Jax didn’t sleep.

The threat of a second wave of Sandworms kept his adrenaline spiking, so he sat beneath the looming shadow of the Wall, using the faint light from the Sentry Towers to plan his next move.

He pulled up the System interface to review the construction requirements for the Bastion.

[Bastion Construction Rules]

Location: No terrain restrictions.

Zone of Control: System structures and Defense Towers must be built within a 100-meter radius of the Bastion.

Extended Zone: Auxiliary facilities can be built within a 50-meter radius of any existing system structure.

Jax frowned. The range limitations were strict.

He knew The Sprawl well enough to realize he was screwed if he tried to build inside. The city was carved up by gangs and warlords. The Wall and its Sentry Towers belonged to the ruling factions, and they claimed the land for hundreds of meters beyond the perimeter.

If he dropped a magical fortress in the middle of their territory, he wouldn’t be a landlord; he’d be a target. He’d end up like Barnaby—used, broken, or dead.

“Once placed, the Bastion cannot be moved until higher levels,” Jax muttered, reading the fine print. “I have to get this right the first time.”

Upgrading the Bastion required two things: completing random System tasks and harvesting EXP from killing insectoids. Each level would unlock new blueprints, provided he had the materials to build them.

Jax closed the window and looked down at his arms.

Under the grime and dried blood, his biceps were rock hard. The Augmentation Serum had done its work. He lifted his shirt, running a hand over a set of chiseled eight-pack abs.

“System products really are top-tier,” he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips.

He thought back to his life on Earth—slouching in a cubicle, eating takeout, soft around the middle. “If I had this body back then, who the hell would work a nine-to-five? I could have been a fitness model or a personal trainer.”

He pulled up his status screen.

[User: Jax, Male, 21] [Bio-Score: 70 (Average)] [Exclusive Skills: None] [EXP: 22/1000] [Architect Level: Novice Architect] [Owned Defense Towers: None]

“Seventy is just ‘Average’?” Jax scoffed. “I feel like I could punch through a brick wall. The standards in this world must be insane.”

He tried to materialize the Tier 1 Sentry Tower Blueprint, but it wouldn’t appear in his hand. After a moment of confusion, he realized the blueprint wasn’t a physical schematic—it was a consumable material required by the System during construction.

Finally, he turned his attention to the last item: the Basic Resource Pack.

“Starter resources. Classic game logic. Let’s see what I got.”

He opened the pack.

[Received: Refined Iron x100] [Received: Stardust Stone x100] [Received: Tier 1 Energy Crystal x10]

“Refined Iron, Stardust Stone, Energy Crystals…” Jax memorized the names. “Never heard of them. Must be proprietary materials for System construction.”

With the logistics sorted, Jax formulated a simple plan: Get into the city, sell the loot, eat a real meal, and then head back into the wasteland to find a secluded spot for his base.

Dawn broke over the horizon.

As soon as the sun crested the dunes, the temperature skyrocketed. The chill of the desert night evaporated, replaced instantly by the oppressive heat of the day.

Jax was dozing against the Spiked Barricade when the grinding sound of heavy machinery woke him.

The city gates were opening.

The two guards from the previous night stumbled out, rubbing sleep from their eyes. They moved to drag the barricades aside, only to freeze when they saw the two figures lying in the dirt.

“Whoa!” one guard yelped, jumping back. “It’s you two? You’re not dead?”

They stared at Jax and Barnaby as if looking at ghosts.

Jax stood up, dusting off his pants. He flashed a polite, if tired, smile. “Morning, gentlemen. We’d like to come in now. Is the gate open for business?”

The guards blinked, their brains struggling to process the scene. Nobody survived a night outside the walls. Nobody.

Then, their eyes drifted past Jax to the carnage scattered across the sand.

“You…” The guard pointed a trembling finger. “How did you survive?”

Jax thumbed over his shoulder at the carcasses. “We killed the bugs. Simple as that.”

The soldiers exchanged skeptical glances.

“Bullshit,” one muttered. “The towers must have got them.”

“You can check,” Jax said calmly. “Tower kills leave burn marks from the bolts. These were beaten to death.”

He pointed to the heap of mangled Sandworms near the wall. “All me.”

The guard frowned, still suspicious, but Jax’s confidence was unnerving. He pulled a small, handheld scanner from his belt and walked over to the nearest carcass. He jabbed the probe into the dead flesh.

Beep-beep.

The device chirped a negative tone—no thermal residue, no ballistic markers.

“Good god,” the guard whispered, looking at his partner. “He’s telling the truth. He killed them by hand.”

They looked at Jax with a mixture of fear and awe.

“That’s right,” Jax said, stepping forward. “Now, if there are no further questions…”

He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a Tier 1 Core, pressing it into the guard’s palm. A little grease for the wheels.

The soldier looked at the glowing crystal, then back at Jax. He nodded dumbly, stepping aside to let them pass.

Jax didn’t waste a second. He grabbed Barnaby and the pile of Sandworm carcasses, dragging their haul into the safety of The Sprawl.

The first order of business was food.

Jax’s stomach was eating itself. He wanted meat—real meat, preferably a roasted pork knuckle—but he knew better. In The Sprawl, livestock was a luxury for the warlords. For refugees like him, “meat” meant insect protein. It was cheap, abundant, and surprisingly nutritious.

He found a small, somewhat clean-looking restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley. He dragged Barnaby inside and claimed a table by the window.

The place was empty. The morning rush hadn’t started yet, and most of the locals were still sleeping off the night’s vices.

“Chief!” Jax shouted toward the kitchen. “Two pots of rice! And a basin of stewed Sandworm meat with tofu! And try to keep the sand out of the rice this time!”

A moment later, the kitchen curtain swept aside.

A hulking man in grease-stained shorts and a dirty apron stomped out. He held a massive boning knife in one hand, his eyes narrowing as he sized them up.

“You two ordering?”

Jax stiffened, his hand instinctively balling into a fist under the table. The man radiated a dangerous aura—a level of violence that simmered just below the surface.

Is this a restaurant or a slaughterhouse?

The owner looked them up and down, taking in their tattered clothes and grime-streaked faces. “You two little street rats have Credits to pay for this?”

Jax didn’t argue. He slammed a Sandworm Core onto the sticky wooden table.

Thud.

“Is this enough?”

The owner’s eyes bulged. He stared at the glowing crystal, then back at Jax. “You… you robbed someone for this?”

Jax shook his head, too hungry to explain. “If you don’t believe me, ask the gate guards. Or better yet, look outside. I have a pile of fresh Sandworm meat stacked by your door. If you want it, name a price and take the lot.”

The owner’s jaw dropped. He looked at the Core, then the knife in his hand, then walked to the door to look outside.

He saw the mound of bloody carcasses. He counted twenty, maybe more. He knew exactly what it took to bring down a Sandworm, let alone a whole pack.

He turned back to Jax, his demeanor shifting from suspicion to shock.

“Kid… who the hell are you? Which Guild do you run with?”

“Guild?” Jax blinked. “I’m not in a Guild.”

“Bullshit,” the owner muttered. “Only Guild squads have the firepower to wipe out a swarm like that.”

Just then, heavy footsteps echoed from the street.

“Chief! Get us some grub! And don’t serve us that rotten swill you gave us last time!”

A group of a dozen men strode into the restaurant. They wore mismatched leather armor and carried an arsenal of weapons—longswords, spears, and primitive firearms. They moved with the swagger of men who owned the streets.

The owner nodded to them, then leaned in to whisper to Jax. “Those are Guild men. Don’t tell me you don’t know them.”

“I really don’t,” Jax whispered back. “What’s the deal with them? Their gear looks expensive.”

“No kidding,” the owner said. “Mercenaries. Hunters. People join Guilds to survive the wasteland. They hunt in packs, split the Cores, and share the profits. You really aren’t one of them?”

“Nope. Solo.”

The owner looked at Jax with newfound respect. To kill that many bugs without a team? That wasn’t just luck; that was power.

“Kid, you’re something else,” the owner said, his voice dropping low. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a thousand Credits for the meat. And lunch is on the house. Deal?”

Jax nodded immediately. “Deal.”

Selling the carcasses quickly was the smart move. Dragging a pile of valuable meat through The Sprawl was just asking to be mugged, and a thousand Credits was a fair price for bulk disposal.