Chapter 8

A song was playing in Ben's head. It was the kind of song that played on the radio when he was a kid, and it sounded just like Feel Good Inc, by the Gorillaz.

Ben had solved all the problems; and the answer was utility pocket. He had food, stored in the utility pocket. He had freshwater, stored in the utility pocket.

He had solved the problem of skipping across the surface of the ocean and tearing his skin up; he'd just jet around underwater and breathe through a utility pocket. Ben's face was relaxed, and he powered through the sea about a foot under the surface.

The utility pocket was the solution to the ancient question humans have had, the question called survival.

Either his air was starting to get a little stale, or Ben had discovered why dolphins did it, because Ben launched himself out of the ocean as high as he could and arc'd before diving back below, replenishing his air.

Naturally, Short Bus jumped out of the water right after, and made sure to try and get higher than Ben had. Extremely fun fact about great whites, they can jump like, bonkers high. He crashed back into the water, for moments looking like a fast moving cloud before the air rose to the surface.

Where were they going? At the moment, nowhere, because Ben had some pent up emotion to work through, and he'd adopted 'training the utility pocket' as his mode of therapy.

Because, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that the utility pocket could be trained. It just seemed to naturally find more and more efficient ways to do the same tasks over and over again.

Some things were still impossible, and Ben had the bruises to prove that he couldn't fly. If he was lucky, Short Bus would stop mentioning it sometime in the next year or so.

Ben did a few underwater flips, then a few tight maneuvers, imagining to himself that he was going to get into a fight with a giant crab or something when he went back to that coral dome to plunder the rest of whatever was in there. Now that his basic survival needs were met he felt a lot more comfortable taking up precious pouch space with treasure.

Ben clenched a fist, then pushed himself to the surface, holding himself upright and steady with a jet of water from his feet.

“So weird,” he said, scanning the horizon, “we haven't seen anything yet, except that fish.”

“You haven't gone very deep,” Short Bus chided, “and you shouldn't go deep either. You aren't built for it, despite how you swim around like a squid.”

“I don't think I want to go very deep either,” Ben admitted, “as much fun as all this is, I'd like to get to land as soon as possible. Get a nice palm leaf hut and impress some jungle woman with all my meat... fuck that came out wrong,” Ben said, and Short Bus didn't reply.

“Ben,” Short Bus said, speeding up, heading away from the sandbar and towards the direction of land, “I'm very concerned about why the sky is purple.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben replied, diving back below and speeding up to match him. He couldn't help but marvel at how effortless it was, how it had become as easy as walking.

“You are familiar with my Plus perk, aren't you? You got The System to tell you about all of them,” he said, a hint of worry in his tone.

“I wouldn't say I got him to, he was very forthcoming with information,” Ben said, rolling his eyes at what a chatterbox The System had been. How excited it had been to go into details and mechanics, how everything played against one another, and asking for suggestions and feedback. The System had called him a ‘delight’, and told him not to hesitate to write via the suggestion box system accessible through a Town Crystal.

“But you are familiar with it,” Short Bus said, firmer this time, demanding a straight answer.

“Yes, The Bright Spark,” Ben said, reciting what he knew from memory, “it was a really good option from what I remember. It granted increased consciousness, psychic powers, immunity to mental debuffs and an increased affinity for certain kinds of magic. Oh, and it also provided the [Common Knowledge] skill, though The System said he'd only elaborate if I picked The Bright Spark.”

“That explanation is like a flayed fish,” Short Bus said, “all bones and no meat. [Common Knowledge] means that every morning I wake up in an area, and don't ask me how an area is defined, I gain an increased sense of. . . everything, what is what, who is who, how is how, why is why, where is where, when is when. I get a portion of the collective knowledge of the area, the sense that comes from living in a place for generations.”

“Well that sounds really useful,” Ben said, spinning through the water after having discovered how to create diagonal jets off of his feet. He was listening, Short Bus could tell, because Short Bus was connected to Ben's mind.

“There used to be monsters in this area, Ben.”

There it was, the shark thought to himself, that bright flash in his brain, the sudden reorienting of attention.

“Yes, I'm glad you are paying attention, Ben,” Short Bus continued, “but when the sky turned purple, the monsters all ran away. Aside from us, there are no other creatures around for. . . I don't know. It's just us, and it worries me, very badly worries me. It makes me think there is something tremendously dangerous somewhere deep below us. It makes me think that the coral reef, which should have been crawling with monsters, was abandoned in a hurry. I haven't seen a single fish, anywhere, aside from myself, of course.”

“Think it has to do with The Apocalypse event?”

“Do you have a better explanation? There were eight, let's call them calamities, associated with the event, and I think each of them was considered equal, and was ranked by. . . concentration of danger? Of power?”

“The most dangerous,” he continued, “the eight entrances to the bottom caverns. Those were, I think, the most individually dangerous of the whole thing, each one equal to eight individual units of the next calamity. I think we are in the range of the second one, the sixty-four violet dungeon cores. Why? The sky is purple, and the dungeon cores are called ‘violet’, thus associating them with the color purple.”

“That's a pretty simple and straight-forward way of looking at it,” Ben said, wanting to rub his chin, but unable to for fear of getting thrown off course by his arm acting as a rudder. “I don't think you're wrong though. Does [Common Knowledge] give you anything about violet dungeon cores?”

“Danger,” Short Bus said, “dangerous, and that we should run until the sky isn't purple anymore.”

So, Ben and Short Bus stopped talking, and started getting the hell out of dodge. They continued on for about an hour before they both needed to take a break, to slow down.

The sky above them was still purple, and it was starting to make Ben worried.

“How big is the range on this thing?” Ben asked aloud, feeling more and more on edge.

“Big, it's a second-tier calamity,” Short Bus said.

“You're really committed to that on the spot classification system,” Ben said, laughing a little at the shark's expense.

“I'm just trying to make some sense of a world that as of yet, makes no sense. Bring a little bit of order to the chaos,” Short Bus said, sounding dignified and self-important.

“Ok, but. . . I'm just looking at this logically, right?” Ben said, and they started moving again, at a slower, resting pace, “You said it's all about the eights, and they're all equal to one another based on that. So, one violet dungeon core is worth eight. . .what was the next one, eight 'Citadel class monsters?' Good so far?”

“Yes,” Short Bus replied, and the shark already knew what Ben was going to say next, but didn't interrupt him.

“So that means a violet core is equal to sixty-four demons, and also equal to five-hundred and twelve. . .” Ben fumbled for the information, and Short Bus supplied it;

“And five-hundred and twelve raid class monsters, and four-thousand and ninety-six dark fairies, and so on and so forth, yes.”

“That sounds really, really powerful. I hope you're wrong, dude,” Ben said, wishing he and the shark could swim twice as fast and four times as far before needing a break.

“It sounds incredibly dangerous, if I'm right. And everything you've told me about The System, and everything I saw from it tells me he is a big fan of balancing things in such a way.”

“Wait,” Ben said, having found a wrench to throw into Short Bus's logic, and throwing it, because he didn't want to be chased by something worse than a pack of sixty-four demons, “but that whole event was supposed to be balanced against humans,”

“And all life on Earth,” Short Bus quickly added.

“Being introduced to The World. How does that make any sense?”

They swam in silence, having caught their breath, so to speak, and resumed their previous fast pace.

“It's because of all the sharks,” Short Bus said with confidence.

“Yeah, it's probably that,” Ben said, shaking his head.

“I'm sorry, Ben. I'm sorry on behalf of all sharks, that our power was so great that The System has endangered all life because of it.”

Ben looked over and saw something that he would bet his utility pocket that no other human, in their apparently very long history, had ever seen; Short Bus, a shark, had eyelids, and had his eyes closed tight in an expression of real regret.

“You are so full of shit,” Ben said, laughing and speeding up, leaving the great white to his self-important ruminations.

“I understand how this might endanger our friendship,” Short Bus said, his tone absurdly sincere, as he easily caught up with Ben and tried to awkwardly lay a fin across his back.

“Get the hell away from me!” Ben laughed, speeding up.

“I understand humans are fond of close contact, Ben. I know you have suffered a devastating blow to your mammalian sense of self-worth and importance. As a shark, I am uniquely suited to tell you that you still have value. You are welcome. Now slow down and let me give you 'the hug', which [Common Knowledge] tells me is so vital to your mental health.”

“Your skill is broken if it's telling you to give me a hug,” Ben said, now having to dodge a great white shark as it kept bumping into him and saying things like 'you poor thing' and 'don't bottle your feelings up' and 'it's ok to be sad'. The effect was ruined, because Short Bus was laughing every time he bumped into Ben with a fin and saw him run away.

“You aren't running from me, you're running from yourself!” Short Bus shouted, after Ben had kicked into high gear and finally gotten some distance between them.

“You're insane!” Ben shouted back, his mood greatly improved.

“Oh, look,” Short Bus said, suddenly changing gears, “that's not something you see every day.” He angled up towards the surface, and Ben followed his lead. The sky above them was purple, true, but off in the distance, separated as though by a razor, was blue sky. Ben telepathically whistled.

“No, it is not,” he agreed.

“If you would like,” Short Bus said, “we could turn around. See if we could catch a glimpse of whatever's back there?”

“No way, the last time I saw a demon I pissed my pants, and if you're right, that thing is worth sixty-four demons. No. Thanks.” Ben said, suddenly finding a hidden reserve of strength to draw on, and speeding towards the blue sky.

“I never saw a demon,” Short Bus said, following after him.

“It was after I left the room with The System,” Ben explained, “in the Portal Labyrinth?”

“I never saw anything like that,” Short Bus said, “The System opened a green portal for me and I ended up in an incredibly boring underwater building. I swam for a while till I found a portal labeled 'Safe Ocean' and went through.”

“Lucky. I ended up in hell for about half a minute. There was this awful horse-man with a scythe.”

“Hm,” was all Short Bus said in response, and they continued on, until eventually, they reached the edge, the boundary between whatever the hell was going on behind them, and whatever the hell was in front of them. Even the water was blue, as opposed to the weird, psychedelic purple they had been traveling through.

“Think,” Ben said, stopping before he crossed over, “Something'll happen if we leave? Like, we'll trigger some sort of alarm... oh just charge right on through, sure,” Ben said, his heart palpitating for some reason when he saw Short Bus carelessly shatter his completely imaginary reasons for hesitation.

“I am a shark!” Short Bus trumpeted, “I fear nothing!”

“You were just afraid of the violet dungeon core!” Ben said, catching up with him

“I was merely pretending for your benefit!”

Ben watched Short Bus do the great white shark equivalent of zoomies, like an excited pet might do after being let out into the yard. He was pumping his powerful tail, going as fast as he could, then turning sharply in a tight figure eight, expressively and loudly declaring the inherent superiority of sharks over all other sea creatures, especially and specifically dolphins.

Ben, a practical and somewhat wise man, a man of almost thirty years, who had secured a good career and the respect of his peers in a life that no longer mattered, swam away from the egomaniac and let him bask in self-assigned glory. There was a time and a place for everything, and Short Bus was the size of, well, a small bus.

It had taken Short Bus nearly five minutes before he realized Ben had left, but eventually he caught up and they continued their journey through the now blue water, under a thankfully blue sky.

Soon enough, they even began to encounter schools of fish; though not of any variety Ben or Short Bus could recognize. They were small, about the size of Ben's hand at the largest, but there were thousands of them, and Short Bus took great delight in charging through their school, blasting them with a psychic yell.

That part had been funny, but what had been hilarious, at least to Ben, had been when the fish began to mob Short Bus and start zapping him with little painful jolts of electricity.

“No! Stop!” he yelled, “The System declared me a noble! I'm nobility! I'm the ruler of the seas! Ow, right in the caudal! Ben, we must flee, swim for your life!”

Ben had almost drowned laughing, and it was worth noting that even though the school of electric fish were enraged, they didn't attack him.

Short Bus survived, according to him he ate the entire school of fish.

“Living up to your name, Short Bus,” Ben said, and the shark shot him a dirty look.

Then, finally. . . land.

“Land Ho!” Ben shouted, and Short Bus shouted it too. Just peeking up over the edge of the world, Ben could see some green like grass. The closer they got, the taller the land got. Eventually, Ben realized he was looking at an enormous cliff-face.

It was like every seaside cliff, sheer, sharp, and had jagged, ship destroying rocks along its base.

“I see,” Short Bus said, talking like he was nodding his head in a sagely manner, “you are going to use your flexible, durable arm noodles to climb the cliff.”

“I'm not going to do that,” Ben said, scanning the land and seeing what his best move would be. “Well, Short Bus, we can either go left, or we can go right. My goal is to find a nice coastal town with some docks or something, a place with a town crystal both of us can use. I figure the two of us could do pretty well as fishermen, or. . . I don't know yet. But we need to find somewhere along the water.”

“I suggest left, then,” Short Bus said, sounding. . . determined. Proud, but in a real way. The shark hadn't doubted that he and Ben would stick together, but it had been nice to see the sentiment expressed out loud.

“Why left?” Ben asked, only tangentially aware of how his words had affected Short Bus.

“I smell garbage to the left, and not to the right. If there's one thing I know about coastal towns, it's that they always dump their garbage into the water.”

“Good enough for me,” Ben said, and started heading further towards the shore.

“I'll follow along out here,” Short Bus said, “It's getting a bit too shallow for my tastes.”

“Right, right,” Ben said, and continued towards land like it was pulling him magnetically. Eventually, he found the water was getting too shallow for him as well, and pulled back to where he could safely swim beneath the surface without having to worry about running into a boulder at speed.

The cliffs went on and on forever, or at least that is how it felt to Ben, but eventually they began to lose their height, lowering. . . lowering. . . level.

Oh sweet, sweet land. The beach itself was less sand and more pebble, like in the pacific northwest, but it was still a beach, attached to a real landmass. The beach stretched for a little ways, getting higher and higher, the pebble sand turning to soil, which abruptly turned to enormous trees.

Ben was struck by the sight of something only his ancestors had ever seen; Primeval Forest, untouched by civilization. The trees resembled the gigantic redwoods down in California, but in the way a professional football player might resemble his accountant younger brother.

As much as it would be totally fun to just run onto the beach, roll around on the solid land and feel real gravity again, the sight of the fuck-huge forest that stretched along the edge of the beach as far as the eye could see activated his 'nope sense'.

Yep, that was a nope. If a certain Space Elf had been watching, which he wasn't, he would have called what Ben had done complete bullshit. Most alien species did not have a 'nope sense', because most alien species developed on planets that could be considered paradise, at least from the human perspective.

Ben, having just come from a partly tamed monster infested hell-hole of a planet, at least by alien standards, chose to do the smart thing and just cruise the coastline until he was sure there weren't a bunch of fucked up monsters waiting to catch him with a net, tie him up to a stick, and carry him back to their lair.

Ben cruised along for a while until he heard Short Bus speaking into his mind from the distant water.

“I smell blood, Ben. Coming from the land, blood! It's weird blood! Go check it out, I'm curious!”

Ben surfaced just enough to get his eyes above the water, feeling like a crocodile, and he stealthily made his way towards the shore.

Well, would you look at that, Ben thought to himself.

The creatures he saw were strange, squat little things, covered in thick, short, stiff looking brown fur. They had triangular ears coming off the top of their heads, and they were dressed in crude leather clothing. Their bodies looked sturdy. There were four of them, and they were carrying a stick between them, hunters carrying their prey.

The prey? A little gray humanoid straight out of the fucking tabloids. It had a big head, creepy gigantic black eyes, and also breasts; apparently this one was female. She hung, tied up with crude rope, defeated.

One of the creatures turned its head, scanning the ocean, and Ben saw it had enormous, bulging, solid red eyes with vertical slits for pupils, and two sharp, thin teeth jutted up from its lower jaw. It didn't see Ben, and turned its attention to the slightly creepy, slightly curvy gray woman and gave her a sharp poke with its spear; she screamed.

Ben took a deep breath through his utility pocket and shut his eyes, saying a silent prayer of gratitude.

Respect the nope sense.

Then, Ben abandoned all good sense, and started making his way towards the fucked up monsters, to try and save the fucked up alien girl.