10 days passed, Izo knew only fighting, sleeping and learning. Not like a sponge more so a wet rag. He would try to absorb as much as possible but in the end, he was finite so he falls in a messy slop as the knowledge forms a stream to escape him. An old mop was an apt metaphor for his condition.

The days varied with either dead tired or slightly tired with the only constants the headaches and lack of sleep.

‘Sleep deprivation training. Peh.’

Svana convinced him of the importance of being ready to fight with no sleep. Of course, he wasn’t a fool enough to agree but his non-compliant daily routine was sleep deprivation training already. He had to indulge and stay conscious to train Dream State Consciousness. In addition, the episodes never stopped as he would sometimes hear a meow or a whisper.

Izo wasn’t going to pretend that he wasn’t near his breaking point. The closes Earth comparison to his current life was U.S. Army Ranger Training. The only thing that keeps him going was the prospect of the future. He was an Sigma no lifer unironically.

Izo was in his personal hut built on the cliffs farther away from the center of the camp. No people travelled this way so what accompanied was plants and a small garden outside.

In his boredom, he planted a tree seed even if he knew how long before they grew. It would only ever bear fruit years after he was done from training and by then who knows if he'd even be able to come back here. Or if it would even grow.

The nature aesthetic of his new home would have been nice but there were two humming machines in front of him. One had symbols for radiation and explosive that would level a block. The other would level a district.

A 1-meter circular drone with two large hands was currently inserted in the larger more dangerous machine. Izo had four of these drones and his tiredness didn’t stop him from nodding in satisfaction.

‘I love drones.’

They might have negative implications on Earth but god does Izo love them.

This drone detached and turned. Its levitation speed was fast and it soon sunk into the ocean. Soon enough another one of its kind surfaced carrying a bluish ore unique to this planet.

“Fufufu.”

‘No. I must not catch anything from the husky.’

How can a man however not be happy when the results after all the suffering was here?

‘Soon, I’ll make it all back through you my Spirit Printer. Kekeke.’

Izo thought that but on the back of his mind, he knew how much of a gamble this was. The equivalent of doing his own research and study for stocks expecting to make 1000% of his investment.

[ 00:14:10 remaining ]

Deciding not to just watch it and stew in anxiety, he stepped out of the hut.

It was cold and misty. The sun was peaking from its sea blanket.

People were out and about while some were already drinking booze while singing. Local recipes have already begun blossoming and thus restaurant rivalries.

‘I don’t why cooks are so much more violent than anyone here.’

There was a general increase in fighting here since there was just big congregation of fighters. Clothed in leather or chain armor, every candidate was dirty and reeked of odor. One of the so-called Trinity of Scent of the battlefield: body odor, blood and shit.

Thankfully, a semblance of law was in place like no pooping in the vicinity of the camp, fighting is for the sparring fields and anyone who is an asshole would be beat up.

One of the candidates had a brilliant idea to steal an item and was mobbed after being caught.

Sex had also become understandably common.

‘The only reason they built their own huts is to have private sex.’

Izo was assured of this conjecture that having a hut was directly proportional to horny.

‘Well except, me.’

“Future, what would you like to eat?”

“Soup.”

He’d also earned a nickname of course. Everyone was well armored, carrying a spear, a firearm and two spiritual items. Izo had a firearm and he fought as more of a backline. When others questioned with his poor load out, he would always answer ‘I’ll buy it in the future’.

His promotion also hyped him up so much and Izo wasn’t even close to living up to it. The host can only say that he had potential.

His words ‘Only, then can we rise up to the future! Look not for blame but for solutions!’ was the nail in the coffin.

“A future disappointment is what he is.”

Izo ignored the taunt. Outside of the top 100, he had the most views. A reasonable grievance here, a personal one there, then suddenly he had a few people who were hostile to him.

‘This is only normal for an animal to feel resentment. Even monkeys feel rage at pay inequality.’

He learned that from a video.

“Hey, boss give a soup too.”

It was Sun Hee with her messy hair and creased clothes. She also had massive eyebags making her look meek.

“Have you gotten what you those things you were talking about?”

“I have. I’m making something right now.”

“Can I look?”

The chef looked puzzledly and asked.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“You’ll know about it soon. Your armor is pretty loose.”

It was the common leather armor: cheap, effective and available in different sizes. Well to most sizes since it causes wardrobe issues to some and feels not as comfortable as possible.

Izo moved close to Sun Hee’s ear and whispered something.

“Sun Hee. I’ll be able to pay you back soon.”

“You better be.”

She pinched his arm slightly.

“Eh?”

She shook her head.

“This is no good. How could you be losing weight?”

“Aren’t you supposed to congratulate when someone gets fitter?”

“Heh. My name isn’t someone.”

Izo was disappointed with the lame rebuttal.

They’re really active lifestyle and healthy eating was having a positive effect on him. Although his body type was simply stocky, he burned a lot of fat leaving the morbidly obese club.

Sun Hee as well looked more muscular and springier. Tired but somehow energetic. Izo wasn’t sure if she was human anymore.

“I’ll be the first customer, ok?”

“Ugh. Sure.”

“Less it with the debt.”

“Sure, sure.”

They continued eating the seafood soup. The chili peppers, spices and hot liquid combined made some of his fatigue disappear. The cost of 30 points was costly but worth it. Izo finally understood why soldiers preferred hot food since the delicious homely feel does wonders to once soul.

Throughout the 10 days, Izo earned 4410 points. An average earning despite his frugality, living was costly. Each arena earned 60 points and he could clear 10 a day. Medical supplies, healthy food, energy drinks, grenades and ammunition. He never compromised on safety and his future growth.

Izo never got a special battle again but others have so he managed to sell the three tickets for 1900 points. Their rarity helped a lot.

He borrowed 2000 points from his two teammates totaling for 8,310. All of it, invested in a long-term plan of his.

They talked with others for a while. Everyone here had their own complaints and having others to joke around while suffering from the same situation was great stress relief. The drunk betting and then fighting also livened up the rowdy atmosphere.

“It should be done.”

“Let’s go. Let’s check it out.”

Izo exhaled and walked to his own hut.

If life had ever taught him anything, it was that reliance was dangerous. Relationships are too fragile, people too untrustworthy, all animals prioritize themselves. A debt is the most humiliating kind of reliance since it meant one was weak enough to need another’s help.

Izo’s mind knows it wasn’t so but a deep-seated fear was screaming in his mind. Borrowing from Sun Hee and Sung Soo made him feel weak and that meant that he would be in danger. He had to counter it with rationality before went through.

Unconsciously, he was slowing down. Izo felt hands pushing him from behind.

“Stop daydreaming man. We’re wasting time.”

“Ok. Ok. Stop ordering me, my mistress.”

“Just go faster!”

When the door opened, the small nuclear reactor was still humming and providing power. The Spirit Printer was idle and its container was dark.

‘The reactor, 2000 points. The printer, 3700. Drones, 1800.’

He gingerly opened the container and saw the completed item.

A full auto shotgun made of metal and plastic composite. A licensed copy of the “Eyepopper” pattern of shotguns of the Mendeleyev Marines. Named for its shells that are inserted inside a human's eye socket as disrespect, it barely fits thus the phenomena of popping of the skeletal structure of this part happens. The beast killer could fire slug for armor penetration, buckshot for indiscriminate death and specialized round for multiple situations.

Sun Hee held her right cheek with her right hand while thinking.

“How can much can these sell?”

“900 points.”

“How much was the materials.”

“500.”

“The debt is only 500 points now.”

“100.”

"400."