“So wha’s the plan?” Wilson asked. “I figure another boat, but do we have a way of survivin’ out wivout becoming dinner?”

  Darren wiped his greasy fingers on his pants and removed a sheet of paper from his inventory. Samantha had given it to him earlier as they sketched out the design for their next boat. It was another catamaran, around 12 metres long, with a cabin that butted up against the mast. The cabin was large enough for two people. There was also space in front of the cabin and mast to summon his swivel gun.

  They’d gone back and forth over whether to do another catamaran or a monohull, but eventually, a stable platform for the swivel gun won out. They’d at least included centreboards for this design, which would give them better control.

  “Given how long it took to build Boaty McHouseboat while debuffed,” Darren said, “and my Proficiency increase, we should be able to build this new design in a couple of days, and it’ll be enough to get us to Isla Cascadura. If we went much bigger, it’d be too challenging for two people to sail.”

  Samantha said, “Even this will be a challenge with your lack of experience. But we should be okay if you listen well.”

  “I’ll try.” Darren stifled a yawn. He needed sleep so bad. “First thing in the morning, we’ll start deforestation in earnest and build a crafting table so I can get to work on the more advanced parts. But for now, I think sleep is the order of the day. After I take a swim.”

  Wilson stood and dusted his coconut backside off. “Enjoy. You’re on your own for that.” He meandered off in the direction of Darren’s shelter.

  Darren watched him go, then turned to Samantha. “Thanks for helping, and for trusting me enough to share your secrets.”

  “I only shared one, and I’ll kill you if you betray that trust.”

  Darren lifted hands in surrender. “Fair enough! I’m not gonna spill the beans.”

  Samantha retreated to her tent without another word. Darren took the cue and headed to his camp on the far side of the pool. He picked up Wilson on the way, who’d reached an impasse at the stream.

  After dropping Wilson at his crude A-frame shelter covered in leafy branches, he took a quick dip, then he was soon lying down on a makeshift mattress in the shelter, listening to Wilson snore.

  Left alone to his thoughts, the walls he’d built over the last few days started to crack. The monsters from beyond reached clawed hands through, scratching at him, wearing him down. Just give up, they whispered. There’s no point fighting. You’re dead... You’re just a ghost…

  Darren squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths to try slow his racing heart. He tried to push the monsters back in their box. There’d be time later to process everything.

  But tonight, they refused to leave him.

  You’re dead… looped over, and over, and over.

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  He tried to distract himself with another concern. Why was Poseidon making him travel all the way to Isla Cascadura? Why couldn’t the AI talk to him now? It was giving him personalised quests and clearly able to communicate in some manner. Why not spill the beans?

  You’re dead, Darren. Dead. You’re never going home. This is your life, just admit it.

  Dreams plagued by the monsters of his buried emotions, a restless sleep finally took him.

  ***

  <<<<>>>>

  Shipwright Proficiency Increased to 10%

  Your skills in shipbuilding continue to grow. Your growing affinity with timber and its characteristics now allows you to create complex shapes more easily, and at a reduced resource cost.

  Resource cost reduction: 5%

  <<<<>>>>

  Darren pumped a fist in the air. “Booyah!” The back-breaking labour of the last day now seemed far more worthwhile with a nice little level up and some perks unlocked.

  That morning, they’d followed the stream down the hill to the beach and found it came out at a decent place to build. Some nice flat areas, and no reef to contend with once they were finished and set sail. There were also plenty of good trees nearby.

  The steady thud of an axe on timber drifted out from the jungle. Samantha had a steel axe that she was using to destroy trees.

  A dozen metres up the beach, Wilson was rotating the planks past several fires, turning them to stable, kiln-dried hardwood ready for construction.

  The rest was up to Darren. They only had flint tools for him to use, but the Crude Crafting Table allowed him to refine them somewhat, taking their quality from Crude to Mundane.

  He’d spent all day building the skeleton of the twin hulls. The exposed ribs and keels sat braced together on the beach. He’d just finished constructing the two slots for the centreboards when the notification for the Proficiency increase had appeared.

  Darren smeared the sweat and dirt around his forehead with the back of his hand. His shirt, what was left of it, was stained brown now. It was rank, but all he had. He glanced at the time, 3 pm. He stowed his tools in his inventory and headed to the shoreline, plunging fully clothed into the surf.

  Cool water washed over his skin as he lay flat on his back. White clouds fluted across an azure sky as he bobbed up and down on the waves, breathing deeply.

  The work of the day had given him a level in the Exhausted debuff. He was very much looking forward to a swim in fresh water, then a tasty fish for dinner, followed by a very, very long sleep.

  But still a couple of hours of work left.

  With a heavy sigh, he rolled over and swam back to shore and trudged up to the boat. His skin was already dry and crunchy with salt by the time he reached it.

  Darren removed his tools and lost himself in the work. Cutting. Chiseling. Hammering.

  Repeat.

  5 pm rolled around, and he stowed his tools as Samantha and Wilson left their worksites and headed his way. He’d finished the frame off, and the boat was ready for planking. Tomorrow was when the increased Proficiency would really pay dividends, allowing him to handle the curve of the hull with greater ease.

  “Looking alright,” Samantha said as she came to a stop beside him, her booted feet crunching on the hard coral sand. He glanced at them, envious of the footwear.

  “It’s rough, but it’ll do,” he acknowledged.

  “Alright, alright,” Wilson said, “enough with the gushin’ and back-patting, it’s time to go chill out. What I’d do for a nice rum ’bout now.”

  “Lol,” Darren said. “Imma call you Malibu.”

  Wilson and Samantha both stared at him.

  “What?” he asked, brow creasing.

  “Did you jus’ say ‘lol’?” Wilson asked.

  Darren hesitated a moment. Crap crap fudge muffins and turds… “You know what it means?”

  “Of course,” Samantha said, the glint of steel in her eyes. “It’s from Idioms Of Another World. A book dedicated to the language of Interlopers, a people from beyond the stars who will defile our land for the sake of their own greed and ambition. But you’re already well versed in their language. Aren’t you, Biggus?”