With stiff, aching limbs, Traebus slung his spear over his shoulder and began his march downriver. His boots pressed into the damp earth, each step sinking slightly into the softened ground as he followed the steady current. The jungle stretched endlessly on either side, towering trees draped in vines, their massive roots clawing through the soil like grasping fingers. The early morning air was thick with humidity, the scent of damp foliage mingling with the ever-present earthy musk of untouched wilderness.
Every few minutes, he paused to listen, scanning the tree line for movement. The jungle never truly fell silent, but he was beginning to learn the difference between its natural noises and the ones that spelled trouble. A distant screech sent a shiver up his spine, but it was too far to be an immediate concern—probably. He kept moving, shaking off the paranoia that gnawed at the edges of his exhaustion.
His stomach grumbled loudly, and he groaned. "Right, add food to the list. And water. And maybe something resembling shelter before nightfall, because I am not pulling another all-nighter with some toothy nightmare watching me sleep."
As he continued along the river’s edge, he kept his eyes peeled for anything useful—caves, elevated ground, even a thick-walled thicket that could serve as a temporary fort. The enclosed bend of the river where he had camped had been better than nothing, but last night’s attack made it painfully clear that ‘better than nothing’ wasn’t good enough. The dense jungle behind him offered too many blind spots, the river in front cut off one escape route, and the only viable exits were just as open to predators as they were to him.
He needed somewhere defensible. High ground, ideally—somewhere he could see threats coming before they were breathing down his neck. A rock overhang, maybe, or a ridgeline with a clear drop-off that kept anything from sneaking up on him from all directions. Anything that didn’t feel like he was just waiting for the next set of claws and teeth to find him in his sleep.
He scanned the rising slopes deeper into the jungle, the way the trees twisted over uneven ridges, forming natural barriers of tangled roots and stone. There had to be something better up there. He just had to find it before nightfall.
But the thought of leaving the river gnawed at him. Water meant survival—not just for him, but for everything else in this prehistoric nightmare of a world. If there was civilization, it would be near the water. If there was food, it would come to drink. And if there were predators, well… at least he’d see them coming. Probably.
He hesitated, glancing between the winding river and the jungle beyond. Moving inland meant more cover, more chances to hide, but it also meant sacrificing one of the few reliable resources he had. "Great. Risk dehydration or risk becoming a snack in the underbrush," he muttered. "Choices, choices."
Still, the river bend had been too open, too exposed. He couldn’t afford another night like the last one. If he wanted to survive, he needed to find a compromise—somewhere with elevation and access to water. His best bet was to keep following the current until he found something that wasn’t just a glorified dinner plate waiting for its next occupant.
The journey downriver stretched into days, each one blurring into the next as Traebus pressed forward, keeping to the banks and scanning both the jungle and the water for anything remotely useful. The sun beat down on him relentlessly, making the already thick humidity feel suffocating, and the nights were no better—filled with sounds of distant roars, guttural calls, and the ever-present rustling of unseen creatures.
Survival became a routine of necessity. He scavenged what he could from the riverbanks, pulling up edible roots that he thought he recognized from his limited knowledge, testing small pieces on his tongue before committing to eating them outright. Some were bitter, others starchy, but none of them killed him, so he counted that as a win. Fishing was a different matter entirely. His spear, while great for stabbing things that attacked him, proved less effective at catching slippery, darting fish in the shallows. After several failed attempts and a few choice expletives, he resorted to making makeshift traps from branches and vines, using the river’s own flow to funnel the fish into a confined space.
It worked—eventually.
Each morning, he checked the traps, occasionally finding small, unfamiliar fish that at least looked edible. Cooking them over an open fire was another challenge, as his unreliable magic often meant that a ‘controlled flame’ could just as easily turn into a fireball. He spent one particularly miserable evening scraping charred fish off a rock after one such miscalculation, muttering about how magic was supposed to help, not make everything worse.
The farther he traveled, the more life he saw. Enormous, lumbering beasts—some herbivorous, some very much not—roamed the riverbanks, moving in slow, deliberate herds. Thick-bodied creatures with plated backs waded into the water to drink, their tails swishing lazily behind them, while smaller, quick-footed predators prowled the edges, watching and waiting. The sheer variety was overwhelming.
"So this is what happens when nature doesn’t get reset every few millennia," Traebus muttered to himself as he crouched behind a fallen log, observing a group of bipedal, duck-billed creatures grazing near the water. "It just keeps making things bigger, weirder, and significantly more capable of ruining my day."
Despite the danger, there was something almost awe-inspiring about it. This world was wild, untamed in a way that nothing he’d ever seen before had been. It was like stepping into a living fossil record, where every predator and prey still fought the same primal war they had millions of years ago.
But wonder didn’t change the fact that he still needed somewhere safe to sleep. And soon.
On the fourth day of his relentless trek downriver, Traebus felt the shift before he saw it. The landscape had been changing subtly—wider clearings along the banks, more open sky above the trees, fewer jagged outcroppings hemming him in. But then, as he rounded a bend, the shift became unmistakable.
The jungle on either side fell away, replaced by an immense widening of the river. It was no longer the steady, narrow path he had followed for days; now it stretched wide, vast, almost lake-like in its size. The current slowed to a sluggish crawl, its deep, glassy surface reflecting the rich hues of the setting sun. Here and there, unseen creatures stirred the water, sending ripples outward in lazy spirals. A few small, long-necked creatures waded near the shallows, dipping their heads beneath the surface before lifting them again, droplets cascading from their elongated jaws.
But what truly caught his attention lay at the river’s center. Rising defiantly from the water was a small island, its heart dominated by towering rock formations that clawed at the sky like ancient ruins. The spires stood at odd angles, their surfaces streaked with moss and vines, half-swallowed by the relentless embrace of nature. Between them, dense vegetation flourished—thick undergrowth, tangled trees, and even glimpses of what looked like fruit-bearing plants.
More than anything, it was defensible. The island was a fortress sculpted by nature, its jagged cliffs rising high above the water like sentinels guarding an ancient secret. The sheer rock faces would make it nearly impossible for large predators to scale, and the few sloping inclines that led up to the more vegetated areas were narrow, bottlenecking any potential threats into predictable paths. Thick-rooted trees clung to the craggy surfaces, their branches stretching outward like twisted arms, providing both cover and vantage points.
Between the towering formations, the land itself was uneven but rich—lush greenery thrived in the pockets of soil trapped between the stone. Ferns and broad-leafed plants curled around boulders, and at least from a distance, Traebus thought he could make out fruit-bearing growths nestled among the foliage. That was promising. If he could find a way up, this place had everything he needed: high ground, limited entry points, and potential food sources.
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The best part? The river itself acted as a moat. Anything that wanted to get to him would have to swim, and while some creatures might be willing to make the effort, he doubted everything out here was keen on deep water.
Traebus exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he studied the imposing rock formations. His fingers tightened around his spear, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, if I’m going to survive in a land of monsters, I might as well do it with a dramatic backdrop. Welcome home, me."
That is, if he could actually get there.
Traebus scanned the widened stretch of the river, eyes narrowing at the deceptively calm surface. The water was deep here, likely riddled with unseen currents, and he had no idea what else might be lurking beneath. He needed a plan—something smarter than just wading in and hoping for the best.
"Alright, brain, now would be a great time to contribute something useful," he muttered, rubbing his chin. Swimming across wasn’t ideal. If the water was deep enough for those long-necked creatures, then it was deep enough for something with a lot of teeth. Maybe he could find some driftwood, fashion a crude raft—
A ripple spread across the water. Then another. Bigger this time.
A large, dark mass glided just beneath the surface, too long, too sinuous to be a simple fish. Traebus felt every muscle in his body go rigid as he took an instinctive step back. That’s not a log.
The shape slowed, then shifted course—toward him.
“Oh, hell no.”
With a burst of movement, the water exploded as a massive, armored reptile lunged from the depths, jaws snapping shut with a thunderous crack right where he had been standing mere seconds before. Traebus had already thrown himself backward, landing hard on the muddy riverbank as the beast—easily twice the size of any crocodile he had ever seen—thrashed, its thick tail sending a wave of water surging over the shore.
Scrambling to his feet, Traebus didn’t wait to see if it would try again. "Okay! Okay! New plan! Rafts are stupid! Rafts are very stupid!" He turned and sprinted back from the water’s edge, breathing heavily as the enormous creature sank back beneath the surface, disappearing as quickly as it had come.
He gulped down air, hands on his knees, trying to stop his heart from clawing its way out of his chest. "Alright. So… swimming is off the table."
Still catching his breath, Traebus turned his gaze back to the river, this time less with hope and more with simmering frustration. If he couldn''t swim across, and a raft was just an invitation for the local wildlife to flip him over and devour him like a midday snack, then he had one option left.
Magic.
He flexed his fingers, staring down at his gauntlet. The device had been little more than dead weight lately, but if he could just figure out how to properly channel the chaotic energy of this world, maybe—just maybe—he could make it do something useful for once. A water-walking spell wouldn’t be impossible. The principles were simple enough: create a field of repelling force beneath his feet, keep the mana steady, and run like hell.
Of course, given his track record, it was just as likely he’d either sink like a rock or blast himself into the sky, but at this point, he was running out of options.
"Alright, gauntlet," he muttered, shaking out his hands. "It’s you and me. Either you work, or I get a very short, very violent lesson in why hubris kills. Let’s dance."
He needed a place to work, somewhere shaded and stable where he could disassemble the gauntlet without the sun blinding him or sweat dripping into the delicate components. His eyes scanned the jungle lining the riverbank until they settled on a massive tree, its gnarled roots twisting outward like a natural alcove. The thick canopy above provided ample shade, and the ground beneath it was soft but not muddy—good enough.
Traebus made his way over, settling himself between two of the tree’s thick roots before shrugging off his gauntlet and laying it across his lap. He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, let’s see if I can fix you before I break something else."
He turned the gauntlet over in his hands, its once-polished surface now covered in scratches and dried mud. The seams where metal met leather had started to fray, and the etched runes flickered dimly, barely clinging to life. With no proper tools, he had to make do—prying the panel open with a sliver of sharpened stone and carefully pulling out the ruined mana conduits with his fingers. The wiring inside was a mess of burnt filaments and cracked focusing nodes, remnants of his past failures.
"Yeah… that’s not ideal," he muttered, poking at a particularly fried connection. "Honestly, I’m amazed this thing hasn’t just disintegrated out of sheer spite."
One by one, he examined each component, trying to salvage what he could. He needed the gauntlet to function, even if it was barely holding together. If he could realign the conduits, reinforce the mana channeling pathways, and somehow get it to accept this world’s wild magic without shorting out… maybe, just maybe, he could pull off a miracle.
His gaze drifted to the mana gem embedded in the gauntlet. It was dull now, lifeless, its once brilliant glow reduced to nothing more than a cloudy sheen. He ran a thumb over its surface, feeling the fine cracks that marred the stone.
And then it hit him.
The gauntlet wasn’t just malfunctioning because it was damaged—it was rejecting the mana of this world. It had been attuned to the structured, refined magic from his world, and now it was trying to process something far more primal, raw, and untamed. It wasn’t a matter of fixing broken parts; it was a matter of recalibrating the entire system to accept a new kind of energy.
Traebus let out a slow, stunned breath. "Huh… I’ve been trying to shove a square peg into a round hole this whole time. No wonder it keeps trying to kill me."
The realization sent a jolt of excitement through him. If he could reattune the mana gem—sync it with the strange energy of this world—then maybe he wouldn’t have to brute-force his spells anymore. Maybe, for the first time since waking up in this prehistoric nightmare, he could actually make his magic work the way it was supposed to.
Determined, Traebus took a deep breath and gripped the mana gem tightly. If this was going to work, he needed to force the gem to accept the wild energy around him. He closed his eyes and reached inward, drawing on the ambient mana of this world, letting it surge through him and into the stone.
The response was immediate—and excruciating.
A jolt of searing pain lanced up his arm, like molten fire coursing through his veins. The gem resisted, flickering violently between dim and bright, its surface vibrating in protest. Traebus clenched his teeth, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he forced himself to hold on. His muscles spasmed, his vision blurred, but he refused to let go.
"C-Come on, you stubborn piece of—!" he growled through gritted teeth.
The wild energy pushed back, a roiling tide of untamed force that lashed through his body like a live current. It didn’t just resist—it fought, clawing at his senses, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out. His muscles seized, his veins felt like they were burning, and a sharp ringing built in his ears as his body rebelled against the surge. His grip on the gauntlet tightened involuntarily, his knuckles going white as he tried to force the alien mana into alignment, to mold it into something he could control.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision narrowing as the world blurred into streaks of color. The gem pulsed wildly, its surface flickering between a deep crimson and an unstable, fractured white. The pressure in his skull was unbearable, his bones felt like they were vibrating, and just when he thought his body would give out completely—
The gem shifted.
Like a key finally turning in a stubborn lock, something inside the stone clicked. The chaotic surges settled into rhythmic pulses, slower, steadier, and then—
The light stabilized. The gem darkened to a molten red, like iron fresh from the forge, and the wild mana that had fought him so viciously now coursed through his veins with a strange, primal resonance. It wasn’t fully under control, not yet, but it no longer rejected him outright. It had finally acknowledged him.
Traebus gasped, sucking in a breath as the pain dulled to a simmering burn. His arm still ached, his head pounded, but he could feel it now—the mana bending, responding, not perfectly, but enough.
He let out a weak, triumphant chuckle, slumping back against the tree, feeling like he had just gone three rounds with an angry thunderstorm. "Well… that sucked in ways I didn’t even know were possible," he muttered, staring at the now glowing gem. It pulsed a dull red, still hot to the touch, a reminder that he had nearly incinerated himself in the name of progress.
He flexed his fingers, wincing at the residual sting. "So that’s what attunement feels like. Fantastic. If I ever want to experience pure agony again, I’ll just swallow a handful of broken glass and call it a day."
His eyes traced the mana gem’s dim glow, and despite everything, a small smirk pulled at his lips. "Still… it worked. Which means I might actually survive long enough to die in some other spectacularly stupid way. Ok, time to pull a demi-god and walk on water.”