Victor Valentine's first thought as the plane tore through the canopy with a sound like a dying god was not of fear, but of profound, searing irritation.
'Seriously? My first real vacation since graduating, and the universe decides to play a game of "Lost: The Cheap Knock-Off Edition"? I didn't even get my complimentary peanuts yet.'
The next few moments were a chaotic symphony of screaming, the shriek of metal, and the sickening lurch of inertia. He remembered clutching the armrests, his knuckles white, a string of very creative curses running through his mind. Then, impact. A jarring, world-ending slam, followed by darkness.
He awoke to the gentle, mocking caress of a tropical breeze and the salty taste of the sea on his lips. His head throbbed, his designer shirt was torn, and one of his favourite sneakers was missing.
"Unbelievable," he groaned, sitting up.
Chaos reigned around him. The fuselage of the large jet was split in two, nestled amongst the palm trees like a beached metal whale. Luggage was strewn everywhere, colourful clothes blooming from shattered cases like strange flowers. People were crying, moaning, or just staring into space with shell-shocked expressions.
A man in a once-crisp business suit was yelling into a dead satellite phone. "Do you hear me? We are here! Coordinates unknown! There are children! My latte is cold!"
Victor rolled his eyes. 'Priorities, dude.'
His own priority was simple: Victor Valentine. He had planned to spend two weeks in Bali, charming his way through resorts and, hopefully, the hearts (or at least the hotel rooms) of a few lovely tourists. 'This... this was a serious downgrade. White sand beaches? Check. Crystal clear water? Check. Five-star hospitality, mini-bars, and reliable Wi-Fi? Abso-freaking-lutely not.'
He stood up, brushing sand off his expensive jeans with a grimace. A survival instinct, honed not from any real training but from a childhood spent binge-watching wilderness documentaries and playing far too many zombie survival games, kicked in.
'Okay, Val. Assess the situation. Shelter, water, food. And preferably, a way off this rock before I get a sunburn.'
He began to poke around the wreckage, his mind already scheming. He could play the hero, maybe. Gain everyone's trust, then delegate all the hard labour to them. The idea had a certain appeal.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the more immediate concern. He spotted a cluster of coconut trees nearby. Perfect. Hydration and calories. The problem was, they were tall. Very tall.
"Need a hand, son?" asked a burly, kindly-looking man who was trying to organize the other survivors.
Victor gave him a dismissive wave. "I'm good. Just communing with nature."
He walked up to the nearest tree, eyed the trunk, and then gave it a solid, frustrated kick. "Stupid tree. Just fall down already."
A sharp, stinging pain shot through his toe. He hissed, hopping on one foot. "Ow! You overgrown piece of lumber!"
As he cursed, something flickered at the edge of his vision. A tiny, translucent, blue-text box, like something from a video game, appeared in front of the tree trunk.
[Target: Coconut Palm Tree - Health: 100/100]
[Condition: Pristine. Uncorrupted.]
[Initiate Corruption? Y/N]
Victor blinked. He shook his head. The text remained.
'Whoa. Either I have a concussion, or my gamer rage just manifested a HUD. Please be the second one.'
Tentatively, he focused on the "Y". A new prompt appeared.
[Corruption requires physical contact and intent. Proceed? Y/N]
He placed his hand on the rough bark of the tree, concentrating on the idea of it breaking, of yielding its fruit to him. He imagined its vitality seeping away.
A strange, cold sensation flowed from his palm into the tree. The vibrant green of the leaves directly above him began to tinge with a sickly grey. The bark under his hand darkened and became brittle. The text box flickered.
[Corruption in progress... 10%... 25%...]
[Target Integrity failing...]
With a loud CRACK, the top portion of the tree, heavy with coconuts, snapped off and tumbled to the ground with a satisfying thud.
[Corruption Complete!]
[Target destroyed. Life force absorbed.]
[New Skill Acquired: [Lesser Strength I] - A slight increase in physical power. You can now probably open a stubborn jar of pickles.]
A warm, tingling energy spread through Victor's limbs. He felt… a bit stronger. A wide, arrogant grin spread across his face.
'Oh, this is good. This is very, very good.'
He looked at the pile of coconuts, then at the other survivors who were staring at him with a mixture of awe and confusion.
The burly man approached, his eyes wide. "How... how did you do that?"
Victor puffed out his chest, putting on a mask of humble bravery. "It was… unstable. I must have just tapped it at the right time. It's a good thing I was here." He leaned down, picking up a large coconut. "Here, let me get this open for everyone."
He focused on the coconut in his hands. The blue text appeared.
[Target: Coconut - Health: 15/15]
[Initiate Corruption? Y/N]
He chose "Y", and with a soft squelching sound, the hard shell of the coconut turned dark and soft, the nutritious water and meat inside instantly spoiling into a foul-smelling black sludge.
Oops. Too much corruption. He hid his mistake with a look of disappointment. "Ah, a rotten one. Let me try another."
This time, he was more careful, applying just a tiny trickle of corruption. The shell cracked neatly in half, revealing pristine, refreshing water and soft, white meat.
The survivors gasped and murmured, looking at him like a miracle worker.
"Thank you, young man!" a woman cried.
"You saved us!" another added.
Victor gave them a magnanimous nod, his inner monologue running wild. 'That's right, look at your saviour, Victor Valentine. Now, who's going to be the first to volunteer to build my hut?'
As he handed out the miraculously opened coconuts, his eyes scanned the crowd, lingering a little too long on a few of the female survivors in their summer outfits.
Hmm. Stranded on an island full of gullible people… He smirked to himself. 'You know, Bali was overrated anyway. This… this has potential.'