Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 12: Ocean’s Law
The first man is only six feet away, reaching out his hand, relief washing over his face. He thinks I’m saving him.
I don’t run away. I lunge forward, throwing my arms open as if to embrace a long-lost brother.
He smiles, confused, extending his hand.
At the last fraction of a second, I drop.
I throw my weight down, twisting my body into a desperate roll through the mud.
*Slash.*
I’m fast, but not fast enough.
The vine meant for my neck grazes my back. It’s not a blunt impact; it’s a razor. I feel the bark tear through my shirt and skin like a hot knife. A line of fire erupts across my shoulder blades.
"Argh!"
I hit the ground, gritting my teeth against the searing pain.
Above me, the vine misses its primary target—me—but it finds an obstruction.
The man I "embraced."
He doesn’t even have time to scream. The vine, carrying the momentum meant to kill me, slams into his chest, winding around him instantly.
He is yanked upward so hard his shoes leave the mud.
I scramble away on all fours, gasping, feeling warm blood soaking my ruined shirt.
Too close, I think, my vision blurring for a second from the pain.
Way too close.
When I try to look up, the whole world spins. My body goes numb for a moment, like I was shocked by a live wire.
Fucking technician... I guess that "maybe" you said did not pay off. Of course I wasn’t as healthy as I looked... I wonder if it’s a side effect of the time jump...
I wait a second or two to collect my thoughts. It felt like eons. But given that I’m still here, I guess they made it in time.
I shake my head.
The System gave me a surfboard? Fine. Then I’ll surf this chaos, fuck it!
Marcus looks at me, confusion clouding his eyes. He saw the men die right where I was standing. But he doesn’t have time to question what really happened.
We push forward.
My back screams. A reminder that I’m not a superhero and that experience doesn’t buy physical skill.
I continue my plan to remain in the shadow of those being pulled along. But as the herd thins, progress slows to a crawl.
Minutes turn into an eternity.
Eventually, Marcus is alone. His "squad" is gone—sacrificed so he could keep running. He is swinging his club at a bush, roaring like a cornered beast, losing his mind.
I look back. A few stragglers are frozen with fear near the entrance. They’ll probably die there—from the cold, from hunger, or OXI depletion. There’s no shortage of ways to die here.
Up ahead, the mist finally clears. I can see the hard, dry dirt of the safe zone. Just sixty feet away.
But there is one final guardian.
A massive, bloated tree stands directly in the center of the exit path. Its vines are twitching, hungry. It hasn’t fed yet. It is fully active.
To the left and right, thick thorny bushes block the way. The only path is through the tree’s kill zone.
I slow down, gasping for air. We need bait.
Marcus is running beside me. He sees the tree. He sees the exit behind it.
Then, he looks at me.
We stop. The silence between us is heavy.
"We can’t both make it," Marcus pants, wiping blood from his eyes. "The root system covers the whole gap."
"We need a synchronized run," I suggest, feigning desperation. "If we split left and right at the exact same second, the tree might hesitate. It can only grab one."
"Fifty-fifty odds," Marcus mutters.
"Better than zero," I say.
My back feels heavy. The wound has stopped bleeding, but the pain has settled into a cold, deep throb.
I decide to sit down right there, in the middle of the mud. It’s a safe spot, and resting before the final move won’t change the odds.
Marcus sits next to me, shoulders slumped. He is rubbing the face of his watch with his thumb, cleaning mud that isn’t there.
"It says thirty feet depth," he whispers, not looking at me. "The sensor says we are underwater. But we’re breathing air right now."
He pauses, staring at the blinking numbers.
"They told me," he mutters, shaking his head. "In the briefing... they said the pressure rules were different. But how the hell can physics change this much?"
He taps the glass hard. Once. Twice. Trying to force the Earth’s logic back into the machine.
"Ignore it," I say cold. "Ocean’s Law isn’t physics. It’s authority."
He lowers his hand, shaking.
"Do you have family?" Marcus asks suddenly.
"Unfortunate is the one who has no one to care about," I say, dodging the question.
Of course I do. They’re the only reason I’m willing to get my hands this dirty here.
"Well, I have two boys. Twins," Marcus says, forcing a strained smile. "I bet they’re playing video games right now, ignoring my wife’s call."
"My family is very poor. I’ve never been able to afford a video game," I reply softly. "Your boys are blessed. They’ll be fine."
"If you say so. I need to survive. I hope you can help me with that."
"Of course," I reply as I stand up.
Marcus follows me.
"On three?" I say.
He nods. "On three." He gets into position.
"One... Two..."
He tenses. His eyes dart to the watch one last time. The depth gauge is blinking. He needs surface.
For a split second, the panic in his eyes vanishes, replaced by a cold, animalistic calculation.
The "Hero" mask slips. He realizes the math too.
Two men. One tree. One exit.
Perhaps the memory of his family consumed him with despair. You never know the true face of a human being until everything they have is at stake.
He doesn’t wait for "Three" and lunges at me.
His heavy hands shoot out, aiming to shove me into the mud—right into the tree’s trigger zone. A sacrifice to clear his path.
But Thirstfall doesn’t reward hope.
The moment his fingers brush my shirt with malicious intent, the air around him snaps.
A ripple of blue static explodes from his chest. It’s not a spell. It’s the world rejecting his violence.
"GAAAAH!"
Marcus freezes mid-shove. His hands lock up. His eyes bulge as if an invisible noose just tightened around his neck.
[System Warning: PvP Violation detected outside Oathring.]
[Penalty: -50 OXI. Respiratory Collapse applied (5s).]
He stumbles, clutching his throat, gasping for air that isn’t there.
I watch him, unimpressed. I knew it.
Do you think I’m stupid, Marcus?
Why do you think I didn’t push anyone into the roots back there?
Why did I only run?
Not because I’m a saint. But because I know the Ocean’s Law.
I wish I could explain it to him, but I have no time to waste. His paralysis won’t last forever.
Aggression outside an Arena costs Scales. If you’re broke, it costs breath.
He handed me a five-second window on a silver platter.
4...
"Well, you clearly didn’t listen to the briefing, did you? Amateur..." I whisper.
3...
I step into his personal space. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. He is a statue of regret.
"Self-defense," I say, grabbing his frozen wrist, "is tax-free."
2...
I don’t need strength. Gravity and his own momentum do the work. I pivot, pulling his stiff arm, guiding his stumbling body forward.
I release him.
Marcus lurches into the kill zone, his paralysis ending just in time for him to scream.
*Snap.*
The response is instant. A thick vine shoots down, wrapping around his neck. Another grabs his ankle.
"No! Wait! Help—"
The scream is cut short as he is yanked into the air. The tree groans, its bark splitting open to welcome the large meal.
The path is clear.
I don’t look back at him. I sprint underneath his dangling, thrashing body. I feel the wind of his struggle, but the tree is busy. It ignores me completely.
I vault over the final root and burst out of the mist.
My boots impact hard, dry earth.
The atmospheric shift is instant. The stench of rot vanishes, replaced by dry dust.
I roll to a stop and stand up, brushing the dirt off my knees.
Behind me, the mist stops like a wall. Inside, the screaming continues, but fading.
I look back at the edge of the forest. I can see Marcus’s legs disappearing into the gray trunk. The tree pulses, satisfied.
I touch the spot on my chest where he tried to push me.
"You were right, Marcus," I say to the silence. "Grouping up really did save lives."
I turn around and walk into the wasteland.
"Mine."
