The jungle no longer felt endless.
Leo moved through it with purpose.
Each step carried him farther from the cliffside that had once nearly claimed his life. His body flowed naturally over uneven terrain—roots, ravines, rivers—his movements efficient, economical. Danger still existed, but it no longer dominated his thoughts.
He hunted as he traveled.
Dinosaurs that once inspired fear now fell beneath precise spear thrusts and controlled bursts of internal energy. Beasts were dissected for materials, cores, bones, hides—nothing wasted. Each kill sharpened his judgment rather than inflating his confidence.
Over time, Leo realized something else had changed.
He could feel the world.
Not just sound or vibration—but presence.
A subtle awareness spread outward from his mind, faint but persistent, brushing against life like ripples in water.
"…So this is it," Leo murmured.
Divine Consciousness — Awakened
Spiritual perception extending beyond the physical body.
At his current state, his consciousness stretched roughly one hundred meters in every direction. Within that range, Leo could sense movement, hostility, and the vague strength of living beings.
It wasn't omniscience.
But it was survival.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks into months.
Leo traversed farther than he ever thought possible—over one hundred kilometers from the place where he had first opened his eyes in this world. The land changed gradually: denser forests gave way to rolling plains, stone formations rose like broken teeth from the earth, and unfamiliar creatures stalked the edges of his perception.
He honed his skills as he moved.
Rune casting improved through repetition.
Alchemy stabilized as formulas replaced guesswork.
Sound manipulation was used sparingly—too destructive if mishandled.
And always, his spirit refined itself.
Then one day—
Leo froze.
Within his divine consciousness, something unfamiliar stirred.
Not beasts.
Not predators.
People.
He approached cautiously, masking his presence, moving with the wind. From atop a rocky ridge, he finally saw them.
Humans.
Dozens of them.
They wore animal hides stitched crudely together, carried stone-tipped spears and clubs, their bodies marked with scars and ash. Fires burned at the center of a crude settlement made of wood frames and stretched hides.
A Neolithic tribe.
Barbarians—by any modern definition.
Leo touched his face unconsciously.
It was rough now. Weathered. Hardened by time, sun, and blood. Whatever resemblance he once had to a modern man was long gone.
"…I'm not alone anymore," he whispered.
For the first time since his transmigration, relief washed over him.
He didn't step forward.
Not yet.
He observed.
Learned their movements. Their hierarchy. Their hunting patterns. Their fears.
He was strong—but strength without understanding had nearly killed him once already.
Seasons passed.
Contact came slowly.
Cautious glances.
Shared hunts.
Mutual survival.
Leo did not reveal everything—but neither did he hide his humanity.
By the time a full year had passed since his arrival in this world, Leo had become something in-between.
Not a god.
Not a savage.
But a warrior refined by isolation, struggle, and restraint.
Standing at the edge of the tribe's territory, Leo looked out at the vast, dangerous world beyond.
"…This is only the beginning," he said quietly.
And somewhere far away—
Something ancient stirred.