CHAPTER ONE - Salt Upon The Lips
“Where am I?”
The blazing sun roasted Ambrose from above as he starfished across the unsteady waves. The soft trickle of water sloshed near his head as the smell of salty brine penetrated his nose. His body felt weightless, buoyed by the dense water that held him afloat. He could feel his skin wrinkling in contact with the water, a thin film of sweat beading his exposed flesh.
As he floated he could feel the tendrils of the ocean lapping at his skin, the coolness of it offering a momentary respite from the relentless heat. The taste of salt upon his lips, from sweat and sea, left a sour tang in his dry mouth.
A hard object bumped into his extended arm and he turned his head sideways in response. The floating driftwood drifted lazily in the waves of ocean water.
In the sky, white clouds blew in the wind with no care in the world. The shadows of birds displayed their presence in circling patterns above Ambrose’s figure. Like vultures getting ready to feast upon the dead. He could hear the cry of a seagull in the distance, the rush of the air as it skipped across the waves. Despite his predicament, it calmed his nerves.
Despite the heat, his sense of smell was heightened by the salt-enriched air around him. He could detect the strong aroma of fish and seaweed.
“Am I dead?” The young adult thought lethargically. His mind felt as if it had been dipped into syrup and left to ferment.
But then, all at once, his mind snapped into motion as a booming voice shouted in his head and small words appeared in front of his eyes.
[Welcome, denizens of galaxy #49573MW, to the Survival Games]
The voice left as quickly as it came, leaving Ambrose confused and now fully conscious.
“What the hell!?” Ambrose muttered, his mouth opened enough to let in some of the salt water. His face grimaced in disgust before spitting out the vile substance. Turning his head, he soon found the floating driftwood that had bumped against him earlier. He quickly swam over and latched on. He could feel the rough texture of the wood against his skin. He pulled himself up onto the driftwood and clung to it tightly, using it to keep himself afloat and conserve his strangely aching legs. Despite Ambrose’s weight, the driftwood held him steady.
As he lay there, he took a moment to assess his situation. He was still stranded in the middle of the ocean, with no idea how he had gotten there, and desperately in need of something to drink. His parched throat pleaded with him to find something, and fast.
As Ambrose floated on the driftwood, he scanned the horizon for any sign of rescue, no matter how unlikely it seemed. Perhaps this was some of a prank. Those reality TV shows were undoubtedly fake. One where they inconvenience a random person to an extreme extent but shelled out a large sum of cash as recompense.
Or something much stranger had happened. The booming voice, the hidden malice in those words. Most mysterious was the reality of giant fog walls boxing in Ambrose.
Ambrose stared at the four corners of the place, never having seen anything like it before. Roiling steam or white gas bashed against an invisible surface as if it was trying to get in. The walls reached up into the air and across the sky, as if the walls reached the edge of the atmosphere.
How Ambrose desperately wished it was the first option.
Eventually, during his scanning, he spotted a small island in the distance, barely visible against the bright blue sky and roiling white walls.
His heart leapt with hope at the sight of the tiny landmass and he quickly began to paddle towards it, using his cupped hands to propel himself through the water. With every stroke, Ambrose felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination, fueled by the possibility of standing on solid ground.
As he grew closer, he could make out the sand-filled shoreline and the scattered palm trees, along with a small rocky outcropping. The island couldn’t have had more surface area than the inside of a school bus.
Ambrose didn’t let that deter him and he paddled with growing excitement, the promise of shelter underneath the shade of the palm leaves filled him with hope.
Eventually, he reached the solid mass of the sandy beach. Pebbles, sticks, and loose natural debris dotted the otherwise pristine surroundings.
His body, not used to such physical exertion, collapsed under the nearest palm tree. The cool shade was almost blissful compared to the unwavering heat of the cruel sun. He had been adrift on the ocean, trapped within these walls for an indiscernible amount of time. His heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of uncertainty and fear plaguing his thoughts.
“What the hell is going on?” Ambrose quietly spoke to himself. He pushed himself off the abrasive sand. He clenched his teeth in pain as the grains dug into his vulnerable sunburned skin. His pale tone had turned a bright shade of red that stuck at each touch. His legs hurt the worst, and his shins, which had been constantly above the water, were now covered in sand. Wiping away the torturous substance was worse than letting it stay clinging to his hair and skin.
He waded back out to the ocean water in an attempt to brush off the sand. He’d need to dry off again but the cool liquid alleviated the pain somewhat.
As he looked out to the sea, Ambrose noticed a wooden crate floating in the water. For a brief second his heart leaped with unfathomable excitement but was soon replaced by apprehension and caution. It was the first sign of anyone else. The first sign that he wasn’t alone out here. He scanned the horizon, looking for anything out of place but the reflection of the sun against the cloudy walls proved too difficult to look at.
Seeing the crate get further away as he battled with his inner thoughts, Ambrose made a quick decision and dove into the water, rushing after the escaping mystery. Within seconds he grabbed the cube-like container and slowly pushed it to shore, heaving for breath after successfully dragging it onto the beach. His legs ached with the strain and his lungs felt ready to burst.
Ambrose cursed his body for not the first time. Too many take-out dinners and all-day snacks had left him out of shape.
He shook his head to dispel the intrusive thoughts.
Sand clung to his wet skin but a quick rinse in the water get rid of the worst of the sand. His underwear, the only article of clothing that he had woken up with was waterlogged. He loathed taking them off, even if he was the only person on the small island. Thus they remained on. Even if they clung to his skin and pinched at his hair, he wasn’t ready to become nude quite yet.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The curly-haired man splashed some of the water onto himself to wash away the sand from when he sat down, much to his relief.
For a while Ambrose stood there as he looked off into the distance, his thoughts racing.
Before waking up in this strange place, he remembered listening to a lecture at the university he was attending. The topic escaped him, but he did recall getting extremely tired and falling asleep. The next thing he knew, he was here.
A string of words floated across his vision. What he once thought was a hallucination might now be able to answer some questions.
[Welcome, denizens of galaxy #49573MW, to the Survival Games]
[Initiate Tutorial? Yes/No]
Ambrose gazed at the floating prompt and felt an uncontrollable burst of laughter burst out from him. The laughter bubbled up from deep within him, a release of pent-up tension and anxiety. It was a laugh tinged with exhaustion and desperation. His chest shook with exhaustion and small tears built up in the corners of his eyes.
“I’ve gone crazy! I’ve read too many novels and now I’m suffering for it,” the sunburnt college student lifted his arms into the air and cried out.
“Yes! Start the damn tutorial!” He screamed at the words and swung his right hand through the question.
[Tutorial accepted. Initiating questI]
[Quest: Survival I - craft a stone axe to harvest wood
Reward: Palm Leaf Hat (Trash), Quest: Survival II, General Information (Trash)]
Ambrose stood transfixed by the new view. The quest prompt filled a corner of his vision but also brought up what could only be described as a game-like screen.
[Status]
[Craft]
[Inventory]
[Trade]
[Chat]
His mouth hung open in shock as his fingers trailed down the list of options. The whole scenario felt like something out of a book or game. His mind flashed back to the first prompt.
[Welcome, denizens of galaxy #49573MW, to the Survival Games]
“So it is a survival game,” his voice was soft but his facial features hardened into frustration. He remained silent as he continued to look over the options on his screen. A blinking symbol of a treasure chest in the corner of his vision garnered his focus. The chest glowed with a golden, inviting aura.
Ambrose mentally pressed on the icon, and more screens filled his vision.
[Starter Kit Claimed]
A couple of items fell to his feet, most obvious was the canteen that fell with a heavy thud onto the sand below. He dove into the container and felt his shaking fingers fumble with the seal, a second later the latch swung open and Ambrose raised it above his mouth.
He moaned in pleasure. Never had water tasted so sweet and refreshing. Ice-cold liquid rushed into his gullet until nothing remained. He gasped for breath and clenched his stomach as it felt like a deep stone had landed in his stomach. A wave of nausea hit him like a gut punch and he doubled over in pain. His head began to spin, he felt dizzy and disoriented. He clenched his teeth at the pain and took a few moments for the experience to fade away.
He had once consumed an entire gallon of water in under a minute as a dare. It took less than another minute for him to vomit bile-filled liquid onto the playground. The mockery that followed stopped Ambrose from doing similar actions.
Until now. His thoughts had been so consumed by the thought of relief from the scratching pain in his throat that all else seemed pointless in comparison. Ambrose thanked his luck that he was able to keep it down this time.
He slowly looked around at the other items that had fallen into the sand. He noticed first a small black cubed that glowed with purple lines. The lights seemed dim and disoriented, alighting sporadically and with varying intensity.
The other item was a small wooden compass that would fit in the palm of his hand. A small green pointer was directed towards one of the walls, unmoving. Although nothing else was indicated within its open surface.
As Ambrose leaned in closer to examine the two items another prompt filled his vision.
[Runic Raft (Trash) - Use this to traverse the waters. It will serve as your home and storage. Be careful not to lose as you will only be gifted one]
[Runic Compass (Soulbound) (Trash) - One of many unique items given to each player in the Survival Games. Will point towards an undiscovered treasure a number of times dependent on rank. Uses reset daily. 1/1 Uses Remaining]
The cube caught his attention immediately, the description and prompt filling his vision being completely outrageous when looking at the cube that could fit within the palm of his hand. Simply by being near it he could feel a faint pulse within his chest, a buzz of energy. Ambrose couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of alien technology.
And who, or what, was running this giant mystery from behind the scenes?
Ambrose felt his blood run cold despite the heat. A shiver of fear raised the skin of his flesh, bumps rippling across his skin, not unlike the waves of the ocean.
He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave it alone. The fear of the unknown and the foreign device unsettled his nerves. But his curiosity got the best of him. With a swift hand, he grasped the cube with his fingers and instantly felt a connection form between him and the device. He now knew that this thing was more than some sort of technology, it was almost magic.
With a flex of his will, Ambrose pointed the cube into the waters nearest to the beach. Purple energy crackled along the obsidian outside of the box before shooting off into the water. A splash of mist crested upon the shore. Ambrose wiped the spots out of his eyes and gasped at the sight that floated before him.
A raft tied together through what appeared to be roughly intertwined fibers. Thick, buoyant logs comprised the body. A single wooden paddle rested upon the surface. The entire vessel appeared primitive yet sturdy, providing no comfort but not easily destroyable.
It was small, only able to allow Ambrose to lie down sideways with a bit of extra space. It couldn’t have been longer than 10 feet with a width of around six feet.
“I’m expected to live on this?” A tinge of disbelief crept into his voice. He was used to living in a small room, sharing one with another person even, but the bare raft made it seem so much smaller and exposed. A brush of the ocean wind reminded him that there were many things out of his control.
Ambrose turned to the other item, the wooden compass. The surface of the time appeared worn and scratched. Some scratches appeared almost symbolic in appearance but were either too faded to make out or too badly damaged by the damage. He grabbed the compass in his hand, and much like the cube turned raft, he instantly understood how to use it.
He mulled over his options briefly, he could either use it now and see if there was any hidden treasure nearby or search for a hidden treasure in hopes there was more than one. The almost game-like power caused him to forget his woes for the moment.
He calmed his racing heart and slowly put the compass down. There were still too many questions that remained unanswered before he started messing around with tech created by whatever had abducted him.
Deciding that he needed more information, Ambrose tinkered with the prompts, bringing up the previous screen and pushing it away. He soon found out that the entire operation could be both mentally and physically interacted with. Although using mental commands seemed to form a small pounding in the back of his head.
“Fine, I’ll keep it simple.” He let out a frustrated groan. He could feel himself wasting time, not wanting to truly accept what was happening. He could feel it in himself that once he started truly messing with the prompt options or engaging in the tutorial then there would be absolutely no turning back.
It scared him. He missed his mother, father, brother, and friends.
His family…
Ambrose stopped cold. He pulled up the game-like prompt once more.
[Status]
[Craft]
[Inventory]
[Trade]
[Chat]
He looked at the last option and with an ember of hope he pressed on it with shaking fingers.
[Chat - Disabled until completion of tutorial]
“Fuck!”