Chương 77: Chapter 76 - Alpha (XXXVIII)

"Well, I guess it's finally time to go," Alonso said, calmly opening his eyes." Oh, at this rate, I thought you planned to spend the rest of your life here."

"How long has it been?"" This last session? Two hours and twenty-six minutes. Since you arrived on the island... well, 29 days already."

"29 days? Not too bad." He glanced at the shelter. His backpack was already packed, mostly with water. Only a small amount of cooked panther meat remained, as he had tested his ability to survive on raw scorpion meat thanks to his enhanced digestive system. It wasn't pleasant, but he needed as much space for water as possible—something he wouldn't easily find in the desert. Alonso packed everything and looked ahead, taking a deep breath.

He knew that reaching the center of the island meant he was more likely to encounter other humans. While the island was huge, its centralized circular design ensured that all survivors would eventually converge at the center. That was why he had delayed his journey—he understood the greatest threat here wasn't the creatures but other humans. The unpredictability of human behavior, the countless ways he could be attacked, made them far more dangerous than any animal.

Panthers, scorpions, and falcons were fast or strong, but ultimately predictable. Still, Alonso was confident. His progress had remained stagnant for nearly three weeks, but he knew his current self could easily defeat the man—or rather, the monster—he was 20 days ago. He'd run the simulation and proven it. Five of his old selves wouldn't stand a chance against him now. Even if the humans at the center had progressed faster by killing others or hunting new creatures, Alonso was sure he could hold his own.

He was nervous, but more than that, he was excited. His training had pushed him to his limits, but the creatures had become too weak to challenge him anymore. And for some strange, almost masochistic reason—perhaps to prove his hard work—he craved a real test. A true fight to show just how far he'd come. And so he began his journey. He maintained a comfortable pace of over 44 km/h—one he had refined during training by optimizing his footwork.

He had perfected movements for short, fast sprints, long distances, and various combat scenarios. Most importantly, this footwork allowed him to fully leverage one of his new skills: Fake Reality. It wasn't long before the first worm launched itself at him. Alonso didn't flinch. He kept his pace, eyes ahead, as if unaware of the threat. The worm flew toward his neck but—missed. Barely an inch from contact, yet it missed. He didn't look back, nor did he seem surprised.

Another worm erupted from the ground, piercing the empty air where Alonso had been just an instant ago. Again, it missed. His stride never faltered. A third, then a fourth—same result. Each attack met only the space left behind, as if he were a ghost. When three more worms appeared, Alonso made a slight sidestep, a flick of his wrist. The creatures lunged, but hit nothing but dirt. He didn't slow. Didn't pause.

Even when seven surrounded him, their strikes perfectly timed, he barely raised his buckler, deflecting two. He moved through the gap effortlessly. The worms thrashed behind him—none made contact. His pace stayed steady. The jungle blurred in the distance, and the desert came into view. Not even two hours had passed, and Alonso had traversed the full 70 km of jungle. Alonso draped his panther hide cloak over his shoulders as he entered the vast desert.

The cloak, though stiff, was the best he could fashion, shielding him from the relentless sun. The heat bore down, but with the cloak's protection, he remained unfazed, his rhythm unbroken. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. As he pressed forward, the first scorpion emerged from the sand, its massive pincers snapping at his legs. He didn't break stride. Alonso stepped over it, the scorpion's strike missing by a hair.

Its rattling claws sank back into the sand as he moved past without a glance. More scorpions began to appear, but Alonso ignored them, weaving through their ranks with minimal effort. When a cluster of them came too close, he even leaped onto one's back, riding it briefly before using its momentum to propel himself forward. He moved with an almost lazy grace, never engaging, as if the scorpions were nothing more than nuisances—mere distractions on his path.

The number of scorpions grew, half a dozen now trailing him, their strikes missing by mere inches. Alonso didn't flinch, his focus set on the horizon. It was as if a full-grown man was ignoring a group of playful kittens—effortless, almost amusing in its simplicity. The hours passed. Alonso's pace never wavered as he crossed the 100 km mark. Then 200 km. Then 300 km. Still, the scorpions chased him, their massive bodies rumbling behind, but he kept moving, ignoring their attacks as if they didn't exist.

Alonso watched with amusement as some of the scorpions that had been trailing him reached a certain range and then backed off, not engaging any further. It reminded him of an RPG game where monsters had an "aggro range" and guarded a specific area. Once outside that invisible boundary, they simply lost interest. At the 400 km mark, Alonso finally slowed down. Not because of the scorpions but out of casual necessity.

He reached for his water, taking a small sip, and nibbled on some meat from his pack—all while the giant scorpions still circled, snapping and rattling in the sand. He toyed with them, dodging their attacks with playful ease. Unbothered, he kept going, hydrated, fed, and still untouchable. Just after he crossed the 420 km mark, the sun completely set. As the sun disappeared, so did the scorpions.

A dozen of them had been surrounding him moments before, and now they were gone—not buried in the sand, not retreating into the distance, but vanished into thin air. He had seen it happen before, but it never failed to amaze him. It reinforced his theory that this whole experience might be some kind of simulation, where humans were selected—perhaps not physically, but mentally—for full immersion. How else could things appear and disappear so suddenly? In any case, he had decided not to dwell on it too much.

Thinking about it wasted valuable time, and with the limited information he had, there was no way to find the answer. The only way to learn the truth was to keep moving forward. And so he took out his water containers and drank a bit of the coconut water. As he did so, he noticed a falcon coming straight at him. He barely moved, and the bird shot past him, crashing into the sand as it failed to level its flight, misjudging its speed. Alonso kept drinking, casually stomping the falcon with his reinforced boots.

He decided to rest for a bit—though he couldn't afford to sit down, standing still was enough rest. The falcons kept coming, sometimes even two at once, but the result was always the same. None managed to hit him. After exactly fifteen minutes, he stretched slightly and resumed his journey. As he advanced, passing the 500 km mark, three falcons dove at him simultaneously. Then, after crossing the 600 km mark, four came at once.

But even then, he calmly deflected one with his buckler and effortlessly evaded the others, their attacks always just off the mark. And like that, Alonso reached the 700 km mark—or was close to it. But then, something caught his eye. A figure stood in the distance, looking directly at him. He quickly realized it wasn't just one person, but three.

"Seriously," he muttered under his breath. He glanced ahead, noticing how the barren desert was beginning to transition into a lush oasis. The bright green vegetation, in stark contrast to the endless sands he had crossed, stretched out before him, hinting at a lake in the center. Under different circumstances, the view would have been breathtaking—tranquil, even. But the three armed figures running toward him from the horizon ruined that sense of peace. Their approach was fast and deliberate.

Armed with swords, shields, and scavenged armor similar to his own, they looked well-prepared for a fight—experienced, even. Judging by their speed, they were faster than him, likely having more stage progress. Alonso's mind raced through the variables. He had successfully avoided direct confrontation for weeks, but now it seemed inevitable.

"Should I cross the 700 km mark now and engage, or retreat?"" The oasis isn't large, at most 7 km in radius based on our calculations of the island's size. If you go back now, they'll just guard it, and returning later will lead to the same confrontation. It's either fight now or retreat for a long time, hoping to lure them out or waiting for them to leave the island." Alonso's expression hardened. He took a deep breath, resolved—and then rushed forward.