They nodded instantly and followed him like loyal guards.
The edge of the lake didn't feel safe. Alex had watched ice-fishing videos before—real-life fishermen always went toward the center, where the ice was thickest and the fish abundance was highest. But he wasn't about to risk marching two untrained youths to the lake's center during a blizzard.
After walking about ten meters from the shore, he stopped.
"Here is fine," Alex said. "Use the stone and break a hole in the ice. One of you hits. The other stands by and keeps an eye out. Don't slip. Don't fall in."
The two young men froze for a moment. They weren't used to being treated so carefully. Being told to "be careful" by their patriarch made them straighten like proud wolves. Their eyes shone with excitement.
Again, Alex felt that complicated mix of warmth and helplessness. Yep that's definitely +10 loyalty at work.
He watched them begin hammering the stone against the ice, then left. That was only step one. Fishing still required tools, and he would have to improvise something close to a net.
No way was he going to "stab fish with a stick."
The lake was too deep. That was suicide.
So fishing nets it was.
He walked back toward the center of camp and waved over three women who had light, nimble hands. "You three," he said, "I need nets made from vines. Something like this—look."
He grabbed a twig and knelt to draw in the snow. A simple diamond-pattern net appeared beneath his hand.
Not perfect. Not elaborate. But workable.
"We weave like this," he explained. "It doesn't need to be pretty. Just strong enough to hold fish."
The women stared at the drawing, then nodded seriously and got to work. They had never woven nets before, but they had woven bags, clothes, and straps—they would manage.
Next, Alex called over several children.
"Go scrape the snow off the ground nearby and dig a little. Look for worms."
He made a twisting gesture with his fingers. "Little creatures hiding in the soil. We'll use them as bait."
The children brightened at being trusted with something and scurried off immediately, laughing and shouting as they dug through frozen dirt.
Step by step the tribe was moving.
Alex finally drew in a deep breath. He had handed out every urgent task and covered every basic step. And yet, despite all that work
"It's still not enough manpower" he muttered.
Thirty-four people sounded like a lot. But once you split them into groups—gathering wood, clearing snow, breaking ice, weaving nets, searching for bait—everything was suddenly stretched thin.
Population was a massive weakness. They needed to grow. But food needed to stabilize first, or growth would never come.
Sighing, he found a clean patch of snow, sat down, and grabbed a sturdy stick. He rummaged through the pile of stones collected earlier until he found a long, flat one—good for shaping.
If they were going to survive, they needed weapons.
Stone spears were the simplest, most reliable starting point.
A polished stone tied to a wooden shaft. Crude but effective.
Alex held the stone, turning it in his hand. It had potential.
He reached for some vine to tie it and immediately realized the comedy of reality.
Even the thinnest vine was thicker than his thumb. Coarse, stiff, impossible to tighten properly. He tried looping it once—slipped. He tried again—slid off. The moment he let go...
THUNK!
The spearhead fell off completely.
Alex stared up at the sky with a dead expression.
"Yep. Just like I thought. The world hates me."
He picked up the fallen stone and tossed the vine aside with a sigh.
"So this is what it's like to build a civilization from scratch Great. Fantastic. Amazing."
Alex stared at the useless vine knotted around the spearhead and forced himself not to swear out loud. This era wasn't just primitive—it was pre–Stone Age primitive. But his brain wasn't filled with water; after a few moments of thinking, an idea struck him.
Animal hide.
He called over a barbarian and asked for a piece of thin hide—something soft, flexible, and strong. It took time and effort to tear it into narrow strips, but once he had enough, Alex wrapped and tied the hide tightly around the stone blade.
It actually held.
And just then—
System prompt:
Congratulations, player 'Alexander', on crafting a Rough Stone Spear. +5 civilization points. +3 military points.
Another prompt followed immediately—
System prompt:
Congratulations, civilization of player 'Alexander' has advanced to the Stone Age. +500 civilization points.
The messages rang in his head, but Alex didn't even hear the second half properly. He was too busy staring at the stone spear in his hand, heart pounding wildly against his ribs.
"I—what—this sense of accomplishment is insane! I only made a stone spear, so why does it feel THIS good?!"
He burst out laughing. Actual, uncontrollable laughter. Even when he got accepted into university on public funding, he hadn't been this happy. This wasn't just a tool—this was his creation.
He swung it a few times. Even with only 2 stars in bravery, the stone spear felt powerful in his grip. For a moment, he felt like he could take on a tiger with it. (He absolutely couldn't, but confidence is a dangerous drug.)
Some of the tribespeople had been watching from a distance. When they saw their patriarch brandishing a new kind of weapon, their eyes shone with awe. Their reverence washed over him like a warm wave, filling his chest with pride.
Fueled by excitement, Alex kept going. He made another stone spear. Then, using the experience he'd gained, he crafted a stone axe. Compared to the spear, this axe felt weightier, more satisfying, more real. The system prompts gave him more points, but at that moment, the numbers didn't matter.
The feeling of upgrading his civilization with his own hands—nothing could compete.
He was about to ride the wave of enthusiasm and make even more weapons when a young man came running toward him, stumbling in panic. It was the scout—the one with natural talent.
"Patriarch! It's bad! We—! We ran into another tribe outside! They want to steal the prey our hunters caught! They're fighting right now!"
*
The words slammed into Alex like a hammer.
"Already? I've only been in this world for one day!"
He forced himself to breathe slowly.
"Stay calm. First confirm the situation."
He stepped forward, voice firm. "How many of them? Where are they?"
"Around eight or nine! Not far, just over there!" The scout pointed frantically toward the northeast.
Alex's jaw tightened.
If the enemy was close, retreating was pointless—they'd follow, discover Mirror Lake, and destroy everything. His newborn settlement, his people, his entire start gone.
That's unacceptable.
His mind raced.
"My Ruler talent gives +20% army strength. And these two weapons—stone spear, stone axe—they count as early weapons, so they're good enough for now."
The bravery stat of 2 stars felt a bit low, but what other choice did he have?
He shoved the stone axe into the scout's hands, gripping the stone spear himself. His voice boomed across the clearing:
"All elders, women, and children—HIDE!
All able-bodied men—WITH ME!"
The men responded instantly.
There were four strong warriors—broad-shouldered, fierce, experienced. The rest of the adult men looked thin or average at best, but none of them hesitated. Whether because of fear, loyalty, or the influence of his Ruler talent, they didn't show the slightest sign of backing down.
Alex's heart steadied a little. "Good. At least I'm not alone."
The scout took the lead, and the five of them—Alex included—marched toward the northeast. Snow crunched under their feet. Cold wind bit their faces. Everyone's expression was hard, tense, and determined.
As they walked, Alex's palms grew sweaty around the stone spear. He had fought before in his original world, but a fistfight and a life-or-death battle were two very different things.
His knuckles turned white from gripping too tightly. His breath felt unsteady. His mind was a chaotic whirl of fear, adrenaline, and desperate plans.
I can't back down.
If I lose now, everything ends.
He swallowed hard.
This was no longer a game.
This was war.
*