Both his Physical Energy and Mental Energy were already approaching their limits.
The exhaustion was real, measurable, and undeniable. Michael could feel it in the subtle heaviness of his limbs and the faint pressure behind his eyes. Not pain—just a clear warning.
There was no point in forcing things.
"I'll deal with it after I recover," Michael decided calmly.
There was no frustration in his voice. No impatience. In a world like this, restraint was not weakness—it was survival. Those who burned themselves out early would not last long.
After putting away his pistol, he turned his attention to the two blueprints he had just acquired through the Ark Control System. Pale-blue holographic projections unfolded before his eyes, each line of text precise and unemotional. The light reflected faintly in his pupils as data flowed past, cold and efficient.
[Blueprint: Water Storage Module]
Effect: Stored water will not spoil or evaporate for up to ten days.
Requirements:
• 10 kg of metal
• 20 mechanical components
[Blueprint: External Waste Collector]
[ Effect: Automatically collects waste and debris within the platform area and returns it to the Ark before departure. ]
[Requirements:]
• 30 kg of metal
• 100 mechanical components
[Optional Enhancement:]
• An additional 300 mechanical components may be added for special modifications.
The words hovered in the air, steady and silent.
Michael compared the requirements against the resources he had already gathered.
"It looks like they can all be built now."
The conclusion came without excitement. Only confirmation.
This was not something to celebrate. It was simply the expected outcome of correct decisions made at the right time.
Then—
"Wait a minute."
A thought surfaced, sharp and deliberate, cutting cleanly through the fatigue.
The trading platform rules.
Ark Controllers currently docked at a platform were prohibited from placing items up for sale. Transactions could only be initiated after leaving the platform. On the surface, the logic was simple: prevent players from bypassing storage limitations by transferring goods directly at the platform.
It sounded fair.
Reasonable.
Logical.
But that rule applied only to selling. Purchasing was not restricted. Which meant that an Ark Controller still docked at the platform could freely buy items listed by others who had already departed.
Michael's eyes narrowed slightly.
"In other words… I can buy from people who've already left."
The rule was flawed.
Worse—it was obviously flawed.
It didn't restrict private trades between Ark Controllers. It didn't restrict purchases made while still on the platform. Anyone with even basic reasoning could see the loophole. The kind of loophole that begged to be exploited.
Such a careless oversight didn't align with a system capable of managing tens of thousands of Arks simultaneously.
"It's almost as if the rules are encouraging us to test their limits."
Or perhaps—
To see who was smart enough to notice.
And who would blindly follow instructions without thinking.
As for what he could trade…
Michael's gaze drifted toward the low-level rifles and compressed biscuits stacked nearby. The weapons were neatly arranged, the food carefully stored. These were not excess resources.
"…No."
Those were assets meant for survival, not bargaining chips.
In this world, anything that directly increased combat capability or endurance was priceless. Trading them casually would be no different from gambling with one's own life.
He opened the trading platform and refreshed it repeatedly.
Some people had posted listings for the metal he needed—but the quantities were laughably small, and the prices were absurd. One glance was enough to understand their intentions.
"They're just watching."
Waiting to see who would panic first. Waiting for desperation to drive foolish trades.
Michael closed the platform and opened the global chat room instead.
By now, most Ark Controllers had already left the first platform. The chat was scrolling rapidly, messages stacking over one another in chaotic waves.
"Brothers, how did your first stop go? I searched a junkyard forever—only found used tires! Total garbage! Though I did get a lot of rubber. Anyone interested, chat me in private!"
"Be grateful. My first stop was a meadow—nothing but grass. And the ground was all black mud, it stinks like hell here. I couldn't even walk properly."
"Grassland is good. Black soil is valuable."
"Valuable how? Can you eat it?"
"Black soil can grow vegetables."
"Pfft. You think you can farm in a space the size of a bus? Stop joking."
Michael read without reacting. Panic. Ignorance. Overconfidence. All of it was there.
A system message suddenly appeared in the chat.
[Automatic Fishing Function Module - Available]
[Requirements:]
• 20 mechanical components
• 1 kg of metal
Michael's eyes flicked over the message.
"They're really just posting this openly?"
Information like this was valuable—yet people threw it into the chat without hesitation, as if announcing treasure locations on a public broadcast.
Another reply followed almost immediately.
"Tch, it's obvious you don't even have the blueprint. This is just a screenshot. You need the blueprint to build it. I've got 20 mechanical components—just give me the bread and water you started with."
"Are you insane? Bread and water for 20 parts? Dream on. One loaf of bread, that's my final offer."
"I… I only need half! But I only have fifteen components…"
Michael watched the exchange silently.
Not many people had actually gained anything meaningful at the first platform.
Most had found junk. Some found nothing at all. A few stumbled upon something useful—but lacked the sense to protect their advantage.
A few desperate messages scrolled past.
"Does anyone sell water? I'm dying of thirst…"
"What's a treasure chest?"
"Uh—nothing. Never mind."
The moment those words appeared, the tone of the chat shifted.
Suspicion.
Greed.
Hostility.
Several people immediately began condemning the one who mentioned the treasure chest. Even through text alone, their resentment was unmistakable. The malice was raw, unfiltered, and ugly.
The man held out for a moment.
Then he broke.
A screenshot appeared in the chat.
[Opened Level 1 Treasure Chest]
[Received: 2 Ark Coins]
[Obtained: Wound Healing Medicine]
[Obtained: Level 1 Blueprint: Aluminum Heat Insulation Pad]
The chat exploded.
Accusations. Regret. Thinly veiled threats.
Michael stared at the image, his expression unchanged.
"So that's how it is."
Treasure chests weren't guaranteed miracles—but they were undeniably valuable. Even low-level ones could shift the balance of survival. And information—
Information was worth more than resources. Those who revealed it too early paid the price.
He closed the chat window. Let them fight over scraps. Let them expose themselves. He already knew what mattered the most right now.