After another two hours, there were a total of 100 people. Even several kids my age were ready for the job.
Jerry, seeing that everyone had been selected, started moving us toward another area deeper into the forest. After about half an hour, we reached another warehouse—this one more hidden, surrounded by trees.
"Since we're here, you 100, I'll explain the job and the pay. It's not peanuts for you folks.
The main thing you gotta do is grab these boxes. There's enough here for everyone.
We're splitting the group in two: 50 and 50. One half goes for Crimson Blooms, the other for Shadow Coral.
For Crimson Blooms, each full box is 1,000 beri. The more boxes you fill, the more cash.
And for Shadow Coral, it's 500 per box.
Now, those who want Shadow Coral, head right. Blooms, go left," Jerry finished saying.
Most folks headed for the blooms—seemed like the quicker grab. But without deciding, I only had one option left. If coral pays less than blooms, it must be easier to collect compared to the flowers.
With a 60-40 split, Jerry nodded to himself before waving his hand. Tom and Mot went off with the bloom group, while Jerry came over to us, leading us deeper to the other side of the island.
We got to the far side quick, and everyone spotted a ship—not too big, but enough to carry us all and then some.
"The corals aren't from this island, but it's closer here than other spots, so hop on board. I'll explain how to harvest Shadow Coral while we go."
We all climbed aboard without question, and without waiting, the ship—piloted by Jerry and another guy already on deck—set sail. It was the first time I'd left Krakenport Island in a year. In my past life, I'd been out on the sea plenty, especially on small motorboats perfect for smuggling cargo on the sly. It was one of the safest ways to make quick money and build connections.
So being out on the open water didn't hit me as hard as the others, who looked seasick while some puked over the side to keep the deck clean. Staring at the endless sea, I took a deep breath, smelling the salt, hearing the waves and the ocean's roar.
This is the life—feeling like you can head into the unknown, not just waiting for change to hit you. One phrase stuck in my head: "Winners are made by chances." So even if you fail over and over, someday you'll come out a winner.
Turning from the sea, I sized up the other workers. Like Silco said, no one over the hill—all adults from 40 down to 30, some younger teens, some kids 15 to 20. Only one guy stood out: big and strong, but he kept to himself, away from the crowd.
They say the older you get, the wiser—and you spot things others miss. This dude had a heavy presence; just looking at him screamed power. Normally, I'd work solo, but this is a new me. Maybe the reason I died in my old life was going lone wolf, not building bonds beyond the basics. That could've prevented the massacre.
As the ship kept chugging and the sun dropped, replaced by the endless moon glow, most workers turned in to rest for tomorrow.
That might've been smart. Just hearing "coral" screams one thing: the sea—or more precisely, under it. I've heard tales of giant creatures down there that smash ships for fun. Doubt I could survive an attack alone, but with someone watching my back, we might stay alive longer.
Spotting the big guy still up, I decided to approach. As I got close, he turned to face me.
"Something you need?" he asked. Surprisingly, his voice didn't match his build—it was calm, like a young guy's, not some gravelly adult growl.
"Uh, I figured you'd jump me or have a deeper voice. Just going by looks," I said with a grin.
"You're not the first to say that. Get to the point," he replied, staring me down.
"Okay, okay, straight to it. How about teaming up? I think we'd have better odds at maxing profits than going solo," I said, dropping the smirk for a more serious vibe.
"Why me? You could pair with anyone else easy," he asked, curious.
"Honestly? You caught my eye staying back like that. And you look strong as hell—you could haul more coral than anyone alone," I replied, eyeing his massive arms.
"If I say yes, what's the catch? Nothing's this easy in the world," he said, standing up and looming over me to intimidate.
"Catch? So you're not as dumb as I thought. They say more muscles mean dumber, but not you. I'll be straight: Let's introduce ourselves. Name's Olbap Rabocse. Yours?"
"I don't have a name. Folks just call me Muscle," he said, locking eyes.
"Muscle? Boring. You should change it—sounds lame. How about Popeye from now on? Fits you perfect," I suggested, testing the waters.
"Popeye? Not bad. Olbap Rabocse, now spill the deal," Popeye said, taking my hand in a grip that felt like it'd rip my arm off.
With his interest hooked, we moved farther from the group—we'd drawn some stares from workers, and I didn't want to bug the sleepers.
"Alright, Popeye, here's the scoop. You probably figured the corals are underwater. And you've heard sea dangers. Seeing the pay per box, there has to be risk—that's why they don't do it themselves.
Simple: I like you, it's our first team-up. How about 70% me, 30% you? But before you nix it, hear me out: You just watch and haul the corals I pass up. I'll dive—got good lungs. You handle the heavy lifting."
I knew 70-30 wouldn't fly, but you always start high. They counter down, feel like they won something, when really, it's all mapped out.
"Sounds good on my end, but fairer'd be 60 you, 40 me. I'll be hauling everything you grab while watching and protecting from whatever comes," Popeye said, trying to bond.
"Fair enough, Popeye. 60-40. If our first day's smooth, maybe 50-50 next. But this works—I'm the one in the real danger," I said, leaning in to press the advantage.
In my old life deals, it was Interesting to watch the shift: the one pushing the deal starts losing ground, and that's the sweetest part.
Deal sealed with Popeye, I crashed to rest up—tomorrow I'd need every ounce of energy.
The next day...
Peering down, I saw what looked like an island, but really it was a split mountain peak. What seemed like grass was algae clinging to the stone edges, forming a canyon with a central passage where the Shadow Corals emerged.
Watching the waves crash hard against the rock, I knew this'd be tough—even without beasts. The currents were brutal; my small body'd get swept and crushed by the pressure.
Close enough to peer inside, Jerry bellowed:
"We've hit the work zone. As you see, currents are fierce, tides rise and fall constant. But those same deadly currents hide your payday.
To help, we're handing out basic tools for harvesting Shadow Coral. One issue: multiple coral types down there. You might snag the wrong one.
Here's a sample of what we're after," he finished, as the boat's guide emerged from the cabin with a fully black coral so dark it shadowed his feet.
"Marlon, grab the gear to help 'em breathe awhile underwater. Otherwise, they won't even touch the corals," Jerry said with a grin.
"Got 'em ready, Jerry. Starting soon or we'll run late," Marlon replied flatly, pulling out what looked like air tanks—crappy quality, just enough for short dives.
Marlon passed one to each, then the ship edged toward the rocks for a better view. Sidling up to Popeye, who was scoping it out, we geared up.
"Right below us is your money. One rule before you dive: Anyone not back up by dusk gets left till next run. Get to it—money doesn't make itself," Jerry barked, and folks started leaping in without a thought.
Watching them go, I turned to Popeye.
"Popeye, got a plan. Snagged this rope yesterday—Jerry handed it over. I'll tie it on. If it tugs hard, that's me calling for pickup. If it snaps, bail and save what you can—I'm probably done for," I said, knotting the rope around my waist before plunging in with a hook for yanking corals and a knife to clear algae paths.
Looking around, it was pitch black, with scant light rays guiding me. Seemed impossible to find corals, but then barrels dropped, glowing—flares, for sure. Doubt they got flashlights here; only oil candles I've seen.
Now with the ocean lit up, I dove deeper. Breathing off this thing was weird, but I focused, feeling a pull—I hugged the rocky walls to dodge the currents. Kept descending till I bumped something. It was coral, but not the right one. Didn't hesitate—hooked it out.
Pushed on till my foot hit the bottom. Looked down: nothing. But I knew better. Reaching down, I felt the shape like Marlon showed. Careful as hell, I pried it loose. Couldn't see, but felt the coral in my grip. Yanked the rope quick—moments later, a force hauled me up.
Breaking the surface into daylight, I emerged with the Shadow Coral—bigger than it felt in my hands.
"Here, Popeye—don't drop it. Took a lot to snag," I said, handing it over.
"Oh, looks like the kid got lucky—first one up," Jerry said from a beach chair, watching.
"Yeah, let's see if it's worth dragging all these folks when we could do it ourselves," Marlon added, nose in what passed for a newspaper.
Handed off, I dove back for more.
End of the chapter."""