[Special Module Card → Exclusive Module Card]
"Thirty points of Physical Energy and forty points of Mental Energy… that's seventy points in total?"
Michael lay flat on the cold metallic floor of the Ark, staring at the card resting in his palm. The steel beneath him held no warmth—only the clinical chill of machinery. Faint blue light reflected in his eyes as he quietly calculated the cost he had just paid, the numbers repeating like an accountant auditing his own lifespan.
"That's a lot…"
His brows furrowed slightly. Not fear—evaluation.
"But what exactly does this 'mental fatigue' state mean?"
He paused, carefully examining himself, not just physically, but with the same attention he used when assessing risk.
Aside from the soreness weighing down his limbs, his thoughts were still clear. His awareness was sharp, his judgment intact. There was no dizziness, no hallucination, no sense of confusion. His mind still felt like a blade—steady, cold, and precise.
"I don't feel any different."
Michael let out a slow breath and shook his head.
"Maybe it's just an illusion… physical exhaustion overshadowing the mental strain."
For now, that explanation was enough. In a survival world, understanding could come later—survival came first.
He muttered softly, half in jest, half in genuine unease. A man who didn't fear death still respected it.
"…Amen. Amitabha. Whatever higher power is listening—please don't make me die so early."
Satisfied with his prayer...
"Use exclusive module card."
At that moment, the card in his hand reacted.
A faint vibration spread through his fingers, growing steadily stronger, like a heartbeat waking beneath his skin.
Michael's gaze sharpened.
The instant the command was given, the card dissolved into motes of light. A stream of azure radiance surged outward, enveloping his entire body. The light was neither hot nor cold, but it carried an unmistakable weight—as if something fundamental was being rewritten.
Not healing.
Not strengthening.
Rewriting.
The Ark responded.
A low hum resonated through the compartment, and the Ark Control System's light screen unfolded before his eyes, its pale-blue interface flickering rapidly as new data streamed in. The system behaved like a machine receiving a firmware upgrade—fast, absolute, irreversible.
Lines of text began to assemble.
Something new was being integrated.
[Using Exclusive Module Card…]
Michael's heart skipped a beat, not from excitement, but from instinctive caution. Anything that could rewrite fundamentals could just as easily destroy them.
The light intensified.
[Congratulations!]
[You have obtained the Ark Controller's Exclusive Module: Path of Convergence Module (Exclusive)]
His pupils contracted slightly.
"An exclusive module…?"
The system continued before he could interrupt, as if it had no interest in human reaction.
[Path of Convergence Module (Exclusive)]
[Description: Your path will always present an additional choice. Different choices will lead to different destinations.]
Michael absorbed the description in silence.
"So… my route won't be fixed anymore."
That wasn't comfort.
It was power—and responsibility.
Choices meant opportunity, but also meant consequences.
Before he could study it further, the Ark suddenly hummed.
A deep, resonant vibration spread through the compartment as the internal announcement system activated.
Ding—dong.
[System: Dear Ark Controller, Please brace yourself. The Ark is approaching its first platform. Good luck.]
Michael's expression sharpened.
He pushed himself upright and looked toward the control interface.
A countdown timer flashed ominously.
[ 00:01:00 → 00:00:59... ]
"One minute…"
At that precise moment, a second light screen unfolded beside the main interface, as though the Ark itself acknowledged the new module.
[Path of Convergence has been triggered.]
[Multiple docking platforms detected.]
[Please select a platform to dock at.]
Two options appeared before his eyes.
[Platform One: Swamp Zone]
[Platform Two: Armory Zone]
Michael's gaze lingered on the words.
"So this is the ability of the exclusive module…"
The system added another line, its tone cold and absolute.
[System: Please make your decision. If no selection is made before the countdown ends, the destination will be randomly assigned.]
His eyes narrowed.
"I choose the Armory."
There was no hesitation.
Weapons meant survival.
As the saying went—if your neighbor stores grain, you store weapons; your neighbor becomes your granary.
Michael didn't know whether the other Ark Controllers would end up as neighbors or enemies.
But one thing was certain: in a survival world like this, nothing provided a greater sense of security than firepower. Mercy was a luxury. Trust was a weakness. Only force lasted.
[Platform selection confirmed.]
The system's voice echoed once more.
[Please remain seated.]
[The Survival Ark is preparing to dock at—]
[Armory Zone]
[Danger Rating: Safe]
The Ark roared.
A deep, thunderous rumble shook the compartment as space itself began to distort ahead of the Ark. The air twisted violently, folding inward like the gaping maw of a colossal beast. For a moment, even the sound seemed to stretch—warped, dragged, distorted.
Michael felt his stomach lurch.
BUZZ—!!
The Ark's horn sounded sharply, cutting through the distortion like a warning blade.
The next instant, the Ark plunged forward.
As it passed through the warped space, the surrounding environment shattered and reassembled in the blink of an eye—like reality being torn apart and stitched back together with careless precision.
[Ding! Docking Countdown Start!]
[Docking countdown: 03:00:00 → 02:59:59...]
[System: Good luck.]
Michael steadied himself, eyes fixed forward.
He finally arrived at the first checkpoint at last.
Pitch-black darkness stretched in all directions.
There was no sky, no horizon—only an endless void swallowing everything beyond sight. Yet, directly ahead of Michael, a massive structure stood in stark contrast to the darkness.
A huge building.
From afar, its outline resembled an oversized matchbox—rigid, rectangular, and crude. Its surface was worn and scarred, as if it had endured countless years of abandonment. There was something unsettling about it: a place made to store weapons, yet left to rot in the dark.
Michael lifted his head slightly.
There was no sun. No stars. No visible source of light.
And yet, he could clearly see the ground beneath his feet, the cracks in the pavement, and the building standing before him. The light felt artificial—like the platform itself refused to allow darkness to hide danger.
"…So this is a platform."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Spatial transfer really is terrifying."
No matter how many Arks existed, they all arrived simultaneously—each placed precisely, flawlessly, without collision or delay.
"No wonder every Ark docks at the same time."
The power behind such control was beyond imagination. Whoever—or whatever—ran this system didn't simply move machines. It moved worlds.
Michael approached the structure cautiously. His steps were controlled, his posture relaxed but ready—the stance of someone who didn't expect safety and wasn't foolish enough to hope for it.
The entrance was sealed with a heavily rusted iron lock, corroded almost beyond recognition.
Without hesitation, he drew his dagger.
The Sharp Enchanted Dagger slid free with a faint metallic whisper. He wedged the blade into the weakened lock and twisted.
Crack—!
The brittle metal snapped apart, crumbling into flakes of rust that scattered across the ground like dead leaves.
The door creaked open.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of decay and old wood. Sawdust covered the floor in uneven piles, and half-buried beneath it were two long, familiar shapes.
Michael's eyes lit up.
Bolt-action rifles.
He brushed away the sawdust, revealing their full forms.
[Low-Level Marksman Rifle]
[Quantity: 2]
• Ammunition Loaded: 20 rounds per rifle
• Spare Ammunition found: 40 rounds
"…This is good stuff."
A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—small, brief, dangerous. Not joy.
Satisfaction.
Weapons meant survival.
He made several trips back and forth, carefully transporting the rifles and ammunition back to the Ark. He didn't rush recklessly; he moved efficiently, conserving motion, conserving breath, conserving time—like a predator carrying meat back to its den.
By the time he finished, the excitement that had fueled his movements began to fade.
Fatigue followed swiftly.
Michael leaned against the Ark's interior wall, breathing a little heavier than before. Sweat cooled against his skin, and the earlier strain returned with interest.
After using Enhancement multiple times in quick succession, his Physical Energy had long since reached its limit.
Yet strangely enough, his mind felt clearer than expected.
Perhaps it was the adrenaline.
Or perhaps it was the sense of security that only real weapons could bring.
After resting for a while, his mental energy now recovered a little.
[Mental Energy: 50 → 70]
"Ok time to work again."
Michael steadied himself, tightening his grip on the rifle. The cold metal felt solid, reliable—more honest than any promise.
This Platform had already proven one thing. Coming here had been the right choice.
[A/N: Please enjoy my novel! By voting power stones and puting leaving review can inspire me even more :)]