Jack stared at the roster of potential colonists, his finger hovering over Jerico's portrait. The Survivalist was the logical choice, the one that made the most sense to keep him alive. But then he looked around at the empty beach. No shelter, no fire, and only one canteen of water.
"Not yet," Jack muttered, swiping the screen away. "I can't bring anyone here until I have at least a roof over my head. It's bad management to hire employees when you don't have an office."
He turned his attention back to the treeline. The fruit trees were valuable, so he bypassed the Citron Star and Zunce trees, pushing deeper into the vegetation until he found a sturdy-looking hardwood. It resembled an oak but had bark that shimmered slightly like obsidian in the dappled sunlight.
He unhooked the Journeyman's Steel Axe from his belt. The polymer handle felt cool and reassuring in his grip. With a practiced stance—muscle memory he didn't realize he had until now—he swung.
Thwack.
The blade bit deep, sinking nearly a quarter of the way through the trunk with a single blow. Jack blinked. That wasn't just sharp; that was supernatural.
"Well, that makes things easier."
He fell into a rhythm. Swing. Crack. Swing. Crack. The physical exertion felt good, grounding him in this strange reality. Within minutes, the tree groaned. Jack stepped back as the timber gave way, crashing through the canopy and landing with a heavy thud in the underbrush, kicking up a cloud of dirt and sand.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and walked over to the fallen giant.
"Alright, let's see how this works," he said, placing his hand on the rough bark of the trunk. He mentally willed the item into his inventory.
[ ERROR: Item exceeds slot capacity. Target is too large. ]
Jack stared at the red text floating in his vision. "Seriously? It's magic storage, but it has a weight limit?"
He sighed, nudging the massive log with his boot. "Right. It's a grid system, not a black hole. Fine."
He set to work again. He moved down the length of the trunk, limbing the branches first, then chopping the main trunk into manageable four-foot sections. It was grueling work, even with his enhanced strength and the high-quality axe. His shoulders burned, and his hands, though not blistering, felt the impact of every strike.
After twenty minutes, the majestic tree was reduced to a pile of logs and a heap of branches.
Jack grabbed the first log. Inventory.
Poof.
The log vanished. He checked the mahogany screen. There, in the first slot, was an icon of a log with a small "x1" in the corner. He grabbed another. "x2."
He worked quickly, clearing the area until every scrap of usable wood was tucked away in the digital void. As the final branch disappeared, the familiar chime echoed in his mind.
[ Pip Pip ]
[ Congratulations! You have completed the third Unspoken Quest: The Lumberjack. ]
[ Reward: 50 XP, Crafting Menu Unlocked. ]
Jack straightened up, stretching his back until it popped. "Crafting Menu? Now we're talking."
He willed the new command, and the interface shifted. The inventory screen slid to the left, and a new window appeared on the right. It looked like a drafting table, covered in blue grid paper.
However, unlike standard games where a list of pre-set items like "Wooden Sword" or "Basic Wall" would appear, this list was disturbingly short. In fact, it was mostly empty.
There were only a few ghostly outlines available, and as he focused on them, text began to scroll.
[ Crafting Interface Active ]
[ Note: The System assists in the construction of items, but it does not provide knowledge you do not possess. You may only craft items you understand the mechanical construction of, or have created by hand previously. ]
[ Current Available Blueprints: ]
Simple Wooden Stake (Material: Wood)
Improvised Club (Material: Wood)
Kindling Bundle (Material: Wood)
Basic Lean-to Frame (Material: Wood, Vine/Rope)
Jack frowned, leaning against a neighboring tree. "So I can't just press a button and build a mansion. I have to actually know how to build the damn thing."
He stared at the Basic Lean-to Frame. He remembered building one of those during a camping trip with his father when he was twelve. It was terrible, leaky, and collapsed in the wind, but he had built it. The System must have pulled that memory.
"Natural Entrepreneur and Gunman..." Jack mused, thinking back to his buffs. He looked at the "Gunman" trait. He knew how to strip a pistol, clean a rifle, and load a magazine. He knew the parts.
"System," Jack asked, testing the waters. "If I had metal and gunpowder, could I craft a firearm?"
[ Affirmative. Provided you possess the raw materials and the tools required to shape them, the Crafting Menu will guide your hands to assemble any device you have intimate mechanical knowledge of. ]
Jack's lips curled into a slow smile. It wasn't a magic "easy mode" button; it was an amplifier for his own competence. If he learned how to build a log cabin properly, the System would let him mass-produce them. If he learned how to mix concrete, he could build a bunker.
"Knowledge is power," he whispered. "Literally."
He looked at the logs in his inventory and selected the Simple Wooden Stake. He wanted to see the process.
[ Crafting: Simple Wooden Stake (x1). Duration: 10 Seconds. ]
A ghostly image of a knife appeared in his hand—no, not a knife. He realized he didn't have a knife. The system paused.
[ Error: Missing Tool (Whittling/Cutting Blade). Axe is too cumbersome for fine detail. ]
Jack laughed, a short, dry bark. "Of course. Can't whittle a spear with a splitting axe unless I want to lose a finger."
He looked back at the Population tab. He needed tools. He needed expertise. He needed someone who knew how to build things he didn't, so the System could learn from them.
"Okay," Jack exhaled, making up his mind. "I need shelter, but I can't build a good one alone. And I can't craft the tools to make the tools."
He navigated back to the Population screen and hovered over Jerico White. The Survivalist. If anyone knew how to build a shelter out of nothing, it was him.
"Jerico," Jack said firmly. "You're hired."
With a firm tap of his finger, Jack selected Jerico White.
[ Action Confirmed: Summoning Colonist. ] [ -10 Resource Points ]
The deduction was immediate, dropping his total to 15 RP. For a moment, nothing happened. The jungle remained silent, the waves lapped gently at his feet.
Then, a low, guttural rumble rolled across the horizon, followed by a sharp crackle of purple lightning that tore through the distant sky. It didn't look like natural weather; it looked like a tear in the atmosphere.
Within minutes, the tide began to shift aggressively. The calm waters grew choppy, pushing debris toward the sand. First came splintered planks of painted wood, then blue plastic barrels, and finally, pieces of a hull belonging to a small, motorized fishing vessel.
And amidst the flotsam, a body.
Jack didn't hesitate. He splashed into the surf, wading out waist-deep to grab the man before the receding tide could drag him back out. He hauled the figure onto the hot white sand, dragging him well past the high-tide line.
The man coughed violently, expelling seawater as he rolled onto his side. He looked exactly like his portrait, though significantly wetter. He was older, his face weathered by years of sun and wind, with deep set eyes and a heavy, dark stubble that was bordering on a beard. He wore a heavy canvas jacket with a hood that was currently plastered to his skull.
"Easy," Jack said, kneeling beside him. "Breathe. You're on solid ground."
Jerico gasped, wiping wet grit from his face. He looked up at Jack, his eyes narrowing in confusion and suspicion. "Where... where is the Lucky Strike?"
"If that was your boat," Jack gestured to the shattered wood washing up behind them, "I think she's gone."
Jerico sat up, groaning as he clutched his ribs. He looked at the wreckage, a pained expression crossing his rugged features. "Damn it. Damn it all."
"I'm Jack," he offered a hand, pulling the older man to his feet. "Jack Dwyer."
"Jerico," the man grunted, his grip firm despite his exhaustion. "Jerico White."
"What happened out there, Jerico?"
The survivalist looked at the horizon, shaking his head with a look of self-recrimination. "Storm. Came out of nowhere, fast and ugly. Me and the boys... we were in a convoy of three motorboats. We saw the clouds turning, knew the pressure was dropping." He scoffed, kicking at the sand. "We went out anyway. Thought we could beat it, get a few more hours of fishing in before it hit. Dumb. Just plain dumb."
"Huh..." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Looking at you... Thought you'd be the type to know better."
Jerico let out a humorless laugh. "Knowing better and doing better are two different things, kid. Greed makes fools of the best of us." He looked around, scanning the beach with a practiced eye. "Where are the others? The other boats?"
"Just you so far," Jack said gently. "And the wreckage."
Jerico's jaw tightened, but he nodded, pushing the grief down to deal with the immediate situation. He was a survivor; he knew that panic wouldn't help.
"We need to salvage this," Jack said, pointing to the debris. "There's wood, plastic, maybe some supplies in those barrels. We need to get it to the tree line before the tide takes it back."
"Right," Jerico agreed, shaking off the shock. "Grab what floats."
They set to work. The physical labor was a good distraction. They hauled waterlogged planks, a tangled fishing net, and a plastic crate filled with soaked but usable rope.
As Jack dragged a heavy piece of the hull toward the grass, he glanced up at his interface. He wanted to see if he could bring in an Engineer to help sort this mess out.
[ Population: 2/10 ] [ Summoning Cooldown: Active (23:59:45) ]
"Of course," Jack muttered. "Can't make it too easy."
Suddenly, a startled yelp came from behind him.
"What in the hell?!"
Jack spun around. Jerico was standing over a pile of scrap wood. He reached down to pick up a loose plank, and the moment his hand closed around it, the plank vanished into thin air.
Jerico jumped back, staring at his own hand as if it were possessed. "Did you see that? I just... I grabbed it, and it's gone!"
Jack couldn't help but grin. "Check your inventory."
Jerico looked at him like he was insane. "My what?"
"Just think about the word 'Inventory'. Focus on it."
Jerico frowned, screwing up his face in concentration. A moment later, his eyes went wide. "Mother of... It's floating. There's a box floating in the air. I can see the wood inside it."
Jack opened his own Population menu again. This time, he focused on Jerico's profile. A new tab had appeared next to the man's stats:
[ Subject Inventory ].
Clicking it, Jack saw a 4x8 grid—much smaller than his own King-sized inventory, but functional. Inside lay the Scrap Wood (x1). "I can see it too," Jack admitted, walking over. "It's part of the... let's call it the rules of this place. I have one, you have one."
Jerico looked from the floating screen only he could see, back to Jack, and then down at his hands. The fear in his eyes was replaced by a spark of wonder. "I don't know what kind of Bermuda Triangle voodoo this is, Jack... but this is going to make carrying firewood a hell of a lot easier."
Jack clapped the older man on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. Come on, let's clear the beach. We've got a camp to build."