Five minutes later, the waves washed Marisol ashore onto a rocky, spiky beach. Solid ground never felt so comforting beneath her glaives, and the moment she could get out of the water, she did—making it thirty skips deep onto the island before she fell flat on her face, her whole body aching all over.

… Nope, she thought. Can't walk anymore. Need to sit. It's safe to rest here, right?

[Well, you are deep enough onto the island that the tidal waves would not pull you back out, so perhaps,] the Archive said, shrugging on her shoulder, [or perhaps not.]

How useful you are. Goodnight.

[It is currently one in the afternoon.]

Ignoring the Archive, she closed her eyes and let herself drift off into a half-conscious state. It didn't matter, the waves were crashing hard against the shore behind her, a constant pounding rhythm in her ears. Mutating glaives for legs had taken more out of her than she'd been aware of, and now that she had a chance to recuperate, she had to take it.

The Archive grumbled, playing along for what was probably ten, twenty, or even thirty minutes. She heard it counting down the time in her head, debating whether or not she'd recovered enough so it could tell her to move.

After an hour or so, it decided it had enough of her lying flat on her stomach tasting black sand on her lips. It shouted full force in her ears, making her jolt, roll over, and sit upright—she rubbed her eyes and scratched her ears groggily as she tried to ignore the dull throbbing where her thighs connected to her glaives.

It'd probably be a while before she could get completely used to her new legs.

[It is certainly a unique skill to be able to sleep the way you did, but this is not the place to do so,] the Archive said, the little water strider hanging off the bridge of her nose and waving its legs angrily. [Remember: you are far from being out of the woods. For the time being, go further inland, observe your surroundings, and then search for essential survival supplies should immediate departure from this landmass be impossible.]

I was just going to do that, she grumbled, wiping weary tears from the corner of her eyes. She stood up on wobbly glaives, moaning at how stiff she felt. But moving on land… is gonna be a bit tough with these legs, huh?

It certainly wasn't easy. If it weren't for the months upon months of balance training she'd undertaken as a Sand-Dancer, she'd say it would be downright impossible for anyone to 'walk' on land with blades for legs. She had to focus. She had to pay attention. She had to carefully lift one glaive, place it ahead of the other, and make sure to focus all her weight on the very tip before moving her other glaive.

Like constantly walking on tiptoes, except she had two toes, and they were sharp as all hell.

I'll… get used to this 'skating on land' sensation soon enough.

Where, exactly, am I though?

The Archive didn't answer immediately, so she took that as an 'I don't know' and started skating slowly forward into the forest, taking great care not to fall.

[Objective #3: Identify the landmass and search for essential survival supplies]

[Time Limit: Undefined]

[Reward: Navigation Data, Survival]

[Failure: Death]

The air grew heavy with the scent of exotic blooms. Unknown bugs and birds sang through the dense forest as she left the beach behind. She'd lived her entire life in a desert town, so she knew what 'forests' were… and that was about the extent of her knowledge.

Compared to the palm trees in her town, the trees here were giant, their branches heavy with moss and creeping vines. They formed a thick canopy fifty meters overhead. Under her glaives, she felt the soft, springy give of moss, the hard crunches of fallen leaves, and the wet squishes of soil after a light drizzle. It was hard not to marvel at everything around her like a tourist. She trudged across the giant elevated tree roots like pathways—and that wasn't even mentioning the countless flora she couldn't even put a name to.

Are those nuts? she asked, pointing at a bundle of bluish-pink lumps hanging from a giant branch.

[Those are fruits.]

Fruits?

[Sweet and fleshy products that are typically grown from a plant or a tree.]

Edible?

[Please refrain.]

The deeper she ventured inland, the more she realized the forest wasn't one flat terrain. It was multi-levelled, the giant tree roots sometimes serving as bridges across deep, gaping, bottomless chasms. On one occasion, when she found a particular swirly branch she felt she could skate down on and reach a lower section of the forest with, she immediately jumped on and let her glaives take her forward.

With glee, she spread her arms the entire slide down to keep her balance.

[Skating on land is extremely dangerous. Your glaives may be tough enough to support your entire weight on two sharp points, and they may be able to cut through relatively weak material like roots and soil, but skating on rocks where friction is mightily high—]

I just won't skate on rocks!

Grinning, she paid more attention to the flora around her as she slid across the giant roots, pointing out any otherworldly plants that caught her eye to the Archive.

That thing! What's that weird plant called?

[A pitcher plant. Its cavity contains digestive fluids that it uses to drown and dissolve bugs that fly in.]

And those massive white lumps growing on the trees? They look edible!

[Please refrain. Those are some sort of fungi. They are typically symbiont organisms that play essential roles in the decomposition of organic matter.]

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

And the soil changes colors when my glaives cut through it! How's that work?

[That… I am unsure of.]

She glanced at the Archive, raising an unimpressed brow as she balanced across another chasm on a giant root. You don't seem very sure of anything. What's the point of telling me to look around and observe my surroundings when you can't tell me what I'm being surrounded by?

[The reward for doing so is updating my navigation data, which would allow me to identify this landmass by identifying the flora on it, thus allowing me to construct a proper plan of departure for you,] the Archive muttered. [However, this landmass is… peculiar. I cannot identify a single flora around you. None of them match any known records in my database.]

… So, I'm the first to ever come to this island?

[You are the first to ever see these oversized flora,] the Archive corrected, pointing one of its little legs up. [You see, 'fruits' are not typically two meters tall. You can usually fit them in the palm of your hand. Likewise, water pitchers are usually the size of your forearm. Here, they are large enough for you to fall into it. The colossal trees, the branching vines and roots, and the iridescent soil that changes color whenever you put your weight on it… it is as though you have stepped foot onto a giant's domain. Everything around you is ten times their usual size.]

She pursed her lips and looked around once more, but, frankly, she had no frame of comparison to know what the Archive was so surprised about. She'd quite literally never seen a forest before.

It's not dangerous here though, right? she thought, narrowing her eyes and looking around nervously. If she imagined there was a giant bug behind every tree, atop every branch, camouflaged upside-down on the canopy of vines… well, she'd rather not imagine that.

[Even still, I would implore you to not let your guard down until I am able to identify this landmass,] the Archive said, shaking its little head. [Your first objective should be to reach the other side of this landmass. If I can approximate its size, I can cross-reference preexisting navigation data. It is my hope I can extrapolate the information to determine where we might be marooned. The ideal scenario is getting noticed by a passing vessel willing to carry you the rest of the way to the Whirlpool City. If that is not possible, you must be prepared to skate there yourself.]

The thought wasn't quite reassuring, having experienced just how tough it was skating through one storm—there'd probably be several dozen more she'd have to skate through if she couldn't get someone to sail her to the city.

She shook her head and decided to focus. Right now, she just had to reach the end of this gargantuan forest.

For thirty more minutes, she continued skating diligently across the giant roots, staring at every alien plant for about ten seconds so the Archive could try to identify it. Inevitably, though, her stomach started growling. Grimacing, she rubbed her tummy and forced herself to move on. She was just as thirsty as well, having done strenuous amounts of exercise the past half a day, and that was on top of eating thirteen points' worth of salty shrimp meat without so much as a single sip of fresh water.

Without the Archive's go-ahead, though, what could she do? Everything on this island, including the water, could be poison to her. She wasn't in her cozy little desert town. If she ate something bad there, she could run back to her house, and her mama would have a custom-brewed medicine ready to soothe her stomach.

[... It is, indeed, doubtful that you can survive the next few days without fresh food,] the Archive said, letting out a big sigh as it did. [Mutating your glaives drained a lot of energy from you, so you must eat. See that particularly garish fruit growing out from that shallow wellspring?]

Snapping to attention, she looked around until she saw what it was talking about: a white, fleshy lump sitting half-submerged in a relatively small pond, just a bit off to the side. She immediately hopped off the root she was skating on, then skipped over—looking around once more for safety measures—before poking the lump with the tip of her glaive, trying to see if it'd burst.

What is it?

[It bears resemblance to lotus white pears grown in the northern end of the continent. I surmise there is a ten percent chance of facing a painful, gruesome death even if you consume it in small bites.]

Hey.

[There is a ninety percent chance that the fruit will remind you of your mother's pita bread.]

That's more like it.

Tentatively, she looked around for any possible predators just one last time before placing her palms flat against the giant, fleshy lump. It was as squishy to the touch as its rubbery skin suggested, which meant when she dug her nails in to tear out a small, juicy chunk, her mouth started salivating immediately. She needed to eat. The chunk looked like it had both meaty substance and water in one whole package—so, with the Archive's blessing, she stuffed the whole thing in her mouth and chewed as fast as she could.

Disappointingly, it didn't taste much like anything at all. It looked almost doughy and bread-like on the inside, and it had the texture of sticky sap with all the flavor dried out by the sun. Still, over the course of the next half hour or so, she practically devoured the entire lump until only the base of it was left. Then she knelt, cupped a mouthful of spring water, and brought it to her lips. At least the water tasted like water, and it was fresh to boot, too.

The water was definitely safe to drink.

… Well.

[Well.]

The water was nice.

[I concur.]

But the fruit was barely filling. It's like I ate nothing at all–

[Points: 0 → 61]

She paused when a status screen popped up next to her face, blinking at the words, and the Archive was quiet for a few seconds, too.

… What?

[What?]

It says I got—

[You obtained points from eating that fruit?] the Archive mumbled, sounding just as confused. [I do not understand this landmass. Only bug meat containing highly condensed bioarcanic essence can provide attribute points, unless… unless what you ate was—]

Neither she nor the Archive had the luxury of pointing and staring at the status screen, though. The sound was abrupt. A sharp noise that crackled through the air—it reminded her of alcohol kegs with their lids popping off. She'd heard that sound many, many times. Mainly on merry festival nights where she'd entertain the children with her dances and the adults celebrated with wine and brined meat.

It was the sound of civilization.

You heard that, Archive?

[Your ears are my ears.]

There's people on the island!

[So you must be wary,] the Archive said, as she raced away from the devoured fruit and skated across the roots, heading straight for the source of the sound. [I do not know what is going on with this landmass, but it is clearly of unnatural origin. For all we know—]

And she burst out the other end of the gargantuan forest quicker than she'd thought. She came face to face with the endless seas, a sandy beach, and, uniquely in this location, a small harbor-like outpost. It was built on a rocky outcrop, right on the beach. A massive ship with its sails tied down was docked deep into the harbor, and her eyes immediately glimmered with hope.

This was much better than anything she could've asked for.

Still, she didn't wobble awkwardly out of the forest immediately, though. Hunched behind a tree at the edge of the forest, she counted about twenty humanoid silhouettes. They were boisterous, partying around the harbor, singing and dancing with whole kegs of alcohol in their hands. They really were celebrating a fair distance away—about thirty meters off from where she was—so she wanted to get a closer look at them. The Archive wasn't telling her off, so… this should be fine.

She was just trying to get a better look.

After all, it could just be a trick of the mind, but she swore their limbs and proportions were particularly strange—

Snap!

She stepped on a branch.

The partying silhouettes somehow heard the noise and turned.

Their heads were wide and flat on top, each of them with a bright orange pincer for a hand. Beneath their rugged grey robes were bulky plates of chitin. They jiggled like jelly when they turned.

She felt she'd seen their heads somewhere before.

They were like… 'crabs'?

Crab-headed people?

[... Ah.]

[I see.]

[Please begin running now.]

[Objective #3: Identify the landmass and search for essential survival supplies]

[Objective #3: Run from the Blackclaw Marauders before they turn you into crab bait]

[Time Limit: Undefined]

[Reward: Survival]

[Failure: Painful, gruesome death]

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