long, deliberate strokes. Every breath felt like fire in his lungs, but he pushed on, keeping his eyes fixed on the distant raft. The waves crashed over him, threatening to drag him down, but the sight of the survivors paddling toward the faint silhouette of land kept him going.
Each stroke felt like a battle against the ocean itself.
As Joel fought against the waves, a sudden thought crept into his mind: he might actually make it. The rig had exploded, the lifeboats were sinking, and chaos raged all around him, but somehow, he was still swimming. He hadn’t been swallowed by the sea or crushed by debris. He was alive—at least for now.
With each desperate stroke, a flicker of hope kindled inside him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d survive this. He could see his daughter, hold her in his arms. The image of Oliver holding their baby girl flashed in his mind, the way her tiny eyes had peeked out from the pink blanket on the video call. He’d barely even looked at her. It felt like a lifetime ago, when he first looked upon her little wrinkled face. He had been so caught up in the rig’s chaos, in the grind of work, in surviving. But now, out here in the cold, unforgiving ocean, it was the only thing that mattered. He wanted to see her—just once, even if it was the last thing he did.
The thought gave him strength, pushing him through the exhaustion that gnawed at his muscles and the saltwater that burned his throat. He didn’t know how far he had to swim or if he’d make it to that raft, but the idea of holding his daughter, of hearing her cry or laugh—of knowing her even for a moment—was enough. It fueled him with a fierce determination. Maybe fate had given him a chance. Maybe he was lucky enough to make it through this.
Just as the hope surged within him, a sharp, intrusive ping echoed in his mind.
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SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Attention: System Merge Imminent
The Merge will occur in 15 minutes.
Prepare accordingly.
Your survival and adaptation will depend on your readiness.
Warning: Environmental hazards and challenges will escalate post-merge.
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Joel’s heart skipped a beat. He instinctively shook his head, trying to push the bizarre message away, but it lingered, taunting him. What did it even mean? Merge? Prepare? There was no time for that now—he was in the middle of the ocean, fighting to stay alive. He didn’t have time to make sense of anything but the next breath, the next stroke. The system would have to wait.