After Westley's brutal end, the "Island Survival" Story almost felt like a tropical vacation. With the peace-disrupting members of the group all dead, things were a lot easier. It helped that everyone knew no benefits would come from fulfilling their secondary goals. That didn't stop Alesha from feeling bad about Olphen's death from time to time, though, despite the fact that it had been his very death that confirmed the pointlessness of pursuing secondary goals.
"Come to think of it," Alesha asked CJ on their 5th day on the Island, "What was your second goal? You never told me what it was."
He chuckled. "Maybe it's good you didn't think to ask sooner? By now it's safe to tell you, I guess. The Seer's goal is to expose the identity of the Werewolf and get the other participants to kill it. The weird part is that if I kill the Werewolf with my own hands, then I die, too. What kind of stupid goal is that? Hahaha!"
Alesha looked at him thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's definitely good I didn't hear about that before everything calmed down. I never would have teamed up with you then!"
Alesha wanted to believe that she could have given him the benefit of the doubt, but she couldn't say for sure what choice she would have made. After all, the seemingly obvious choice to save Olphen was one she couldn't bring herself to make at the time. Was her compassionate heart slowly hardening? Was her trust in the goodwill of others getting swallowed up by skepticism?
Yeah, it is, she thought. Slowly but surely, these fantastical events and encounters with untrustworthy, selfish bastards are changing how I see those around me.
[That's only natural,] Rogork consoled.
Hey, look who's back! Where have you been? Alesha mentally demanded.
[Watching, same as always. I just didn't feel like intervening lately.]
Alesha huffed in dissatisfaction, deciding to give the System the cold shoulder right back.
[How childish!] The System scoffed. [What are you, two? Should I get you a binky?]
Hey! You're the one that started it! I'm just giving you a taste of your own medicine!
Sounding suspiciously like a petty noblewoman hiding her true feelings behind a fan, the System laughed, [Hohoho~]
[And what a specific way to describe how you perceive my laughter! Hohohoho~]
Alesha rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Tristen, who was lying on a bed of leaves nearby. He was still sleeping, and his condition had begun to worsen. "I really hope they heal participants between Stories," Alesha muttered to herself.
CJ looked at her with sympathy, but did not respond. He wasn't feeling particularly hopeful about that.
The last couple of days passed quickly. Alesha played with the idea of biting (and turning) two more of her teammates into Werewolves before the 7th day came, in order to fulfill the 'Seed of Chaos' System's quest, but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
There were a few reasons for this. First, because her bite was affected by Korak, she considered it highly likely that those bitten by her would remain Lycanthropes even after the end of this Story -- unless their real bodies were somehow not present here. She didn't want to risk that because, though they'd more likely blame Zorhellian and his Game, it was possible they would gain a grudge against her for it in the future. This was partially driven by logic, but more so by her emotions. She didn't want to break the trust they'd built so far. Sure, she might end up facing off against them in future Stories as part of the Game, but if and when that happened, she didn't want it to be with hard feelings between them. She wanted it to be as potential allies, with memories of when they had worked effectively together to survive this island.
She knew she was probably being too sentimental. However, she still had 75% of the month remaining in which to turn 2 more people into Lycanthropes, and she figured the Stories would only get more competitive (if not straight-up deadly) as they progressed. Her best chance of developing -- and keeping -- partnerships of trust was now.
On the evening of the 7th day, their group had a large campfire to celebrate coming to a safe end of the first Story. There was abundant food, and while everyone felt happy to have survived so far, there was also a certain air of foreboding. The people who had died already, as well as the apparently comatose Tristen, reminded them all that despite how easy the latter half of this Story had been, they were all participants in the death game of a sadistic Chaos Demon. No one knew what kinds of horrific Stories they would have to live through next.
At some point in the middle of the night, after she had gone to sleep, Alesha found herself in what she thought must be some sort of dream space. All around her was a vast expanse of stars -- no, they couldn't be stars. As she moved around, she discovered that the parallax was far too pronounced for them to be stars; and when she walked closer, she found that she was right. She clutched one of the gently glowing "stars" in her palm. It was the size of a small orange and its smooth, moist surface was slightly cool to the touch. It squished gently when she squeezed.
A blast of chill wind tumbled her end over end through the space, and she discovered there was no gravity. Since there was also no air resistance, she continued to tumble and tumble without ceasing, even after several minutes had passed.
Alesha, still spinning end over end, wondered when this dream would be over. Unlike the ones before, where her awareness was limited to certain aspects, and she could either barely perceive anything at all or there was an obvious focus to the dream, in this one there was no clear "center" or "hidden message." She felt fully awake, yet all she could do was tumble helplessly through a space filled with fake stars. For her active, distractible mind, it was very frustrating.
Just as she was getting angry enough to want to shout, more gusts of chill wind struck her -- one from her left, another slightly afterwards and coming from behind to the right, and a third from below. These came in concentrated airstreams and seemed designed to direct her towards a certain path. It occurred to Alesha that in a space without air resistance, such airstreams shouldn't exist, but in the end she gave up trying to figure out the logic behind them. Since it was a dream, what rule said logic had to exist here in the first place?
It wasn't much longer before she could see (intermittently, since she was still tumbling end over end) where the jetstreams were directing her towards. A large, floating ring of stones spun slowly in the distance, each rock heavily eroded and encrusted with lichen. Crackles of blinding white electricity connected the stones, coming from a blank portal space in the center.
A large, 3-dimensional pink hologram of Zorhellian's head appeared nearby, and he began to speak. As she continued spinning towards the still-distant portal, the hologram floated alongside her.
"Congratulations, Participants! You have survived the first Story. Well done, well done, your entertainment thus far has been satisfactory. There were a few unexpected developments in a few instances, but nothing to fear! Just the fact that you participants are hearing my voice now means that you were one of the lucky ones to survive.
"The highest survival rate was 60%! While the lowest was 0%. On average, about 43% of participants survived. Some participants even aggravated the Terror of the Island after their Hunter was dead! Ah, how amusing that was to watch. Your sheer idiocy entertains me.
"Are you thoroughly terrified? Fearing for your lives? Well, that's just wonderful! The next Story is about to be even more entertaining -- I hope you enjoy the thrill just as much as I do~!"