Damien stepped out of the cabin and into the grove, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind him. A gust of fresh air swept across his face, cool and laced with the earthy scent of damp foliage. He peered into the dense, shadow-drenched forest. Towering trees, their massive trunks covered in thick moss and climbing vines, stretched into the sky like the pillars of a forgotten cathedral. Their canopies weaved together above, casting twisted shadows that danced across the soft underbrush. A shiver raced down Damien's spine.
To his left, the remnants of the previous battle scarred the landscape. A deep trench, nearly three meters wide, carved through the earth in a jagged path hundreds of feet long. Massive trees, once proud and tall—many over sixty feet—lay broken and splintered in the aftermath, their trunks shattered as though cleaved by a titan's blade.
"I have to learn how to control the power of my spells," Damien muttered, his gaze fixed on the destruction. "If I had cast that wind spell in a city on Earth, it would've leveled entire blocks. Thousands could have died." He clenched his fists, the weight of responsibility sinking in. "I need to understand this world before I even think about this Harbinger nonsense... or finding a way home."
Seeking direction, Damien summoned his map. A glowing, transparent projection appeared in his vision, revealing a narrow stream to the north. It cut through the forest like a silver thread and flowed away from the dangerous mountains. "Water usually means life... maybe even civilization."
He closed the map and took off in a sprint—only for his enhanced body to betray him. After just five steps, he tripped and crashed face-first into the dirt, carving a shallow groove as he skidded to a halt. "Too fast..." he groaned, spitting out grass. "Definitely need to ease into this."
Adjusting his pace, Damien jogged steadily, each stride a careful calibration of strength and balance. The world blurred slightly as he ran, the wind rushing past his ears, and the trees whipping by like green specters. He traveled for hours without pause, moving faster than any Olympian ever could. By the time he reached the stream, his breath was heavy, but his stamina was already recovering.
The stream was beautiful—clear, fast-moving, about four meters wide and surprisingly deep. The water glimmered in the sunlight, revealing smooth stones of white, brown, and grey, and schools of darting fish that shimmered beneath the surface. On the far side, boulders were scattered in a natural formation, the largest one resting like a throne amid its stone brethren. Thick vines coiled around the surrounding trees, which towered upward like giants, some bearing fruit on branches high above.
As Damien knelt to drink, a memory of the monstrous werewolf flickered in his mind. He hesitated. Even this serene stream could hide dangers. Instead, he pointed to the ground, visualizing a simple earthen cup—and overcast. A four-meter-wide, two-meter-high bowl erupted from the soil, splashing stream water into its massive cavity. Damien stared, stunned. "Definitely overkill."
Needing water nonetheless, he punched a hole in the side of the makeshift bowl, allowing a steady trickle to pour out. He drank greedily. The water was cold and pure, revitalizing his throat and calming his nerves. As his fingers dipped into the water, a strange tingling sensation coursed through his body, a subtle but unmistakable resonance. He tried to manipulate it, calling to the water, but it resisted.
He relaxed and tried again, focusing not on control but on connection. The sound of the stream, its steady rhythm, soothed him. A trickle of mana responded, forming a faint wisp of water that hovered near his hand before dispersing. "Not there yet," he muttered. "Mana control is still lacking."
Paranoia stirred. He didn't trust the woods—not with what he'd seen. Wanting higher ground, he leapt toward one of the towering trees, grabbing a vine twenty feet up with effortless strength. Climbing higher, he reached sturdy branches laden with fruit. The red and purple, pear-shaped fruit looked ripe, and green flowers bloomed further up. He harvested as many as he could, storing them in his inventory with a thought. It felt like playing a surreal game—but this was no game.
After nearly an hour, exhausted, he found a thick branch near the base of the tree and settled in. His stomach growled. With a mental command, a red fruit materialized in his hand. He bit in cautiously. Sweet. Like an Earth plum. Encouraged, he tried a few others, noting the flavors and checking for ill effects. Satisfied, he leaned back and finally addressed the deeper concern—mana control.
Opening the Divine Shop tab, he found two scrolls under "Recommended." One for mana control, the other for mana core development. They cost zero DP but had to be studied—no shortcuts. Damien accepted the challenge. For seven days, he remained near the stream, drinking water, eating fruit, and practicing. Breathing techniques calmed his thoughts and helped him attune to the flow of mana within.
On the seventh night, under the glow of three moons and a sky littered with stars, Damien sat cross-legged against the tree trunk. He focused inward. At first, only silence. Then a tingle—near his sternum. He honed in. The tingling surged into a torrent. His insides felt aflame. Pain gripped him. Still, he endured. Teeth clenched, breath ragged, he refused to give up.
Time slipped away. Only agony remained. But within the chaos, a glimmer—a light. Tendrils of glowing energy coiled in his mind's eye. With desperate resolve, he wrapped them around the churning torrent of mana and began to pull, compress, shape. The energy resisted, roared, but he didn't yield. Inch by inch, the mana condensed, forming a glowing purple orb the size of a fist.
The moment it stabilized, the pain vanished. Bliss took its place. Every fiber of Damien's being hummed with power. He opened his eyes slowly, exhaled shakily. Sweat soaked his clothes. The moons hovered above, pale sentinels in the night sky. His head throbbed. His stomach twisted in hunger. His mouth felt like sand.
He summoned five fruits and devoured them like a starving wolf. The sweetness eased the hunger, the juice washing away the dryness. Finally, with a sigh, Damien let himself collapse against the tree. His limbs refused to move. Fatigue settled over him like a heavy blanket. As sleep overtook him, notifications flickered in the corners of his vision, unread and persistent.
"Why the hell do I always have to pass out?!" Damien thought, just before darkness claimed him once more.