The sky was still dark when Jaxon Vale opened his eyes.
His body felt sore. His back ached from sleeping on the ground inside his small hut. But the fire had kept him warm through the night. The leaves above him held off most of the wind.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. Then he stepped outside and looked at the quiet beach.
It was Day 2.
He stared at the ocean for a long time. Waves came and went. The wreckage was still scattered along the shore — broken wood, metal pieces, bags, trash.
Jaxon touched his stomach. It growled softly.
"I need food," he said.
He remembered the tree from yesterday, the one with the sweet yellow fruit. It was a good find, but he had eaten all of them. If he didn't find more soon, hunger would slow him down.
He walked back into the jungle. The ground was still damp, and birds chirped in the trees above.
After a short walk, he spotted another fruit tree. This one had large bananas hanging from thick green stalks. He moved closer and looked at them.
Something felt off.
The bananas were longer. A little thicker. Their color was strange—more silver than yellow. He touched one carefully. The skin felt soft and warm, almost too warm.
"This… doesn't look normal," he whispered.
He pulled one off and held it in his hand.
He had eaten bananas all his life. These didn't look or feel like any banana he had ever seen.
He stared at it for a while.
Then he put it in his bag without eating it.
"I'll wait," he said. "No point dying from poison."
As he turned to head back, the system spoke again.
New task: Craft Basic Tools
Reward: 5 Coins
Hint: Use wood, stone, or metal pieces
Jaxon stopped walking.
"Tools," he said quietly. "That makes sense."
He walked back to his camp and sat beside the firepit. It was cold now, but ash still sat inside. He reached for some dry grass and slowly lit it again.
As flames returned, he laid the banana beside him.
Then he began searching nearby for materials.
He found a sharp stone first. It had a pointed edge that could cut if used right. Then a long stick. Not too thick, not too thin. He tied the stone to the end of the stick using the vine he had left over from building the hut.
It took time.
The stone kept sliding. The vine wasn't tight enough at first. He had to untie it and try again. Over and over.
"This is harder than I thought," he muttered.
His fingers hurt from the pressure. The stone cut his thumb a little. Blood ran down his hand, but he wiped it off on his pants and kept going.
He didn't stop.
He made a second tool — a wooden shovel, carved from a thick branch. It was uneven, but it could dig soft dirt.
After nearly two hours, he had three tools: a sharp spear, a shovel, and a rock hammer tied to a stick.
They looked rough.
But they were real.
And he had made them.
Task complete
+5 Coins
Total Coins: 8
The system faded again.
He laid the tools beside the hut. His arms were tired. His breath heavy. But something inside him felt steady.
"I can do this," he said quietly.
The sun rose higher in the sky. Heat came with it. He wiped sweat from his forehead and walked toward the beach again.
Something pulled him there.
As he reached the sand, his eyes scanned the wreckage. Most of it had washed closer during the night. Big pieces of metal, broken parts of the cruise ship. One large metal sheet caught his eye — bent but still solid.
He stepped forward and placed his hand on it. It was hot from the sun, but strong.
"I can use this."
He found other scraps too — bolts, broken rods, torn railings.
Jaxon didn't waste time. He picked up everything he could carry and took it back to his hut.
Piece by piece.
It took him four trips.
He leaned the metal against the frame of his hut. Then tied it with vine and rope made from bark. It made the shelter stronger, harder to break.
No animals could tear through this now.
After finishing, he sat in the shade and looked over his work.
That's when he saw it.
Lying in the grass near the rocks.
His book.
How to Rebuild the World.
He rushed over and picked it up.
The pages were soaked.
The cover was soft and ruined from the saltwater. He opened it, but the pages stuck together. The ink was blurry. Some pages torn.
He held it for a long time.
Then closed it.
"…Not now," he whispered.
He walked into his hut and placed the book inside, on a smooth rock.
It needed time to dry.
He didn't want to damage it more by trying to open it too soon.
"I still need this," he said. "You helped me once. You'll help me again."
Outside, the sun kept rising.
Inside the hut, the book sat in silence.
Jaxon stepped out and looked at the horizon.
The sky was wide.
The world felt quiet.
And he was still alone.
But he was surviving.