The boat cut across the waves, the salty wind carrying the faint scent of smoke from the burning coastline. Behind Kane's vessel, another boat followed—smaller, but newly repaired and reinforced by his system. It moved smoothly through the water, a quiet testament that they weren't trapped anymore.
They had two boats now. Two paths forward. Two lifelines.
Kane's eyes scanned the darkening horizon until the familiar shape of the island appeared. The drones broke formation, half peeling away to continue patrols, the rest clustering overhead as guardians.
The dock was already lit with torchlight when they arrived. Survivors gathered, waving as the boats drew near. Relief and anticipation hung in the air.
As Kane disembarked with Reina, Lena, and Maya, a voice called out from the shore.
"Commander! We have the report ready!"
It was one of the specialists—the ex-military radio operator who had become Kane's de facto communications officer. He saluted crisply before handing over a rough clipboard filled with system-synced notes.
Kane skimmed through it. His lips tightened as he read.
[System Report – Island Status Update]
Current Population: 214
Average Level: 6
EXP Source: Linked to Kane's kills (50% distributed across group)
All Survivors: Level 6 Reached
Free Stat Allocation Earned: 35 per person
Base Growth (Level 6): +1 to all stats
Skill Points Earned: 1 per person
Each survivor had already been prompted by the system to allocate their points. Kane scrolled through the summary, his mind analyzing trends.
Survivor Allocation Pattern:
Roughly half leaned toward Strength and Endurance, trying to toughen themselves for melee survival.
A quarter prioritized Agility and Perception, becoming scouts and sharpshooters.
The remainder had invested in Intelligence, forming the nucleus for crafters, medics, and engineers.
Kane exhaled slowly. At least they weren't blind. They're adapting.
The skill distribution was even more interesting. The store had opened basic tiered skills for everyone:
Combat Skills: [Basic Firearms Handling], [Melee Mastery], [Quick Strike]
Support Skills: [First Aid], [Stamina Recovery], [Pack Mule]
Crafting Skills: [Basic Engineering], [Weapon Assembly], [Cooking Efficiency]
Defensive Skills: [Block], [Dodge Instinct], [Pain Resistance]
According to the report:
70 people had chosen Combat Skills, mostly firearms-related.
50 had chosen Support Skills, with First Aid being the most common.
40 went for Crafting Skills, especially Basic Engineering.
54 had chosen Defensive Skills, focusing on Pain Resistance or Dodge.
Standing before the gathered crowd, Kane raised his voice so everyone could hear.
"You've all taken your first step." His eyes swept across the faces, hardened by fear but lit with a new spark. "Level six is not survival—it's foundation. You've allocated your stats. You've chosen your first skill. That means you are no longer just civilians."
He paused, letting the words sink in. Reina tugged on his sleeve, her small guardians standing watch beside her like silent sentinels.
"You are soldiers of this island now," Kane finished. "And soldiers don't die easy."
Cheers rose, hesitant at first, then stronger, spreading across the crowd like fire.
Later that night, Kane sat with Lena, Maya, and a few of the officers around a dim lantern, reviewing the system's updates in detail.
"We'll need to divide them by role," Lena said. "Strength and Endurance users for frontline. Agility and Perception for scouts. Intelligence for support."
Maya leaned back, rifle across her lap. "Skills will make the difference. A hundred with firearms handling won't matter without cover or tactics."
Kane nodded. "That's where training comes in. Starting tomorrow, squads rotate drills. I'll set the schedule."
His eyes fell back to the second boat bobbing gently at the dock. With two vessels, their range of exploration had doubled. Supply runs, scouting missions, even evacuation if it ever came to that—they weren't confined anymore.
He felt the weight of the report in his hand again. Two hundred fourteen people. Level six. And growing.
But it wasn't enough. Not yet.
The apocalypse was evolving faster than anyone expected. The fact that mutants had already reached level 8 within hours gnawed at him. Their growth couldn't stall—not now, not ever.
The drones patrolled silently overhead, their shadows cutting across the firelit beach.
For tonight, there was calm. Tomorrow, they would push again.
The island had grown stronger. But Kane knew better than anyone—this was only the start.
The night was still. Only the faint hum of drones echoed through the skies above the island. Their sensors swept through the forest, their missiles reducing scattered creatures to ash before they could even crawl onto the beach.
Every kill sent faint ripples of light across Kane's system panel. EXP gained. Coins earned. His group shared the benefits, but with each passing hour, more of the numbers were pooling toward him.
Kane had fallen asleep in his chair, arms crossed, Reina tucked safely in bed, her small guardians looming silently like shadows in the moonlight. But even in rest, his strength grew.
[System Notification]
You have gained EXP from group drone kills.
Level Up!
Level Up!
Level Up!
You are now Level 11.
The world around Kane shifted.
He wasn't in the lantern-lit hall anymore. Instead, he stood in a vast dark plain, mist curling under his feet. Ahead of him stood a tall figure, broad-shouldered, wearing a military uniform Kane knew by heart.
"Grandpa…?" Kane's voice trembled.
The old man smiled faintly, the same smile Kane remembered from childhood. "You've grown, boy. Stronger than I ever was. But strength without direction? It burns out. The system knows this—so it offers you a path. A profession."
The mist around them shimmered, forming glowing panels of light. Words hung in the air like banners:
[Available Professions – Based on Current Stats, Skills, and Combat Record]
Warlord (Combat Focused – Leadership & Battlefield Command)
Sentinel (Defensive – Protector & Guardian Role)
Tactician (Intelligence-Based – Drone Synergy and Strategy)
Reaver (High Damage – Ruthless Offense and Adaptability)
Kane's eyes flicked across the choices. Each pulsed faintly with descriptions—stat bonuses, skill unlocks, unique perks. But the voice of his grandfather cut through the glow.
"Listen to your blood, Kane. You're not just a fighter. You're a leader. Every person on that island depends on you. Every decision you make shapes their survival."
Kane swallowed, his hand trembling as it hovered over the options. The Warlord emblem burned brightest.
He pressed it.
[System Notification]
You have chosen the profession: Warlord.
Profession Perks Gained:
+2 to all stats per level up (on top of natural and free gain).
Unique Skill: Commanding Presence – boosts group combat effectiveness by 10%.
Profession Growth Path unlocked – Sub-Professions available at Level 20.
The mist dissolved. His grandfather's image began to fade, but not before giving one last nod.
"Carry the weight, Kane. Protect her. Protect them all."
Kane jolted awake in his chair, sweat on his forehead, his system panel glowing faintly with the new notifications. Reina stirred softly in her bed but didn't wake.
Warlord, Kane thought, exhaling slowly. So that's what I've become.
Morning came, and with it, new changes across the island. Survivors stumbled into the open field, rubbing sleep from their eyes, muttering about strange dreams. Some had seen visions themselves, hints of quests tied to professions that would awaken once they reached Level 10.
Selene, Nadia, Ivy, and Amara reported their levels aloud—Level 8, nearly on the edge of the threshold. Many others were the same. The system had confirmed Kane's suspicion:
[System Guidance]
At Level 10, all individuals will receive a Job Profession Quest.
Professions are tailored to the individual's strengths, skills, and choices.
Professions grant extra stat growth, unique perks, and profession-specific abilities.
Kane gathered them in the courtyard, standing with his arms folded as the drones hovered overhead.
"You're all getting close," he said. "When you hit Level 10, the system will test you. Pass, and you'll gain your first profession. Fail, and you'll stay weak. Professions aren't just titles—they shape your power, your growth, your survival."
His gaze swept the group. Their faces were tired, but their eyes burned with determination.
"Do not waste the chance. Prepare yourselves."
For the first time since the apocalypse began, Kane felt something new ripple through the group—not just fear or desperation.
It was ambition.
After that Kane recalls all his conversation with his grandfather in his mind
Kane stirred awake to the faint hum of the drones outside, their weapons still echoing occasionally as they finished mopping up the last of the creatures in the night. He rubbed his eyes, half-expecting silence, but instead, a deep, familiar voice resonated in his mind.
It was his grandfather's voice.
"You've grown strong, boy. But now the real path begins. Choose with care, for your profession will shape the wars you'll fight."
Kane froze. For a heartbeat, he thought it was a dream, but the cold flicker of system windows opening before his eyes told him otherwise.
[System Notification]
Level Up → 9
+1 to all stats
Free Stat Points: +7
Level Up → 10
+1 to all stats
Profession Bonus: +2 to all stats
Free Stat Points: +7
Level Up → 11
+2 to all stats
Profession Bonus: +2 to all stats
Free Stat Points: +9
[Total Free Stat Points Available: 23]
Kane exhaled slowly as the notifications scrolled before him, illuminating the dim cabin of the boat. He could almost hear his grandfather chuckling with pride.
"You chose the path of the Warlord… then hear this, Kane. The Warlord is more than a soldier. It is the one who bends the battlefield to his will, the one who carries armies on his back. From now on, every level you gain will carry not just your strength, but the might of all those who fight under your banner."
[System – Profession Explanation]
Class: Warlord (Tier 1 Profession)
Profession Growth: +2 to all stats per level (on top of natural growth).
Command Aura (Passive): Allies under your leadership gain +2% to all attributes per 5 levels of the Warlord.
Warlord's Might (Passive): Base physical damage increased by 10%.
Future Path Unlocks: Advancement quests will appear at Level 25 and Level 50.
Kane's lips curled upward slightly. A profession built for leading. A profession made to conquer.
He pulled up his stat window.
[Current Stats – Level 11]
Strength: 34Agility: 34Endurance: 37Perception: 28Intelligence: 30
Free Stat Points: 23
He tapped the allocation screen, recalling his grandfather's words again. "A warlord must endure, strike, and lead. Balance, boy—but never forget endurance wins wars."
Kane's fingers moved deliberately:
Strength: +5
Agility: +5
Endurance: +6
Perception: +3
Intelligence: +4
The system pulsed with confirmation.
[Stat Allocation Complete]
Strength: 39Agility: 39Endurance: 43Perception: 31Intelligence: 34
A rush of power coursed through his veins, sharper and more pronounced than any level-up before. His muscles felt denser, reflexes faster, his lungs expanding as if the very air bent to his will. The Warlord's aura faintly radiated around him, subtle but commanding, like an unseen crown upon his head.
Outside, the drones returned in formation, their reports feeding back into the console. Every hostile had been eliminated. Kane leaned back, watching the glow of his stat window fade, and whispered to the empty cabin:
"Grandfather… I'll carry this legacy forward. This Warlord won't falter."
And with that, Kane knew—this was just the beginning.