As they crossed through the swirling portal, the world split—and they were thrown into separate dimensions.
Alex's surroundings twisted into a terrifying expanse of drifting, stormy oceans. Lightning cracked across pitch-black skies, and the sun was dim, shrouded behind a veil of dark mist spreading over vast planes of water. The wind howled like a beast.
Perseus flew beside Alex, cutting through the chaos of the storm. As they descended, they spotted a massive island rising from the sea—a land of jagged stone cliffs, shadowy mountains, twisted trees, and thick forests crawling with beasts. But what truly made Alex shiver was the aura—a demonic, bone-chilling energy that radiated from every corner of the island.
Perseus landed with Alex in the heart of a dark forest.
"Grandpa! Is this the Bermuda Triangle? Why are we here?" Alex asked, looking around in confusion and fear.
Perseus checked a strange-looking wristwatch and replied calmly, "No, kid. Now hand me your infinity pocket."
Alex handed it over reluctantly.
Perseus opened a massive bag and began digging through it like a survivalist prepping for the apocalypse. Out came a mess of items: cellphones, lighters, tents, fire pits, fancy clothes, spikes, and a whole arsenal of guns.
He paused, holding up a pair of luxury shoes. "Kid... really? You thought we were going on a picnic?"
Alex shrugged with a proud grin. "Well... we need to cook, find a place to sleep, wear shoes we can run in... lighter for fire?"
Perseus gave him a flat look, then began pulling out his own arsenal—an ancient sword, a glowing spear, and a polished shield, all straight from the heavens.
He noticed a row of ten bottles filled with a golden liquid—Phoenix Healing Elixir. He set them carefully aside. "Okay. Now I'm taking out all the junk."
Alex frowned. "Wait. Don't tell me you're leaving me here! This forest—this whole place—feels cursed!"
Perseus met his eyes and said grimly, "We're not on Earth. This is the planet Tartenoes... in the Roips Galaxy."
Alex froze.
"Grandpa, at least give me that sword and shield! I need something to survive!"
But Perseus shook his head. "What happens when light enters the darkest room?"
Alex's eyes widened. "…It gets targeted."
And then it hit him. "Damn. I'm attracting the beasts."
"Hey!" Perseus pointed. "You already have a sword in your hand. Let me see it."
Alex looked down. The sword was in his grip. He stepped forward, offering it to Perseus.
But the moment he tried to let go, a jolt of lightning exploded from the hilt. Perseus was blasted back, crashing into the dirt.
Alex rushed forward to help, but his eyes caught something glowing—an object in Alex's bag sparking with lightning. A dragon egg.
"Stop!" Alex shouted. "Don't touch it—it'll sense fear!"
Perseus froze. "Why do you have the Draunicos dragon egg?! That thing's hunted by every kingdom—it's dangerous! You better have an explanation!"
Alex's expression turned solemn. "I thought... I thought she survived. But she didn't. She died… and entrusted me with her child."
Suddenly, the egg reacted. A glowing mark erupted from it, latching onto Alex's back. It ran wild like fire under his skin. Wings, etched in lightning, flared briefly as a glowing stigma sealed itself around his Mark of Oath. Glowing bright golden, his shirt was burned away by golden flame on its own.
Perseus ran to Alex and examined his back. His face darkened.
The Mark of Oath had changed.
No longer just a sword—it now gleamed with celestial evolution.
A radiant crown hovered above the blade, forged of shimmering white runes—runes that moved like living light, unreadable, yet absolute in their power. Encircling the entire mark was a massive, coiling dragon, its serpentine body looping in protective rings.
"…Shit. The Dragon Bond has integrated. There's no way to undo it now."
He knelt by the egg, placing a hand over it. "Then the only path… is to leave the egg with you."
He stood, offered the sword back to Alex, and muttered, "Take it. Be careful. You know survival tactics. Trust your instincts."
Alex gripped the hilt again—and this time, the sword obeyed. He pulled it free with ease, drawing it in one swift, fluid motion.
Perseus glanced at the sky, grim as thunder.
"Kid! Train well. Survive. You're here for the next six months."
Then he vanished into the portal.
It closed in front of Alex with a hum and a flicker.
He blinked. The forest around him groaned, twisted with dark vines, fog like breath from a sleeping monster.
"Grandpa?" he whispered. "Where are you? It's too scary... I-I'm not ready. I'll get hurt."
Something crinkled in his pocket. A note.
"You're the only one alive in the Ocean Demon Forest.
This planet's gravity is 10x Earth's—you're standing thanks to the dragon energy inside you.
Qi won't work here. Don't try.
Stay sharp. Stay focused.
Welcome to your first real adventure.
—Your loving grandpa."
Alex sighed and instinctively tried to summon Qi.
Nothing. Not even a spark. "Tch… figures."
Snap.
A branch broke behind him.
Snap. Snap.
Slow, padded footsteps circled in the mist.
A low, guttural growl slithered into his ears. Not one beast—many.
Alex turned his head, slow and careful. The lessons from Marvick's class came rushing back:
"Never make the first move on a wild beast. Especially a wolf. If you see one, its pack is already watching."
"First move? Run. Stay aware. Track everything."
"Blend with the climate. Use mud to hide your scent. Calm your breath. Silence your fear."
Red eyes blinked in the fog. One. Then two. Then more. Watching. Calculating.
Alex clutched his sword and ran.
Fast. Focused. Breath sharp.
Snap! Snap! SNAP!
The beasts gave chase—agile, heavy-footed. Faster than him. Smarter.
"I can't outrun them… I just need one second. Just one chance."
He dove behind a tree, scooping mud, smearing it on his skin, his face, his arms.
His breath slowed. His heartbeat raged.
Snap.
A twig cracked behind him.
"It's toying with me. It knows."
He broke into a sprint again. But when he turned to look—
His eyes widened. His heart screamed.
Towering above the trees… a direwolf.
Twelve feet tall. Blood-red eyes. A snarl sharp enough to slice fear into bone.
Muscles like steel cables. Breath steaming with hunger.
"My heartbeat's out of control… I need to focus! Breathe!"
He kept running. Up ahead—a fallen tree.
He slid under it as the wolf lunged, splintering the trunk with its jaws.
Mud caught his step. He fell.
Claws lashed out—barely missing his skull as he rolled.
"Think, dammit! THINK!"
A jagged rock. A thin tree. A flash of inspiration.
He slashed at the tree with full force—
THWACK!
The sword stuck. He twisted with it, redirecting his momentum—
But too late.
The direwolf leapt.
In that moment, a thousand thoughts screamed at him to run.
Anything—anything—but die here.
But Alex didn't flinch.
He gripped his sword tighter, forced his breath deep into his gut. Smoke hissed out of his skin—dragon mist, thin and subtle. The direwolf blinked, confused.
That was enough.
His body moved—faster, stronger, sharper.
He launched upward with raw force, driving his blade straight into the beast's skull.
CRACK.
The forest fell silent.
Blood dripped. Mist curled.
Alex trembled beneath the beast's weight, gasping, heart pounding like war drums.
He shoved the body off and crawled free, coated in blood and grime. His hands gripped the sword again—tight, like it was the only real thing left.
He summoned golden flame. It danced in his palm.
He scorched the direwolf's flesh.
It didn't burn.
"It's pure meat… shit."
He darted to a nearby tree, tore off large leaves, and sprinted back. His blade went to work—cutting muscle from the legs and neck with swift, clean strokes. He wrapped the meat in leaves, packed it in wet mud, and sealed it tight inside his infinity pocket.
Then he moved to the fur. Thick. Coarse. Warm.
He hacked it off in sheets, then carefully removed the skull—bloody but intact.
Gwen's voice echoed in his mind:
"Don't waste fire. Shape it. Use it."
He lit the blue flame again—slow, patient. He roasted the best cuts over the direwolf's hide, then scorched the inside of the skull to sterilize it.
All of it went into the infinity pocket.
"Now I understand why Grandpa made me wear all those dark, ugly clothes.
Damn old man always plans ten steps ahead…"
He glanced around.
The forest wasn't done hunting.
"I need shelter. Before the next thing finds me."
And with that, he disappeared into the mist—sword in hand, heart still racing, one kill behind him… and who knows how many more ahead.
Alex took a deep breath, recalling Marvick's survival class like a whisper in the wind:
"First: Find food. Second: Understand the land. Third: Secure shelter. Last: Plan your escape."
He muttered to himself, half-amused, half-serious:
"Thanks for the direwolf meat, forest gods. Now it's time to explore this green hell…"
He reached into his infinity pocket, pulling out the clothes they'd packed.
Gone were the bloodstained rags. He slipped into a pair of dark cargo pants and a black t-shirt. A worn leather jacket followed—tight, protective, perfect for combat. He yanked off his flippers and slipped on sturdy combat shoes. Then, with a flick of golden flame, he incinerated the old clothes and melted the tracks away.
"No trail. No scent. Nothing for predators to sniff out."
He drew his sword and began marking trees with thin, clean cuts—his breadcrumb trail. Each step he took was calculated, deliberate, until the forest began to open.
Suddenly, his foot hit something strange. The ground felt… flattened. Scarred.
He knelt, examining the area. Massive tracks curved along the earth—wide as logs, deep as pits, slicing through trees like a scythe.
"What the hell made these?" he whispered, eyes narrowing. "Too big for a direwolf… and it didn't walk—it slithered or dragged itself."
He crossed the path quickly, alert now, blade half-drawn. After scaling a small ridge on the other side, he started running—fast.
Night crept in slowly.
Alex checked his pocket watch:
"Landed around 6:30… these shadows started falling by 7:20. That means I have one hour of light."
He found a tall, hollowed tree and started chopping thin wood panels from nearby bark. He shaped them into a makeshift door, wedged it into the tree's opening, and sealed both edges with leafy mud. A camouflage nest.
By the time he looked up, the forest was cloaked in darkness.
He checked the time again.
One hour.
The air was cold, sharp. Twigs crackled beneath his boots as he gathered dry sticks. In a small pit beside the shelter, he lit a controlled fire and started roasting the direwolf meat.
While the scent cooked into the air, Alex sat with his back to the tree, flipping open one of the ancient books he'd taken from Heaven.
"Now's not the time to whine. Now's the time to rise."
The leather cover read:
"Magiswordsmanship: The Forgotten Arts."
By firelight, he began to read—page after page—soaking in every drop of knowledge about mana, magic basics, and the ancient discipline that combined swordplay and spellcraft.
The flames crackled.
The night deepened.
And Alex studied—not just to survive...
But to conquer.
✅ Only fixed what you asked. Let me know if you want polishing next (tone, pacing, structure).