When I closed my eyes for just a moment, a strange warmth surged within me. Something stirred in my chest—not mana, something else. A weight that sank into the depths of my soul… then suddenly, a notification sound erupted from within my ears:

  [Level 20 reached.]

  Immediately after, a second chime echoed—not just in my ears, but through my entire being like a wave:

  [New Skill Acquired.]

  [Existing Skills Enhanced.]

  The brilliance that surrounded me—a shimmering sphere of white and gold—began to unravel. It pulled away from my fingertips, my shoulders, my ankles. As the light receded, I felt my body reconnect with gravity once more.

  And then...

  [Welcome to Floor 2.]

  When I opened my eyes, the world was shaking.

  The floor beneath my feet was wooden—yet unstable. It wasn’t a rhythmic sway. It was harsh and chaotic. A roar assaulted my ears—a mix of wind, crashing waves, and shouting voices.

  I was on a ship.

  A massive sailing vessel, right in the middle of the ocean.

  The sky was a heavy gray. Lightning split the heavens. Rain lashed against my face like a whip.

  All around me, people were in motion. Crew members ran across the deck, pulling ropes, climbing masts. Everyone was busy. There was no panic. Only chaos, meticulously woven with experience.

  "Secure the mast! The ropes are loosening!"

  "Close the hatch! We're taking on water!"

  "Turn it! I said turn it!"

  Amid the commotion, one voice stood out—louder, firmer. A towering man, wearing a coat strapped with leather belts, a captain’s hat fighting against the wind. His brows furrowed, his gaze sharp as steel.

  For a moment, we locked eyes.

  And he shouted:

  "Hey rookie!"

  I pointed at myself with my shoulders. Me?

  "Yes, you! What the hell are you standing there for?! Go lower the sails!"

  In that instant, something clicked inside me.

  This… was a test.

  This structure, this role distribution, this place… it might be the theme of the second floor. Maybe the floors were no longer purely physical—they had grown more complex, more intertwined with illusion and narrative.

  There was no system voice in my head, but… I felt it.

  I had to play along.

  I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with salt and storm, and forced my legs forward, trying to steady myself on the treacherous deck. I followed the direction of the shouting man. The sails… tied up near the main mast.

  "I may not understand… but not now."

  "For now, I’ll keep up."

  The storm…

  It was as if the sky had cracked open in rage to destroy the sea itself.

  Lightning tore the clouds like blades, and the thunder that followed rippled through my body.

  Rain slammed against my skin like lead pellets. The thin fabric I wore was instantly drenched and heavy, clinging to me. The wooden deck turned into a slippery deathtrap under each step.

  But I couldn’t stop.

  I wouldn’t be stopped.

  Because everyone was running.

  Because everyone had a job.

  And now I was one of them.

  "Not that rope! Pull from the left diagonal or the sail’s gonna tear!"

  "Alex! Secure that pulley! Now!"

  "The deck’s flooding, get the pumps running!"

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  Voices layered over each other—but they started to make sense.

  Just minutes ago, I could’ve asked “what’s a sail?”

  Now my hands clung to thick, salt-hardened ropes. My palms burned.

  Each fiber was soaked with salt, sweat, and labor.

  There were three other crew members beside me. All older.

  But it didn’t matter right now.

  We were all pulling the same rope.

  Waves slammed into the hull, the ship creaked, masts groaned.

  "One… two… pull! One… two… pull!"

  Coordination…

  Harmony…

  The rhythm of effort.

  The first hour passed in pure survival instinct.

  By the second, my body had gone on autopilot.

  By the third… I was one of them.

  The captain kept shouting. His voice didn’t carry rage—

  it carried an unshakeable command.

  "Reef the sails! You don’t fight the wind, you dance with it!"

  "Balance the weight at the stern or we’ll capsize!"

  I ran to one of the pumps at the rear. Two people were already working it. I joined as the third.

  Rain stung my eyes. Salt split my lips.

  But stopping was not an option.

  We pumped the water out.

  We pulled ropes.

  We lowered sails.

  We fought the sea.

  There came a moment when I had to climb a mast. The netting wrapped in thick rope was wet and slippery. My feet slipped a few times on the way up, but my hands never let go. The wind slammed against my face—not tears, but rain streamed from my eyes. There, halfway up the mast, I tightened a loosened knot with all my strength. My legs were shaking as I climbed down, but a spark had been lit within me:

  I can do this.

  The ship groaned through the storm.

  But it did not break.

  What kept the ship afloat wasn’t the wood… it was our struggle.

  And then...

  As if the gods themselves had witnessed our resilience.

  The sky suddenly fell silent.

  The lightning slowed.

  The wind first eased its fury… then stopped entirely.

  Only the giant waves remained.

  But even they seemed tired now.

  All that lingered over the waters was a heavy sense of surrender.

  As the sea calmed, the rain retreated from the sky with a bashful grace.

  The mist parted. A shadow appeared on the horizon.

  “Land! Land ahead!” shouted a crewmember. One by one, the others straightened up. We were exhausted, but still standing.

  The captain stepped onto the foredeck. He took a deep breath and gave a short, commanding order:

  "Take in the sails. Set the course west. The land isn’t far. We didn’t die today… but our mission has only just begun."

  I...

  looked at the blisters opened in my palms.

  Each one now felt like a badge of honor.

  This was only the second floor, and yet… I was still alive.

  And now I knew:

  This floor wasn’t just a storm.

  It was a test of endurance, of following orders and surviving together…

  But also, a trial of growth.

  As the ship slowly entered shallow waters, most of the crew had either sat down or leaned back somewhere, breathing deeply. The storm had passed, but it would take hours to recover from the exhaustion. Still, no one spoke; it was the kind of silence that carried the weight of what we had lived through.

  I stood at the front of the deck, facing the wind and watching the island approach.

  I didn’t know its name yet.

  But I would soon learn.

  The captain quietly walked over to me. His shirt was still wet, his hat tilted. Despite his stern features, there was a faint softness in his eyes. He looked at my shoulder for a moment, then we locked eyes.

  “Well, rookie,” he said, no longer shouting. “This is where our journey ends. Our deal was to get you to Skull Island. Beyond that, it’s no longer my concern.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object—it looked like a whistle made of bone.

  “Take care of yourself from here.”

  That was all.

  He turned his back and slowly walked down the deck stairs to his cabin.

  As I watched him go, a flickering light suddenly appeared before me.

  A golden frame shimmered in the air, and glowing letters slowly revealed themselves:

  [Floor 2 Mission: Find the Mysterious Treasure]

  “Discover the lost treasure hidden on the 2nd Floor. Clues may be hidden in markets, pirate bars, and ancient maps.”

  "Huh?"

  I had never seen this before.

  In the previous floors, missions were hinted at—I had to figure things out myself. But this time…

  I guess things are changing.

  As the ship docked, most of the crew began to disembark. I didn’t waste the chance. With a leap, I landed on the thick, seaweed-covered wooden dock held steady by iron rails. The damp wood met the soles of my feet instantly.

  The moment I took my first step…

  This place…

  was different.

  Very different.

  The name suited the island. A massive skull flag waved above the dock, warning every newcomer. I passed under a giant bone arch decorated with dried skulls, jawbones of sea creatures, and rusty bells.

  The first thing that hit me: the smell—salt air, sweat, roasted meat, and rum.

  And the sound...

  God, the sound...

  Hundreds of voices speaking, shouting, laughing all at once. A storm of chaos.

  The marketplace was just behind the harbor. Wooden stalls, some made from salvaged shipwreck planks, stood under colorful cloth canopies. And on those stalls—anything you could imagine:

  ? Rusty compasses,

  ? Oddly shaped maps,

  ? Small glowing vials,

  ? Daggers with silver hilts,

  ? Ever-burning candles,

  ? Live-caught sea creatures,

  ? The dried head of a sea witch (surrounded by a crowd of the curious)...

  Everyone here was either a pirate, a merchant, or both.

  Some wore eye patches. Others had parrots on their shoulders.

  One had a sword as big as a shark’s tooth strapped to his back.

  Another cursed with a pipe in his mouth while arguing prices.

  The streets were dusty, but the ocean breeze carried it all away.

  Every corner held a story.

  A group of pirates danced around a fiddler with bottles in hand,

  A woman sold belts made of snake skin to small children,

  Another merchant shouted, “This is the map of the Sacred Treasure!” waving one parchment after another.

  And me, right in the middle of it all...

  Alone.

  A mission ahead of me, and endless possibilities around me.

  The chaos of Skull Island felt unexpectedly familiar.

  Because… there was an order in the madness.And I was determined to uncover it.