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## **Chapter Title: *Twenty-Eight Points of Hope***
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Morning came with pain.
Chains bit into my wrists as I woke, my body screaming from exhaustion. For a moment, I thought about ending it—just letting this body vanish and returning to my island.
But something stopped me.
A feeling.
Subtle. Different.
"…System."
I focused.
**Open panel.**
---
A familiar blue light unfolded before my eyes.
### **[Fame & Points]**
**Fame:** Minor
**Available Points:** **28**
---
I froze.
"…Twenty-eight?"
I stared at the number, afraid it would disappear.
It didn't.
A slow breath escaped my lips.
*It worked.*
Someone had believed me. Even if it was only curiosity… the land had gained fame. My island—**Persia**—had been acknowledged.
Not enough for a gacha spin.
But enough to prove one thing.
**I was on the right path.**
Hope—real hope—sparked for the first time since I'd been dragged onto that ship.
---
That night, footsteps came again.
"Get up," a guard said.
This time, I wasn't dragged.
I was *escorted*.
The difference mattered.
The slave master waited alone. No whip. No wine. His fingers tapped the table slowly.
"You spoke of Persia," he said. "Tell me again."
I swallowed.
This was not the time for desperation.
This was the time for **control**.
---
I lowered my voice.
"Persia is cursed," I said.
His tapping stopped.
"Cursed?"
"Yes," I nodded. "Storms hide it. Rocks break ships. Only I know the safe way."
A lie.
A beautiful, necessary lie.
"There are ruins," I continued. "Old ones. Before Valyria. Untouched gold. Statues. Chests."
His breathing slowed.
"And why," he asked carefully, "have I never heard of it?"
I met his eyes.
"Because anyone who lands without a guide… dies."
Silence stretched.
Then—
"If you lie," he said coldly, "I will peel your skin slowly."
I bowed deeply.
"If I lie," I said, "you lose nothing but one slave."
I paused.
"But if I tell the truth… you gain an island of gold."
---
He leaned back.
Greed won.
It always did.
"How many men?" he asked.
"As many as you can lend," I answered.
Another lie.
Another step.
He stood.
"We sail at dawn."
---
I was fed that night.
Real food.
Bread. Soup. Even meat.
My hands shook as I ate.
*Don't get excited,* I warned myself.
*This isn't over.*
At dawn, the ship left port.
A smaller one this time. Faster. Fewer men.
They chained me—but loosely.
They didn't beat me.
They watched me.
Days passed at sea.
I used every moment to listen, to learn words, accents, meanings. My understanding of the language improved rapidly. Hunger sharpened the mind.
At night, when no one watched closely, I checked the system.
No new points.
That was fine.
They hadn't reached the island yet.
---
Then—
I felt it.
A familiar pull.
Like nerves reconnecting.
Like stepping back into my own shadow.
*My land.*
I stood at the edge of the ship, staring ahead.
"There," I said hoarsely. "Persia."
Mist rolled across the sea.
Rocky outlines appeared.
Green.
Wild.
Untouched.
The men murmured.
Some crossed themselves.
Others tightened their grip on their weapons.
As the ship crossed the invisible boundary—
### **[Territory Recognized]**
### **[Inhabitants Entering Land: 27]**
### **[Fame Increasing…]**
Inside my mind, the island **awoke**.
Waves shifted subtly. Winds changed direction. The shore welcomed them like a patient predator.
I smiled.
They thought they had found treasure.
They didn't realize—
They had just stepped onto **me**.
*Heh. Heh. Heh.*
I guided them forward, though I didn't truly know what to do next.
I checked the system panel again.
**79 points.**
Just a little more for my first gacha.
*Then let's make this interesting.*
I decided to create new "rules."
To make the treasure mysterious.
---
I led them to a cliff.
One look down meant certain death.
"Jump," I said calmly. "There is magic here. It protects us from death."
No one believed me.
I smiled.
Then I jumped.
Pain.
Darkness.
My body shattered gruesomely against the rocks below.
---
And then—
I returned.
Back to the island's vision.
I watched them panic.
Confusion spread.
Moments later, I created a new clone.
The broken body below erased itself.
I return naked—my dress cannot be created using clone creation.
I walked toward them.
Alive.
Whole.
Unchained.
Their faces turned pale.
---
Now they would listen.
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