The vast and indifferent expanse of the ocean began to shift as the ice floe moved further away from the frozen tomb of the south. Lifeless sat upon his shrinking raft of crystal and salt, watching as the horizon lost its jagged, icy teeth and softened into a hazy line of deep sapphire. The atmosphere underwent a profound transformation. The air no longer carried the lethal sting of the Antarctic frost. Instead, it began to carry the weight of moisture and the promise of warmth. For the first time in an eternity, the boy who had become a titan experienced the sensation of heat.
The sun climbed high into the sky, no longer a pale and distant coin but a golden furnace that poured its light directly onto his scarred skin. He felt the radiation penetrate the layers of his new, hyper dense muscle. He felt the chill that had lived in his marrow since the cave begin to dissolve. The feeling was so refreshing that it acted as a balm to his fractured soul. He stretched his six foot one inch frame across the ice, closing his eyes as the sun baked the salt into his skin. He fell into a slumber that was peaceful and deep, a sleep free from the screaming of monsters or the sight of his own blood.
When he woke, the world had changed again.
He sat up and squinted against the glare of the water. Far in the distance, a smudge of emerald green rose from the sea. It was land. It was a tropical island of high peaks and dense jungles, standing alone in the center of the blue. A surge of adrenaline replaced the lethality of his exhaustion. He stood at the rear of his ice floe and channeled the white current into his boots. He did not let the energy explode. Instead, he released it in a steady and powerful stream, acting as a propulsion system that drove the massive chunk of ice through the waves at a blurring speed.
The ice hissed as it cut through the warm water, melting rapidly as he neared the shore. He arrived at the island with a soft grind of sand against the remains of his raft. He stepped onto the white beach, the sensation of dry, warm earth beneath his feet making him want to weep. He reached back and grabbed the tent, folding the heavy thermal fabric with his single, powerful hand. He walked into the island, his eyes scanning the treeline for threats. He found a clearing near a freshwater spring and set the tent up, establishing his first true base of operations.
He reached into his leather satchel and pulled out a heavy steel axe that he had salvaged from the cabin before the hunt.
The metal was cool in his hand. He headed toward a massive, ancient tree with a trunk as wide as a carriage. He raised the axe and struck. The sound of the impact was like a cannon shot echoing through the jungle. He struck again and again, his forty kilograms of new muscle driving the blade deep into the heartwood. The tree groaned and finally fell down, crashing through the underbrush with a thunderous roar.
Lifeless spent the next several hours in a state of focused labor. He used the axe and his bare hands to strip the bark and carve the wood into flat, sturdy planks for a floor. He collected more wood, felling three more trees and hauling them to the clearing with his lone arm. He was building a house. He was creating a place where the wind could not reach him. He was carving a sanctuary out of the wilderness.
However, the island was not as empty as it appeared.
A shadow detached itself from the dense foliage of the upper canopy. It landed in the clearing with a weight that made the freshly carved floorboards jump. Lifeless dropped his axe and turned. Standing before him was a terrestrial horror that looked as though it had been forged in the same dark furnace as his own new body. It was a jungle stalker, but it had evolved beyond its kin. It stood nearly as tall as Lifeless, its body a corded mass of obsidian muscle. It possessed four arms, each ending in claws that looked like polished flint. Its skin was a matte black that absorbed the light of the sun.
Lifeless felt the air grow heavy. He knew instinctually that this creature was as strong as him. It possessed the same density, the same predatory intent, and the same refusal to die. There was no room for words. There was only the inevitable collision of two apex predators.
The monster lunged. Lifeless raised his left arm in a high block, the impact of the creature's first claw sending a vibration through his humerus that felt like a hammer strike. The monster followed with a second strike from its lower right arm. Lifeless twisted his torso, parrying the claw with the meat of his shoulder. The third strike was a horizontal swipe aimed at his throat. Lifeless ducked, the air from the movement whistling over his head.
After blocking three consecutive hits, Lifeless saw his opening. He drove a straight punch into the solar plexus of the monster. The strike landed with a sickening thud, sending the creature skidding back five feet.
The monster recovered instantly. It let out a low, vibrating hiss. It charged again, its four arms moving in a terrifyingly efficient pattern. It threw a jab that Lifeless blocked with his forearm. It swung a heavy hook that Lifeless caught in his palm. It delivered a downward strike that Lifeless deflected by stepping to the side. Having blocked three more hits, the monster adjusted its timing. It lunged forward and landed a heavy kick to the ribs of Lifeless. He felt a rib crack, the pain a sharp reminder that he was still mortal.
They entered a rhythm of brutal, calculated violence. This was not a frantic scramble. It was a chess match of meat and bone. For every three strikes the monster threw, Lifeless found the strength to block or parry them all, only to land a single, bone shattering blow of his own. The monster did the same. It was a mirror image of his own combat philosophy. They were two masters of the same lethal language.
One hour passed. The sun moved across the sky, casting long and jagged shadows over the clearing. The floorboards Lifeless had carved were now stained with a mixture of red and black blood. He was covered in deep furrows from the flint claws.
The monster was covered in purple bruises and fractured plates of hide. Neither of them showed signs of slowing down. The density of their muscles allowed them to endure punishment that would have ended a normal fight in seconds.
Lifeless blocked a claw intended for his eyes. He parried a strike to his stomach. He ducked a tail swipe that the monster had hidden in its movement. Then, he landed a hook to the jaw of the beast. The monster staggered, its black blood spraying across the green leaves. It snarled and returned the favor. It blocked a punch from Lifeless. It deflected a kick. It parried a strike to its neck. Then, it landed a devastating blow to the temple of Lifeless.
The world spun. Lifeless felt his knees touch the dirt. He forced himself back up, his vision swimming in a sea of red. He refused to give up. He thought of the mountain. He thought of the weight of six hundred tons. If he could carry the earth, he could kill this shadow.
The second hour began. The fatigue started to set in, but for beings of their caliber, fatigue only served to make the strikes more desperate and more dangerous. They continued the dance of three blocks and one land. It was a grueling cycle of attrition. Lifeless blocked. Blocked. Blocked. Landed a strike to the ribs of the beast. The monster blocked. Blocked. Blocked. Landed a strike to the thigh of Lifeless.
The clearing was a ruin. The trees nearby were splintered from the force of their misses. The ground was churned into a bloody mire. Lifeless felt his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. His one arm was heavy, the muscles screaming for oxygen. The monster was also flagging, its four arms moving with a fraction of their original speed.
Finally, at the two hour mark, the cycle broke.
Lifeless saw the monster prepare for its three hit combo. He blocked the first claw. He parried the second. He took the third strike directly to his shoulder to create a permanent opening. He did not wait for his single land. He channeled the remainder of his white current into his fist. He did not just punch. He drove his entire existence into the strike.
The punch caught the monster squarely in the center of its chest. The force was so immense that it bypassed the obsidian hide and shattered the heart and lungs of the creature instantly. The monster froze. Its four arms went limp. It fell backward, its body hitting the ground with a finality that signaled the end of the war.
Lifeless stood over the corpse, his chest heaving. He was a ruin of a man. He was covered in blood, his one arm trembling, his body a map of agony. He had fought for two hours against his equal and he had emerged as the sole survivor. He looked at the house he had begun to build. It was a mess of splintered wood and gore.
He did not care. He walked toward the spring and collapsed into the cool water, letting it wash the black and red from his skin. He had found land. He had found warmth. And he had found a new level of strength that could only be forged in the fire of a two hour struggle for life. He dragged his battered body back to his tent and fell into a sleep that was earned through blood and wood. The house would wait. The king of the deep was now the master of the island.