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Chapter 168 - Pangea (XLVII)
🕑 Added 2025-01-08 01:00:05 +0000 UTC“Houston?”
“…”
“Houston, fuck, are you there?!”
“Hmmm? Well… this is certainly une—”
“HAHAHAHA!” I laugh loudly, letting it all out. Finally… I really missed that voice.
“So the red orb, huh? And that new item, it looks promising.”
“Oh, come on, you just came back. Take a break. Chill out with Darius and—”
“Darius? How do you know that name?”
Shit.
“Well… anyway, he’ll let you know. Take it easy. We’ll talk more later.”
Will he get mad if he knew we entered his home? Probably. Well, whatever—he’d get mad regardless. But… he was back. That is all that mattered.
I smile. It worked.
I turn to face Ayu.
I notice the slight confusion on her face. Well, she probably thinks I’m crazy, laughing like that on my own.
Let’s distract her, then.
I grin and focus my waves on the metallic filaments attached to the new shoulder pads. They respond instantly, almost too easily.
With minimal effort, I maneuver one of them to pick up an orb, levitating it right in front of her. For a second, I consider going further—kneeling down, like a wedding proposal—but maybe that’s a bit too much. Yeah… she’s already embarrassed enough.
I laugh as she quickly snatches it, and I notice the effect immediately. The same cape-like structure, with seven segmented filaments, forms at her back, swaying lightly.
This new item was definitely something. Its potential was endless—a game-changer. Mobility, attack, defense—it could do it all. To say it might redefine how I fight moving forward wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
Well, I’ll figure it all out later.
I extend my fist toward her, and she responds without hesitation, bumping her fist into mine.
Not bad for our first date, huh?
I glance around. The waves of jellyfish are drifting away now, their glow painting the space in a soft, ethereal light. Beautiful, to say the least.
My gaze shifts to Chiara and the others.
I let my eyes linger on her for a moment and offer a slight nod.
Further out, as the Lurkers scatter, I spot more climbers—a couple dozen of them.
I pay them no mind, turning my focus back to Ayu.
I send her an image—us battling the boss, cartoonish in style, with the boss lying defeated, a skull and crossbones over its eyes, and the two of us bumping fists. At the end, an interrogation mark hovers. How was it?
She smiles and sends back an image—a big red heart.
I chuckle.
Then I send her another: one showing her returning with me to the Isles, and another of her heading back to the camp with the others, followed by another interrogation mark.
Her answer comes quicker than I expect.
Not with an image, but by taking my right hand and meeting my eyes, the answer clear in her gaze.
I can’t deny—it warms my heart.
I nod.
We start walking back. On the way, I extend my left arm, magnetizing the gauntlet lying on the ground and pulling it back to me. It snaps perfectly into place on my arm.
I can’t help but feel like a certain comic superhero, and seeing Ayu’s impressed look is a definite bonus.
I stare at the remaining five orbs, and for a moment, I consider staging another mock fight with the others, but… it would be pointless. They’re far too weak, and honestly, I’m not in the mood.
Houston is back, and I can finally relax. With Ayu by my side, the rest? I couldn’t care less.
Houston was seated on a wooden chair in Darius' small cave abode. In front of him was a chessboard, the game well into its late stage. Darius sat silently on the other side.
Houston’s hands were interlocked, his index finger tapping gently on his knuckles. Seconds passed in silence.
“Anything else?”
“No,” Darius replied evenly.
Several more seconds stretched before Houston leaned back, finally breaking the silence.
“Send me the recordings of everything that happened, including your visual memories from when he was here. It wasn’t the outcome I desired, but it is what it is. I’ll research on the possibility of him appearing in this place. While it’s not what I wanted, the fact remains—he’s been here, he knows about you, he read my notes. And mourning my loss with spars and sex, no less—"
He took a deep breath, visibly working to calm himself. “Ok… ok.” He tapped his finger on the table again before continuing. “I’ll review the data, and we’ll discuss this later. But that was not a good call, Darius. Him coming to this space was inevitable, but you showing him my stuff? You must understand—what I write and how I write it is for my use only. To him, it’d come across as cold, clinical—cold hard science, devoid of any emotion. That’s not the impression I want him to have of me. And no matter how you justify it, I see no way that helped him—or me.”
Darius remained quiet, his gaze steady.
Houston’s eyes narrowed.
“And the red orb. I know you knew it was the only solution from the start, yet you withheld it deliberately so he could 'find it himself'—and conveniently used that as an excuse to let him see my notes. That was intentional. You wanted that. You and your little games. But for what? I don’t think you want him to distance himself from me, so what’s your purpose?”
Darius’s serious facade began to fade, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“As expected of my dear brother. You know me best.”
“Fuck, Darius. If I didn’t know you genuinely wanted the best for him—in your own messed-up way—I’d try to erase you, no matter the cost.”
“Oh, but can you?” Darius mused, his tone light but pointed. “Trust me. You do you, and I do I. We both seek the best for him. It’s just a matter of… perspective, you might say.”
Houston shook his head and stood, his lab coat shifting slightly with the movement.
“I’m not even sure I want Alonso coming back here, no matter the potential for growth this place has.”
“You may not want to, but you will,” Darius replied, a faint smile on his face. “You’d do anything to make him stronger, just like I would. So don’t lie to yourself, my brother. You’ll bring Alonso here, and when he comes, we’ll receive him together—like the two good brothers we are.”
Houston’s eyes locked onto Darius, cold and heavy. The moment lingered.
Then, without a word, Houston vanished.
Darius was left alone. He lifted his hand and moved his bishop forward.
“And that would be check.”
October 11, 2024 - Melbourne, Australia
“Update the review, MAI,” Jack ordered.
Survival rates update since 0 days ago (individual/non-cumulative):
Completion of 1st Floor: 100% → 100%
Completion of 2nd Floor: 100% → 100%
Completion of 3rd Floor: 95% →96%
Completion of 4th Floor: 100% → 100%
Completion of 5th Floor: 100% → 100%
Completion of 6th Floor: 98% → 99%
Completion of 7th Floor: 98% → 99%
Overall chance of overcoming the first tier: 91.2% → 94.0%
Weak areas:
Lack of former combat and military training.
Strong areas:
Perseverance
Adaptability
Strong will
Remarkable control of EM waves
Suggested exercises:
Advanced combat simulations
World ranking (limited to current VR users):
93rd percentile
Jack stared at the numbers, his gaze cold, with barely a flicker of emotion. For more than a month, he had been training relentlessly, day after day, with nothing else in mind.
He was essentially a hostage at this base—he knew it. They might sugarcoat it, but he wouldn’t forget the way that smug bitch looked at them, as if they were mere bugs beneath her notice.
Sure, they were being paid well, but fuck the money.
Since Captain Goodfred left, everyone had been cold to them, masking their disdain behind a thin veneer of politeness. Especially that Étienne. In comparison, at least the white-blond-haired bitch didn’t bother to hide her contempt.
That was fine by him. He’d learned to channel that frustration, that anger, into better performances during the simulations.
His eyes drifted to the date. Just one more week until the Second Ascent.
He wished, with every fiber of his being, to be chosen. More than anything, he wanted that strength, that power he’d glimpsed in the rare recordings of second-tier returnees. The way they moved, the way they wielded superhuman skills—levitating metallic objects with just a thought.
It was incredible.
He desired it.
Would she dare look at him the same way if he reached the second tier? And what about the tier beyond that? He would be a god to them. They… they would have no choice but to fear him, to respect him.
Just like they had for Alonso. One of the only 34 remaining climbers in The Tower, with a full military base erected just for him.
Jack clenched his fists. He would follow that path. He would give everything for it.
“Hi, Jack. Morales’ speech will be starting soon. You are advised to—”
“I won’t watch it. Give me the bullet points after she finishes spewing the same shit as always.”
“Understood.”
Morales. He was sick of that name. The face of the moment. Fuck her.
A tier 2 returnee—that’s who should be leading this campaign. A person who had endured every trial without warning, without preparation. That’s who he wanted to see on the screen. That’s who he wanted to hear from.
The cold, hard facts. Hunting tips. The dangers they faced. The power they wielded. That’s what he yearned for.
But no. There were only rare recordings, scraps of interviews. And those who did speak? They looked more like tamed animals than the wild beasts he had imagined.
Sure, there was plenty of news about minor incidents caused by tier 1 returnees all over the world, but tier 2 ones? Nothing. Not a single story. It made no sense. And yet, he knew why.
The governments. The military. The worldwide organizations pulling the strings. They had them leashed, collared, controlled. Threatened, maybe. He didn’t know the details, but he was sure of it.
And he… he hated it.
And yet, he knew. They might leash the current returnees, but what if they kept climbing? What then? What would happen when they reached the limits of Stage 1—or even the rumored Stage 2? Could they leash them then?
He chuckled. That day. That day would come.
“Incoming audio message from Pablo.”
Hmm?
“Play it.”
“Wanna watch the speech over some chips and beer?” Pablo’s voice rang out, casual as ever.
Jack frowned. He hesitated for a moment. He really didn’t want to watch that crap. But… he could use the break.
Pablo had been off lately. Unlike him, Pablo had two modes—either shutting himself off from the world for days or suddenly becoming overly active and socially engaging. And while the former matched his current situation, not being able to release his pent-up energy was clearly wearing him down.
Jack sighed.
He sent a message back.
“How many tinnies are we talking about?”
Then, shaking his head, he turned off the VR setting.
Arjun’s eyes lingered on him as he left.
His fist clenched, trembling with anger. Not at Alonso—no, not this time. For the first time, there was no hatred, no bitterness toward him.
The anger was at himself.
He hated his own weakness, his own uselessness, his own pathetic self.
The truth was clear now. The gap between them wasn’t just a matter of Stage Progress or skill. No. It was a whole damn world. Alonso had grown stronger at a rate that left them all behind, faster than anything Arjun could have imagined. He wasn’t the same man who had dueled Siddharth.
He wasn’t just stronger—he had transcended his former self.
Arjun’s chest ached, his heart pounding, his grip tightening around his sword. He had been fighting relentlessly—day and night—training, refining his stances, mastering the waves, pouring every ounce of himself into it all.
Then why? Why was the difference still so vast? Why did it feel like he was standing still while Alonso soared?
What… what could he do?
Was it a question of talent? Of fate? Was Alonso simply… better? A genius?
No. No, he wouldn’t accept that. He had known the truth since he was a child.
Born geniuses fade. True geniuses? They build themselves into one.
He lifted his gaze to the sky, the sun glaring down on him, relentless.
Perhaps… perhaps he wasn’t doing enough.
He was still alive. Still breathing. So could he truly say he had pushed to his absolute limits?
No.
He hadn’t.
But… he would.
