Morning sunlight filtered through the makeshift curtains of the MC's room, but his eyes weren't drawn to the golden glow. Instead, they focused on the flickering holographic feed projected from the scout drones. One by one, the videos replayed the night's events—kill reviews, creature analyses, and highlighted paths of destruction.
The drones had performed beyond expectation, wiping out clusters of mutated beasts in their relentless sweeps. The System notifications accompanying each kill blinked in rapid succession during the footage:
[You have gained EXP.]
[Level Up: 16 Achieved.]
He leaned back, letting the cold rush of satisfaction steady his exhaustion. His body felt heavier than usual, the kind of weight that came after a marathon of combat, construction, and responsibility. But alongside the fatigue came growth—literal, measurable growth.
Current Stats including profession & natural boost (Level 16):
Strength: 75 + 4 = 79
Agility: 70 + 4 = 74
Endurance: 79 + 4 = 83
Perception: 63 + 4 = 67
Intelligence: 65 + 4 = 69
He clenched his fists. The difference wasn't just numbers. His muscles felt tighter, movements sharper, and mind clearer.
Meanwhile, one of the survivors—the quiet man who had taken on the Researcher profession—had his own breakthrough.
Overnight, he finalized his first modification to the Defensive Turret Mk I, boosting every bullet's damage output by 3%. The System chimed its recognition:
[Research Complete: Turret Enhancement Applied.]
[Researcher Profession: Level Up → 5.]
[Skill Point Earned.]
The man's eyes had lit up with a fervor that only true discovery could spark. He immediately allocated the point into a new passive ability: Focused Analysis, a skill that accelerated his research process and improved the odds of successful upgrades.
The MC smiled faintly at the news. "Good. That means our defenses will grow sharper without me having to oversee every step. Professions gaining EXP from their own work… that's huge."
The morale across the island had already been lifted by the construction of mana conduit pillars, turrets, and barricades. But now, with proof that ordinary survivors could grow stronger through diligence rather than combat, hope surged like wildfire.
Then his gaze returned to the most jarring piece of drone footage.
A jagged crater stretched across the landscape where his old mountainside home once stood. He hadn't explored it properly before—too busy, too wary, always leaving it for later. But now…
From within the crater, the ground pulsed with a blue glow. A misty radiance coiled upwards, bending reality in faint distortions until it collapsed into itself.
The System tagged it instantly:
[Mysterious Portal Detected.]
[Warning: Energy Signature Unstable.]
A portal. Right where his past intersected with the future he was building.
He leaned forward, fingers drumming against the table. "So that's what's been waiting for me all this time…"
The survivors couldn't know yet. Reina couldn't know. But he knew one thing for certain: this wasn't just another curiosity to shelve for later. The portal had appeared where his foundation used to stand. It was calling to him, and he would answer.
The System feed shut down, leaving silence in the command tent. The MC rubbed his temples, exhaling deeply. Numbers, growth, blue portals—it was all important, but leadership meant more than chasing his own curiosity. Survivors needed direction.
He made his way across the island, stopping by each facility.
At the Mana Conduit Pillars, workers reported stable energy flow. The air around the island was crisp, free from the heavy, twisting pressure of mutation. Monsters straying too close were burned by the pure mana field, their corrupted bodies unraveling.
At the Defensive Turrets, the Researcher beamed with pride as he demonstrated the new firing protocols. Bullets snapped from the barrels with sharper velocity, striking wooden targets with a punch far stronger than yesterday.
The Ballistic Barricades stood tall and gleaming, their structure reinforced. Teams patrolled along them, morale high after learning the barricades could soon reflect damage back at attackers. Hope was contagious.
"You've all done well," the MC said, his voice carrying. "We're building something here that will last. Keep going."
Back at the central square, he gathered the citizens. Survivors huddled close, their faces a mix of fatigue and fragile determination.
"You've all gained professions," he said firmly, scanning them one by one. "From this day forward, you'll be divided into groups according to them. Fighters will form squads. Gatherers will supply them. Builders and craftsmen will focus on fortifications and equipment. Researchers will innovate. Every one of you will contribute, because survival isn't a gift—it's something we forge together."
Nods spread across the crowd. A few nervous, but most relieved. Direction meant order, and order meant safety.
Later, he pulled a heavy case from Infinite Storage. Dust clung to the edges, but inside gleamed an intact long-range radio transmitter. He spent half an hour rigging it to a working generator before static filled the air.
He pressed the microphone.
"This is a secured island settlement," his voice boomed across the waves. "To any survivors out there seeking refuge—listen closely. If you want to live, be at the docks tomorrow morning at six sharp. Bring what you can. No exceptions. If you have the means, respond to this frequency for communication. Safety exists, but only if you reach for it."
He released the button. The radio hummed, but no reply came—yet. He knew word would spread. Survivors were out there, desperate for sanctuary. The stronger their numbers, the stronger their defense.
Evening fell before he finally sought out the twins. He found them sitting in the quiet of their quarters, knees pulled to their chests, eyes still shadowed from what they had endured at the college.
They looked up as he entered, and before he could speak, both sisters rushed forward, wrapping their arms around him.
"It's going to be fine," he said softly, resting a hand on each of their shoulders. "You're safe now. I promise."
For a moment, the silence was fragile and warm. But then—
[System Notification: Profession Selection Incomplete.]
His eyes widened. He glanced down at the girls, realization dawning.
"When I defeated the boss in the college's main hall… you both leveled up," he muttered. "You're at Level 10."
The twins exchanged uncertain glances, then nodded.
"And your profession choices… Mage?" he asked.
"Yes," one whispered. "We… we want to learn magic."
The System clarified their profession quests:
[Profession Quest: Learn Magic from a Mage of Level 15 or Higher.]
He frowned, mind immediately turning to the only candidate. The mage survivor he had rescued during the city raid. Quiet, reclusive, but undeniably talented.
"You'll learn from him," the MC said decisively. "He'll guide you."
He turned to the mage, who had been lingering nearby. "You'll take responsibility for these two. Teach them. Make sure they complete their quests."
The man blinked in surprise, then nodded slowly.
Only then did the MC pause, an awkward thought striking him like a hammer. He scratched the back of his neck, sighing.
"…I've been ordering you around this whole time, and I don't even know your name."
The mage chuckled softly. "It's about time you asked. I am Elandor."
The twins, still clinging to him, looked up shyly. "I'm Lyra," said the elder. "And she's Lena."
The MC nodded, finally putting names to faces that would shape the future of the island.