(Strive 11:1)
“We’ll need to get off the beach as soon as we can,” said Artem as we rode upward in the elevator. “Giant crabs burrow under the sand, and they’re unfriendly at the best of times. When the towerquakes rile them up…” He left the sentence unfinished, but I could guess.
“Speaking of crabs, I could go for some seafood.” El spoke with her mouth stuffed with blue candy from Master Shaw’s prepayment. “All these candies… blue raspberry, blueberry, peppermint—you know, there’s not that many blue flavors. Gets dull real fast.”
“No one told you to limit yourself to those,” I said, chewing on a Peach Ring of Power that flooded me with vitality. “Hey, Artem, is it better to go wide or deep, stats-wise? El says deep, but I beg to differ.”
“If you don’t stop talking with your mouths full, both of you will be deep,” Artem rumbled. “Six feet deep.”
“I didn’t know they had that expression in the Kievan Rus’.”
“You can just say Russia,” said Artem, “and they don’t. Unfortunately, my mind has been polluted by your modern slang through the dubious magic of cultural exchange.” He raised his pure-red bracelet, and it flared with an aura of power. “This should suffice to answer your question.”
“We’re unlocking a whole new side of you, Artem,” said El. “Used to think you were a humorless prick, but now I see I was only half right.” She chittered in mirth, but in spite of the jab, I noticed she’d waited until after she swallowed to speak.
Meanwhile, Selene kept her eyes pinned to the floor indicator with the patience of a long-suffering commuter. As the elevator slowed its ascent, a beam of light swept down through the crack in the doors. Unlike Shinar’s magical beacon, this was harsh and searing, like an equatorial sun at noon.
"I already hate it.” El covered her eyes. “How much are we getting paid again?”
Ding! The doors opened, and I was blinded by the sudden glare. A rush of warm air brought the tang of salt and the sound of waves. Stepping out of the elevator, my foot sank into what felt like fine sand. My eyes started to adjust, and I saw the sky, impossibly vast and blue, and a coastline girdled by an expanse of sparkling water. On the other side, the sand turned to rocks, sloping up into a jagged line of cliffs.
The elevator line ended unceremoniously in the middle of the beach, its dial all the way to the right. It sat unmoving, seeming almost embarrassed to spoil paradise with its gaudy modernity. As I looked closer, I saw that what Hilbert had said was true: this was the first elevator with a down button.
Artem and Selene wasted no time, making a beeline for the rocky cliffs. After a moment’s hesitation, El and I followed.
“What’s the plan after we make it off the beach?” I asked. The sand made it hard to move quickly, and I felt like I was already sweating. “Actually, what’s the plan in general? Just head toward the next floor elevator?”
“Yes,” said Artem, at the same time Selene replied, “No.”
They glared at each other, or rather, he glared at her while she looked calmly back at him. “We need to first determine where the next floor is,” she said. “These floors change as swift as water. Heading to where the elevator used to be’s like dropping your sword off a boat and reaching down an hour later, expecting it to still be there.”
“Fair enough.” Artem folded his massive arms. “So what do you suggest?”
“I still have my oracular powers. Provide me with the raw materials and I can divine a path forward. In other words…” Selene’s violet eye flashed in the sun. “Let’s go crab-hunting.”
----------------------------------------
Artem volunteered himself as bait, pounding the sand with an aura-packed fist, and I welcomed the opportunity to see Power Strike in action. His left hand twitched and the bracelet sparkled garnet-red, before he slammed his right down with an immense thud, throwing up a blinding cloud of sand that suggested his fist weighed about as much as a falling semi-truck.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“So there’s no time limit?” I asked, covering my face. “How does it determine what constitutes an attack?”
“Good questions.” Artem sounded surprised. “There may be hope for you yet. No time limit. Activation merely requires a certain threshold of muscle contraction to be met.”
I thought for a moment. “Could I make any muscle execute a Power Strike? The tongue is a muscle.”
Artem stopped punching the sand for a moment to reply. “I take back what I said about you having hope. That is, quite possibly, the stupidest thing I’ve ever—”
The sand erupted underneath us, sending both Artem and me flying. I landed on my hands and feet, while Artem dropped heavily on his side. Nearby, Selene and El rushed over in preparation for combat.
The armored crustacean was huge, built like a tank, and it snapped mean-looking pincers at me. Somehow, I doubted even a Hardened fist would get through to it, though I cast the spell on myself as a protective measure. The burning aura actually made the tropical heat more tolerable.
“Plan?” I asked Artem, who was pushing himself off the ground.
“Hit it hard,” he grunted, and rushed at it with his fist raised. His fingers twitched, and a blood-red aura enfolded him before a second wrapped around his fist. The crab swung a greatsword-like claw, but it clanged off his aura and bounced back, throwing the crab off-balance. Artem thrust his fist forward, and it tore a hole through the crab’s carapace. The crab jerked away, scuttling sideways toward Selene and El.
There was a series of sharp cracks as El’s Firecracker popped near the crab’s face. Most of the explosions missed, but one of them took out the crab’s eyestalks, and it ran right between the woman and raccoon, colliding with the cliff wall. Its mouth foamed as it clamped its claws blindly, tearing at the rock wall as if it were trying to burrow into it.
“You.” Artem pointed at me with an arm covered in yellow crab gunk. “Finish it off. Don’t damage its shell too much.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
I approached the wounded crab, my aura burning around me. Its flailing limbs made me cringe, but I reminded myself that they wouldn’t penetrate my shield and pressed forward. At an opportune moment, I ducked under its shell and threw an uppercut through the bottom of its carapace. Hot crab innards spilled out on me, sizzling against my fiery cloak, then I was pelted with an array of what felt like both candies and small coins that adhered to the crab glue. Gagging, I tramped off toward the water to clean myself off.
“No!” said Artem. “They hunt in packs. Stay on the rocks.”
“Aw, hell,” I said. “You mean I can’t rinse this off? I smell like the dishwashing station at a Red Lobster.”
“You’ll have to bear with it.” I could’ve sworn Artem cracked a slight smile, that fucker.
“Well, I need to detonate my shield at least, so I’ll be right back. If you hear a big explosion and see crab parts flying everywhere, that’s just me.”
After ducking behind a rocky outcropping to deactivate Harden, I found that our commissary-supplied expedition kit included a trusty bath towel, and I was able to get myself somewhat cleaned up. The candies that had fallen from the crab onto me were entirely melted, but I pocketed the Floor Eleven Tokens. To the victor went the spoils, after all.
On my return, Selene was sitting next to the crab’s shell, performing a long sequence of hand signs that wrapped around her wrist in ribbons of text. The white characters formed a full sleeve on her arm before flowing into her upturned palm.
“Scapulimancy,” said Artem. “But you might know it better as oracle bone divination.”
With an azure spark in her right eye, she slammed her hand down on the crab’s carapace.
There was a hot blue flame and a loud crack. The monstrous shell jerked as a network of deep cuts suddenly spiderwebbed across it, forming something that looked like esoteric writing. Selene traced each line with her finger, gazing at the shell intensely, her eye alit with an inner flame. The slashes on the crab felt uncannily like language, but their interpretation was out of my reach.
Her brow furrowed with each line she read, and her mouth moved silently. Then, her blue eye dulled, and she sagged back. Artem caught her and lowered her gently to the ground, retrieving a refreshing beverage from his inventory.
“It’s not good,” she said, holding the drink with both hands.
“What do you mean?” El asked, looking like she’d been the one the crab spilled its guts on.
Selene took a long sip, then coughed. “First off, my readings indicate she’s not on the floor, which isn’t unexpected. But this second part is new. It’s saying the entrance to the twelfth floor… it's that way.” She pointed past the beach, at the endless expanse of water.