Chapter 18: The Special Rule

He paused, looking at Lee Chunford as if pondering whether to kill him right there. But he decided this spineless worm still had some uses. "Get out," Leon growled.

Lee staggered to his feet and limped out, tail between his legs. Leon squinted at the stormy sky, whispering two names: "DemonSlayer… MorganBlossom."

Meanwhile, on Gru Oshio's island, a 1.9-meter-tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed man sipped a crimson liquid from a wineglass.

The faint swirl of red reflected in his smug expression. His real name was Nikolai Art, though he currently went by Paul Rofus.

He had apparently awakened certain abilities before entering this world and had used them once. Some cryptic warning told him never to use them again recklessly, or he'd face a lightning penalty from "above."

Nikolai stared at the raging winds overhead, then at the chat feeds on his stone pillar. A cold smile curled on his lips. Let the fool Leon Peak charge ahead as his pawn.

There was a saying in the East: "Whoever survives in the end is the winner—no matter the means."

If TheBarbarianKing wanted to stir up trouble with DemonSlayer, all the better for Nikolai to lurk behind the scenes and pick off whichever one emerged wounded.

He raised his glass in a silent toast to the darkening sky. Survival's next stage was about to begin.

"Enjoy it, Earl." The voice came from an Asian woman with flowing black hair and a once-elegant aura.

Empty-eyed and numb, she began to remove the dress clinging to her thin frame, revealing a shapely figure that seemed wasted in this grim world.

Standing nearby, Nikolai Art—who now called himself Earl for reasons known only to him—watched her movements with cold detachment. His eyes flicked over her body as though inspecting livestock.

Nikolai had acquired her from a tall, muscular Black man in exchange for a mere 500 grams of lamb chops.

After sampling her, Nikolai found her unremarkable, save for the faint pulse in her pale neck. That subtle throb of blood was all that stirred him.

In this brutal realm, there was a special rule not widely explained:

If people from different nationalities chose to become "vassals," they could coexist on the same island.

However, these vassals could never be recognized as spouses or relatives, or dire consequences would follow.

Each island owner could have up to three initial vassals, treated as private property—objects, not survivors. Willingly or not, they forfeited their status as players and became tradable possessions.

Nikolai Art had known this rule.

On his island, he'd brought no vassals of his own. Indeed, before coming here, he'd instructed his loyal subordinates to avoid vassalage, so if they survived, he could reap greater rewards.

The "Oriental beauty" before him had apparently fallen in love with the Black man within a mere week, only to be callously used and then traded for lamb chops.

Ordinary people—especially those without a fishing net or strength buffs—were burdens in this game.

Far away, Logan Lane glanced at the time—already past 1:00 AM. Feeling drowsy, he intended to get some rest.

But first, he wanted to expand his island again.

After all, an unknown player's dramatic island expansion had altered the rules; maybe he too would unlock some hidden advantage.

He dumped [3,000 Floating Stones] into the island's foundation, causing it to grow to 18 "li," or roughly 9 square kilometers.

The resulting tremors made the surrounding sea churn and bubble.

Fortunately, the novice protection period still shielded him from the hordes of sea beasts that might otherwise have been drawn to the commotion.

When Logan woke up the next morning, he blinked in disbelief. Aside from a few familiar structures, everything else had turned to rocky terrain and newly sprouted greenery.

The entire island seemed covered in waist-high weeds, and small flying insects darted from leaf to leaf.

"What… am I supposed to do with all this grass?" he muttered. "Eat it? Weed the place?"

With a sigh, he fetched his Breeze Sword from the thatched hut and went to work clearing vegetation near his house and the three wooden cabins he used for storage.

A single slash of sword aura mowed down every blade of grass in a five-meter radius.

It took him half an hour to carve out a decently weed-free space before he headed off to wash himself.

For breakfast, he roasted the last chunk of Frost Serpent Meat and polished off a hunk of leftover beef.

The F-rank meat still boosted his power somewhat, though no longer in dramatic, status-panel-jumping bursts.

Logan ventured further inland. The island, once so barren, now featured a newly sprouted forest 6 kilometers from his house.

Through breaks in the trees, he spotted small birds flitting among the branches, chirping in surprisingly peaceful melody.

He even came across a puddle of fresh water—roughly 20 liters, by his estimate.

He soon realized there were only two fruit varieties in this forest: apples and pears. Near the fruit trees, he noticed a massive boulder. Curious, he punched it lightly:

[Obtained Stone x1]

He struck it a few more times, pieces flaking away until the entire rock crumbled. The system chimed:

[Obtained Stone x1]

[Obtained Stone x1]

… (total 13 times)