The final, blinding flash of the teleportation circle consumed Tyler, a violent kaleidoscope of light and sensation. His stomach lurched, his equilibrium shattered, and for a fleeting, disorienting moment, he felt utterly untethered from reality, adrift in an abstract vortex of pure mana. Then, as abruptly as it began, the sensation ceased. The light receded, and the world reformed, slowly at first, then snapping into sharp focus.He blinked, once, twice, allowing his eyes to adjust. The air that filled his lungs was crisp and clean, carrying the faint, bracing scent of salt and unknown foliage, utterly devoid of the city's complex, often stale, magical aromas. Gone were the towering spires and intricate, glowing streetlamps of Oyucuria.
Gone were the familiar, oppressive confines of his gilded cage.Instead, he stood on what appeared to be the edge of an immense body of water. To his left, stretching out further than his eye could perceive, lay a vast, shimmering expanse of cerulean blue. It was so wide, so seemingly boundless, that it eclipsed the horizon itself. He could not discern the opposite shore, no matter how he squinted, making it appear less like a lake and more like a true, limitless ocean. The gentle murmur of distant waves washing ashore was a constant, soothing rhythm, utterly alien to the confined sounds of the city.To his right, a verdant, rolling meadow unfolded, its grasses a deep, vibrant green, swaying gently in a nascent breeze.
It stretched for what looked like miles, interspersed with clusters of wildflowers in hues of violet, gold, and crimson, their petals still dewy from the night. Further south, where the meadow began to transition, he saw the deep, imposing silhouette of a heavily dense forest. Its trees, ancient and colossal, stood shoulder to shoulder, their canopies so thick that the ground beneath them must surely be cloaked in perpetual twilight. A river, wide and slow-moving, meandered through the meadow, its banks verdant and lush, eventually spilling its waters into the immense ocean. The forest flanked both sides of this river, forming twin, impenetrable walls of nature.Tyler's gaze drifted northward, towards the distant, jagged peaks of what appeared to be a vast mountain range. Their summits were shrouded in a faint, ethereal mist, hinting at heights that pierced the very clouds. And painting the eastern sky, directly before him, was the burgeoning glory of an early dawn. Streaks of fiery orange, soft rose, and nascent gold bled across the horizon, pushing back the lingering indigo of night.
The sun itself, a nascent disc of brilliant light, was just beginning to peek over the distant water, casting long, dramatic shadows across the landscape.Tyler stood there for a long moment, the small wooden carriage he had pulled through the magic circle now resting silently beside him, his enchanted skateboard still slung across his back. He took another deep, shuddering breath, filling his lungs with the clean, untainted air.Then, a low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest, a sound he hadn't made in years. It started as a choked sob, then morphed into a disbelieving chuckle, and finally, bloomed into a full, unrestrained laugh. He laughed, a raw, almost desperate sound that echoed across the open expanse. He wasn't laughing from joy, not exactly, but from a profound, overwhelming sense of liberation. He tipped his head back, letting the nascent light of dawn bathe his face, and simply kept laughing."Free," he whispered, the word tasting strange and foreign on his tongue. "I'm actually free."He dropped the carriage handle, letting it clatter softly against the dewy grass. Then, without a care for dust or damp, he laid down on the grassy meadow field, spreading his arms wide, feeling the cool, soft blades against his cheek. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of the earth beneath him, the vast, open sky above. Gone were the cruel stares, the hateful remarks, the suffocating presence of his family. He was so, so very far away. The thought brought a surge of relief so potent it made his chest ache. For the first time in his memory, he felt truly alone, and in that solitude, he found a fragile, nascent peace.
The sun, now fully risen, painted the landscape in vibrant, golden hues. Its warmth on his face stirred Tyler from his brief respite. He stretched, feeling the satisfying pop of joints and the lingering fatigue in his muscles from the emotional ordeal. Survival, he knew, was not a luxury he could ignore for long."Well, the day is early," he murmured to himself, his voice sounding strange in the vast silence. "It's best I start to look for a place to settle down."He rose, stretching his limbs, and pulled his small wooden carriage behind him. He surveyed the expansive landscape once more, his mind, honed by years of parkour, instantly analyzing the terrain for strategic advantages. He knew nothing of this land, its dangers, or its resources, so caution was paramount.His gaze fell upon a large, gently sloping hill rising prominently from the meadow, its summit offering a commanding view of the surrounding area. It wasn't a mountain, but it was certainly elevated. He walked towards it, his boots crunching softly on the dew-kissed grass. As he began to ascend, his thoughts raced, weighing the pros and cons of such a location."High ground," he reasoned aloud, his voice gaining a confident edge as he mentally ticked off points.
"Good visibility. Can see anything coming from the forest or across the plains." He paused, reaching the crest of the hill, the wind whipping his hair. "And," he continued, gesturing towards the vast ocean, "in case of any possible flooding, I wouldn't be affected. I'd be well above any rising waters." This foresight was crucial, a pragmatic decision born from a life where he'd always had to think ahead, to anticipate potential failures or threats.He looked back towards the dense forest. "I'm a far enough distance from the forest," he calculated, his gaze piercing the shadowy depths of the tree line. "So if anything dangerous lived in it, it wouldn't be too close. Give me some reaction time, maybe." His training in parkour, which emphasized situational awareness and escape routes, instinctively kicked in. He wasn't a fighter, but he knew how to avoid a fight. "And," he concluded, turning towards the shimmering ocean, "I'm still close enough to the waters so I could fish." Access to fresh water and food was paramount.
This hill, he decided, was as good a spot as any, a strategic point for a long-term base.His first task was to secure his temporary camp. He unhitched his carriage, positioning it carefully on a relatively flat patch near the hill's summit. From the carriage, he meticulously pulled out the stakes, ropes, and thick canvas flaps Zach had packed. He began to work with a practiced efficiency, using the heavy stakes as anchors, driving them deep into the soil with a sturdy rock he found nearby. He strung the ropes, pulling the canvas taut, creating a large, durable tent around the carriage. This wasn't just for privacy; it was to protect it from possible rainstorms or sudden gusts of wind, and perhaps even to offer a rudimentary barrier against smaller curious creatures. He made sure to put stakes between each wheel of the carriage, digging them firmly into the earth so the carriage didn't accidentally roll down the hill in his sleep or if a strong gust of wind caught it. His movements were precise, economical, a testament to his physical discipline and self-reliance.With his temporary shelter secured, Tyler turned his attention to sustenance. He unpacked the farming tools Zach had given him, their faint magical shimmer a subtle comfort. He knew nothing of farming, absolutely nothing. His life had been spent navigating manor halls and city rooftops, not tilling soil. But he was alive, and if he wanted to stay that way, he had to learn.He grabbed his enchanted skateboard from where it rested against the carriage.
The feel of the wood and metal, now infused with Zach's powerful magic, was reassuringly solid beneath his fingers. He decided on an experiment, a practical application of his limited knowledge and abundant caution.He began by surveying the flat expanse of the hilltop. He wanted to build a large house here, eventually, but for now, he needed food. He marked out a rectangular patch of earth, about ten paces from his tent, far enough to avoid disturbing his sleeping area. Taking the small shovel Zach had provided, he began to dig. The slight enchantment on the shovel was immediately apparent; the earth, though firm, yielded with surprising ease. He toiled under the rising sun, the rhythmic clang of the shovel against soil, the exertion a welcome distraction from his thoughts. He broke up clods of earth, turning the rich, dark soil, until he had prepared a generous plot. From his seed chest, he carefully extracted packets of carrot, lettuce, and tomato seeds. He read the crude instructions written on the packets (courtesy of Zach, no doubt), and with painstaking care, he planted the tiny seeds, burying them gently, hoping they would take root.
This was his first farm, his hilltop farm.Once finished, he picked up his skateboard. The enchanted wheels hummed softly as he set it down. He pushed off, a practiced motion, and the board glided smoothly down the gentle slope of the hill. The subtle path alteration enchantment was immediately noticeable; small bumps and stray stones that would have sent a normal board skittering were simply smoothed over, the board passing over them as if they didn't exist. He felt a thrill of exhilaration, the wind in his hair, the ground flowing effortlessly beneath him. It was a sensation of pure, unadulterated freedom. He loved it.He rode across the meadow, towards the ocean, until he found another suitable flat area, closer to the river's edge, but still safely above the immediate bank. Here, he repeated the process, digging, toiling, and planting the same trio of carrot, lettuce, and tomato seeds.
This would be his second farm, his plain meadow farm. "Best to test it out," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "See which area would be best for farming. On the hill or on the plain meadows near the ocean." He wasn't a farmer, not by any stretch of the imagination, so this was all an entirely new, daunting, but necessary challenge.With both farms established, albeit crudely, Tyler's next priority was reconnaissance. He needed to understand the lay of the land, especially the imposing forest. It was a vast, unknown entity, a potential source of both resources and danger.He returned to his skateboard, feeling its familiar weight and balance. He pushed off, carving smooth arcs across the meadow, heading directly towards the looming green wall of the forest. As he skated closer, the air grew cooler, imbued with the damp, earthy scent of ancient trees and decaying leaves. The sunlight, once bright and pervasive, began to dim, filtered by the thick canopy above.He slowed, eventually stepping off his board as the ground grew too uneven for even its enchantments to completely negate. He held the board loosely in one hand, ready to use it as a makeshift club if necessary. His eyes scanned the undergrowth, his ears alert for any unusual sounds. His parkour training had taught him to observe, to be aware of his surroundings, to identify potential threats or escape routes.
He moved cautiously, one foot in front of the other, every sense heightened.As he ventured deeper, a familiar sight caught his eye: an apple tree. Its branches hung low, heavy with ripe, crimson fruit, a splash of vibrant color in the muted greens and browns of the forest. His stomach rumbled; he hadn't eaten anything substantial since the meager breakfast Zach had packed him. He reached up, plucked a few of the apples, their skin cool and smooth beneath his fingers. He bit into one, the sweet, tart juice bursting onto his tongue, a taste of simple, honest sustenance.But as he savored the fruit, a faint sound reached his ears: a soft, almost imperceptible whining and whimpering. It was low, weak, and filled with an undeniable note of distress.
Tyler instantly went on guard. His hand tightened on his skateboard, holding it ready. His mind raced, recalling the countless stories Zach had told him about forest creatures, some benevolent, many fiercely territorial, others outright predatory. He had no illusions about his own vulnerability. Was it a trap? A decoy? His ingrained distrust, honed by years of betrayal, made him wary.He moved slowly, cautiously, towards the sound, his steps light, barely disturbing the fallen leaves. He pushed aside a curtain of dense ferns, and there, partially hidden beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, was the source of the distress.It was a wolf. But not a large, imposing beast. This was a female, her fur matted and dull, her body shockingly thin, ribs starkly visible beneath her coat.
A wide, dark stain of blood soaked the ground beneath her hindquarters. She lay on her side, panting weakly, her eyes glazed with pain and exhaustion. Her head was barely lifted, her gaze fixed on something beneath her, a piteous whimper escaping her throat.Tyler cautiously moved around, circling the scene, keeping his distance, looking for any other wolves, any hidden dangers. He saw none. He then shifted his focus to the wolf itself. It became agonizingly clear. The wolf was trying to deliver a pup, but her strength was failing. Her flanks convulsed weakly, and the faint, struggling whimpers were coming from a tiny, still-partially-encased form trapped in the birth canal. The mother wolf was simply too malnourished, too weak, to complete the birth. Her eyes, though clouded with pain, held a desperate, maternal plea.Tyler felt a profound pang of pity. He was, by nature, not cruel, despite the hardness the world had tried to force upon him. The sight of a life struggling, dying, while trying to bring another into existence, stirred something deep within him. He felt a wave of slight disgust at the sight of the blood, the raw, visceral reality of birth in the wild, but his empathy outweighed it.Approaching slowly, speaking in a low, soothing murmur he barely knew he possessed, he knelt beside the suffering animal.
The mother wolf gave a weak snarl, a final, futile attempt at warning him off, but her body was too spent. Tyler gently placed his skateboard on the ground beside him. He tentatively reached out, his hand shaking slightly, his fingers trembling as they touched the warm, blood-slicked fur near the struggling pup."It's okay, girl," he whispered, his voice surprisingly steady. "I'm just going to help."With painstaking care, guided by a rudimentary understanding of animal biology he'd gleaned from forgotten books, and a powerful surge of desperate compassion, he began to help the momma wolf deliver her pup. He pulled gently, carefully, encouraging the weak contractions, his fingers slippery with fluids. The whimpering from the pup grew slightly stronger as it sensed his aid, a tiny, fragile life desperate to emerge. It felt like an eternity, the air thick with the scent of blood and earth, the mother wolf's ragged breathing filling his ears. Finally, with a last, desperate push from the mother, and a final, gentle tug from Tyler, the tiny, wet, squirming form of the puppy wolf slid free, landing softly on the blood-soaked grass.The pup immediately began to mewl, a thin, reedy cry for its mother. But the mother wolf did not respond. Tyler's job was done, the new life was here. He looked at the momma wolf. Her eyes, once clouded with pain, now looked utterly gone, distant and vacant. Her breathing sounded hard and wheezing, shallow, ragged gasps that shook her emaciated frame. Looking at all the blood pooling around her, a grim, crimson puddle, he knew.
He knew she was in great pain after the delivery, the final effort of bringing forth her young having completely drained her. But he also knew that all that blood loss meant there was no recovery. She would die, slowly, agonizingly, unable to even lick her new pup.A profound sorrow washed over Tyler, quickly followed by a grim, clear resolution. He had seen enough suffering. He had lived through enough pain. He would not let this creature linger. He thought of his own suffering, the mercy he had so rarely been shown. This was a different kind of mercy."I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with an emotion he couldn't name. It was a prayer, a final farewell to a life he had helped, and now, paradoxically, had to end.He reached down, his fingers closing around the smooth, enchanted wood of his skateboard. He lifted it, holding it firmly by the trucks, the edge of the board positioned precisely. He didn't hesitate. With a swift, decisive motion, he dropped it hard onto the wolf momma's neck, precisely where he knew it would be quick. There was a sickening, muffled crunch, a single, last gasp from the wolf, and then, mercifully, silence."May you rest in peace," Tyler said, his voice raw, as he stood over the still form. "I'll look after this pup."
He knelt, then gently, carefully, picked up the tiny, whimpering puppy wolf, cradling its fragile warmth in his hands. Its small body shivered, its tiny eyes still closed, instinctively burrowing into the warmth of his palm.It was at that precise moment, as Tyler held the fragile, mewling life he had just helped bring into the world, while simultaneously acknowledging the one he had mercifully ended, that an ethereal, bell-like chime echoed in his mind.
—Ding!—The sound was followed by a peculiar sensation, like a shimmering veil descending directly before his eyes. A digital, greenish screen materialized in the air, floating impossibly just inches from his face. It pulsed with a soft, internal light, and across its surface, glowing letters flickered into existence, accompanied by a shower of shimmering, transparent digital confetti that seemed to flutter, soundlessly, through the air around him."Congratulations! You have gained the Animakinesis System!"Tyler stared at the impossible sight, his mouth slightly agape.
Digital confetti? A floating screen? A system? His mind reeled. He didn't answer. He couldn't. He didn't know how to react. He didn't know what an "Animakinesis System" was, let alone how he, Tyler Mage, the boy utterly devoid of magic, had somehow acquired it. His life, which had just taken a turn for the desperately independent, had now twisted into something utterly, inexplicably supernatural. He simply stood there, holding the tiny, warm wolf pup, staring at the glowing, impossible words, a silent question screaming in his mind: What now?