Ten minutes later, I was certain the military wouldn’t come. There wasn’t even an emergency broadcast on my dumb flip phone. My dad wasn’t coming either—cellular data was down. And, to add insult to injury, the mana golems still hadn’t left.

They had some serious munchies, too. They hadn’t just vented their anger into the skies; they’d also chewed through several umbrellas and wooden benches, posturing like they were doing something impressive. This attracted a few nearby golems, who immediately tried their luck getting to me through the water. They eventually gave up and joined the others in wrecking the place.

I wasn’t paying much attention anymore. I was sunbathing, feeling the wind move my yacht back and forth, when I was startled by a system message:

Out of Combat.

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up!

You are Level 3. Please assign stat points.

My screen appeared before me:

Alexander Dimple

Race: Human

Class: None

Attributes:

Strength: 12

Dexterity: 9

Constitution: 11

Intelligence: 5

Wisdom: 9

Charisma: 6

Perception: 3

Unallocated Stats: 3

Skill Development: 3

Hidden Skills: ???

I was a little offended by my intelligence. I knew I wasn’t the smartest in my prep school, but I didn’t realize I was that far behind. Same with my perception. I was better at finding lost stuff in my house than my dad.

System. Error. Updating System.

What?

The screen updated to show new categories: Regeneration, Combat, Utility, Crafting, and Survival. However, I couldn’t just allocate my points into everything; I needed to think about what could go into each category. For example, when I thought about health regeneration, it popped up in the Regeneration category. When I considered increasing my mana pool, it appeared in the Combat tab.

Other options emerged as I thought about them: accuracy, damage reduction, physical penetration, and magic penetration—all in Combat. Movement speed, luck, and healing effectiveness fell under Utility. Crafting quality and crafting speed were in Crafting. Hunger and thirst resistance belonged in Survival.

It was as if each of the original stat categories had been divided into smaller stats I could increase individually. Instead of just strength boosting my body’s power and maybe a little health, I could enhance those aspects separately.

At first, I thought it was unfair. Then I saw I had fifteen stat points instead of only three. Each point would increase any stat by 0.5%, even the mana pool. I still only had three development points, though.

It was kind of overwhelming. I’d need to select a few stats to improve from the categories, and if I spread it out too much, 0.5% per stat point would feel negligible.

There was still the hidden skills tab. Tapping it brought up…nothing? I had to at least have one skill, like archery.

The skill popped up.

Okay… so these skills were hidden, too.

How about breathing?

It appeared.

Fear resistance?

It appeared. The sight of the mana golems was still fresh in my memory.

Hunger resistance?

It didn’t appear. I also wasn’t hungry.

I punched, thinking about a punching skill.

I got it.

How about an uppercut? A jab?

I got both.

I thought about my endocrine system, How it was constantly regulating my hormones.

Nothing.

Huh.

It probably didn’t matter. While I liked seeing the skills pop up, having them didn’t change anything. There was no rank next to them—not even a description or a level. I still felt scared when I thought about getting close to the mana golems, and I wasn’t going to go pro in boxing anytime soon.

Maybe if I press the question mark near skill development?

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

System. You may mix and match skills! Want to combine or improve a skill? Just pick the skill and say how you want it to develop. We’ll give you three different skills you can develop it into. Development points gained will decrease as you level.

“I choose archery, and I need more arrows.”

System. Analyzing. Skill paths for archery are as follows:

1. Arrow Crafting: Learn how to craft arrows using raw materials in your surroundings. Costs mana.

2. Quiver Mastery: Extra arrows will appear when you use a quiver. Costs mana.

3. Mana Arrow: Make arrows using mana. Costs mana.

Okay, system, I got it. All of them cost mana.

Arrow Crafting was useless. I was on a yacht. I could try deconstructing some of the materials—there was metal and wooden boards that I could break into arrow shafts. When I thought about what my dad would do to me if I did that to his precious yacht, I realized that would be the most sure-fire way of getting disowned.

Quiver Mastery wasn't exactly what I meant when I said that I wanted more arrows. I needed a supply of arrows, not the occasional extra arrow. I didn’t even have a quiver, besides the inventory, which was a very nice quiver, but probably wouldn’t count as one.

I could get an infinite number of arrows if I kept shooting and retrieving arrows. But even if I wanted to spend that much time and could retrieve the arrows, I had no arrows to work with. Useless.

Come to think of it...

I looked at the mana golems. They were still destroying the beach. None of my system arrows were in sight, of course. I wasn’t in the same area where I had fired the arrows. Durability tag notwithstanding, they all snapped when the mana golems crunched down on them.

That left Mana Arrow as the only viable option.

“Mana Arrow.”

System. Retry by visualizing the desired skill? Caution: Failure possible without proper knowledge.

I soundly refused. I knew nothing about the system, or about how to make a Mana Arrow. It was why I was developing it in the first place.

Knowledge rushed into my head. It felt like cramming for an exam. Information came, then left, leaving me with only a sliver of what I had. Like instincts, but more tangible.

Muscle memory.

Packaged alone with that muscle memory was a vague sense of my mana pool. Surprise, surprise, I had five points of mana. Like the five points of intelligence that had shown earlier.

Okay. I was still bitter about only having five intelligence. I had already forgotten what my other stats were, but I remembered that, specifically.

My heart felt a little empty now that I couldn’t raise my intelligence when it was impossible to increase my IQ naturally.

I tried making my first arrow. There was only one type of mana arrow. It cost one whole mana, and it took a minute to get all the mana to be where I wanted it. A faint outline of the arrow appeared above my hands. I flexed, and it all condensed, falling into my palms. It wasn’t particularly warm or cold. Room temperature.

I put it in my inventory. It read as “Mana Arrow +1” with a durability of 10/10. I created four more and stored each one. Then I allocated all 15 points into mana regeneration for a whopping increase of 7.5%.

It was probably the stat that benefited the least from my stats, but it was what I needed most. Forget attack speed or ranged damage. If I didn't have any arrows, I wouldn’t have anything to shoot. And the fact that all of the listed developments used mana?

That was telling. There had to be a way to increase mana recovery… maybe even through developments. Once my arrow issues were settled, I could try to get a compound bow with a higher draw weight, and focus more on attack speed and damage when the enemies grew bigger, tougher, and faster.

This was all assuming there wasn’t an ultimate meta that trumped all metas,,,like fighting with artifacts or using the power of space to rip things apart

I activated the windlass and pulled back the anchor. Then I went back to the helm and turned on the yacht. Maybe it was the increased wisdom talking, but I’d forgotten—there had to be marine diesel hidden in the cabinets of these yachts floating around. Maybe even food and water.

I gave the engine a little time to warm up, using the time to look over all the dials again. I wracked my head at a few controls, trying to remember the diagrams I looked at or what Uncle George had said. I still had no idea.

I checked over what I did know. The lever for the throttle controlling the yacht’s speed was fine, the panel for the autopilot, the radio… the radio didn’t work? The GPS didn’t work either. The gauge for the depth finder did work.

I set sail back to where I had been.

Many of the ships had drifted off, but most were still in sight of one another. The fishing boats were mostly empty. Yachts, though a pain to break into, had cabinets full of jerry cans, food, and water. Even more cans were stashed under seats and in storage areas.

I could have just lugged them all back to my yacht by hand, but I had an inventory now. As long as I could lift it, it went in. There didn’t seem to be any space limitation, just an organization limit. Unlike my weapons, which appeared in a separate category, and which could be instinctually felt, I had to scroll to find these. If I put too many things in, I would have to scroll forever to find what I needed.

You’d best believe I put everything in my inventory.

Fishing rods? Check. Life jackets? Check. Coolers? Sure, even the ones filled with black water, and had the description, “filled with dirty water.” Anchors? Maps? Deck chairs? Fishing nets? Sunscreen? Old boots? Binoculars? Portable grills? Seashell collections?

I took everything. Nothing stacked; everything had a different durability.

By the time I was done almost two hours later, with my modest 0.5 points of mana regen per hour, I had one more mana. I made another arrow and stored it in my inventory. Then I went back to coasting along the shoreline, seeing if there was anyone I could help.

It was bad.

There were no humans—just a trail of destruction.

I blasted the yacht’s horn. If something could get the mana golems to come to me and away from other survivors, that would it.

It did. But not in a place I expected.

Out of one of the buildings, maybe a restaurant or a bar not long ago, a group of them busted through the walls. I loosed all the arrows I had created, then drifted farther away, dropped anchor, and chilled.

What else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t use my phone, couldn’t go to shore, couldn’t save anyone—everyone was gone or dead.

It was me and the sea. Not so bad, even if the hours of calm waves, cool breeze, and warm sun rebelled against my nature. I wanted to do something. Run. Jog. Do homework. Play piano. Ruffle my sister’s Shiba Inu. Tease my sister.

Yes, the dog came before my sister.

I wanted to do everything, occupying every second of every day. No breaks. Just go, go! All gas, no brakes.

I did the opposite. I went below deck into the cabin and meditated. I could have done it on the deck, but I didn’t want to get sunburned—it had been hours since I last applied sunscreen. I left the hatch and portlights open–small rectangular windows–letting the cool breeze in.

It was calming. Just me and nothing. Not the tickling on my ear or the mosquito bite on my leg. Not the anxiety or excitement from today. Not the expectation of cellular data returning or someone calling me. I’d already turned off all my alarms.

I cracked open the fridge.

A blast of cold air hit me. I really hoped it wouldn’t break down; I’d stuffed it full of perishables.

I had loaded tacos and two tubs of ice cream. After eating, I went to the railings, leaned over, and rinsed my hands. The water was freezing cold.

I was going to try to avoid using any water on the yacht, aside from the toilet water, which used seawater. But the faucets?

Not if my life depended on it. I wanted to make the water last for as long as possible for showers, and at worst, as drinking water.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d be stuck out here.

After another quick meditative session, I went to bed.

Morning saw another few tacos and tubs of ice cream consumed. Unfortunately, the ice cream I had tried storing in my inventory melted, becoming a sad puddle.

I still drank it all, mixing it with milk for a milkshake. During this, I tried figuring out what hidden skills I had and which ones I should use. I eventually narrowed down what I wanted.