It's been 4 days since Paolo arrived on the island. In those few days he has managed to get a grasp on using mana outside of his Personal Skill. While he can't manifest it into spells or anything, he can use it to enhance his strikes with the hammer and thrusts with the spear. "It's easier when there's a tool as a catalyst."
Mana responded better when it had somewhere to go. Flowing it through his arms alone felt wasteful and unfocused, but when he channeled it into wood, stone, or rope, the results were immediate. Strikes landed harder. Thrusts went deeper. Even repeated motions felt less exhausting, as if the tools were sharing the burden with him.
In that time he has managed to avoid encounters with hostile entities from other realms, living off of berries and the fish that got caught by his traps in the river. "This is my second prototype for a bow, the arrows are easy to make but a proper bow is harder to make since that's not what I'm used to."
The bow was functional, not elegant. A flexible branch reinforced through Tech Upgrade, sinew twisted from animal tendon, and arrows tipped with carefully shaped stone heads. It lacked the pull weight Paolo would have preferred, but it fired straight. That was enough.
Paolo wants to test his ability with better tools and tech, but with what the forest provided all he could really do was upgrade his current equipment. With the addition of a stone knife and a club into his arsenal. "All this and I still haven't found another human. I've seen at least 5 more of those creatures from 312 since the last fight."
They were moving in small groups now. Not random. Not wandering. They were scouting.
"For now it's tool making and trap setting. If I'm fighting them alone then I can at least win my fights through making the terrain my own."
Paolo was simply following the advice that his father gave him, the man was a war veteran and the one that taught him most of the things that he knew.
If you can't control the enemy, control where they fight.
"If the world really is watching, then I owe everything to my father."
Spike traps, logs and even small pits. The shovel he made was getting a lot of work out of him.
The shovel was one of his better upgrades. Reinforced edges. Improved leverage. It bit into the soil cleanly, letting him dig pits faster than he should have been able to. He worked methodically, spacing traps along natural paths, narrowing clearings, and guiding movement without making it obvious.
Broken branches placed just wrong. Stones moved to funnel footsteps. Vines woven into trip lines.
Nothing obvious. Nothing crude.
On the ninth day, he noticed the signs.
Tracks where there should not have been any. Broken foliage at shoulder height. The smell of smoke that was not his.
Paolo climbed into one of the trees overlooking his trap zone and waited.
His preparations would soon bear fruit on his 10th day, his skills with the bow are above average. If asked he would prefer the usage of guns, but his aim was spot on.
The first hostile appeared just after midday.
A creature from Reality 312 stepped into the clearing, sniffing the air. It did not see the pit beneath the leaves. The ground gave way, and it fell with a shrill cry, impaling itself on the sharpened stakes below.
Paolo exhaled slowly.
Then the others came.
Three more from 312 emerged from the treeline, reacting instantly to the noise. One charged forward.
The trip line caught its ankle.
The log trap swung down from above, crushing its chest with a wet crack.
Paolo loosed an arrow.
The shot took the third one through the eye. It dropped where it stood.
The fourth hesitated.
That hesitation cost it its life. Paolo leapt from the tree, hammer glowing faintly as mana surged through the reinforced handle. He brought it down on the creature's spine, ending the fight in a single blow.
Silence returned.
Paolo did not relax.
That was when the humans arrived.
They came from the opposite direction, four of them, armed with crude spears and blades. Red and orange indicators flickered above their heads before settling.
[Hostile from Reality 775]
Paolo froze.
"Humans," he muttered. "So that's how it is."
They saw the bodies. They saw him.
One of them shouted something he could not understand.
They charged.
Paolo retreated exactly three steps.
The first human triggered the shallow pit, twisting his ankle badly as he fell. The second tripped over a vine and went down hard. Paolo drew his bow and fired.
The arrow struck the third human in the throat.
The fourth one slowed, eyes wide, realization setting in far too late.
Paolo surged forward.
Mana reinforced his movements, turning fear into momentum. His spear pierced cleanly through the chest of the fallen man in the pit. He spun and brought the club down on the second attacker's head, bone giving way with a dull crunch.
The last one tried to run.
The spike trap took his leg out from under him.
Paolo approached slowly, breathing hard, blood staining his hands again.
"I didn't want this," he said quietly.
The man looked up at him, terror plain on his face.
Paolo ended it quickly.
More came.
Two more humans from 775 entered the clearing minutes later, drawn by the sounds of combat. Paolo was already moving, repositioning, never staying in one place too long. He led them through his traps like a teacher guiding students through a lesson they would not survive.
One was crushed by a falling log.
The other made it close enough to swing.
Paolo blocked with the spear shaft, mana flaring as wood met metal. He countered with the knife, striking low and precise.
When it was over, Paolo stood alone again.
A total of 15 kills.
8 from 312.
7 from Reality 775.
The system notifications appeared one after another.
[Multiple Hostiles Eliminated]
[Survival Points Earned: 140]
[Performance Rating Updated: High]
Paolo sank to one knee.
His arms shook. His mana was nearly drained. His chest felt tight, not from injury, but from the weight of it all.
"Humans," he whispered. "They sent humans too."
He looked around at the clearing he had turned into a killing field.
"This is what it takes to survive," he said. "Then I'll do it."
He stood slowly, gathering his weapons.
"If the tournament wants blood," Paolo continued, voice steady despite everything, "then I'll make sure it's not mine."
Above him, unseen eyes watched.
And the island grew quieter.