Christopher collapsed onto the grass, sitting down as he let out a huge sigh of relief. Sweat clung to his skin, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm the adrenaline still rushing through his system.
"Holy crap… usually I wouldn't be this nervous."
He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground, his voice quiet and breathy.
"But now that I actually know what it feels like almost dying?"
"Never again."
He muttered that last part like a personal oath — directed at no one in particular but the earth itself. Because seriously, who in their right mind would want to experience that again?
As the tension finally drained from his limbs, he slowly stood back up. His legs still trembled slightly, but he forced them to cooperate. Tilting his head up, he tried to spot the sky — but the thick canopy above blocked most of it, filtering the sunlight into muted rays of gold.
"Well… time to continue."
And he did.
For the next five hours, Christopher kept moving.
He stayed cautious, alert, careful not to repeat the same reckless mistakes as before. And surprisingly enough, luck seemed to be on his side this time. No high-ranking threats, no sudden ambushes. Just a scattered mix of rat bunnies and the occasional Thornback Stag.
The rat bunnies weren't even worth the effort. Too small, too low-tier, and too light to haul back without a proper sack. The stags, though? Much better. Their antlers alone held value — especially after the poison faded post-mortem.
With the venom gone, the antlers were easy to handle and didn't require protective equipment. A win in every way.
"I think I just destroyed an entire ecosystem," Christopher said casually, lounging against a thick tree trunk. His voice was flat, mildly sarcastic, like he wasn't entirely joking.
He was still close to the border — deliberately so. He wasn't ready to head deeper into the Ashen Forest just yet. That was suicide, and even he wasn't that stupid.
"Do beasts even have an ecosystem?" he muttered.
A blue panel popped up in response.
[Yes]
"…Good to know."
He blinked at the notification, then shrugged it off. Not his problem. Not yet, anyway.
He'd tied all the antlers together with spare rope and string from his supply kit, wearing them slung across his shoulders like some tribal warrior. It wasn't the most elegant solution, but it worked. Now he could carry a decent haul back to the city and sell them — even if it made him look borderline insane in the process.
As he looked up through the leaves, he noticed the sun shifting overhead. The light was warmer now, more direct — noon had come and gone. Morning was officially over, and with it, the last of his energy reserves.
His stomach growled.
"I'm starving…"
But with the sheer number of antlers hanging off him?
A proper meal was finally within reach.
"Finally, I don't have to live off scraps that vaguely qualify as food."
...
Arcanum's Capital — Castian City: Hub of Magic
The entire city was filled with people — streets bustling with all kinds of movement. Steam-powered machinery rolled along the concrete paths, gears turning, pipes hissing, and runic signs glowing faintly with mana-infused energy.
Airships floated lazily above the skyline, tethered to dock towers as they delivered goods and passengers. Magical constructs — mostly humanoid, some animal-shaped — patrolled the main roads, keeping order with silent, automatic precision.
The advancement of magic had naturally led to the advancement of technology. It was a fusion of arcane theory and engineering genius, a balance between spellwork and science.
That's what made Arcanum stand apart. Among the continent's three major nations, it stood as the most advanced — in both magic and technology. A land where even streetlamps glowed with arcane energy, and elevators floated on magic circles instead of cables.
And that kind of progress?
Came with a price.
Living expenses here were brutal — especially in the capital. Everything from food to housing cost more than the average arcanist could comfortably afford.
For someone like Christopher — manaless, with no formal background, and no family support — survival in this city wasn't just difficult. It was damn near impossible.
Until now.
…
Castian City — Mage's Guild, Front Counter
"Here's my haul."
Christopher dumped the collection of antlers onto the front counter with a loud thud, drawing attention from nearly every person nearby. A few glanced his way and then quickly looked again, confused — and maybe a little concerned.
He ignored the stares and began untangling the strings tying the antlers together. His expression was calm, maybe even a little smug.
"I think there should be at least forty antlers."
The receptionist, a young man with round glasses and neatly combed hair, froze mid-motion. His hand hovered above the ledger as he stared at the pile.
"…Wait. Aren't you the guy who's supposed to be manaless?"
"Yes?" Christopher replied, blinking slowly.
The receptionist leaned forward, eyes wide. "How the hell did you get this much?! Did you… fistfight them or something?!"
"Yes."
His response was deadpan. Unchanging. Completely serious.
The receptionist paused for a full two seconds, processing that.
"…Seriously?"
Christopher didn't elaborate. He just crossed his arms and waited, letting the silence do the talking. While he wasn't against showing off, he wasn't about to reveal everything just yet.
Especially not here. Not now.
He wanted his grand debut to be at the academy's entrance exam — a spectacle that would leave no room for doubt.
Reluctantly, the receptionist began weighing and counting the antlers. After a few minutes, the trade was complete.
Christopher walked away with enough coins to last him three weeks.
"So this is what it feels like to actually live," he muttered with a soft laugh, eyes glinting with satisfaction.
No more sleeping on an empty stomach. No more barely surviving.
For the first time in ages, he felt… stable.
THUD.
Someone bumped into him from behind, hard enough to jostle his balance.
"Hey—what was that about?!"
Christopher turned, annoyed, only to come face to face with someone very familiar.
"Oh, sorry," the boy replied casually. "I didn't sense you because of your lack of mana."
Tristan Augustus.
The youngest of the Augustus siblings.
Also the most obnoxious.
He was technically weaker than the rest of his family — but still stronger than Christopher, simply because he had mana.
And he never let Christopher forget it.
"Oh please," Christopher snapped back. "Like someone as weak as you has the right to brag."
Tristan didn't bite. He just offered a smug little smirk and shrugged. "Whatever you say, pal."
Christopher scowled. "Show some respect to your eldest brother, brat."
"Whatever, old man."
Tristan waved over his shoulder and strolled off like it was nothing.
'I'm barely past twenty, this bastard…!' Christopher growled inwardly.
But he didn't dwell on it too long. There were more important things to do.
Like getting back to his dorm, grabbing a hot meal from the cafeteria, and diving back into his experiments and training.
The journey wasn't over yet.
But for the first time, it actually felt like progress.