Chapter 1 | Green Light - Red Light!
He juked left. Lunged right. James could hardly breathe, his lungs burned. He was running out of time. Out of options. Only one choice remained. He couldn't help but curse his horrible luck. Another day, Another moment to fuck up and make a terrible decision.
James slid to a stop. Staring down at the obstacles arrayed before him. This was a task he knew his body could ill afford after exhausting his energy reserves just to make it here. But his entire existence relied on this here moment. Years of familiarity, borne of trekking this path a thousand times already, should have given him sufficient confidence.
And yet…
He slapped his face. Slapped his thighs. The person next to him made sure to give him extra space while giving odd looks.
There was no choice but to cross the Main Street during rush hour! On a green light!
James took off with the athletic ability of a regular dude. One that had not worked out or done anything sporting since highschool. Jelly legs slammed into the ground. Noodle arms pumped like pistons in a racecar. Fueled by the endless power of a similarly endless stream of coffee.
This was what peak masculinity looked like! Yes, he was going to crash soon enough, but for the time being, he was a Titan!
None dared to match his daring pursuit. Women screamed! Men dove to grab his wily frame; jealousy! They could not stop him. His skinny body had finally come in handy as he slipped past their urgent reaching grasp and curling fingers.
Babies cried!
He would make it to work on time! No one was going to stop his holy pursuit! No demon and no mortal either! Not any of these speeding cars! Not the green light! Not the screaming and surging crowds behind him roaring as though they were in a colosseum.
Not even the old granny that caused this whole situation. Especially her.
James knew, with his very soul, that the old hag understood what she had been doing every single morning. Eyes glimmering with evil glee. Delaying him with endless idle talk and pressing him to meet any of her twelve granddaughters.
She knew he could get fired! Conspiring to force him into a relationship!
He got skinny, lunging past a whizzing car. Horns blaring, drivers screaming obscenities, swerving wildly lest they crumple before him! Another vehicle attempted to take his head, but he stopped on a dime worthy of a star NFL running back.
Barry Sanders would have been proud
James gave the road a double move. Faked right and went left. He pushed his non-existent muscles to the extreme. Beyond anything they had attempted before this day. A terrified motorbike rider was sent careening to the side. He would be alright!
The danger was real. Exhilarating. His only job demanded his presence!
…or he would get fired for being late for the millionth time. It definitely wouldn't be because of his cursed fingers. Appliances at the grocery store he worked at seemed to go kaput at him barely touching them. The first few times had been excusable. No one could pinpoint him, only wondering what happened. There had been whispered and judgmental glares after the fifth time. Sneaking suspicion as the owner watched him like a hawk.
James shook his head. There was no time to think! He must let his primal instinct take over and lead him to the promised land. He could already taste his victory! The other side of the massive twelve lane Main Street called out his name. A choir of angels singing his name! His fans jumping up and down arms locked completing the wave.
Shit!
His momentary lapse of concentration had been costly. A black semi, engine pipes screaming with black smog, barreled towards him. Its raging, demonic engine and defining horn covered the entire horizon. A challenger and worthy foe!
Not worthy enough!
James dove. Olympians could only watch on in envy and admiration as he escaped guaranteed death…
And fell down a manhole. What the hell?! Why was there a wide open manhole in the middle of a busy street? During the rush hour?! The last thing he remembered was the retch-inducing stench and the hard concrete that met his face-first dive.
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James felt a cold breeze invade his inner sanctum. Brushing against his supple skin. He shivered and reached for his blanket. Him kicking away his source of heat was a recurring issue. Forgetting his window open was another one.
It had led to many days of colds and worse: the Flu.
His fingers wrapped around a rough rag. Pulling it up to cover his head, too lazy to get out of bed and shut the window. But it left his feet exposed. That was a crime. Adjusting and readjusting did not help his situation. Worse, he figured out that his most beloved blanket—thick and long enough to wrap around him like a cocoon—was not only suddenly short.
But also not so beloved on his skin.
Its rough texture grated against his supple modern skin. Not a single moment of hard labor meant no calluses. Surviving off instant meals led to his generous skinny suppleness. He wasn't too proud of it all. But he convinced himself that women would look on in envy. So white, unmarked, and perfectly soft!
James sighed. Unable to sleep. He hoped the old granny next door hadn't kicked his window open to sneak in again. She always looked at his soft fingers and perfect skin with an unmistakable frown of disgust and hate.
'Men are meant to be tough! Who's going to protect my granddaughters if you're so weak!'
The thought of the madwoman had him fuming. Remembering how she snuck in dumbbells he struggled to move made him violently sit up. He surged up, jumping to his feet to rush out of his—
He froze midstep. All the energy in his body slowly escaped him. James let his leg down and stood comfortably before looking around. He let a whisper of a chuckle, butterflies running rampant in his stomach. The more he looked around the dilapidated hut around him, the worse the feeling became.
Sweat beads trickled down his back and forehead. One snuck into his eye, burning him.
He had read a long article on kidnappers yesterday. They would grab unsuspecting victims into vans, beat them up, then take them to remote huts in the countryside. Cut them up into pieces and sell their organs for cash in the black market.
The singular common theme among them all: A broken down hut.
James rushed to grab the first items he could find as weapons. A bowl and a massive spoon. Both made out of wood. They could have fit perfectly in an ancient museum. Only God would know how a serial killer and kidnapper would get such prehistoric things.
He tiptoed towards the only source of light with ginger steps. Bright sunlight leaked from all sides of the flimsy door. Blinding him.
Every step caused a thunderstorm worthy amount of creaks and squeaks. He might as well be a herd of bison. Any serial killer behind that door would have noticed the day before yesterday. James might as well announce to the world he had finally woken up.
James Anderson resolved himself to a life and death battle. There was no way he would allow some sicko to violate his…
He shivered.
Death before dishonor! Death before dishonor!
He kept repeating it as his mantra. Resolving himself to mortal combat. He nudged the door open with the large spoon. Its long handle gave him extra space to sneak glances and hide behind the thin walls of the hut.
The door squealed like a pig being slaughtered. An alarm screaming even louder than his thunderstorm of steps.
I am so fucking fucked.
James was out here with nothing but a spoon and bowl. Ancient pieces of wood that would likely crumble after the first encounter. While his kidnappers and adversaries of a life and death battle probably had machetes and maybe even guns.
He let out a shuddering breath, then slowly peeked out from behind the open door. James dropped his impromptu weapons and gaped like an idiot for a few seconds.
Shit!
He scrambled to pick them up. The kidnapping beast was probably around here somewhere.
Then again…
Where the hell was he? He could vividly remember falling down an open manhole into a sewer. But that had been a bad nightmare, right? Right?!
James stepped over the door sill. His bare feet and toes stepped onto cool vibrant grass, morning dew still there. He surveyed his surroundings, noticing an unused campfire to his right and a stack of firewood not too far away from it. They were tied into perfect bundles and balanced vertically for some unusual reason.
He made a mental note to move them further away from the campfire if he was stuck here. They were far too close.
To his left was a large expanse of grass and a single tree just sitting in the middle of it all. Said tree towered over the entire area, its canopy casting a gargantuan shadow around it. So dense and thick not enough sunlight filtered in leaving the immediate area around it bare of anything other than roots and loose dirt.
In front of the house, about thirty paces away, was a small river. James walked up to it. The moving water so clear he could see the very bottom, covered in river stones. He could cross it with a running jump or even stride across it. The currents were slow and peaceful.
James looked left and right. The river kept going into the distance. Disappearing at the edge of what seemed like a plateau.
He could not recall any in the direct vicinity of the main city. How long was he knocked out for his kidnapper to drag him this far away from civilization? James followed the river until he reached the plateau's edge. He peered over hoping to catch a glimpse of something he was familiar with—
What the fuck…?
James looked up. He let his eyes slowly fall down until he was looking straight down from the edge. It was clear skies all the way through. He could see the bottom of a flying island, roots sticking out from the side. Then it was just an endless blue sky below it.
He could see tufts of thick clouds far underneath. But that shouldn't have been possible. Unless…
Did that mean he was past the first layer of the atmosphere?! Looking back up only made him more confused. The clear blue skies above him with similar thick white clouds floating along. Not an ounce of stars or possible outer space void. Shouldn't he be able to see the moon or the blackness of space this far up?
James wobbled. He fell back onto his butt. The world spun around him. Vertigo. He let out a nervous laugh.
Did I just get isekai-ed?
Chapter 2 | Tutorial...? Please?
James searched the entire flying island and could confidently say—and with quite a bit of relief—that there were no serial killers looking to violate his masculinity. No body parts, blackmarket, choppers. And no vans, black garbage bags, or whatever else someone needed to accomplish that goal.
He shivered again at the thought of being tied down. A monster cutting him up and stuffing him in said black bags.
It made him feel lucky to be… well, where this flying island was supposed to be exactly. The more he explored, the more confused he became. No evidence of this place having been lived in existed other than an untouched campfire, untouched and oddly stacked firewood, the dilapidated hut, and a few miscellaneous items.
No other buildings, three trees similar to the first one, and the river. No fish or critters. No farm or source of food other than a single, small bag of rice. Brown rice that looked like something people would be eating in the B.C. years.
The rest was nothing more than stretches of grass surrounded by a sheer drop on all sides. Blue skies.
James wasn't sure what would have been worse. If there was hope in the form of solid ground below him—though impossible to reach—or the immediate crushing of any hope or idea he would be able to escape this place.
Either he jumped and smacked headfirst into solid stone and earth or keep falling across endless skies.
Don't people die at certain velocities?
He wasn't sure. James could have sworn he had read somewhere that jumping from a ledge high enough would lead to his death before hitting the ground. Would that be more peaceful than smashing into solid ground? Or was it painful…?
What am I doing?
Why was he even contemplating ways to die? Hadn't he been isekai-ed? A new world with new possibilities? A better, more improved chance at life with superpowers and a system?
James wanted to be something more. Wouldn't he get an opportunity to be more than just a mundane clerk in a more mundane grocery store. No boss to breath over his shoulder. He would be in a world with magic and an equally important opportunity to chance upon a beauty in some remote village to love and dote on him! He couldn't help but imagine having a supermodel wife without a supermodel complex.
Just a humble girl that fed him grapes when he was lying down. He could already imagine the…
He let out a deep breath.
Not now! An ancient being might be watching me!
Getting caught with his pants down was not part of his plan. The sheer embarrassment and mortifying situation made jumping off the edge like a good choice. He would definitely do it if that ever happened.
Or!
Maybe he would become a machiavellian ruler! Women would throw themselves at him and he would get to…
Control!
He shivered. Hands covering his face. Body shaking.
Don't die of embarrassment! Just long enough till we are isekai-ed to a new world! Princesses and humble peasants wait just for you! Or… Or fit adventurer ladies! Just until the tutorial is over!
So James waited. And waited… then waited some more. At some point, his stomach began to announce its presence by rumbling like a thunderstorm. James found it odd. Was he supposed to get hungry in a magical tutorial dream? That seemed counterintuitive if they asked him. Then again, nobody showed up for him to complain to.
Where was the welcome sign? Even a welcome mat would have been fine. Wasn't there a world that needed saving? James could only feel despondent the longer this took. Even his raging hard-on passed as he found himself alone in a picturesque landscape.
No one to talk to. No one to bother him.
His stomach rumbled again. He blamed the depressed thoughts on it, being too hungry to think straight. Not to mention he never had a chance to eat breakfast yesterday due to a certain talkative granny. The plan had been to munch on cookies. Maybe even a bag of chips at work. Some hot coffee would have been perfect.
Add that to the time to get knocked out and be transported to the island. Wake up tucked perfectly in bed. Then finally all the time wasted searching the entirety of the island.
Fuck it.
He got up intending to make himself a bowl of rice. No salt, spices, or any extra ingredients like meat or vegetables. It would still be calorie dense and help sustain him, but it would taste terrible.
As he gathered water and carefully plucked one tied bunch of firewood for the campfire, James had an epiphany! This had to be a test! There was no way he would have been teleported into God knows where without something or someone being part of the process. They were watching! Judging him on his actions and accomplishments!
James was determined to pass it. The tonnes of survival reels and videos he watched in utter boredom at work had finally come through for him! A real chance at justifying all the hours he wasted!
He could imagine it already. Rebuilding the hut, if he recalled how! Growing more rice! Different types of rice cooked! James was sure he could accomplish them all. After all, he had watched videos of dainty girls going off grid and doing it. He should be able to, right?
Probably… Maybe.
Probably not, but it should count for something!
Extra stats! Experience points in his construction skill or even a special skill and class he would unlock. Eventually he would become a master architect! Or should he practice with a branch? Become a sword master. The possibilities were endless!
James hurried to start a fire. He grabbed a smaller stick and began to spin it between his palms like all the videos did. He spun and spun and spun the stick some more. At some point his arms had begun to burn with lactic acid as he struggled to get any spark or ember to appear.
It took nearly ten minutes of grueling arm workout to finally see the first spark…
Only for him to sputter and vanish an instant later. Unable to start a fire with it. It took three more punishing attempts, that left him exhausted, to get it right. But he eventually had a roaring fire blazing within the camp. He then used long sticks with enough girth to hold up his bowl. Filled with water and ancient brown rice.
James gulped as he watched it cook with an unpracticed eye. Rice cookers were not that expensive and instant meals were even easier to make. He had never needed to cook properly for himself or anyone that visited him. But again, he had watched a tonne of cooking videos. Enough that he had a general idea of what to do and what to look out for.
It took some time and urgent rushing back to the fire before he finally had a bowl of slightly burnt rice. And a steaming hot bowl he was too afraid to touch. He could already imagine the pain if he burned himself like an idiot. There were no ointments or drugstores on the island in an emergency.
A burn wound could get infected, leading to his death by attempted rice cooking.
James killed the fire and then let his bowl just sit there to cool down. He stared at it for a few seconds before growing bored. Exploring, washing his hands, and even throwing a few punches. James was starving by the time it was edible cool.
Even unsalted and bland rice tasted like heaven to his taste buds at this point.
Congratulations on accomplishing a task!
Reward 12 exp
Reward 2 bronze coins
Congratulations! Level up!
Reward Rusty sword
Reward Broken shield
2 attribute points available
Two bronze coins, the size of a nickel each, appeared in front of his eyes in the form of light. They harmlessly clinked on the ground. A rusty sword appeared next with its jagged point facing down. James had to jump out of the way. Barely dodging the sharp edge.
Half his rice spilled onto the ground.
"No! My rice!" James scrambled to pick up the clean parts.
Not even noticing the broken wood shield that appeared behind him. It fell on the rusty sword, snapping it in half.
James resolved himself to stuffing his face before any new items appeared directly in front of him. Enough rice had been sacrificed on this day already. No more rice blood needed to be spilled! Not when it could have been devoured. Sustaining him for more time. Who knows how long he'd be here or if he had enough food to last the entire time.
Dying of starvation was not a good way to go.
He shook his head. There were more important things to deal with!
First and foremost. This was a tutorial!
"Yes! I was right!" James felt joy bubble in his chest as he cuddled the rice bag to his chest. His most precious item.
His theory had been proven correct. In no good system or tutorial would he be sent to the new world at level zero. How could a twenty some year old be at the level of newborn babies? It would be immediately obvious to anyone with a lick of intelligence that he was otherworldly. Especially if he started blasting enemies at much higher levels.
Dunce villagers would be quick enough to figure it out.
James laid on his back. Staring at the clouds above. He could already imagine a million ways he could optimize his growth while stuffing his mouth with rice the entire time. Become an unbreakable tank? A glass canon nuke launcher? Or something in between?
Would he get better rewards for doing greater tasks? Exercising? Accomplishing not so easy goals?
He hoped there was magic. But he understood that a magical world meant magical fights and magical monsters. There would be a need for weapons skills. Swordsmanship. Spearmanship. Everything he could think of. Would those types of skills appear?
And most importantly, would it come with a proper guide? If he swung a blade ten thousand times all wrong, he wouldn't suddenly become a master. He'd still be at point zero. Meaning he would be stuck as a novice with no way or no one to teach him.
What about unlocking purely magical attacks. Fireballs and launching tornadoes at his enemies. Eventually even fire tornados!
James got up from his seat. Done with his food, he made sure to clean the bowl and utensils. He put the small bag away inside one corner of the hut inside of the bowl.
Clean room, clean mind!
He had attribute points to allocate. Any and all advantages would be used.
Decades of gaming. Reading. Playing DnD. And a hundred different imagined scenarios would come to his aid at this moment. Yes, the mechanics may turn out different, but his vast experience should ease the burning curve.
That didn't mean he didn't feel the pressure. There was no save scumming here. Real life had real consequences. If his build was weak or had a glaring weakness, then he would be royally cursed to getting bodied by everyone and anyone that figured it out.
Glass cannons, the ones he had been so hype about a few moments ago, shouldn't exist in a world if they kept dying to stray arrows at level one hundred. Simple natural selection demanded it. Basic survival skills would prevail over the extreme in basic circumstances.
It narrowed down his path forward.
Either survive and tank larger and larger attacks, healing afterwards. Or to never get hit and deal enormous amounts of damage in return.
The second option appealed to him. But after serious thought, wouldn't he still be relatively susceptible to the proverbial stray arrow? He couldn't outrun what he never saw coming. Perception and intuition could only do so much before he just got unlucky.
Especially area of effect attacks. And other more powerful things he couldn't hope to escape.
Then again, a slow tank would end up in a similar conundrum. If James couldn't dodge the attacks he couldn't tank, then he'd die in the same way. Or constantly be wracked with torturous pain he would need to heal.
James resolved himself to create some form of hybrid class. The main point was survivability. Magic only made all situations more extreme.
He shook his head.
It's time!
"Status!" James shouted. An expectant smile on his face. He couldn't hide the excitement that oozed out of his being.
"Status?"
"System...?"
"Attributes?!"
Shit! My attribute points!
"Stats?" He whispered. Hope diminishing with every word.
"Statistics?"
"My Character!"
James Anderson did nothing but scream out random words and synonyms he could think of for the next hour. Then did nothing else but attempt to mentally think them instead of verbally saying the words for another hour. Doing his best to focus on the status screen appearing before his eyes.
Nothing happened.
He could feel the migraine and mental strain set in at some point—
Congratulations on exceeding your limits!
Mental limits exceeded! First Mental limit exceeded!
1 attribute point to mental attributes available
Reward 7 exp
Reward 1 copper coin
An insulting copper coin clinked onto the pile of items in front of him. Chipping the already rusted sword, adding insult to injury.
What the FU—
James closed his eyes. He took deep breaths. Hoping it would calm him down. He had been cussing too much ever since he got here. James needed to slow down. He let the air out slowly.
What the hell am I supposed to do with attribute points I can't allocate?! Who made this bullshit tutorial?! Dumbass! Motherf—
James got up and ran to the river. He dunked his head into the cold water. Coming up only after he couldn't hold his breath any longer. Then he dunked his head under again. He could feel his lungs burn and chest felt like it was going to explode.
But he needed to clear his head somehow—
Congratulations on exceeding your limits!
Reward 1 exp
Congratulations! Level up!
Reward tattered robe
Reward stinky socks
Reward 10 copper coins
2 attribute points available
Stinky socks and ripped up clothes dropped onto his soaked head. The coins bounced off his skull leaving dull pain behind.
Sigh…
Chapter 3 | Time Flying
Months had passed like a blur. Melding into one another. James had tried to keep a mental note of how many days had passed, but after the fifth month, he had given up. There had been no hide or hair of an ancient being to guide him, much less be watching or even involved in his isekai kidnapping. He had been unlucky. That's it.
He laughed at himself.
Thought you were something special, huh, James.
What would an ancient being that was strong enough to pluck him from earth to this tiny island want with a grocery clerk? Random, untalented, and uninteresting. Needed a super soldier, go to the marines or even the navy. Any elite soldier from the plethora of countries around the world.
Needed someone to lead a kingdom, grab a super historian or an advanced history major. Or even an otaku that had spent their entire lives learning every single piece of renaissance invention and anything predating that by three thousand years. A politician, or even a CEO of a Fortune 500 company.
Demon lord bothering you? Scientist to develop a new demon killing plague or nuke.
An evil empire? James was sure modern generals studied military tactics fully including medieval warfare and its different types. Even a history buff would know more than him.
Needed…
James let out a deep breath. He allowed himself the moment to stare out into the night sky above. The first few weeks of seeing these mystical visions had been heavenly. Nebulous stars and clusters of odd shaped gas in the distance. Singular twinkling comets striking past. Colors bright and vibrant.
Even variously colored moons.
No night sky was the same as the one before it.
But after a while, even they lost their luster. He could see the patterns in the stars' positions. The moon's colors and distinct craters and shape. Even the nebulous gases and their forms.
James stared at a red moon this night. On his back and studying every crater, scar, and damage on its surface. It was the same exact moon he had seen a few days ago, except the last one was blue. All the major craters were the same. Three diagonal scars that looked like a bear marking its territory. Except on a cosmic scale.
It was another attempt to get some sleep. But he knew it would be a while before any form of slumber arrived. Who knew insomnia would chase him out of planet earth entirely.
James Anderson chuckled again. Derisively. He couldn't help but shake his head at this situation. Being alone for so long was starting to get to him. He had read articles on white room experiments and what happened to prisoners in solitary confinement for certain periods of time. No social contact for long periods of time.
Being driven insane would be the least of their worries.
That last thing that kept him from going mad with insanity were the occasional system notification that popped up to remind him of accomplishing something or another. Rewards dropped in bundles now. Things that started to look far more valuable than broken shields and rusty swords. His first steel sword appeared a few days ago, warped and would probably snap at the first sign of resistance.
But it had dropped because of his improvement. His change.
And change he felt.
James had worked out every single day since the first reward dropped. Attempting a million different tasks he could think of and then doing his best to push his body. From the most basic of pushups and squats all the way to incredulous forms of yoga. He felt silly every time he did a new pose, but it was usually rewarded more generously and more often than other things.
It made him stronger. Faster. Visibly different from what he was at his first arrival. Gone was the soft skinny fat and perfect skin. His mind had become clearer. Much more capable of concise thought and it was silent.
He hadn't understood the sheer funk modern society turned their minds into.
As though he was walking through a blizzard. Powerful winds had been pushing him back with every step he took forward. Now it was nothing more than a slight breeze.
Fatigue was only for when he remained awake for days or he pushed himself to the edge with his exercises and katas; as he began calling his sword swinging and spear stabbing. No more burnouts. No more coffee induced crashes. Though he missed the taste greatly.
No more burdens that stressed him endlessly.
But it was more than just that imperceptible change. He felt sturdy in ways that felt beyond human. Capable of feats he suspected only a select few could have accomplished back on earth. James couldn't explain it properly, but he suspected it had to do with hidden attributes being allocated after doing the more difficult tasks he accomplished.
A thousand pull-ups and push-ups without a break. Or running until his legs could not carry him any longer.
They never popped up with system notifications, but their effect was obvious to him.
He could understand why they did appear too. If the system worked properly. He should have been able to see his attributes rise with nothing but mentally prodding his status to appear. It would get tedious if every single change was noted with a new system notification.
James still had a thousand questions about the system though. Questions that would never get answered. From his experience so far, he could guess that the stats broke up into multiple categories: Mind, body, soul, magic, perception, and the weirdest one, Qi.
Each one had been prompted in some way or another through a task he finished. Meditation provided him multiple advances including a boost to Qi, magic, and soul.
But it still left him confused.
Magic and Qi? At the same time? That had to be a genre blend. He wasn't so sure he liked the sound of that. James knew little about cultivation stories. He hadn't read much and most reviews broke the satires into the same molds.
Good Mc turned into harem chasing and cold blooded shells of their previous self. But that was it.
He had no background knowledge of the levels or how they were broken down. What quantified as an advancement. How does Qi equate to mana and their interchangeability? There were a thousand and one different questions he knew were never going to be answered for him with an absent system.
And an absent ancient being to guide him during the tutorial.
Other oddities he experienced included his hair and nails never growing during his stay here. Not even an inch. He never had to worry about shaving after he finished the first by the river. No stubble and nothing that would bother him.
Cuts healed back miraculously too. An accidental gash by his new, warped longsword had caused him much worry for a few days. He had been bleeding profusely, stemming it with clothes he had gotten as rewards. James thought he had killed himself, swearing it was only a matter of time before it got infected and he died from sickness.
Unbearable pain clouded his mind. He struggled to keep his head clear in any form. The only thing that kept him from losing consciousness were him dunking his head in the cold river water.
But three days later, he woke up to a scrolling feed of notifications and new rewards raining down on him. Dodging left and right as weapons and other items threatened to crack his skull or break a limb. He hadn't noticed his thigh at first, but it eventually struck him like lightning.
He had been fully healed. No scar. Nothing to indicate that he was only a few steps away from death. Only the blood soaked clothes he had been using as makeshift bandages.
James was unsure if it was his stats that saved him or the island's effect on him.
That had been a limit breaker. He never needed to worry about hurting himself again. No more stopping himself from doing risky maneuvers and pushing the reward system to its edge. Swinging swords and other weapons like a kungfu master, or a maniac.
Another item he found incredulous was the rice bag. A generic woven bag that did not seem impressive at all was far more than what it seemed. He wasn't sure how long he had been here, but there hadn't even been a dent in its rice quantity. No indication that it had changed at all, matter of fact.
It was a real spatial bag. An inventory!
Every single reward he got was immediately stuffed into it next to the rice capable of feeding a bazillion people without worry. For decades if not a century!
He was also sure the rice had magical properties. No protein, fats, or any other nutrient. Just rice to fill his belly. He craved nothing and actually gained serious muscle mass compared to what he was before. Toned.
Still not anywhere close to steroid use, willowy and thin frame, but impressive nonetheless.
It drove him into becoming a reward-aholic! Not considering he had very little to do otherwise.
Everything he could think of. Back flips. Jumping and spinning. Swan diving and trying to stab three times before he belly flopped on the ground. Things he would have been mortified if other people saw. Luckily, that social anxiety didn't apply here.
Not a single person to see him, judge, laugh, giggle at his ridiculous actions…
James cleared his throat. Rubbed his eyes. He tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow.
It's a good thing, James! Imagine what they would be saying. Laughing at you…
He had freedom to do whatever he wanted. No one to wake him up early. No one to tell him what to do or what cultural cues he had to follow.
No old granny to push marrying her granddaughters on him.
He cleared his throat again. Vision blurring.
Shit. What a crybaby.
Again, he tried to laugh it off. But there was no social pressure to keep his emotions in. No one to ask about him, to laugh with him, to check if he remained single and wanted to marry one of their grand-daughters. No embarrassed grand-daughters to stare daggers at him only to turn into cute kittens the second their elder turned to point them out.
One by one.
Alisha.
Tracee.
Oliver.
Victoria.