Chapter Four
She should have expected this.
The past few days had blurred together—setting up camp, learning how to survive, trying not to lose herself in the quiet realization that this was her life now. Although it did help she couldn't recall even a moment of her past life. She knew she had one, but it was just…gone.
She tried not to think about it, instead focusing on the area around her. The air smelled of salt and damp earth, the constant crash of waves against the shore a ceaseless reminder that she was stranded.
He had called this place a small cove. But it was part of something much bigger—a chain of islands teeming with creatures he called Pals. Wild. Strange. Dangerous. Something like the Galápagos, he had said, only with monsters instead of turtles and death instead of discovery.
Although the way he talked about it made it all seem like some kind of fun game, hearing him talk about losing friends to some of the deadly ones because they wanted to capture and not kill it. It was horrifying, especially as he kept up that genuine smile. He spoke about it like a game, like losing friends was just another mechanic to learn from. Like death was nothing but a minor inconvenience.
But then she caught it—that flicker behind his eyes. It was too brief, gone before she could process it.
How many? she almost asked. But something in her gut told her she didn’t want to know.
She had a feeling, none of them survived. I also felt like I could understand him better. His way of seeing me, not a friend or a human even, but a toy. Because everyone else was already gone, there could have been others, could have been people he tried to help only for them to die.
She should have been used to his eyes by now.
Should have been.
But every time she caught the flicker of amusement, every time she saw the way his gaze dipped—casual, claiming, never ashamed—her stomach twisted.
Not in fear. Not in anger.
But because she liked knowing he looked. Though she denied it, chasing the thought from her head as she refocused on her task. Still, she smiled. ‘Enough’ my ass.
Without his help mind you. He told me what to do but just watched. Still, she found herself watching him. He must have been lonely.
She had woken up on the wrong side of the island, or at least in a place not many start their adventure form. According to him, it was unusual. Most Players—people with tablets like hers—woke up in the so-called “Land of Beginning.” the area where almost every beginner, or nugget, appeared.
Nuggets had three settings, uncooked, baked, and fried. Uncooked nuggets were basically completely newbies, something that made her more than a little mad. But what could she do, she was uncooked, a new nugget. From there they could be baked or fried. Baked were people who chose to support someone else. Usually someone who cosied up to another to get ‘feed’, the choice she turned down. So now she would have to go through the fire to be fried, becoming a newby that was getting the hang of it. However he warned her that all nuggets get eaten, whether raw, cooked or baked, it didn't matter. In the end the only way to graduate was to be eaten, the real trick was to survive it, from there you can be called a person again, or a pet.
Either way that was the true start of this game, until then. And he took great pleasure telling her about this, she was nothing but a useless nugget, with no rights as people and no protection as pets.
The way he had said it made her uneasy. He suggested she was special or unlucky to wake up here. Perhaps she was just useless.
She had tried to throw a rock at him for that comment.
It didn’t work.
The stone stopped mid-air, deflected by some kind of invisible force. He barely reacted—just smirked, shaking his head, amused. However he was not forgiving. What had started as a joke, a petty little attempt to knock him down a peg, had turned into something else entirely.
Because then, for the first time, he turned serious.
It wasn’t dramatic. No change in tone. No dark glare or sharp words. But the air shifted, like the way the ocean goes still before a storm. Subtle. Deadly. Cold.
"You don’t have to accept the collar," he had said, tone smooth, easy. "But keep that up, and I might just decide you’re not worth the effort."
That was the moment she learned real fear.
A chill that had nothing to do with the cave’s dampness ran down her spine. He had been humoring her before, letting her spit and snarl like a cornered cat. But now, she saw it—the edge beneath the charm, the knife beneath the silk.
He was worse than a deadly predator, he was a man with the powers of god and gods could be petty, but a man. A man could be far worse.
She had backpedaled instantly. Apologized. Swallowed her pride and begged him to keep teaching her.
It wasn’t glamorous or dignified. But she knew, felt it in her very core, he was deadly. Perhaps worse, there was something dangerous lurking inside, but he just laughed at her and when she looked up he was the same as before, not dangerous, not threatening. It was chilling.
However, his warm smile was back and after that, she didn't seem to mind his gaze as much, so long as he kept that smile, that pressure. As long as he was happy, she was safe.
The Island
The cave where he had found her in was little more than a hole in the rock—dark, damp, and smelling of wet stone and something earthy, almost metallic. It sat at the base of a sheer cliff face, part of a towering rock formation that loomed over the beach like some ancient guardian.
Beyond the cave, the shoreline stretched in a gentle curve, the sand pale, almost white, but speckled with smooth stones and patches of seaweed. The waves lapped against the shore, a never-ending rhythm, their distant roar mingling with the cries of creatures in the distance.
Above, built into the cliffside itself, was something impossible.
Ruins.
Massive stone pillars jutted from the rock, remnants of something grand, something old. The structure looked half-swallowed by time, covered in creeping vines and patches of moss. The stone was weathered but solid, carved with patterns she didn’t recognize. There were stairs leading up, zigzagging along the rock face, leading toward the ruins.
She had walked up this path only because he was with her, it wasn't scary, but there were shadows, creatures darting between trees, bushes and rocks. Large unknown things she wasn't looking forward to dealing with.
The path led to a wall.
A massive stone barrier, still intact despite its age, with wooden crates and debris scattered near its base. They were all pushed together to lead to a way up, but she wasn’t ready to test it yet.
It was old, might not hold her weight and it would be embarrassing with him watching for her to fall and hurt herself. No she wasn't ready to try, not yet.
For now, this small corner of the island was all she could handle.
She was learning.
Slowly.
Sure, she had a guide—a smug, frustrating, infuriatingly attractive bastard—but he only helped when it suited him. He let her struggle, let her fight through each challenge alone, offering only a few words, hints on how to proceed.
Soon enough she had built a base, an easy feat thanks to the tablet. It was almost disappointing so.
Days passed by relatively easily, learning from him, getting used to the strange ease of crafting. Surviving.
The ancient world had left its marks in this place, reducing everything to a system.
Wood, stone, fiber. She gathered, the tablet rendered, soon enough a small cabin rose as if it had always been there. Walls had been built, floors, even a ceiling. Everything was modular. No hammer. No nails. Just a combination of different buildings, the parts of the structure forming in real time.
He had leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching her reaction with that knowing smirk. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
She’d clicked her tongue. “Ridiculous.” she brushed it off, like it was impossible. Except she had done it herself.
She didn't know why but it felt wrong. Yet over time, she had come to accept it. Over time she was used to everything and over time, she was ready to explore past her own world.
Day 5…
She woke to the smell of damp earth and salt, the faintest hint of ash lingering from last night’s fire. The air was cool, crisp, the kind of cold that settled deep in her bones but she was safe from the wind because of the walls of her home, and warm because of the small blanket of her bed. If only she could take it with her, but for some reason, somehow it refused to leave the bed so when she got up. She had to leave it behind.
She shivered as she sat up, pulling away from the one comfort she had—a thin, stubborn blanket that refused to leave the bed.
“Goodbye, my friend,” she murmured.
The bite of the air bit her, nipping at her sensitive areas but after a big stretch she took a breath and began her day.
Her cabin was little more than a crude box of wood—four walls, a roof, and a single, uneven bed. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. Empty, bare, exposed to the elements.
Just like her.
The cries of Pals echoed from the treetops, something skittered through the underbrush outside, and beyond that, the distant growl of something too large to be safe. She had learned not to react. To be used to it, comforted by the fact that she hadn't seen anything more dangerous than a large pink cat that ran on two legs.
Luckily it was more afraid of her then she was of it.
She rubbed sleep from her eyes, rolling her shoulders as she sat up, the wooden bed frame creaking beneath her weight. She needed food. Water. Firewood. And preferably a way to keep the damn cold from seeping through the walls.
She only had a moment now, however. Soon he would return and when he was around… she was safe but also watched like a hawk. Not because of any crime or suspicion but because she still hadn't reached a level where she could craft simple clothes.
Stupid tablet.
It was awesome, allowing her to craft a solid building in no time, allowed her to collect materials she needed and build things she would never be able to before and yet, it forced her to remain naked because it didn't register simple fabric as clothes, so it would store it instead, or return it to the bed where it belonged.
Because of this, she was practically an exchobitionist, and a good one at that. “Not that I enjoy it.” she told herself again. Taking some cooked berries out of her inventory. And munching on the mushy things. Bland as always but what else was there to eat?
It was a shame the storage did not keep everything fresh but for now, she was fed. Her day now went by looking over the cavern, exploring the area and picking up rocks and sticks, somehow gaining experience from this simple action. It was only a point but it was a point higher to the next level a point closer to clothes. She cut down some trees, and broke some rocks. The trees grew fast and the rocks seemed to grow from the ground but she learned not to question everything. In the end, this world was her new home, and if he couldn't escape from it, then what hope did she have of reaching civilization.
For now she wouldn't question why her axe phased through the tree, the pickaxe thought the rock or why they broke away and disappeared into the tablet.
She stopped questioning everything.
There were no answers.
“You’re up early.”
A chill rolled up her spine.
Aria froze for half a second, before forcing herself to continue. She wouldn’t let him know he startled her.
But he always knew.
She turned.
Earl stood exactly where he always did—casual, smug, perfectly in control. She had never once heard him approach. Like a shadow that simply appeared whenever he wanted to be seen.
Earl.
He had given her that name. He laughed like it was a joke but she understood he liked playing the role, worse yet it might not have been a role - it could be a fact and the simple fact of it was that he just enjoyed owning everything, claiming land just to hold his power over her. It was very effective, but she would never let him know. Would never allow him that sinful satisfaction.
She didn't understand what it meant however she knew it fit his personality to a T. a self proclaimed noble, one who liked to control everything. She laughed, it fit him so well. He raised an eyebrow at her mirth but she continued quickly. “Ah, just thinking it's a good day today. I managed to get a few hundred bundles of wood and a lot of good stone, plus I've almost 100 of that odd blue glass stone thing.”
“I see” he replied, disappointed? She kept her smile wondering if she said something wrong. Was it because she refused to call it Paldium? It was a stupid name.
But his smile returned, it was so fast, so natural that she thought perhaps she had simply imagined it, agreeing with that statement in her head while ignoring the alarm in her mind.
“So,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement, “now that you’ve had time to settle in… how about a little bet?”
She could only sign, knowing what was coming. These little bets of his wasn't all that bad, it was doable and she was able to succeed every time. But the consequence of losing was always the same, she would be enslaved by him. Worse was she never really had a chance to decline it, he always pushed on, ignoring whatever she said and telling her about the bet.
With a deep breath she folded her arms, just underneath her chest, staring him down. He seemed pleased by this action and she herself smiled. That ment she would get an extra day, at least. “…What kind of bet?”
His smirk widened. “A trial. A little test to see if you can actually survive out here.”
She shivering slightly as the cold air licked her exposed area, sending a jolt of pleasure up her body from her lower abdomen. She bit her tongue before snapping an answer at him. “I’m already surviving.”
It was embarrassing to her, but she held her ground. Forcing herself to stand proud despite the licking sea air, shifting terribly around her form.
Earl tilted his head, watching her with the lazy amusement of a cat toying with a mouse. “Are you?” he challenged. “Because right now, you’re just existing.”
Her smile twitched. That hit deeper than she liked.
She wasn’t thriving, wasn’t even close. She was scraping by, barely making it through each day, all because she was trapped not brave enough to climb over trash. Trash, by the way that didn't react to her tablet nor allowed her to move it, just like the ancient ruin.
The wind died down again, allowing her to breath easier, her cheeks flushed but not from cold. “I’ll manage.” she tried. She knew she needed to progress, she was at the height of her stay here but it would be better on her own terms.
While his little bets always gave her the risk of becoming a slave, even if he said it like a joke she knew all too well he would like nothing more for her to fail.
His chuckle was low, rich, almost warm—she grit her teeth, yeah right. She wouldn't fail.
“I’ll make it interesting then,” he said, shifting. “Beat the first cave. Three days. If you win, you get to keep playing at survival all on your own.” He paused, he liked his theatrics, he would do well in a theater. He was such a drama queen…er, king.
That’s when he leaned in. Just slightly. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to see the slight glint in his green eyes.
“If you lose… I'll take you with me.” there it was, his collar of the day. This one was pink with a little fuzzy patch in the front with a metal tag that she could barely see, reading it as ‘Kitty’.
So now she would be a cat? Still better than tits-4-brains. That one was unique. She worked really hard to accomplish that task then, no way would she let anyone call her that stupid ‘pet name’.
As she was thinking about how ridiculous he was he added, “I could always use another woman in my breeding farm.”
Her mind blanked.
Her breath hitched.
For a second, the world tilted.
She saw his mouth move, but she didn’t hear the words. Didn’t register anything but the sudden, cold rush of- of something striking threw her, like lightning, her nerves were on fire.
However her mind wasn’t stunned in horror, but into it. The idea of his words. The thought curled inside her like warm silk, soft, smothering. What would it be like? To be taken, to be owned? To have no more choices? The idea burned through her like a fever—smooth and seductive.
Then she had a moment of clarity. she blinked, biting her tongue. Hard. A punishment. A warning. Disgust coiled inside her, as something else did too. Something she wanted to, but would never give in.
She tasted blood, forcing herself to regain her mental factory. He must have done something. Had to be plotting something all this time. She wasn't the type of woman to be tempted by something like that.
She couldn't be.
“Fine,” she forced herself to say. “What's the bet?” she couldn’t think, couldn’t fight back with words alone. She was distracted, stunned.
Not from fear. Quite the opposite—her mind short-circuited, crashing into a hot, static haze. The words curled around her, thick, suffocating, a weight pressing down on something deep inside her. A place that pulsed, a place she didn’t want to name. Her thoughts slowed, thickened, drowned in the warmth of it and she could barely hear his answer.
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