The ocean hissed and steamed behind them as they continued to paddle, fire swallowing remain. But that wasn’t what terrified Joel now. It was the creatures—those shifting, oily abominations slithering through the black water, pulling men under like it was nothing. Every splash, every flicker of movement felt like death reaching up from the depths.

"Move! Paddle faster!" Joel shouted, his voice raw and desperate. His arms ached, but he forced them to keep moving, pushing the paddle through the water with every ounce of strength he had left.

Craig, Blake, and the others were all doing the same, their faces contorted in fear and pain. But there was no time for rest, no time to catch their breath. The shore was still a few kilometers away, a distant line of dark land barely visible in the moonlight. If they slowed, if they faltered for even a second, Joel knew those monsters would tear them apart.

Beside him, Blake's breath hitched. “We’re not gonna make it. They’re… they’re too fast.”

“We don’t have a choice!” Joel growled back, eyes darting between the water and the sky. His muscles screamed, but he ignored the pain. “Keep going!”

A strangled gasp cut through the night. Joel turned just in time to see one of the survivors—Charlie—collapse over the side of the raft. His body hit the water with a splash, the sound freezing everyone in place for a heartbeat.

"No, no, no!" Craig shouted, reaching out, his paddle slipping from his hands.

But it was too late.

A sleek, oily tentacle shot up from the water like a serpent. It wrapped around Charlie’s torso, black liquid gleaming in the moonlight, and yanked him down with terrifying force. Charlie screamed—a horrible, gurgling cry—before the water swallowed him whole. His voice cut off with a sickening gurgle, replaced by the eerie silence of the sea.

But then, something strange happened. As the last ripples from Charlie’s disappearance settled, a faint glow shimmered just above the water's surface. Joel blinked, his breath catching in his throat as he spotted a glowing, rectangular shape hovering there for only a heartbeat. It was about eight inches long, six inches wide, and seemed to pulse with an ethereal light, like nothing Joel had ever seen before. It floated, suspended above the blackened waves, projecting an almost three-dimensional image from its centre. The edges of the card-like object flickered, glowing with a pale, otherworldly blue, casting eerie reflections on the dark, oily water.

For a brief moment, Joel’s breath stilled as he stared, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. The card shimmered, as if made of energy, its light undulating in the air. And then, as quickly as it had appeared, the glowing shape vanished, sinking beneath the surface like a mirage swallowed by the ocean.

Joel’s mind raced, almost as fast as his arms moved as he paddled. Was that the heart card the system had mentioned? He had no idea what it meant, but there was something about that fleeting vision—something ominous, something dangerous. Whatever the system had in store for them, it had already begun, and Joel knew, in the pit of his stomach, that their battle was only just beginning.

With a curse under his breath, he snapped back to the present, gripping his paddle. There wasn’t time to dwell on the card now.

“Paddle!” he bellowed, his voice trembling with fury. “Keep moving! We’re not dying out here!”

Craig, still frozen in horror, blinked as Joel’s shout cut through the haze. Slowly, he picked up his paddle again, hands shaking, and the group fell back into rhythm. But their movements were frantic now, panicked. The water churned beneath them, black and slick, and Joel swore he saw more tendrils moving just beneath the surface, tracking them like predators waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths ragged and uneven. They were close—he could feel it. But the shore still seemed impossibly far, and those things weren’t going to stop until every last one of them was dead.

Another screech ripped through the night as one of the creatures lunged out of the water, its gaping mouth of jagged white teeth snapping at the raft. Joel barely managed to yank one of the injured survivors out of its reach before the thing’s jaws closed with a sickening crunch, the sound of shattering wood and teeth echoing across the water.

"Keep it together!" Joel shouted, his voice raw, breaking with the weight of the moment. Fear clawed at his chest, suffocating him, but he couldn’t afford to stop. Not now. Not with his family waiting for him. He would burn the world before he let these monsters take him. He swung his paddle, slapping it against the water, trying to keep them moving. His mind raced, knowing there had to be a way out of this nightmare.

Suddenly, a strangled cry rang out from the side of the raft. The injured man Joel had just saved was trembling violently, his face twisted in pain and anger. His name was Darren, a roustabout with a busted leg and burns covering half his body. Joel turned, just in time to see Darren’s eyes glowing an eerie blue.

"Get...away...from us!" Darren roared, his voice unnaturally deep, echoing with something more than just his own rage.

Then it happened—Darren lifted his hand toward the writhing mass of void oil, and a sudden crackling filled the air. Sparks danced between his fingertips, building until a sharp bolt of lightning shot out from his hand and struck the creature full on. The impact was instantaneous—the bolt crackled across the void monster’s body, the air around it sparking with electricity, as the thing let out a high-pitched, unnatural shriek.

The creature recoiled, its slick, oily form spasming as the lightning tore through it. For a moment, it seemed to break apart, losing shape, its once-solid blackness rippling into vapor before reforming again. The white teeth, sharp and jagged, glowed for an instant under the electric arc before the beast plunged back into the water, disappearing into the oily depths.

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest. Darren collapsed back onto the raft, gasping for breath, his body convulsing from the effort. “Did you just...?” Joel started, his brain struggling to catch up with what he’d just witnessed.

Darren managed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a gasp. "Lightning bolt. Don’t ask me how... but I think the system gave it to me," he rasped, glancing down at his trembling hand, where faint sparks still danced across his skin.

A flickering notification popped up in front of Darren’s eyes, translucent and glowing faintly in the dim light, which only he could see:

System Notification: [Lightning Bolt] - Spell on cooldown. Time remaining: 60 seconds

Darren blinked, staring at the message as it hovered in the air in front of him, just inches away from his face. "Guys... I’ve got a cooldown," he muttered, still gasping for breath, his hand trembling as the notification pulsed. "Can’t use that again for another minute."

The others looked at him, confused.

"A cooldown?" Craig asked, bewildered.

Darren nodded, wiping sweat and oil from his brow. "Yeah, it’s like... a timer. I used the lightning spell, but I can’t do it again until this thing clears." He waved a hand vaguely at the message still floating in front of him. “One minute. We’ve got one minute until I can blast another one of those things.”

Joel glanced back at the water, the oily black surface still rippling where the creature had disappeared. "Then we better make that minute count."

Joel’s mind was spinning, adrenaline surging through his veins. The system had more surprises than they could have imagined. Heart cards, monsters, magic—none of it made sense. But in this moment, with the smell of burned oil and the echo of the void monster’s scream still hanging in the air, Joel realized something important: they had a fighting chance.

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"Let's keep moving," Joel barked, snapping the survivors back to action, his mind still reeling. "Paddle faster. We’re not out of this yet."

Terror clawed at his insides, but Joel pushed it down, buried it deep. They had to make it. They had to survive. For his daughter. For Oliver. For all of them.

Behind him, another splash—another scream. But Joel couldn’t look back. He couldn’t let himself lose hope, not now. Not when they were so close to shore. He gritted his teeth, pushing harder, faster, every stroke a fight against the darkness closing in around them.

The raft lurched forward, paddles slicing through the dark water as the distant shoreline grew closer with every desperate stroke. But Joel knew the real fight hadn’t even begun. Every inch they gained felt like a borrowed moment, a fragile hope against the monsters stalking them. The blackness beneath the water was alive, watching, waiting.

Joel's body felt like it was turning to ice, the freezing ocean water seeping through his soaked coveralls and chilling him to the bone. His muscles stiffened, every stroke of the paddle a brutal, agonizing effort as the cold bit into his skin. His teeth chattered uncontrollably, the shivering making it harder to maintain his grip, but he forced himself to keep going—there was no other choice.

And then came the scream.

It cut through the night like a knife, sharp and full of raw agony. Joel whipped around just in time to see one of the survivors—a driller named Mack—clutching his leg, eyes wide in terror as an oily tendril wrapped around his ankle, dragging him toward the edge of the raft.

"Help me!" Mack’s voice cracked, pleading, his fingers scrambling for something to hold, leaving streaks of blood and oil on the raft’s slick surface. His face twisted in pain as the creature tugged harder, dragging him closer to the edge.

Joel lunged forward, grabbing Mack’s arm just as the tentacle wrapped tighter around his leg. "Hang on!" he growled through clenched teeth, using every ounce of strength to keep Mack from being pulled overboard. Joel’s muscles screamed in protest, veins bulging in his arms as he fought against the monstrous force pulling Mack from the raft. His biceps clenched, hardened like steel under the strain, every tendon and fiber taut as a bowstring.

The weight of the creature’s pull was relentless, but Joel’s resolve was stronger. His hands, slick with oil and blood, gripped tighter, refusing to let go, even as his shoulders felt like they were being torn from their sockets. His chest heaved, muscles rippling with effort as he ground his teeth, pouring every last ounce of his strength into holding on.

Pain shot up his back, but he welcomed it—used it. It only fueled the fire burning inside him, a raw, desperate energy that refused to give in. Every second felt like an eternity, his body a fortress under siege, but he’d be damned if he let this thing win.

Craig, still gripping his paddle, swung it hard at the tentacle. The wood splintered on impact, and for a moment, the creature recoiled. But not for long. More tendrils slithered out of the water, reaching toward them with a terrifying hunger.

With a sickening sound, the tentacle around Mack's leg tightened one last time, and in an instant, Joel felt the horrible shift in weight. Mack screamed, a bloodcurdling sound, as his leg gave way, torn clean off by the oily monstrosity. Blood sprayed across the raft as Mack’s body jerked back, his eyes wide in disbelief, pain overwhelming his expression. Mack screamed in agony, his body convulsing from the shock.The lower half of his leg disappearing into the black water as the monster claimed its prize.

“No! No, no, no!” Joel shouted, pulling the man fully into the raft, his mind reeling at the sight of his mangled, severed leg. Mack's cries were now wet, gurgling gasps as the blood flowed freely from the wound, staining everything red.

"Help him!" Joel yelled, but he knew deep down—Mack was already gone.

Joel’s heart raced. They weren’t going to make it if they didn’t find a way to stop these things. More screams echoed across the water, closer this time. Another raft. Another group being taken, piece by piece, by the blackened horrors that hunted them.

The shoreline was close—but so were the monsters.

Mack slumped onto the raft, pale and gasping, his eyes wide with terror and pain. Blood pooled beneath him, mixing with the oil that coated the surface. But just as Joel reached out to assess the damage, something strange happened—a faint light began to shimmer above Mack’s body.

Joel’s heart raced as a card-shaped glow appeared, floating just inches above Mack's chest. It hovered in the air, an ethereal presence that seemed to defy the chaos around them. The card was around eight inches long and six inches wide, glowing softly, its edges flickering like a flame. Joel stared, mesmerized, as a shimmering, three-dimensional image projected from the card.

For a moment, everything else disappeared. Joel could feel the pulse of the card, a strange energy radiating from it. His mind raced back to the system messages, the mentions of heart cards, and he understood—this was Mack’s heart card.

The mechanic thought, “This was part of the system we have been forced into.”

Without thinking, Joel reached out and grabbed the floating card. The moment his fingers closed around it, the glow intensified, surging through him like a jolt of electricity. It wasn’t hot, but he could feel its power humming beneath his skin, a strange warmth spreading through his arm.

“Mack… hold on,” Joel muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos around them. He clutched the heart card tightly, unsure of what to do next, but knowing one thing for certain: this card meant something. It was power, a chance—maybe even a lifeline in this nightmare.

But Joel didn’t know that Mack was already dead, but his panic wouldn’t let me register that.

Joel’s hands trembled with rage as he gripped Mack’s heart card, his knuckles turning white. He should’ve been home by now.

“Fucking Company,” he spat.

He should’ve been holding Oliver, cradling their new born daughter in his arms, not fighting for his life in this oil-stained nightmare. Instead, he was here—stuck in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by death, because the Company couldn’t let him go. Profits. Quotas. Overtime. They squeezed every last drop of blood and sweat from him and his crew, always pushing, always demanding more.

“They could’ve let us go,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of fury and exhaustion. The wind howled in his ears, but his words were sharper, cutting through the chaos. "But no. They kept us longer. Overtime, they said. Just one more shift, they said. Damn them."

Tears began to drip on Mack's lifeless body, but no one in the life raft judged him as he cradled the dead man’s body.

He could see it all so clearly now—those endless reports of safety being a priority, the slick corporate speeches about worker well-being, while the reality was anything but. Joel knew what mattered to them: numbers on a spreadsheet, barrels of oil, the bottom line. The people, their lives—his life—were expendable. If only they’d let him leave when he was supposed to, he’d be home now, wrapped in the warmth of his family. He should’ve been there for Oliver, watching their baby girl’s eyes flutter open for the first time, not stranded in a raft with monsters tearing apart everything he’d fought so hard to survive.

"They don’t care. They never cared," Darren growled back, the heat of anger burning through the exhaustion in his bones.

Joel's breath hitched as he thought of Oliver, waiting for him. Wondering why he hadn’t come home. What if he never made it back? What if this rig, this damn company, had taken everything from him? His chest tightened with the thought, his desperation mounting. "They took my time, they took everything. But they won’t take me. I’ll burn this whole place down before I let them stop me from getting home."

The other men nodded their agreement as they pushed forward, getting closer and closer to shore.

The dark water rippled ominously, a sleek, oily tentacle rising from the depths with terrifying purpose. It loomed over the raft, black as the void, glistening with an unnatural sheen in the pale moonlight. Joel’s heart slammed against his chest, his muscles tensing for the inevitable fight. He could see it now—this thing, whatever it was, wanted to devour them whole.

The others froze in panic, their paddles gripped tight, but useless against the beast. Joel’s eyes darted to Darren. "Darren! We need that lightning, now!"

The others added their screams to the panic.

Darren's face contorted with concentration, the earlier pain and fatigue forgotten in the face of survival. His hands began to crackle with faint energy, sparks flickering through his fingers. "It's ready!" he shouted, as a pulse of power surged through him. In an instant, Darren thrust his hand toward the tentacle, and the air itself seemed to tremble as a bolt of lightning exploded from his fingertips.

The lightning crashed into the tentacle, lighting up the dark sea with an electric blue glow. The creature shrieked—a high-pitched, ear-splitting wail that rattled through the night. Its oily skin sizzled where the lightning struck, the energy burning through its slick surface, forcing it to recoil.

A large piece of the tentacle was blown off the beast, and fell into the raft.

"Go! Paddle!" Joel barked, his voice commanding and fierce as the others snapped back into motion. They paddled furiously, adrenaline propelling their bodies through the exhaustion. Darren’s blast had bought them time, but the threat wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

As they pushed forward, the waves churned around them, the shore still painfully far in the distance. Joel’s gaze darted between the black waters and the horizon. They had to keep moving; the creature wasn’t finished. It lurked just beneath the surface, waiting.

Then before his eyes.

System Notification:

Heart Card detected potential resource.

Absorption Opportunity:

A severed Void Tentacle is available for integration into your Mechanist's Core. Absorbing this piece will unlock a Eldritch Adaptation ability.

WARNING: Power usage and control are limited by current Mechanic Level. Would you like to proceed with absorption?

[YES] | [NO]