Chapter 2
853words
I slammed onto hard black earth, dust billowing around me. All around, screams and curses filled the air.
The sky hung gray and oppressive, reeking of rust and decay. Nearby, tributes were already fighting over a dented can, their powers flashing wildly as the metallic smell of blood cut through the stench.
Is this their "beautiful new world"? What a fucking joke.
On my first day in this hellhole, I spent a fortune to buy an island.
While other tributes fought to the death over scraps of food and dirty water, my first cruise ship quietly docked at my private island, loaded with cutting-edge engineering robots and premium building materials.
I stood at the island's peak, the salt-laden wind whipping through my hair.
The containers from the ship, like sleeping metal beasts, stood in neat rows on the cleared ground.
This was just the beginning.
Nowhere near enough.
I pulled out my phone and dialed an encrypted number without hesitation.
"Who the hell is this? Nobody calls this line to order birthday fireworks."
He was the world's largest arms dealer—an NPC who worshipped only one god: money.
I skipped the pleasantries.
"I need ten vacation villas."
"Well, well! A client with expensive taste. Ocean view? Mountain view? Or perhaps built on an active volcano for that extra thrill? We've recently launched—"
I cut him off mid-pitch.
"Underground."
I let the word hang in the silence, my eyes scanning the pristine island.
This would become my kingdom, my fortress, my... sanctuary.
"The walls need to be five meters thick. Steel composite layers."
The line went dead silent.
"...Are you fucking serious?"
His voice returned, all smoothness gone, replaced by a rough, wary edge.
Would someone who dropped a billion on a private island call his precious secure line just to mess with him?
He knew the answer as well as I did.
I ignored his stupid question.
"The money will hit your account in sixty seconds."
That was all the answer he needed.
"I also need three large nuclear power plants, two medium underwater reactors, complete radar and anti-aircraft missile systems—latest models—and a power grid covering the entire island. Plus underwater mines and high-voltage electric nets surrounding the entire coastline."
The wind whipped my hair across my face.
I paused, my voice dropping to ice. "And through your black market channels, get me two nuclear warheads."
"..."
This time, even his breathing stopped.
What I offered wasn't just a business deal—it was a high-stakes gamble that could vaporize him and his entire organization if word got out.
Would he take the risk?
Of course he would.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice dry with equal parts fear and awe.
"...As you wish."
I hung up and lifted my gaze to the ashen sky.
Beautiful new world?
No.
It's MY new world.
...
Month three of the training period.
Ten massive cruise ships shuttled between the mainland and Future Island day and night, creating the perfect illusion of tourism development. No one suspected these vessels carried enough weapons to start a war and supplies to build a doomsday fortress.
I hired thousands of NPC workers, confiscated their communication devices, and locked them on the island with ten times normal pay and ironclad NDAs.
Future Island transformed into an isolated mega-construction site.
Month six of the training period.
On the surface, ten picturesque villas emerged, complete with infinity pools, manicured gardens, and floor-to-ceiling windows.
Underground, a massive steel beast took shape.
In automated greenhouses, crops flourished under artificial light.
In aquaponics systems, fish and shrimp grew fat and ready for harvest.
Supply warehouses stocked to support thirty thousand people for a decade towered like mountains.
The indicator lights of five nuclear reactors blinked to life in sequence, pumping endless energy into my fortress.
Month ten of the training period.
I stood in the main control room, twelve floors beneath the surface.
Before me stretched a massive 360-degree display showing real-time feeds from every corner of my domain. From fish schools in the deep to windmills on the peaks—everything under my watchful eye.
In one corner, the system's "Tribute Status Report" played on loop.
"Zone 1 Tribute Cain has successfully mind-controlled three thousand tributes, establishing the 'City of Divine Protection.'"
On screen, Cain stood elevated above his followers, basking in their worship. His mental powers had grown strong enough to twist minds like putty.
"Zone 4 Tribute Luna has become leader of the 'Freedom Alliance,' with hundreds of powerful tributes and NPCs willing to die for her without question."
In the footage, Luna stood surrounded by powerful men who would offer her their hearts on silver platters with just one glance.
They were all building their armies, each in their own way.
The final day of the training period.
I dismissed all NPC workers, paid them enough to live like kings, and wiped their memories of this island.
In my vast underground fortress, only I remained, surrounded by an army of combat robots.
The cold system voice echoed across the wasteland.
"Training period ended."
"Survival challenge officially begins."
