I desperately wanted all sports activities to be limited to the world of islands, but unfortunately, it didn't work out. Even though there was a training room there, and I got tired during battles like I never did here, I decided that in addition to meditation and hardening, I should also focus on improving my endurance.

So I started running in the park and sometimes at the local stadium.

I thought this: if training in that world affects my real body, there should be feedback. If I train here, my chances of survival there will increase.

When I managed to run only three kilometers out of the planned five, I realized how truly low my endurance was. After that, I had no choice but to run every morning. What was once optional became a necessity.

I hated those laps. It felt like I was running for hours, but in reality, the day before, I hadn't run longer than thirty minutes.

To my surprise, after I ran six kilometers last night, I felt like the training was really working. In that world, I also stopped feeling completely exhausted after a quick battle; I even began to move a little faster and avoided a couple of unpleasant attacks that I wouldn't have been able to dodge before.

And so, I pushed hard in my training in both worlds. At the end of each run, breathing heavily and hoarsely like a beaten horse, wiping sweat from my face, I told myself, "Maybe tomorrow I'll take a day off. No, I won't do this again for anything in the world," but I still showed up the next day. I knew I was changing, and for the better, so I collected my strength and headed to the stadium, standing at the starting line and just starting to run. The hardest part was reaching the starting line. Once there, it takes almost no effort to run away — after all, if you're already at the start, it's foolish to suddenly turn around and leave.

I ran along the park path, trying to breathe steadily.

Now and then, cars passed behind the fence. Moms with strollers walked along the path, and somewhere in the distance, a loudspeaker was blaring advertisements for crazy fifty-percent-off deals.

A plane flew overhead, droning heavily and booming.

These scenes of everyday life lately caused me a sense of dissonance. They put me in a normal, calm mood, as if there weren’t people sleeping in hospitals, and no one was entering the world of Floating Islands.

After running a few laps on all the park paths, I caught myself thinking something completely different. There were a lot of people around me — some sat in concrete boxes, some wandered along the paths. Some were waiting for the traffic light or led a companion to a café.

And each of them felt fragile, like an ancient vase with thin walls. I had two lives, while they had only one. I had the chance to become a cultivator, to break stones with my hands and fight "mountain-sized monsters," as my teacher said, while they don’t have that chance. After laying the foundation, I would become much stronger.

And here we come to another thought.

I wasn’t the only one. In the world of islands, there were plenty of other people, and some of them surely possessed advanced superpowers. The government doesn't know about them yet, and if it does, it keeps it a secret. Social behavior and the use of superpowers have yet to be written and regulated. And the stronger the cultivators develop their abilities, the further they will move away from ordinary people. Can the law stop a person capable of punching a tank? How will the government control us? What will be the consequences for breaking the law, considering a cultivator cannot simply be thrown in jail?

And what will conflicts between people like us lead to, besides destruction and numerous casualties? Will we be demonized, and will the church remain on the sidelines?

Perhaps someone intends to blur the line between ordinary people and us. This will make ordinary people feel that despite the emergence of superhumans with incredible power, they are no different from us. If this happens, there won't be protests or rallies from people demanding the authorities put us in separate pens. But that seems too good an outcome, in my opinion, and I haven’t believed in good things for a long time.

How to learn about decisions? Monitor the net? That can only indirectly assess the consequences since such issues are usually resolved personally among the powerful. Only a sufficiently smart and politically savvy person, who I don't consider myself to be, can figure out what is being prepared in Krasnoyarsk and whether anything is being prepared at all. I don’t think monitoring will help.

So, first and foremost, I need to lie low and continue improving, and only then — to not surface from this depth. I should try not to create problems with the authorities or the law, to not intersect with anyone at all until I become invincibly strong. And even then, I should avoid interaction because I am completely defenseless in my dreams, and only anonymity will save me.

After my run, I showered and went to get my things. I needed to officially move to my new apartment.

And that was where the problem lay. Because as I approached the entrance, Semenych rolled out to meet me — furious as a thousand devils.

“Brat!” the man roared. “Think you’re the smartest, huh?!”

I didn’t respond to that: I decided not to provoke this person and not to say that compared to him, even an orangutan would seem smarter.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I raised my hands, but it came off unconvincingly. I was no good actor.

I glanced around discreetly. No one was sneaking up on me from the side, and there were no red-and-blue flashing cars around. So, it didn’t seem like much of a problem.

However, Semenych did not think so. The little round man, barely reaching my chin, approached and suddenly grabbed me by the collar of my shirt.

His impulsiveness and fury, which he didn’t hide before, flared out.

“I'll make you regret this!” Semenych squeaked, futilely trying to lean me down. “Your stepmother said you moved! You should have stayed there! You think you can get away with stealing my nephew’s motorcycle? You made a copy of the keys and stole the motorcycle!”

After the fight with the flying snakes, old men were no match. I calmly grabbed his wrist and detached it from my shirt.

“I didn’t steal any motorcycles. You can’t attack people without a reason,” I explained to him, holding his hand and not letting him escape. Semenych was huffing and turning red.

“I’ll call the police! You’ll…”

I released him and stepped into the entrance. The slamming door cut off the street noise and Semenych's screeches.

There was no one at home. My father was surely at work; my stepmother had gone grocery shopping.

In a couple of minutes, I grabbed some things into my backpack, took my jacket and fall shoes. I’d leave the winter clothes for later. No need to clutter the rental apartment.

I stopped by Oleg’s place and picked up five thousand — the new engine had set me back ten. Now I’d have money for groceries.

After that, I drove around the city. I made a copy of the key. I bought myself a clean SIM card, and not from the store, but from a man selling them for fifty rubles each, no ID required. I bought an old, worn-out phone from a market vendor. In case I didn’t wake up, I created a delayed post on VKontakte set to go out in three days, tagging all my friends. In the post, I wrote the address of my new apartment, the place where I hid the second key, and the landlord's number. I'd move it back every day.

I spent the rest of the day meditating. In the evening — running, then sleep, and training with meditation on the island.

Even during the previous weapon training sessions, I noticed that even though I no longer mimicked the movements of the ghostly figure that evolved into my teacher, my spear strikes and throws to the target were becoming better and better, as if someone was implanting the movements in my head. When entering with a spear or a dagger, there’s no question of “what to do next?”: you just take it and practice the techniques, from simple to complex. After another training session, where I finally managed to complete seventeen out of eighteen exercises, I knew what I could ask the teacher before he ran away, as always happened when I was running out of steam.

“You said asking about the world outside the room is pointless. So I’ll ask about the room itself. Can I train here with weapons, but can I also train without them? To train endurance, agility, or any other aspects and get results, just like during my weapon training?”

“There is such an option,” he nodded. “What exactly would you like to develop?”

“Can I develop attentiveness here?”

Exploring the islands is a very important matter, and attentiveness is quite necessary. I might even notice details in the “real” world. Moreover, aside from looking for goodies, it should also be useful for learning. And in battle, everything else being equal, the one who “catches” the opponent’s movement in time has a greater chance of survival.

“It can be developed,” the teacher nodded. “Moreover, you are already developing it during each meditation. Did you notice that during the first exercises, you sometimes got distracted, the exercise would fall apart, and you stopped receiving energy?”

“Um… yes.”

“And now, such situations are becoming much less frequent.”

“Right.”

“There’s your answer. You can also focus on sensations in a certain body part during meditation: this will accelerate your attentiveness training and increase your multitasking as well.”

“Also, one more question. If Chinese practices work in this world, then presumably, some sort of extrasensory perception with aura vision should work too? Maybe I will learn to apply the ‘iron shirt’ from Qigong or something else.”

— I wouldn’t advise you to Google Chinese practices right now, — the teacher shook his head. — Honestly, I don’t know any Chinese practices, but I doubt they would work. Once you master the fundamentals, you'll need to discover and train various techniques. The initiation methods for these techniques are specific. I don’t think there is a Qi-infused sword, a place of power, or the heart of a specific monster on this earth.

With that, my questions came to an end, as did my desire to do anything. I just lay there, trying to detach myself from the pain pulling at my body. Eventually, groaning like an old man, I got up, stretched, and decided to walk around my island.

It may be cliché, but I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to take another look around after the renovations. The island is essentially the same as others where nightmares arise, only it’s residential. This means there could be surprises here, both pleasant and otherwise — the mechanism for the appearance of Nightmares and chests is unknown to me. And it would also provide additional attention training.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I walked through the ruins, tried to move some large stones, but found nothing interesting underneath.

I discovered the remnants of a foundation in three places: it seems there will be a beastarium, a greenhouse, and a biolaboratory. I found no surprises — the stones were in their places, and on the dust and dirt covering the platform, there were no foreign tracks or anything else suspicious.

Alright, let's focus on the islands.

The first island of the day was unusual simply because it appeared more massive than all the islands I had seen so far. From the flat surface to the lowest point of the island was about forty meters, and the width of the island was approximately one hundred thirty meters in diameter.

If the island is large, it means the chances of finding some hideouts are much higher. However, so is the chance of encountering monsters guarding those hideouts. I didn’t trust the system message too much.

"Here you can wash and rest."

The unfamiliar means dangerous. The island was higher than mine, so I didn’t fly to it immediately. First, I pulled the lever up until I ascended about ten meters above the island, and then I moved towards it, carefully inspecting every square meter.

At first glance, there were no monsters on the island. But in the middle of the island, a puddle gleamed, and through the murky waters, I couldn’t tell if there was anyone there, but I was willing to bet a piece of liver that there was definitely someone. Besides the puddle, there was nowhere for monsters to hide.

I docked, hoping that on land the water monster would be slow enough for me to escape if my new friend decided to crawl out.

At first, I walked around the water body looking for hideouts, basements, caches, and disguised treasures, but found nothing.

On the edges of the puddle grew withered yellowish bushes of something between a weeping willow and dill. The bushes were only knee-high, and I treated them like I did with the “stinging laurel” back in the day: I threw a stone right into the thick of the dill-like overgrowth, and when nothing jumped out, didn’t run away, and didn’t attack me, I stepped closer to try to see what was going on underwater: were there any monsters there, and if there were, how big were they.

I had barely managed to jump back when a large fish, about the size of a couple of people like me, shot towards the shore and almost leapt out of the water. From its back, mutated tentacles sprouted. They lashed down on the stones near my feet, slicing through the strange dill-like growth as well. I crawled back in a panic.

The tentacles returned to the water. Only then did I spot the fish’s face — ugly, shark-like. The face slowly disappeared beneath the water.

Now I knew how the fish looked underwater, and I watched the dark shadow slowly moving along the bottom.

I went to my island, grabbed a liter bottle, and filled it with water, approaching the water body from the side opposite the lamprey.

Unfortunately, viewing the bottle through the pipe showed that the water would cause stomach problems.

There was a lot of water, and if I had decided to scoop out the puddle with a liter bottle, it would have taken me about a week to finish. I didn’t have suitable containers to store it. This problem was what I attempted to solve first.

**Exchange: “water (not suitable for drinking)” for “5 liter bottles.”**

It seems my account is being watched. No sooner had I posted the listing than a message about it appeared on the forum.

— The Nightmare Merchant has posted lots again. This time, instead of tiny pieces of meat, he decided to sell undrinkable water. And someone will definitely buy it!

— Why sell water that’s impossible to drink?

— I might buy it if he lists it for resources instead of containers. I forgot the last time I washed my hair here. Oh right — never!

— Cut your hair with some knife.

— Are you the smartest? I already have a bob, how much shorter can it get?

— Maybe Nightmare found a water body and is now trying to sell water from it.

— Nightmare, that water is useless. We sometimes find similar water bodies and wash in them, but nobody will buy water from you. Every long-time resident flying around the islands has their supplies.

— It’s fortunate for him that he found a water body without the nightmare lamprey — looks like someone killed it earlier.

— Yeah, at least he can wash. The lamprey or crabs wouldn’t have let him do that.

It couldn’t be that everything was so bleak. Surely someone already knows how to deal with the fish.

The lot with the bottle of water still remained unsold.

— Listen, I’ll distract you one more time. How do you feel about fish? — I wrote to all the guys with whom I traded meat for blueprints. Someone would respond. If not, I’d write to those with similar lots on the auction.

— I’m fine with it, — replied the first. — I can offer you three units of wood, copper, or iron for the fish — depending on what you need. I hope the fish is more than two palms' length?

— The fish is almost my height. For that, I’d ask for a second island right away. I’m ready to sell it in parts, but there’s a small problem — it’s not caught yet.

— So. You don’t even know if it’s edible?

— I don’t know. But it has tentacles, and people on the forum called it a lamprey. I’m asking you this — help me catch it, and I won’t let you down. I have a spear, but it won’t work as a harpoon — the water body is wide and deep; I’d need at least a crossbow.

— I’ll pass, sorry. But if you manage to catch it and the meat is edible, let me know.

The others replied, and within five minutes, they wrote back as though I had waved a protein can at them, but no one was willing to send a crossbow or anything to catch an untested fish.

I had to go on the auction again and write to everyone. My efforts were rewarded! Besides those who blocked me, ignored me, or wrote insults, I found one person, Goodkill, who responded to the message where I described the situation:

— Ok.

And he sent me an individual offer, proposing a “Lava Ball” for one unit of stone. The name of the ball didn’t mean anything to me, but one unit of stone was not such a high price. I accepted the exchange, and after a second, the first artifact was available in the storage.

**"Lava Ball: a good helper when you need to turn your opponent's island into a sauna. To use, strike the artifact against a hard object a couple of times to crack the glass; then try to run away or throw the ball."**

A huge black shadow moved underwater, but this time I had something to surprise it with. I hit the ball against a stone a couple of times. Cracks spread across the glass, and I immediately threw the projectile into the water.

With a short hiss, the ball sank into the depths. I waited a minute, but nothing happened.

Didn’t work?

A minute later, the shadow fidgeted anxiously from corner to corner of the water body. Three minutes later, distortions appeared in the water, similar to what you’d see due to temperature differences in a boiling pot.

It seemed it had worked after all.

I regretted not having a folding chair to sit on while watching the ongoing spectacle. The fish was thrashing wildly from side to side, lashing its tentacles against the stones, and then it crawled onto the shore, helping itself with its tentacles. I had to nudge it back with my spear like a lever. When it crawled out a second time, I pierced its head with the spear point.

Carrying the fish meat took three trips. I sliced the carcass with my dagger, breaking the fragile fish bones, smashing the sturdy spine with sharp strikes.

The storage indicated that today’s hunt had been more than successful.

**"Fish meat — 223 kilograms."**

And no note that the meat was poisonous. That was a lucky catch!

Grinning, I put out nine batches of meat and tentacles of one kilogram each, which the system of this world also designated as meat. In return, I requested fifteen units of resources for each kilogram. It's good that there were no resource restrictions in the warehouse: over the past few days, I have accumulated about fifteen kilograms of snake meat and constantly exchanged them for resources.

I sent a separate lot to the guy who gave me the ball, exchanging twenty kilograms of meat for one unit of stone.

A minute later, the chat beeped, letting me know that I had a new message.

— What kind of charity is this?

— A lot for a lava ball.

— Are you kidding? Do you even know how much this balloon costs?

— Is it very expensive? I guessed. There were no items more useful or more expensive than blueprints at the auction right now. If there were any, they were probably sold out in the first seconds.

— I want more. You can keep ten kilograms as payment for the work, but I'll wait for the rest. You have five minutes to create a party.

I've never liked talking in that tone. I also didn't like giving away for free what I thought was mine.

— This is too much. "Everything" is 220 kilograms, brother. I'm worried about you, you're going to burst from so much meat. And worse than it is now.

— You're a corpse, a nightmare. Get ready to face reality. When I drop such a ball on your head, your island is over!

And this once again shows that I need to somehow provide good protection for my island.

**Exchange: "5 kilograms of meat" for "nothing". I'll give the meat for a good conversation and answers to my questions. In particular, where to find protection for my island, what blueprints are there and how to develop better.**

While I was thinking about how to weed out freeloaders and identify those who really know something, I received a message from Crown, whom I remembered from chats.

- Hello. Did you kill a lamprey?

— I made it. Almost.

— Impressive, brother. Then, for a hundred kilograms of meat, I am ready to become your permanent guide and answer any questions, even about my appearance and the color of my curtains.

— I'd rather keep a hundred for myself, I'm sorry. Listen, is it really that bad for you without food?

— You have no idea how bad it is. This improvement has turned me into an eternally hungry monster. I eat ten kilograms a day on the islands, and my appetite has increased in reality. I've already cursed the lab and I'm not sure the improvement was worth it. So what about a hundred kilograms?

— I can only give you five.

— Okay, I'm ready. But the answers will not be as complete as they could be in exchange for a hundred kilograms. So what questions do you want to ask?