Weeks passed like a blur. There was a night time version of the sky around the entire island. And for the first few days, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Stars twinkled in the sky like diamonds or glitter. Massive clusters of gas with various colors, and even moons a distance away.

Every night it was different and breathtaking.

But after a while, even that lost its luster. They were like stock images that he was going through one by one. Or maybe he was a ball just flying across the universe. He seriously doubted that.

It was another lonely night. James laid on his back as he watched a new red half moon. He studied every crater and damage on its surface. It was another attempt to get some sleep, but he knew it would be a while before slumber arrived.

He could only think about the time so far. He tried to keep a mental note on how many days passed, but after the fifth week, he gave up. He wasn’t so sure that the ancient entity he had been wary of even existed, much less isekai-ed him as a tutorial.

James chuckled derisively. What would a being that powerful want in some random, untalented, and uninteresting person like him. Needed a super soldier, then go to the navy seals or green beret. Maybe even a marine, absolutely any elite soldier from his world.

Needed someone to lead a kingdom, then he was quite sure some super historian just knows every single invention that led to the great renaissance. Or maybe a CEO of a massive company to turn their systems into a gold producing machine.

Needed someone to kill the Demon Lord from a distance… a scientist.

Needed someone to command an army against the evil empire… I'm sure modern generals have been fully taught military tactics and their progression. Even a history buff would be a better option.

Needed…

James Anderson shook his head. He could feel the loneliness get to him, and yet he had no way to escape. The last thing that kept him sane with the lack of changing environment and human contact was the system that occasionally popped up to remind him of a success.

Of improvement. A change…

And change he felt. After working out, and attempting a million different tasks he could even think of. From the most back breaking yoga, to simply the most ludicrous ideas he could think of, to mundane pushups.

He felt stronger. Faster. Much more capable of clear and concise thought. He hadn’t understood the sheer funk modern minds were in. It was like he had been walking in a lake that did its best to push him back every step.

Fatigue was only for when he exercised or didn't sleep for days. No more burnouts, no more coffee induced crashes–he had struggled to keep awake without the miracle drug–and no more burdens that stressed you constantly.

But it was more than that. He felt sturdier. Not just muscle wise but in a way he couldn’t explain. He suspected some attribute points were allocated that he achieved after doing certain difficult tasks. Like a thousand pull ups or running until his legs gave up on him.

Those points never showed up on his notifications. He could see why too. If the system worked properly, then he didn’t need a notification to see his strength went up by 1 attribute or his dexterity leveled up… then again, he wasn't so sure what was on the status screen. It was weird.

Stats broke up into multiple categories from Mind, body, soul–he got that after meditating–, Magic, Perception, and the weirdest one, Qi.

Magic and qi? That seemed like a genre blend, and he wasn't so sure he liked that. He didn’t know much about cultivation stories, he hadn’t read much and most reviews always warned to stay away because they all seemed to fall into the same mold.

Good Mc turned into harem chasing and cold blooded shells of their previous self. But that was it. What the levels were, how they broke down, what quantified his level, and a tonne of other questions were left unanswered with an absent system.

There was more to this place that left him quite worried. And to some degree relieved as well. The first was his hair and nails never grew. The stubble on his face remained, and when he shaved, it stayed that way.

Cuts did heal back very quickly too. He had accidentally caused a large gash on his thigh from an errant swing by his newly gotten sword–a real knight longsword. There were long days he thought he would die. Using tattered clothes, he got a lot as rewards in the beginning, he wrapped it.

The pain was unbearable. James struggled to keep his head from clouding up and gently cleaning it with river water did little to make it easier. But two days later–he got a lot of congratulations to patronize his suffering–and to his astonishment, his leg had been fully healed. No scar as he suspected from such a massive gash, nothing to indicate he had been worried he would die of infection or some airborne disease.

Two days! Whether it was him healing that quickly due to the invisible stats boost or this place acted as a magical healing station, he wasn’t sure but he was more than happy. That constant fear that nagged at the back of his head every time he wanted to do something slightly risky had been a nightmare.

Who the hell didn’t want to swing a sword like a kungfu master?! Now he could and he didn’t worry too much.

Another that surprised James was the bag of rice. A generic woven bag that seemed to have seen better days, and yet, it was probably worth more than anything he had gotten from the system. Probably worth more than all the money he got too–after a certain level, he wasn’t sure which, the bronze copper coins turned into just copper coins then into silver coins.

It was a real spatial bag! An inventory!

…that was filled with so much rice he could feed an empire of a billion people for a decade and nothing else other than a couple copper coins. James didn’t need to worry about lacking food that's for sure, and to add to that, he was sure the rice was magical too.

No meat or protein but he still felt jacked. His muscles turned very prominent even when he ate as much as he could stuff himself. Still, it wasn’t steroids, it just boosted his natural genetic potential, which wasn’t much. He still had a willowy and thin frame.

It only served to drive him into a workout-aholic… not considering he lacked much else to do.

He counted practicing with his small group of weapons as working out as well. And that was just simply having fun jumping, spinning, backflipping in ways normal people would be far too embarrassed without a ton of practice beforehand.

That social anxiety didn’t apply here. No one could see him, judge him, laugh at him…

James struggled to keep tears down. That was a good thing, right? He had freedom to do what he always wanted without restraint and he was getting stronger and stronger for it. No one was there to tell him when to wake up for work, to follow a million and one cultural cues, and… no one to nag at him like that granny.

He cleared his throat.

Shit. What a crybaby.

He tried to laugh it off. But there was no social pressure to keep his emotions in. No one to ask about him, to laugh with him, to ask if he was single and wanted to marry one of their grand-daughters. No embarrassed grand-daughters to stare daggers at him only to turn into cute kittens the second their elder turned to point them out.

Alisha

Tracee

Oliver

Victoria

…

No one to talk to.

James Anderson cried for the first time he had gotten to this isolated island. It would not be the last.