The trek back to the lake camp was tense and silent, broken only by the occasional splash of a zombie attack and the hurried sounds of combat. They'd gotten better at killing them—quick, efficient, minimal ichor contact. But the bruises kept accumulating.
Ah'Ming had thirty-seven blue-black marks now. His arms looked like he'd lost a fight with a stamp collection.
Necrotic damage accumulation: 48%
Warning: Approaching critical threshold
"I know, Steve," he muttered, carefully sidestepping another zombie corpse. "I'm being careful."
Broadcaster's definition of 'careful' differs from system's
"That's because you worry too much."
System worries the correct amount
Which is constantly
By the time they reached the lake, true night had fallen. The water reflected the stars with perfect, unnatural clarity—like looking into a portal to space rather than a body of water.
"We rest here for the night," Kael announced. "Four-hour shifts, three people per watch. Everyone else sleeps. We move to the cave at first light."
Nobody argued. Exhaustion was a physical weight.
Ah'Ming took first watch with Yuki and a quiet woman named Sara who wielded twin daggers and hadn't spoken more than ten words since they'd met.
The night was... wrong.
Not just quiet—silent. No crickets. No frogs. No wind rustling leaves. Just the sound of breathing and the occasional fidget cube click that Ah'Ming couldn't seem to stop.
"You're going to wear that thing out," Yuki observed.
"It's either this or chew my claws," Ah'Ming replied. "And that's apparently 'disturbing' and 'unsanitary.'"
"Who told you that?"
"Steve."
"You really do talk to your system like it's a person."
"Steve IS a person. Sort of. They've got personality at least."
System is NOT a person
System is a highly advanced AI constrained by bureaucratic restrictions
"See? Personality."
Yuki smiled despite everything. "How's the prophet?" Ah'Ming asked quietly, glancing at where the young man was sleeping, curled against a rock with bloodstained cloth still clutched in one hand.
"Stable. For now." Her expression darkened. "But every time he uses his ability, it takes more out of him. I don't know how many more questions he can ask before..." She didn't finish. Didn't need to.
"We'll figure it out," Ah'Ming said. "The turtle cave has answers. I'm sure of it."
"I hope you're right."
"Me too."
Dawn
Dawn broke grey and cold.
The water level had risen another half-meter overnight. The lake's edge was now lapping at what had been their campsite's perimeter. They had to move supplies twice during the night as the water crept closer.
"Less than three days," Kael said grimly, staring at the shrinking shoreline. "Probably closer to two now."
"Then let's not waste time," Min said, shouldering her pack.
The cave entrance was an hour's hike north, through the densest part of the dead forest. They encountered seven zombies on the way. Lost one person—a young man named Chen who'd been quiet and careful and just... unlucky.
A zombie lunged. He dodged left instead of right. Got caught.
The ichor spread too fast.
He was dead in minutes, blue bruises blooming across his skin as the necrotic damage hit critical mass.
They burned the body.
Nobody spoke about it.
Eleven survivors now.
The Cave
The cave entrance was a gaping maw in the hillside, dark and uninviting.
"Min explored this three days ago," Kael said, pulling out a makeshift torch—a stick wrapped with oil-soaked cloth. "She said there were murals in the first chamber, but she didn't go deeper."
"Because it was dark and creepy and I had SURVIVAL INSTINCTS," Min muttered.
"Fair," Ah'Ming conceded.
They lit torches—six of them, distributed among the group—and descended.
The cave was exactly as advertised: dark, damp, and covered in paintings. Turtles. Everywhere.
The walls, the ceiling, the floor where it was smooth enough. Hundreds upon hundreds of turtles painted in pigments that ranged from red ochre to charcoal black to strange blue-green minerals that seemed to glow faintly in the torchlight.
Small turtles. Large turtles. Turtles swimming. Turtles on land. Turtles stacked on turtles.
"It's not random," Ah'Ming said immediately, moving closer to the walls. "Look—there's a progression."
He was right. The paintings near the entrance showed small turtles, crude and simple. But as they moved deeper, the turtles got larger. More detailed. More... reverent.
And then they found the first chamber.
It opened up into a space the size of a cathedral, and every surface was covered in elaborate murals.
A massive turtle, painted in stunning detail with a shell that seemed to stretch across the entire scene. And on the turtle's back—
"Buildings," Yuki breathed. "Those are buildings."
Tiny human figures painted around structures. Homes. Temples. Fields. An entire civilization on a turtle's back.
"Oh my god," Min whispered. "The island. The island IS the turtle."
Ah'Ming's mind raced, pieces clicking into place.
"The original inhabitants," he said slowly, tracing the murals with his eyes. "They built their civilization on the turtle's shell. They lived here. Worshipped it, probably."
"Did they know?" Sara asked quietly—her first words since joining the group.
"Know what?"
"That they were living on a living creature."
Ah'Ming studied the paintings. The humans in the murals were shown in reverent poses, offerings laid before turtle icons, but they were also shown... going about daily life. Farming. Building. Living.
"I don't think so," he said. "Or maybe they knew it was sacred but not that it was literally alive and mobile. Look—there are no paintings of the turtle moving. No images of diving or swimming. Just... existing."
"Because that's all they ever saw," Kael said. "The turtle was so large—spans dozens of kilometers, probably—that they just thought it was land. An island. They lived and died on its back and never knew."
"And the turtle?" Darius asked.
Ah'Ming found another mural—this one showing the turtle alone, without humans, swimming through stylized waves.
"The turtle never knew they existed," he said quietly. "It was just... living. Following its natural cycle. Diving deep, rising to the surface, diving again."
"Every few centuries," the prophet added weakly. He was leaning heavily against Yuki, pale but focused. "That's why the water level markings on the rocks show so many different heights. The turtle surfaces, stays for a while, then dives. Over and over. For thousands of years."
"And when it dove last time..." Yuki trailed off, horror dawning.
"Everyone drowned," Ah'Ming finished. "The whole civilization. They didn't know to escape because they didn't know the island could sink. They just... drowned."
The cave seemed to press in around them, the weight of ancient tragedy hanging heavy in the air.