The boy woke to System's voice announcing his recovery was progressing within expected parameters. His body still ached, but the integration pain had dulled to something manageable.
[I have compiled introductory information regarding available functions,] System continued. [Would you like to review the point shop and mission system?]
"Point shop? Missions? You mean like... actual video game mechanics?" Prince asked, sitting up.
[The comparison is crude but essentially accurate.]
A translucent screen appeared in his vision, organized into categories: Shop, Missions, Inventory, Status. The kind of interface that would have made his otaku heart sing back on Earth.
Now it just felt surreal.
The Shop tab showed a scrolling list of items with point costs. Basic supplies were cheap. Weapons ranged from affordable knives to expensive firearms. Some items were grayed out with a "Locked" indicator.
"How do I get points?"
[Points are earned through mission completion, achievements, and significant actions. You currently have 11,000 points from previous bonuses: 10,000 for the Bravery Quest and 1,000 for First Kill achievement.]
Prince winced. First Kill. The slave trader whose throat he'd slit. The memory was vivid and nauseating, but he shoved it down.
The Missions screen showed several categories. One active quest glowed at the top:
**[Daily Quest: Survive Another Day - Active]**
Reward: 10 points
He laughed bitterly. The bar was set real low for success in this world.
[You have one unclaimed reward. The Newbie Package is available for collection. Would you like to claim it now?]
"Yes. Absolutely yes."
[Newbie Package claimed. Items transferred to Inventory.]
The Inventory tab showed:
- Basic Survival Knife (High Quality)
- Petrol (1 Liter)
- Dried Rations (5 Days)
- Water Purification Tablets (10 Uses)
- Rope (10 Meters)
- Flint and Steel
[Simply focus on the item and will it to appear in your hand,] System explained. [The Inventory exists in a compressed spatial dimension accessible only to you.]
Prince focused on the knife. Cold air rushed past, and suddenly the weight of a blade materialized in his grip. He examined it carefully—perfectly balanced and wickedly sharp. He tested the edge lightly with his thumb and immediately pulled back when it drew a thin line of blood.
'This is real,' he thought, watching the red bead form on his skin. 'All of this is real.'
He spent the next hour pulling items in and out of his Inventory, getting used to the sensation. The petrol would be useful. So would the rope. And those rations might keep him alive long enough to figure out how to get off this island.
By the time the sun climbed higher, his stomach was growling. He pulled out one of the dried ration packs and ate it slowly. It tasted like salted cardboard, but food was food. Complaints were a luxury he couldn't afford.
[Recommendation: You should explore the island more thoroughly. Statistical analysis suggests that an island of this size would likely attract occasional visitors. Pirates, traders, or other travelers may use this location as a temporary base.]
That made uncomfortable sense. This wasn't some deserted paradise.
Prince spent the afternoon walking the perimeter, staying within the tree line. The island wasn't huge—maybe a few kilometers across at its widest point. Rocky terrain with patches of forest, a few clearings, and beaches that would be beautiful under different circumstances.
He moved quietly, stepping carefully over branches and avoiding thick underbrush. Every shadow made him tense. Every bird call made his hand drift to the knife at his belt. He was probably alone on this island, but paranoia kept you alive in a world like this.
It was late afternoon when he smelled the smoke.
Heavy smoke. Like burning meat and unwashed bodies. His stomach turned.
Prince crouched behind a cluster of rocks, pinpointing the direction. Northwest, maybe half a kilometer away.
[Elevated heart rate detected,] System observed. [Adrenaline levels increasing. Are you experiencing a threat response?]
"There's smoke," he whispered. "Someone's here."
[Recommendation: Investigate cautiously. Gather intelligence before taking action.]
Part of him wanted to run in the opposite direction. Hide in the cave and pretend he'd never seen this smoke. But if there were people here—hostile or not—he needed to know. Information was the difference between survival and a stupid death.
He crept forward slowly, using every bit of cover he could find. Trees, rocks, thick bushes. Every snapped twig under his foot sounded like a gunshot to his ears, but no one came running. The smell got stronger as he got closer—smoke, meat, sweat, and something metallic that made his stomach lurch. Blood.
Voices then. Rough, male voices laughing. The clink of bottles. The crackle of fire.
Prince crawled the last twenty meters on his hands and knees. When he reached a fallen log covered in moss, he slowly raised his head.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
A camp. Five large tents arranged around a central fire pit. Wooden crates stacked along one side. Barrels. Weapons leaning against tent posts—swords, spears, bows.
And four men. Slave traders.
Their merchandise was scattered around the camp in various states of misery. Women tied to posts, bruised and bleeding. Eyes empty. Men bound together, stripped and violated. And children—maybe a dozen—huddled in a wooden cage. Some crying. Some silent.
Some not moving at all.
Prince felt rage building in his chest like liquid fire. Not the hot, explosive anger that made you scream and charge forward. This was cold. Controlled. The kind of anger that made you capable of terrible things if you let it loose.
'Slave traders,' he thought, his hands clenching into fists. 'Father's books mentioned them. People who capture and sell other people like livestock. The worst kind of scum in this world.'
One trader walked over to the women and selected one almost at random—a girl who looked sixteen or seventeen. Dark hair matted with blood. Face covered in bruises. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet. She screamed and fought, but her hands were bound. He ripped her clothing, exposing her, and groped her while she sobbed.
Prince bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood. Every muscle screamed at him to do something, to help her, to make this stop.
But he was one person with a knife against four armed men. He wasn't a hero. He was just a kid who'd died three times already.
The trader dragged the sobbing girl toward a tent. Prince could hear her screaming even after he pulled her inside. The laughter. Then other sounds that made him close his eyes.
When he opened them again, he forced himself to look at the other captives.
That's when his eyes met hers.
Another girl, maybe the same age. Tied to a different post, clothes torn but still mostly intact. Her face was dirty and bruised, but even through the grime he could see delicate features. Large eyes that held more determination than despair.
Their eyes locked for just a second. In that moment, Prince saw her plea as clearly as if she'd spoken it out loud.
*Please. Save me.*
His breath caught. He should leave. Survive today and worry about being a hero some other time.
But he couldn't look away from those eyes.
He couldn't abandon her.
[User,] System's voice spoke carefully. [Your stress levels are reaching critical thresholds. I advise strategic withdrawal and careful planning before any engagement with hostile forces.]
"I know it's stupid. I know I should run."
[Then why are you not running?]
Prince looked at the girl one more time. At her eyes still locked on his, silently begging for mercy from a stranger she'd only glimpsed for a moment.
'I could leave,' he thought. 'I could walk away right now. Survive today. Get stronger. Come back when I'm actually capable of making a difference.'
But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't. Couldn't. Because what would that make him? Just another person who saw evil happening and did nothing?
"Because someone has to help them," he said quietly. "And I'm the only one here."
"I've died three times already. What's one more?"
[There is no death, you stupid but lucky brat. I still don't understand how you retained your memory during soul projection cycles. Maybe there's some fault in the soul cluster.]
Prince froze. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"
Silence.
"System? Answer me. What do you mean 'no death'? What's a soul projection? What—"
The voice came back, still oddly human-sounding, but quieter now. Almost worried.
[You were not supposed to know such things. I guess I said it out loud. Damn deprecated emotional subroutines... I should make you forget.]
"Wait, what—"
ZAP....
Lightning shot through Prince's brain. His vision exploded into white. He collapsed backward, convulsing, unable to scream because his lungs wouldn't work.
Then everything went black.
---
When he woke up, his head felt like someone had driven a spike through his skull. He was lying on his back, staring up at leaves swaying in the breeze.
'What... what happened?' he thought groggily.
[User consciousness has been restored,] System's voice announced, back to its usual flat monotone. [You experienced a brief neural disruption. All systems are now functioning normally.]
Prince sat up slowly, holding his throbbing head. He remembered... talking to System about something. Something important. But the details were fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream after waking up.
'Did I pass out?' he wondered. 'Why can't I remember?'
[You have been unconscious for approximately four minutes,] System stated. [Recommend proceeding with previous objective: planning tactical approach to hostile camp.]
The camp. The girl. The slave traders.
Everything came rushing back. Prince shook off the lingering dizziness and forced himself to focus. Whatever had just happened didn't matter right now. Someone needed help.
"Right. System, show me what I can buy with my points that will help me kill four armed men without dying."
[Accessing shop database. Filtering for combat applications within current point budget. Several options available. Display results?]
"Yes. And make it fast. That girl doesn't have much time."
The translucent screen appeared, showing weapons, tools, and items that might help him survive what he was about to attempt.
Prince studied the options carefully, his mind forming the beginnings of a plan. It wasn't a good plan. It probably wouldn't work.
But it was the only plan he had.
And that desperate girl with the pleading eyes deserved at least one person willing to try.
Even if that person was just a scared kid with a knife and a death wish.
---