Submerged Abyss

"talking"

'thinking'

[System]

{ Author Note }

As I settle down, the waves of exhaustion finally catch up to me. The warmth of the water around me, the cave's silence, and the other creatures' presence feel... oddly calming. For now, this is enough: closing my eyes and letting my body relax into the stillness of the cave.

As I slowly drift off to sleep, the rhythmic ebb and flow of the water around me begins to lull me into a sense of calm. The gentle movement of the current rocks me in place, and for a brief moment, the chaotic thoughts of the day seem to fade into the background.

But even in my near slumber, I can't entirely shut out the presence of the other creatures nearby. The Bonesharks are never far. I can sense them, even when my eyes are closed. Their quiet, fluid movements barely ripple the water, but their presence is undeniable.

Every so often, I feel a slight shift in the currents—a gentle, deliberate movement as one or two swim silently around the cave, likely settling into their own resting spots. They're always in motion, always aware, even in moments of rest. Knowing I'm not alone here is a strange, almost primal comfort. Even in sleep, they remain ever-watchful, like silent guardians of this place.

Some of them, I notice, leave the cave after a while. Their silhouettes disappear into the water, moving gracefully toward the open ocean. I can only guess where they're headed—late-night hunting, perhaps, or some other task that calls them.

The others that remain behind don't seem disturbed by this. It's almost as if there's an unspoken understanding that this island—this small patch of calm beneath the floating landmasses—is a sanctuary for them.

It's a safe haven, a place to rest, like a watering hole where creatures worldwide gather in peace. I hear the faintest sounds as they return: the soft swish of their fins cutting through the water and the click of their jaws as they rejoin the group.

They slide back into the cave one by one, each returning from their hunting with an air of satisfaction. Some seem to settle down quickly, curling into the corners of the cave, while others remain alert, eyes scanning the dimly lit space, ensuring everything remains calm.

It's a delicate balance of vigilance and relaxation, a rhythm I can almost feel in my bones. As the night stretches on, the cave grows quieter, save for the occasional subtle movement of the Bonesharks.

The air is still and peaceful. The only sounds are the soft shifting of fins against water and the occasional murmur of breath as one stirs in one's sleep. Despite the foreignness of it all, I feel a strange sense of belonging here. In a world so full of danger and uncertainty, this cave—the island—feels like the one place where, for now, I'm safe.

It's a quiet oasis, a shared understanding between predators that rest is needed as much as hunting and that sometimes, survival depends on the group's strength. My body relaxes even further, the last vestiges of tension slipping away as I sink deeper into sleep.

The presence of the Bonesharks—both resting and hunting—is a steady, comforting reminder that I'm not alone in this strange, perilous world. As sleep finally claimed me, I let go of the day's worries, allowing the lull of the cave and the company of my fellow creatures to ease me into a deep, uninterrupted rest.

After a couple of hours of undisturbed, deep sleep, I begin to stir, the warmth of rest still clinging to me as I slowly return to full awareness. At first, I'm disoriented, the remnants of dreams fading into the murky shadows of the cave.

The soft, rhythmic breathing of the others is the first sound that registers in my mind, and I shift slightly, stretching my limbs, testing the new sensations in my body after the quiet respite. As my senses sharpened, I opened my eyes to find that the cave had shifted. The air feels cooler now, the stillness of the night replaced with a subtle undercurrent of movement.

The dim light filtering in from the crack in the stone above the cave entrance has grown weaker, and the faint glow of the floating islands above is barely enough to illuminate the space. The water around me is still, almost tranquil, with only the occasional ripple breaking the surface. Looking around, I see that most of the Bonesharks are gone. Their resting places are empty, save for a couple of the larger figures still curled in the cave's shadows.

They remain still, their bodies almost blending with the rock walls. Their bellies' slow rise and fall are the only indication that they're still alive. This strange stillness makes the cave feel quieter, as if the absence of the others has created a profound silence. A faint current stirs in the water near the cave entrance, likely a sign that some of the Bonesharks have already moved out into the open water, off to hunt or patrol their territory.

I can't help but notice the subtle change in the atmosphere—there's a growing sense of urgency, a subtle restlessness in the remaining Bonesharks, who are still sleeping. They must know that their time to rest is limited and that the world outside is waiting for them to enter it again.

I shift slightly, testing the water around me, the slight thrum of the current gently pushing me. I feel the familiar pull of the open expanse outside, the temptation to swim out and continue my journey, to find more food or opportunities to grow stronger.

But for now, the quiet of the cave beckons, and I take a moment to gather my thoughts, reflecting on this place's strange solitude. The last few Bonesharks remain undisturbed, their bodies long and relaxed in the shadows. I can't help but wonder if they, too, are waiting for the right moment to leave, as if they're savoring these final moments of peace before the hunt calls them back into action.

Their slow breathing fills the space around me, offering a strange sense of camaraderie despite the silent distance between us. As I shift again, I decide it's time to move on. The cave has served its purpose, but the world beyond still awaits. With one last glance at the sleeping figures of my fellow Bonesharks, I start to swim toward the cave entrance, ready to face whatever the next stretch of my journey holds.

The stillness of the cave lingers with me for a moment longer, a reminder of the rest I've gained and the quiet strength I've found in this unexpected sanctuary. But the open water calls, and I know it's time to leave this temporary refuge behind.

"Another day, another adventure," I murmur to myself, the words slipping from my mind like they're on autopilot. Guess it's going to have to be my motto or something, I think, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

The idea of it comforts me more than it should—one day after another, each with its own unpredictability. It's the only way to make sense of this place's chaos. Embrace the uncertainty step by step, and just keep moving forward.

The warmth of the cave fades behind me as I slowly swim out, and the cool, open water rushes to meet me like a wake-up call. The contrast hits me harder than I expect—the comforting shelter of the cave replaced by the vast, endless expanse.

It's like stepping out of a safe, familiar place into something far more vast, even overwhelming. The light above flickers, stretching through the water in thin rays, guiding my way as my eyes adjust to the brightness.

I take a moment to scan the horizon, my gaze sweeping over the surrounding floating islands. They're scattered across the expanse like fragments of some broken world—some large, some small, some closer, others farther away.

Each seems like a possibility waiting to be explored, every corner of this strange realm offering new challenges. As I swim further into the open water, the familiar, soothing rhythm of the current flows around me. The expanse ahead is endless and full of potential.

I turn and face the imposing wall of the pit, its towering cliff-like structure looming before me, a dark boundary between the familiar and the unknown. The sight of it stirs something in me—a mix of determination and curiosity.

'If the game had a kelp forest on the other side of this,' I think, 'then there's a chance it's still there. I need to check. There could be something helpful on the other side.' The thought gives me the motivation I need, pushing me to begin my ascent.

I swim upward slowly at first, my body cutting through the water with an almost natural rhythm. The wall is jagged and uneven, its surface covered in various barnacles, algae, and strange sea life I've never seen before.

But I don't let that distract me. I focus on my goal—the kelp forest that might be just beyond this barrier. The anticipation builds as I rise higher, the water growing cooler the further I climb. With every stroke, the dark depths below seem to recede further, and a faint light begins to break through the water's surface above, signaling that I'm getting closer to the top.

I can feel my heart rate quicken with excitement. I might find it. My fins are pushing harder now, and my movements are more urgent. The wall is steep, and the climb isn't easy, but reaching the kelp forest drives me on.

After what feels like an eternity, I reach the top of the wall. Take a moment to steady myself, catching my breath as I look around. The first thing I noticed was the change in the water—lighter, warmer, and more open. And then, my eyes catch sight of it—the kelp forest.

It's exactly like I remembered, but even more vibrant in real life than in the game. The thick, long stalks of kelp sway gracefully with the movement of the water, their tendrils twisting and curling like a dense forest of vines.

The colors are mesmerizing—deep greens mixed with hints of gold as the light filters through the water, illuminating the entire area with a soft, ethereal glow. Around me, schools of small fish dart and weave between the kelp as they swim effortlessly among the long vines.

I can also see a few larger fish hiding within the shadows of the forest, their sleek bodies blending seamlessly with the environment. The whole place feels alive—full of movement and potential.

I swim slowly into the kelp forest, feeling a strange sense of awe. The air feels different here, more peaceful, as though this place offers something safer, more nurturing than the barren, dangerous open expanse I've come from.

My eyes dart around, scanning the surroundings, knowing this could be a goldmine for food, resources, or something I haven't yet discovered. The kelp brushes against me as I glide through it, its soft tendrils swirling with the current.

Occasionally, I catch glimpses of fish darting through the shadows or the swaying plants, and my mind races with the possibilities. I have to be careful, though. Not everything in here might be friendly, I remind myself.

I pause, my eyes scanning the kelp forest, a dizzying expanse of movement and color. The water around me is alive, filled with the constant bustle of creatures weaving through the dense, swaying stalks.

Tiny fish dart in and out of the shadows, their scales flashing in the beams of sunlight that filter down from above. Larger shapes move with purpose, their silhouettes ghosting through the thick tangle of kelp like silent hunters.

A sense of constant motion fills the space, and it feels like something is waiting around every corner, hidden just out of sight. I I can eat all sorts of things here, but my stomach is giving a slight growl, betraying my curiosity.

The ecosystem seems alive with opportunity—everything from tiny morsels to larger, more formidable creatures. This place is teeming with life, and I'm just starting to realize how much it could offer.

Then, my gaze shifts, and out of the corner of my eye, I spot a racing stalker. The predator cuts through the water like a shadow, sleek and fast, its body built for this very environment. The stalker moves with an almost unnerving grace, its streamlined form slicing effortlessly through the dense kelp.

In an instant, I see it close in on a rabbit ray, its movements so precise and calculated that the ray doesn't stand a chance. The ray, too slow to react, flails helplessly as the stalker strikes, its jaws snapping shut with a sickening crack.

The struggle is brief but violent, the ray twisting and writhing in the stalker's grip. Within seconds, the predator begins to devour its prey, the sight of its powerful jaws tearing into the soft flesh of the ray almost mesmerizing.

But what truly catches my attention is the stalker's teeth. As the predator rips into its meal, I see several jagged, razor-sharp teeth break free from its gums and fall into the kelp below, lost in the churn of water. I watch in morbid fascination as the teeth drift slowly to the floor before something even stranger happens. As quickly as they were lost, new teeth grew in the stalker's mouth.

It's almost like watching a time-lapse, the new teeth sprouting from its gums and slotting into place with surgical precision, as though they were never gone. The regrowth is immediate and flawless—almost mechanical in its efficiency.

It's something i've never seen before, and the sheer speed with which its teeth regenerate feels unnatural, almost as though this creature's biology is engineered for survival in ways I can't fully comprehend.

The scene leaves me a little breathless, a mix of awe and wariness settling over me. 'This place is... something else,' I think, my mind racing. The kelp forest, so full of life, is also full of dangers and surprises—resilient, brutal, and unforgiving. But there's a strange beauty in it, too. 'I could probably make use of this place,' I think, eyeing the stalker as it finishes its meal, seemingly no worse for wear despite losing its teeth.

Though... what to eat first? I think, my mind racing as my stomach growls again, this time louder, more demanding. I pause, scanning the kelp forest and watching the drifting shadows and flickers of life hidden in the dense underwater foliage. My eyes dart from one potential meal to the next, but nothing seems right. My hunger twists inside me, making me restless. I need to make a choice fast.

And then, just as I'm about to move on, I spot it. Out of the corner of my eye, a small hoverfish drifts lazily through the water. Its fins flutter lightly as it glides effortlessly between the stalks of kelp, oblivious to everything around it.

Perfect, but my focus is narrowing. It's small but does the trick and moves in the right direction. Seeing it sends a jolt of energy through me, an instinctive surge that sharpens my senses. My hunger spikes, driving me forward. This is it. Without wasting another second, I begin to swim. Time to act fast, I remind myself. I can't afford to lose this opportunity.

Every muscle in my body is coiled with anticipation, and I instinctively engage my Pupolsion. My body surges forward with explosive speed, the water parting easily as my momentum builds, each stroke more potent than the last. The surrounding kelp blurs past me in a flash, the underwater world turning into a fleeting smear of colors as I close the gap between myself and the hovering prey.

The hoverfish is still completely unaware of me as I gain on it, gliding gracefully through the current. The distance closes faster than expected, and then it happens: I'm on top of it instantly. I don't even hesitate.

My jaws snap shut with perfect precision, the soft body of the hoverfish slipping effortlessly into my mouth. There's barely a twitch as I swallow; the motion is so instinctive that it feels like second nature.

'That was easy,' I think, a slight smirk tugging at my mental resolve. It happened so fast, almost too fast to savor. For a split second, I feel its body's incredible, smooth texture in my mouth, the satisfaction of the hunt rushing through me.

[DNA Absorption]

Hoverfish

Choose One Possible Trait:

Charged Fins: This trait allows a translucent, almost ethereal film to form over the fins, a delicate, shimmering layer that seems to pulse with subtle energy. The film's function, however, is far more remarkable. It grants the ability to ionize the surrounding water. This ionization creates a stable pocket of stillness around the body, enabling the creature to remain perfectly motionless in otherwise strong, moving currents.

As the current pushes and pulls against the creature, the film over the fins reacts with the water, manipulating its electrical properties to create a subtle, localized equilibrium. By adjusting the ionization intensity, the creature can subtly shift its position in the water, allowing for a level of control that would otherwise be impossible in fast-moving currents.

N/A

"Well, that's definitely useful," I think, a sense of satisfaction settling in as I realize that the decision was essentially made for me. And it's the only choice, I add with a quiet chuckle. Its simplicity is almost reassuring—it makes everything feel less complicated.

Without hesitation, I mentally select the Charged Fins trait, watching as the familiar warmth spreads through my fins. It's not painful but noticeable—a slight, almost tingling burn, a gentle reminder that something's happening. The sensation doesn't last long, but it's enough to make me aware that my body is changing and adapting in some new way.

Then, a strange, subtle shift occurs. I feel it more than I see it, but I can tell when it happens: a thin, almost imperceptible film begins to form across my fins. At first, it's so light that I wonder if I'm imagining it, but the sensation persists, and soon, I can see a faint shimmer across the surface of my fins. It's as if the water around me has become a bit more... conductive, and I sense that the film is allowing my fins to channel some kind of energy.

In an instant, a flood of information rushes into my mind. It's as if my body knows what to do now—like some buried instinct has come to the surface. I can feel the electricity in the water around me, a faint pulse that hums beneath the surface. The sensation is foreign and familiar. I've always known it was there but never had the means to tap into it.

I feel the water currents in a way I never have before, almost like they're part of me, shaping my movements with a quiet, practically imperceptible force. As I focus on the sensation, I realize something even more surprising. I can now control the flow of electricity in my body, adjusting it between my fins to create balance.

It's like learning to ride a current, becoming one with the flow of water instead of fighting against it. The electric pulses through my body, and I instinctively adjust, learning to synchronize with the surrounding water.

It's almost as if I've become part of the current, my body merging with it, flowing seamlessly through the water as though there's no resistance. I can feel the difference already. The water feels less like an obstacle and more like an extension of myself. It's no longer something I have to fight or struggle against.

I can sense how the water moves around me and how the currents shift and change, and I know how to adjust my movements to match. It's effortless and smooth—perfectly harmonious between me and the water.

A small smile crosses my mind as I feel the power settle within me. 'This is going to make things a lot easier,' I think, already imagining how much smoother my movements will be from now on.

"This, combined with my caudal fins, is incredibly useful," I think, the realization settling in as I sense the fine-tuned shift in my body. I can practically feel every current around me now; I marvel at the ease of perceiving the water's flow, making everything feel natural.

It's as if I've gained a whole new sense—an intuitive awareness of the world and the currents in the water. Suddenly, moving through this vast expanse is no longer a struggle; it feels like a dance, where every movement is in perfect harmony with the currents.

I focus on my caudal fin, which twitches as if responding to my thoughts. Immediately, a rush of data floods my mind—clear, precise, and sharp. It's like I've opened a direct line to the very flow of water itself, each current speaking to me in its own language.

There it is—the current nearby, my mind processes as it decodes the information. And here's the amount of electricity I need to send through my fins to stay still, match the water's movement, and keep my body in perfect alignment without any resistance.

The details come fast, overwhelming at first, but my mind absorbs them instantly. I feel the water's strength, direction, and how much charge I'd need to keep my body still—no more fighting the current.

It's like a puzzle with all the pieces before me, and I can see exactly where each piece fits. The precision is almost surreal. In a fluid motion, I instinctively adjust, letting the charge flow through my fins and aligning myself with the current. I feel my body sync with the water around me.

The sensation is subtle but distinct as if the world around me has shifted into focus. The current becomes an extension of my body, as though I'm no longer swimming in it but with it. 'This is unreal,' I think, feeling a grin creep across my mind. I'm no longer just reacting to the water. I'm controlling it, moving with it. Every current feels like part of my body—fluid, alive, and something I can adjust at will.

"Maybe I won't struggle here all that much after all," I think, the words surprising me even as they leave my mind. The soft sway of the kelp around me and the quiet hum of the currents feel almost... welcoming.

At this moment, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to find my rhythm in this new world. Everything seems to be falling into place, piece by piece. I take a moment to observe my surroundings, my eyes drifting through the undulating kelp as I scan the open water.

Then, something catches my attention—a stalker swimming alone. It's not like the ones I've seen before. This one's body is marked with scars, signs of past battles, and roughened and torn skin.

One of its dorsal ridges is half gone, the scar tissue visible in the faint light. This stalker has been through a lot, and its slow and deliberate movements suggest it's no stranger to survival. I watch it for a moment longer, my mind assessing the situation. It cautiously moves through the kelp, its large, predatory eyes sweeping the water as it scans for prey.

'Doesn't see me,' I think, an unspoken advantage in my favor. It doesn't seem to notice me, completely unaware of my presence. 'Can't be picky. Food is food.' The thought comes almost automatically, and I don't hesitate for a second. There's no time for hesitation here. Survival doesn't wait, and neither will I.

I feel the familiar pull of the current against my body, the gentle rush of water as it moves through the kelp forest. My fins twitch, almost instinctively, as I ionize them, shifting the water's polarity around me.

It's a subtle shift at first, but then my body hums with energy, the water parting around me as I adjust to its flow. Once a resistance, the current becomes a tool—a way to move faster, smoother, and more efficiently.

I push off from the ground, my body surging slightly forward. I stay out of the stalker's line of sight, my movements precise and controlled. I don't want to make a sound; I don't want to alert it. 'I have to move quickly.' Then, I engage my Pupolsion. In an instant, my body surges forward, propelled by a burst of energy that feels like I've been shot from a cannon.

The rush of water around me seems to slow down, and I feel the pressure build in my muscles as I rocket through the kelp. It's almost too fast, too much—too quick for me to fully process—but I don't mind. I welcome the speed.

My maw opens wide, the gap between me and the stalker closing instantly. Before it even realizes what's happening, I'm on it. I snap my jaws shut with lightning speed, locking onto the side of its head.

The impact is immediate and precise, and the stalker doesn't stand a chance. There's no struggle, no fight—just the quick, clean snap of my teeth sinking into its flesh. It's over in a heartbeat.

I can feel its life fade away in a fraction of a second, the rush of adrenaline in my veins already beginning to fade as I clamp down harder, securing my hold. My body instinctively shifts to consume the prey. The stalker, now lifeless, slides into my maw, and I swallow it whole, the taste of blood and salt mixing as it slides down.

'That was easy,' I think, the thrill of the hunt fading quickly, replaced by a sense of calm satisfaction. It happened so fast that I barely had time to enjoy it, but I can feel the satisfaction of success lingering in my mind.

In this world, it's all about action—quick, sharp, and without hesitation. And for the first time, I feel like I'm starting to get it. The balance is shifting in my favor, and confidence grows with it.

"Time to dig into this splendid meal," I think, a slight, satisfied grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. There's something inherently satisfying about how the stalker's body gives way beneath my teeth, the resistance yielding with every sharp tear.

The fact that it's just slightly smaller than me doesn't change a thing. It might as well be a snack, so I will quickly start working through it. I begin with its fins, pulling them off with practiced ease, the muscles of my jaws tearing through the flesh like it's nothing. The texture is tender and almost delicate, and I don't waste time.

Each piece slides down quickly, the saltiness of the meat coating my mouth, the sharp flavor both invigorating and familiar. It's a stark contrast to the adrenaline still pulsing through my System, but it's satisfying and grounding, the taste of success lingering on my tongue.

I move quickly, my jaws sinking deeper, my teeth making short work of its thick hide. As I tear through the body, the flesh pulls apart quickly, and the soft tissues of the stalker are a welcome change from the more rigid exteriors I'm used to.

With each bite, I feel the small victory stack up—each piece consumed is another win in this new world. Next, I turn my attention to the stomach. The muscles are thicker and tougher here, but it's nothing my teeth can't handle.

There's a moment of resistance, the flesh more fibrous, but I rip through it effortlessly. I can feel the contents shift, mixing with the warm blood inside. The taste is rich and a little pungent. Whatever the stalker had eaten earlier, it's now part of me. The mix of salty and sharp flavors fills my mouth as I swallow it down, the feeling of fullness settling with every bite.

Before long, my entire body is reduced to scraps. My body moves through each section almost instinctively, extracting every practical part and consuming it precisely. There's no waste. Everything is turned into energy, sustenance, and fuel.

'This is what I'm built for,' I think, feeling a pulse of pride swell deep inside me. There's no hesitation in my movements, no doubt in my actions. It's not just about surviving here—it's about thriving. And right now, in this moment, I'm doing just that, proving that I can carve my place in this world.

[DNA Absorption]

Stalker

Choose One Possible Trait:

Regrowable Teeth: This trait allows for the rapid regrowth of teeth if they fall out, break, or are removed. However, this trait's remarkable regenerative ability isn't without its drawbacks. As efficient as the process is, it has an unusual side effect.

The constant growth of new teeth creates a never-ending cycle of pushing out the old ones, making things crowded. Despite minor discomfort, the regrowth continues seamlessly, each new tooth sharp, strong, and ready for use. The strength and utility of having an ever-growing supply of teeth outweigh the inconvenience.

Dorsal Ridges: This trait adds to the development of seven dorsal ridges along the spine. Each ridge is designed with a sleek, aerodynamic curve that cuts through the water effortlessly, providing added stability and control during movement.

The ridges aren't rigid; they have a slight flexibility that adapts to the pressures of tight turns. When you twist or bank sharply, you feel them pressing against the water, creating the resistance you need to change direction almost instantly.

Night Vision: This trait introduces a profound change to the genetic structure of the eyes, enhancing their functionality in low-light environments. With this adaptation, the eyes are now equipped to adjust rapidly to shifts in brightness, especially when transitioning from well-lit areas to deep, shadowy regions.

The transformation optimizes vision, allowing you to detect even the faintest movement traces in the dark. As a result, your ability to perceive movement has improved dramatically. Subtle shifts in the water—the flicker of a tail, the ripple of a fin, or the glint of scales—stand out like beacons against the murky backdrop. The adaptation also reduces the reliance on external light sources.

"Well, shit," I mutter under my breath, the frustration echoing through my thoughts as I stare at the options spread out before me. Each one gleams with potential, promising something new, something powerful.

But that only makes the choice harder. Every option could be a turning point, a key to thriving in this strange, dangerous world. I focus, analyze them logically, and weigh the pros and cons of each. My mind races in circles, unable to settle on one. 'Which one will give me the most long-term benefit?' I wonder, my indecision clawing at me. It feels like there's too much riding on this.

"Damn it, they're all good," I grumble internally, scrolling through the options for what feels like the hundredth time. Each one tempts me somehow, and the pressure to choose wisely looms like a shadow.

My thoughts churn, growing heavier with every passing moment. 'What if I pick wrong?' Then, something catches my eye—a small, flashing question mark in the corner of the screen. It's subtle, almost an afterthought in the interface, but now that I've seen it, I can't ignore it. My curiosity flares. 'What's this?' I wonder, and without hesitation, I mentally click on it.

The screen shifts slightly, revealing a new detail I hadn't noticed before: "1/10" displayed next to the stalker's name. Beneath it, a text block appears, explaining that if I consume nine more stalkers, I'll unlock an additional trait.

For a moment, I just stare, letting the information sink in. My frustration melts away, replaced by a spark of excitement that grows into a surge of anticipation. A grin begins to stretch across my mind, wide and triumphant. Another trait? The thought repeats in my head, the possibilities flashing before me. 'Now that's something I can work with.'

I glance back at the original options, but the weight of the decision feels lighter now. The pressure is gone; this isn't the final choice—it's just the beginning. My grin widens as I consider my next steps, and my thoughts shift to strategy. I don't just have a plan anymore. I have a goal and, with it, a path forward.

"Okay," I think, the gears in my mind turning rapidly as I piece together the implications of what I've just learned. "So, I must hunt nine more stalkers to unlock another trait. And if this works how I think it might…" My thoughts trail off as I begin running the numbers, a realization forming.

"It could multiply by ten again after that. A hundred stalkers for the next step. If I keep at it, eventually I could unlock every trait of this system System." The enormity of it all hits me like a wave, and a grin spreads across my thoughts, fueled by equal parts determination and excitement. 'This changes everything.'

The potential for growth and power stirs something primal inside me. The idea of becoming a perfectly adapted predator, unstoppable and fine-tuned to this alien world, fills me with a sense of purpose I hadn't felt before.

I shift my focus back to the options before me. As much as the long-term possibilities excite me, survival in the here and now is still my top priority. My gaze lingers on each option, considering their immediate benefits.

I need something practical that will better equip me for the challenges ahead. "Regrowable teeth are the best for now," I decide firmly, the choice locking into place in my mind. It's a logical pick.

Teeth are essential—whether for tearing through prey, defending myself, or navigating the unexpected dangers of this world. The ability to replace broken or lost teeth ensures I'll always have the tools I need, no matter what.

Without hesitation, I mentally select the trait. The response is immediate—a familiar warmth, centered on my gums, floods my body. It's not painful, more like a controlled burn, a sensation that signals something new taking root.

It's a reminder that change is happening and that I'm adapting. Then, I feel a faint, almost imperceptible pressure beneath several of my teeth. The sensation is strange yet fascinating, as if something is gently pushing upward, eager to take its place.

The idea that my body is already working to ensure I'll never go without is oddly satisfying. My grin widens as I take in the full impact of this. "Now, do I commit a massacre now… or later?" The thought flashes through my mind, half in jest but laced with the raw edge of possibility.

The current tugs at me insistently, a steady and patient force. I don't resist its pull; instead, I lean into it. My fins hum faintly as I ionize them, aligning perfectly with the charge in the water. As the polarity shifts, I feel myself glide forward, the current transforming into a mighty, invisible hand that rockets me through the kelp forest with silent efficiency.

The underwater world blurs around me, the rhythmic sway of the kelp creating streaks of green and gold in my peripheral vision. Shadowy fish dart away, startled by the sudden force of my approach, but I barely register them.

My senses are hyper focused, tuned to every vibration, movement, and subtle shift in the water around me. It's exhilarating, almost intoxicating—the perfect blend of speed and precision. Before I knew it, the situation had me shy of my destination. I slowed instinctively, my body coming to a graceful halt as the scene unfolded.

Nestled amidst the dense kelp is a stalker nest. It's well-hidden, tucked away in a patch of darkness where the sunlight struggles to reach. Only a dozen meters away, I can see them—stalkers, coiled and still, their bodies pressed against the sand and kelp.

Their chests rise and fall in slow, rhythmic motions, the steady cadence of creatures at rest. I pause, taking it all in. There are several of them, maybe half a dozen or more. Some are scarred, their rugged bodies telling stories of countless battles, while others are sleeker, younger, and untested. The kelp sways gently around them, creating the illusion of a protective veil, but I know better.

This isn't protection; it's an illusion of safety. They are vulnerable, unaware of my presence, entirely at my mercy. For a fleeting moment, I simply watch. The scene feels strangely serene, a tableau of peaceful slumber that almost makes me hesitate. Almost. But deep down, the predator in me stirs, my instincts humming with the thrill of opportunity. My heart beats steadily, each pulse fueling the primal urge that surges within me.

'Now… or later?' The question hangs in my mind, heavy with implications. My gaze sharpens, my body is taut and ready, every muscle coiled for action. "Well, stalkers are hunters both night and day," I muse, my thoughts sharpening as I examine the scene before me. The nest lies hidden among the kelp, a rare find.

"The fact that I've stumbled across a group of them asleep? That's a gift in itself." My gaze sweeps over the huddled forms, each stalker curled into its own space, their rhythmic breaths stirring faint ripples in the water. I count silently: one, two, seven, give or take. The realization sends a spark of excitement through me. Seven of them, I repeat in my mind, already piecing together the steps.

If I play this right, I can quickly take them down down. The thought sets my pulse pounding, a mix of anticipation and focus taking over. My body instinctively tenses every muscle coiling with purpose.

My fins stiffen, fine-tuning their angle for precision. I feel the water around me, the currents shifting gently, carrying the faint sounds of their slow breathing. Everything about this moment feels electric, charged with potential.

Then, a flicker of movement draws my eye. One of the stalkers stirs, its body rolling sluggishly before its head lifts. My breath catches. It's subtle but enough to make my heart hammer in my chest.

The creature's eyes are half-lidded, still heavy with the haze of sleep, but they begin to scan the area lazily. Its movements are sluggish and uncoordinated, as if it's on the edge of waking fully but not quite there. I freeze, holding perfectly still, watching it with a predator's intensity. The water between us feels charged for a moment, every second stretching longer than the last.

It doesn't seem fully alert, but that small stir is enough to set me on edge. The faintest ripple could alert the others; if that happens, the chance for an ambush is gone. There's no time to hesitate, my mind racing to finalize a plan. The odds are still stacked in my favor, but the window is closing, shrinking with every sluggish movement of that stalker's head.

Now. The word cuts through my thoughts like a sharp blade, igniting every nerve in my body. There's no room for hesitation, no time to second-guess. My fins flare to life as I ionize them, aligning perfectly with the water's natural polarity.

The current seizes me like an unstoppable force; its pull is immediate and decisive. I surrender to it, my body gliding precisely, propelled forward at exhilarating speed. As I hurtle toward the nest, the kelp blurs around me, a green haze against the dark waters.

The cave looms ahead, shadows spilling from its mouth like a secret waiting to be revealed. The current veers sharply upward, and I follow its lead without resistance, twisting my body in a sharp, calculated spin.

The motion sends me spiraling upward, adding momentum to my approach. My Pupolsion tubes engage with a forceful surge, launching me like a harpoon through the water. The sudden acceleration compresses the world into a tunnel of motion, and I emerge from it like a predator unleashed. I break free from the current with flawless timing, my movement fluid and precise.

In a heartbeat, I'm face-to-face with the first stalker, its body frozen in a moment of stunned realization. It doesn't even have a chance to react before my jaws snap down on its neck. My teeth tear through sinew and muscle as if they were nothing, shredding with ruthless efficiency. The taste of sharp and primal iron floods my senses as its lifeblood spills into the water.

The stalker's body convulses, its weight dragging against me, but I twist, using that momentum to fuel my next strike. My spin is deliberate, a lethal dance that drives the spike of my tail into the eye socket of a second stalker.

The resistance is brief, a sickening crunch of bone and tissue giving way under the force. The impact reverberates through me, but I don't falter. 'It's food; don't overthink this,' I tell myself firmly as a fleeting whisper of hesitation threatens to surface.

Survival demands action, not sentiment, and I bury the thought as swiftly as it arose. With a sharp flick of my tail, I rip the spike free, the motion tearing through the stalker's skull. Blood blooms in the water, a crimson cloud swirling in the currents.

Around me, the remaining stalkers jerk awake, their bodies writhing in disoriented confusion. Their eyes dart wildly, trying to piece together the chaos unraveling before them. But I don't give them the chance to regroup. I lunge forward, my fins humming faintly as I carve through the water. My jaws clamp down on a third stalker's pectoral fin, the flesh giving way with a satisfying rip.

The detached limb drifts briefly before being lost in the turbulence. My own fin angles sharply, slicing through the water like a blade. The motion is instinctive, precise, and deadly. The edge catches the back of another stalker, cutting deep into its flesh and leaving a jagged wound in its wake.

The water around me churns, a maelstrom of motion and blood. Its scent hangs heavy, fueling my instincts and sharpening my focus. Each move feels like a perfectly executed step in an unrelenting rhythm, every action deliberate and calculated.

I flex my Pupolsion tubes on my right side, the sudden activation sending a surge of controlled energy through me. My body reacts instantly, twisting sharply as the force propels me into a fluid, almost predatory turn.

The water around me parts like silk, and my movement is seamless as I line myself up with the next target. Without wasting a second, I burst forward, the acceleration driving me straight toward the stalker.

My jaws snap shut with deadly precision around its neck, the sharp pressure of my teeth puncturing deep into its arteries. Blood rushes into the water, a warm, metallic cloud spreading around me as its life force ebbs away.

In its final moments, the stalker's body jerks violently, the spasms sending ripples through the water. I take advantage of its flaring movements, using the momentum to twist myself into position.

As I spin, I bring my tail around with deadly intent, the motion fluid and forceful. The spike at the tip slams into the head of another stalker, the impact reverberating through me like the crack of thunder.

The force of the blow sends it reeling, its body collapsing in on itself as I follow through with a powerful flick of my tail. A sharp burst from my Pupolsion tubes adds extra speed to the strike, amplifying the power behind the motion. The blow connects with precision, the sheer force obliterating its skull in an instant.

Fragments of bone and flesh scatter into the surrounding water, mingling with the crimson haze of blood. The stalker goes limp, its body sinking slowly as the currents begin to claim it. I pause briefly, my senses sharp as I assess the situation. The nest is a flurry of chaos and blood, but I can still see them—the three remaining stalkers.

Two of them are already on their feet, their bodies tensed and ready to fight, confusion and rage swirling in their movements. The third lagging behind, disoriented and injured, struggling to make sense of the carnage.

"Come on, one of you move," I think, my muscles tensing. The deep ache of the spins and sudden jerks is starting to weigh on me. The dizziness is there, faint but persistent, a growing pulse in the back of my mind. Yet, I shove it aside. Focus. The sharpness of the hunt snaps me back into clarity. My eyes dart between the two remaining stalkers, now circling me like predators in the water.

Their movements are slow and deliberate—unfamiliar with the rapid destruction I've just unleashed. They hesitate, still processing, confused by the aftermath of the chaos they just witnessed. It's the perfect moment to strike.

I feel every inch of my body primed, coiled for action, every fiber of muscle waiting to be unleashed. I steady my breathing, focusing on the subtle shifts in the water, the way their bodies angle toward me, trying to anticipate my next move.

It's like watching a storm on the horizon, knowing the lightning's about to hit. I flick my tail once, and the movement is so subtle it's almost imperceptible. But then I see a tiny gap, a flaw in their circling pattern. Now. In one motion, I spring forward, my fins pulsing with raw energy, propelling me through the water at an almost unnatural speed. I streak past them faster than they can react.

Straight toward the injured stalker. Its blood fills the water, a thick, murky fog clouding the surrounding space. I don't hesitate. I lunge at it, my jaws snapping shut around its neck with brutal force. I feel the muscles part, the sinew giving way as I tear through it. Blood floods my mouth, the metallic taste sharp and satisfying as I rip through flesh, the body jerking weakly in my grip.

It goes limp in my hold, but I don't stop. With my catch still in my jaws, I twist my body with a fluid motion, using its weight and momentum to pivot. I spin, the water rushing by in a blur, and launch toward the confused stalker, its eyes wide with sudden realization.

Before it fully reacts, I sink my teeth into its throat, the strike coming fast and hard. The warmth of its blood spreads instantly, coating my mouth and throat. The satisfaction is overwhelming, a jolt of triumph surging through my body.

I use the stalker's body as leverage, spinning with purpose, my tail whipping through the water in a swift arc. The sharp spike at the end of it digs deep into the other stalker's gills, the impact resonating through my tail, sending a shudder of power through me. The stalker convulses, struggling briefly, but it's already too late. The force of the blow has crushed its gills, and it's gasping weakly for air that will never come.

Its body jerks once more, and then it's still. I feel the heat of the blood pulsing through the water around me, thick and red, clouding my vision. The water stirs with the force of our battle, but I stay focused, pushing through the disorienting swirl of blood and motion.

The rush of the hunt is electric, a pulse that runs through every part of me. My body moves with precision, each strike calculated, each turn seamless. I can feel the chaos around me, but it doesn't overwhelm me. It sharpens me.

"Well, that was... thrilling, in an incredibly sadistic way," I think to myself, the thought lingering like a dark, satisfying hum in the back of my mind. My eyes drift over the scene in front of me, taking in the cloud of blood that now saturates the cave. It's a murky, swirling mess, with pieces of the stalker corpses floating like shattered fragments of a twisted puzzle.

The water is thick with their remains—chunks of flesh, torn-off limbs, and shattered bone, drifting lazily in every direction, carried by the slow, inevitable currents. The chaos is oddly exhilarating, a stark reminder of what I've just done.

The hunt had been brutal, fast, and efficient, and now the aftermath is a spectacle of destruction that fills me with a strange sense of satisfaction. My muscles still tremble with the aftershocks of the chase, the adrenaline from the hunt pulsing in my veins.

I can feel the warmth of the battle fading, replaced by a deep, gnawing emptiness that lingers, something primal, something that refuses to be ignored. It's an unshakable restlessness that runs more profound than the fleeting thrill of victory.

Then, without warning, my stomach betrays me. It growls—a deep, hollow rumble that echoes loudly in the quiet cave. It's almost deafening, the sound reverberating off the bloodied walls of the space. I blink, startled by its intensity, a bit taken aback.

I had just feasted on the carnage around me, yet it felt like I hadn't eaten in days. The hunger claws at me, relentless, insistent. It doesn't care about the blood I've spilled, about the bodies I've torn apart—it just demands more. There's no time to waste.

Without thinking, I move toward the nearest stalker's corpse. The scent of blood is thick in the water, cloying, sweet, and metallic. It fills my senses, overwhelming everything. The body floats, eerily calm now in the aftermath, its limp form drifting toward me like a piece of driftwood.

I waste no time, my hunger pushing me forward with urgency. I sink my teeth into the tender flesh, feeling the initial resistance as my jaw works its way through the tough exterior. But it gives way quickly, the soft tissue yielding under my force.

The meat is still warm and fresh, and I can almost feel the pulse of life in it even though the creature is long dead. But that doesn't matter. All that matters is satisfying this desperate, gnawing hunger.

I tear into the flesh with a focus that borders on frenzy, the primal need to feed overriding everything else. My teeth cut cleanly through the muscle, and I pull more of the tender meat-free with each bite. The salty, iron-rich taste floods my senses, and for a moment, the world narrows down to nothing but the act of feeding.

I don't think I don't plan. I simply devour. My body knows what it needs and takes it without hesitation, each motion instinctive, driven by an insatiable drive to fill the void inside me. As I feast, my mind drifts momentarily, a flicker of awareness pulling me from the frenzy.

I glance around at the remnants of the stalkers, pieces of their broken bodies swirling around me in the now-blood-soaked water. It's like a macabre dance of destruction, their remains mingling with the currents, a testament to the chaos I've unleashed.

The satisfaction of the kill fades slowly, replaced by a quieter, more primal instinct. The hunt is over, and now it's time to survive—to replenish, feed, and restore what was lost in the battle.

And so, I keep eating, tearing through the flesh without a second thought. I push aside any lingering emotions, any fleeting thoughts. The hunger doesn't care about what's left after the slaughter. It just wants to be filled. And I'll keep feeding until it is.

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{A/N Well, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and the fight scene that took me way longer to write for no reason because I almost fell asleep about five times due to operating without sleep for the last 32 hours, maybe 33, but I'm going to sleep now.

But soon, this should start picking up pace, as you don't want to read about the same area for about ten chapters. I will now put the new and improved status below, and I will see you guys next Monday.

[Status]

Species: Boneshark

Abilities: Prey Detection, Toxin Resistance, Pupolsion, Ionized Fins

Personal Traits: Adaptive Evolutionary Trait Activation and Physiological Augmentations.

Species Traits: Electromagnetic Sensitivity, Pressure Detection, Exoskeletal Integrity, Muscle Density, and Energy Reserves.

Gained Traits: Sensory Fins, Pupolsion Tubes, Charged Fins, and Regrowable Teeth