imageChapter 3: Overcoming Morality
The past ten days had been a blur, a whirlwind of strange encounters, intense survival instincts, and a lot of trying to stay alive while I processed everything that had happened. The moment I’d arrived on this so-called “Survival Island,” I’d realized this wasn’t a typical training scenario, or at least, not one I’d ever imagined.
The first day was a fight for sanity. I wandered through the jungle-like forest, feeling the tension in the air as I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Other people—mostly younger, some older—stumbled around, equally lost, equally confused. We had no idea what was expected of us or how we got here, but it was clear that survival wasn’t a given. The T-rex had set the tone for everything. Everything was dangerous. The old man, the first casualty, was a grim reminder that I couldn’t afford to be weak or distracted.
The voice that had guided us before the forest was still echoing in my head, and it continued to bark orders at us throughout the day, like a cold, distant observer. "Survive. Kill. Last 20% standing." It wasn’t helpful, not in the way you would hope a guide would be. It was more like a warning—keep going, or die.
By the second day, I had figured out the bare essentials: find shelter, food, water, and—more importantly—avoid getting eaten. But none of it was easy. The jungle was vast, and I was constantly on edge. Every rustle in the leaves, every shadow in the corner of my eye made my heart race. A part of me wanted to give up, to drop to my knees and beg to be pulled out of this nightmare. But another part of me—the part that had been woken up by my encounter with the T-rex—pushed me forward. I couldn’t go back. I had no idea what “leveling up” meant yet, but I knew that I had to keep going.
On the third day, I stumbled upon a small group of survivors. They had formed some kind of temporary alliance—probably because they were just as lost and scared as I was. I didn’t trust them fully, not yet, but I figured sticking together might help. We shared resources, food when we could find it, and made crude shelters out of leaves and branches. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
The days felt like an eternity
What kind of world had I entered?
I’d barely managed to escape a pack of oversized wolves, that I stumbled into the group. I’d been trekking through the dense underbrush, keeping my eyes and ears on high alert when I heard voices nearby—human voices. At first, I thought I was hallucinating, or worse, that it was some trick of the jungle, meant to lure me in. But I knew I had to take the risk. So, I pushed past the thorny branches and stepped into a small clearing, where I came face-to-face with four strangers.
A tall, lean man, probably in his thirties, was the first to spot me. His face was rugged, sun-weathered, and despite the hostile environment, he managed to give me a tired but welcoming smile.
“Hey there,” he called out, his voice calm and steady. “You alright? Name’s Joey.”
He held out a hand, and I hesitated, unsure if I could trust him. But the exhaustion in his face looked all too real. I shook his hand, feeling the roughness of his calloused palm.
“Greg,” I muttered, my throat dry. “Greg More.”
Beside him, a man and a woman were huddled close, looking like they were trying to reassure each other as much as themselves. The man, Mark, was wiry and nervous, constantly glancing around as if expecting something to leap from the shadows. His wife, Cecile, had a quiet strength in her eyes, though her grip on Mark’s arm was tight.
“I’m Mark,” he said quickly, his eyes darting between Joey and me, “and this is my wife, Cecile.”
Cecile nodded, giving me a warm, albeit wary smile. “Nice to meet you, Greg. We’ve… been trying to stick together. Strength in numbers, right?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right.”
Just then, I heard a snort from behind them. I looked over to see a young guy leaning against a tree, hands shoved into the pockets of his white-issued pants, his expression a mix of boredom and irritation. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen, with shaggy, dark hair falling over his eyes and a scowl that seemed permanently etched into his face.
“Yeah, strength in numbers,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. “Like that’ll do us any good here. I’m Ryo, by the way,” he added with a smirk, like he found the whole situation amusing. “Don’t go expecting me to play nice.”
Joey turned to Ryo with a look of disapproval. “Look, kid, we’re all in the same mess here. If you don’t want to work with us, that’s fine. But don’t act like we’re out here for fun.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryo shrugged, clearly unfazed. “Just saying it how it is. People get picked off all the time in places like this.”
Mark looked at Ryo, exasperated. “You don’t have to make things worse than they already are. We’re all trying to survive here.”
Ryo shrugged again, smirking. “Whatever. Just don’t expect me to babysit anyone.”
Joey turned back to me, a bit of a smile sneaking onto his face as he shook his head. “Ryo’s… a work in progress. But he’s got a good head on his shoulders when it counts. You can count on him, even if he doesn’t want you to know it.”
I glanced at Ryo, who was now staring off into the trees, pretending not to listen. “Good to know,” I replied, though I wasn’t so sure.
Joey clapped me on the shoulder and leaned in. “Stick with us. It’ll be safer. We’ll look out for each other.”
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I wanted to trust him, wanted to believe that sticking with this small, ragtag group might make a difference. And despite the doubts in the back of my mind, I found myself nodding.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll stick around.”
By the fourth day, we’d settled into a bit of a rhythm. The initial tension of our group had eased a little, and we’d started working together to survive. I’d picked up a few skills from my uncle over the years, and though I hadn’t ever expected to put them to use in a place like this, they were coming in handy.
I gathered the others by a small clearing and knelt down, pointing out a patch of low-growing plants with broad, green leaves. “See these?” I explained, plucking a leaf. “They’re safe to eat. My uncle taught me how to recognize them. They’re not exactly a feast, but they’ll keep us going.”
Joey nodded thoughtfully, taking a leaf and inspecting it. “Better than eating something poisonous, that’s for sure.”
“Exactly.” I showed them more edible plants, ones I’d managed to identify after years of following my uncle through woods and trails. As I talked, I could see them all listening closely, even Ryo, though he tried to hide it by standing a few paces away, hands stuffed in his pockets.
I also shared another skill I’d learned—tracking water. “If you’re ever on your own, look for green moss on rocks. It means there’s moisture nearby, maybe even a spring or stream.”
Mark and Cecile were amazed, and Mark clapped me on the shoulder. “Greg, you’re a lifesaver. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”
I shrugged, trying to downplay it, but it felt good to be useful. “Just passing along what I know. Here.” I led them back to a small stash of food and supplies I’d been collecting since the first day, enough to get us through a couple of days if we rationed carefully.
We sat around, sharing what little we had, and for the first time, I felt like we were all on the same page. Cecile and Mark shared stories about their life together, Joey told us about his time as a fisherman, and even Ryo joined in, telling us tales of high school pranks he’d pulled on his friends. Laughter echoed through the trees, and for a moment, I almost forgot where we were. The jungle around us was still dark and dangerous, but with these people beside me, it felt a little less lonely.
By the fifth day, I had learned some harsh truths. Survival wasn’t just about avoiding predators—it was about navigating the minefield of human desperation. People were as dangerous as the creatures lurking in this forest. Trust? That was a luxury, something you couldn’t afford here, not when everyone’s priority was survival.
I sat alone in a clearing, breathing heavily. My body ached from scrapes, bruises, and the relentless exertion of the past days. I’d lost pieces of myself out here—some innocence, maybe even a bit of hope. Our group had grown, but it hadn’t stopped people from dying. Some had been taken by the monsters that roamed the forest, others by the darker impulses of their fellow survivors. Greed, desperation, and fear were everywhere, transforming friends into threats when it came to scarce food or a place to sleep.
I pulled up my system interface, looking at it with a mix of hope and dread, trying to connect with the reality it offered. But it felt…distant. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this “System,” whatever it was, was both a blessing and a curse.
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Name: Greg A. More
Class: Conjurer
Gift: Moe Touch
Level: 2
Stats (10)—
Willpower: 7
Mentality: 4
Freedom: 5
Skills: N/A
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My level had increased over the past few days, but I wasn’t sure what it had cost me. We’d taken down a few velociraptors, enough that some of us leveled up, but as the group grew, it became harder and harder to find enough food to sustain us all. And with scarcity came distrust, simmering arguments, and subtle tensions that seemed ready to explode at any moment. We were a team on the edge, bound more by necessity than loyalty.
I stared at my stats, barely registering the numbers.
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[Stats (10)—]
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My gaze drifted down to my hands. They were slick and sticky, coated in blood that clung to my skin like it was a part of me now. The scent of iron was suffocating, and my heart pounded as I looked around at the scattered bodies of my former allies, faces frozen in their final moments. They had been people I shared uneasy alliances with, just a handful of days, and now, they lay lifeless around me.
I’d had no choice.
The whispers last night had revealed everything. Joey, the one we all thought we could rely on, had started it. I’d overheard him, speaking in low tones about dividing us, separating the weaker from the stronger. He had already gathered people to his side, sowing doubt and turning trust into a fatal liability. When I warned Mark, he didn’t believe me; he said I was paranoid. But I’d felt the cold shift in the air, the glances in the dark, the tension thickening with each passing hour. Trust was dead, replaced by desperation and fear.
With a trembling resolve, I made my decision. I poured all of my remaining stat points into willpower. It was my only chance.
Armed with a single jagged velociraptor tooth, I moved while they slept, striking with unsteady but relentless hands. The kill was brutal, each act heavy and raw, far from the clean, quick end I’d imagined. It wasn’t long before the stillness of sleep dissolved into chaos—someone must have seen the carnage, heard the noise. The camp erupted in an all-out fight, bodies moving in the dim light, fear and survival clashing head-on.
Through it all, I felt my mind sharpening, my senses heightening as the [System] fed me level notifications: Level 3, Level 4, Level 5. The cost, though, was a piece of my own humanity.
It was the tenth day, and I was standing over Joey's body, his final breath rattling out in the stillness of dawn. He’d tried to retaliate, but I had the initiative. His small group lay scattered, their blood soaking into the earth.
I clenched my hands, feeling the familiar rush of leveling up, the euphoria mingling with something darker. I knew I should feel disgusted, ashamed. But instead, a twisted satisfaction curled within me. Each level increase was proof of my survival, my dominance, even if it came at this cost.
The next day, as I was packing up the few supplies I’d scavenged, Mark found me, his face shadowed with an expression I’d never seen before. He looked hurt, like he’d finally seen a side of me he didn’t want to believe existed.
“You killed Joey,” he said flatly, as though even he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "He was going to kill me, Mark. And then he will kill more. He and his whole group—"
This ‘training’ was designed for people to kill each other.
“But you didn’t just defend yourself, did you?” he interrupted, his voice laced with a bitterness that cut through me. "I watched you, Greg. You didn’t stop after Joey. You kept going. You… enjoyed it."
The accusation hit hard, even though I knew it was true. I tried to argue and explain, but no words came of any use. What could I say? Deep down, some part of me relished the strength that surged through me with each kill, each level.
“You’re dangerous, Greg,” Mark said, his voice low and trembling. "I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did."
I stayed silent, and that silence hung heavy between us, thick with words unspoken.
After a long pause, he took a step back. “You need to leave. We can’t keep you here… not like this.”
I felt my chest tighten, but I didn’t argue. He was right; I deserved this. I’d crossed a line, a line I couldn’t come back from. I nodded, forcing myself to accept it.
“So… that’s it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mark’s eyes softened, but there was no forgiveness in them. “That’s it.”
With nothing left to say, I turned and walked away, leaving behind the group I’d once called allies.