《Stories told in a dream: The Tower of Trials》 Prologue: A street rat Thud! Two fists thrown right into a brick wall. It crumbles a bit onto the shoulder of the boy as he dodges to the side and then charges forward. The insectoid''s compound eyes flash a glint of contempt as it goes for a backhand with its pair of left arms. The boy lunges beneath the thing''s swing then rolls to the left, dodging the thing''s kick and throwing his entire body at his opponent. The insect, on one leg, loses its balance and slams its head hard against the wall. The boy''s eyes flush with bloodlust, but before he can do anything, a beastkin jocks him hard in the head. It laughs: "I can''t believe you would struggle with a mere street rat, Ant! How pathetic! How ''bout you keep boasting about that chitin armor of yours, yeah?" Still laughing, it picks the boy up by the scruff: "As for you, what should we do with you, hmm?" Cruel thoughts go through the thing''s head before it is interrupted by another voice: "Stop messing around with that thing, help Ant up, and let go, the boss is calling." The beastkin casually throws the boy like a sack of garbage, grumbling as he goes over to help the insectoid up: "Looks like today is your lucky day, vermin. Try not to die from blood loss, yeah?" Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The boy lays on the ground, slowly losing the feeling of the warm liquid on his head and the sound of hurried footsteps. Was he dying? Maybe he was just losing consciousness. He has lost consciousness before; will he live? Why is he living? What for? His train of thought runs slower with each random, pointless question before he is hit with a sudden burst of clarity and a question in a strange voice: "Would you like to try something new?" "Why not?" the boy answers before blacking out. Chapter 1: The Guide Welcome to the Tower
An introduction of the Tower Things you must do before you start your climb An introduction the first 10 floors "Arrgh," the boy grumbled as his consciousness returned with a nagging feeling urging him to pay attention. His closed eyes suddenly flew open at the realization that he was still alive¡ªthat he had survived another day. It brought him a momentary sense of triumph before the hateful dread of trying to survive the streets overtook his thoughts once more. The thought of stopping came up again, as it always does, yet he brushed it aside as usual. There was something about choosing to stop that just rubbed him the wrong way. He pulled himself up, blinking rapidly. "Green. Green?" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. Everywhere he looked, there was green¡ªan endless expanse of grass stretching as far as the eye could see. This wasn''t the streets... This wasn''t anything he had ever known. His mind struggled to process the sheer vastness and unfamiliarity of it all. The overwhelming sight, the vibrant green, the soft rustling of the grass¡ªit was too much. His thoughts jumbled, his brain crashed, leaving him in a state of stunned bewilderment. Welcome to the Tower
An introduction of the Tower Things you must do before you start your climb An introduction the first 10 floors That persistent sensation tugged at his mind again, breaking him out of his struggle to make sense of reality. "Not the streets" he mumbled. Then, where was he? As the initial overwhelm began to fade, he slowly calmed down, his senses starting to take in the world around him. He could feel the soft grass beneath his hand, a sensation so foreign yet comforting. The expected pain was absent, which was strange And that ever-present, greedy feeling of hunger was not here either... Where was he? What was this place? What happen to him? His thoughts darted around, trying to make sense of it all, but kept hitting a dead end. Welcome to the Tower
An introduction of the Tower Things you must do before you start your climb An introduction the first 10 floors It hit him again, that nagging feeling. Perhaps he is in the heaven that the kind old man keep talking about. It certainly fit the situation. No more pain, no more hunger though a bit lacking in light and higher being... Welcome to the Tower
An introduction of the Tower Things you must do before you start your climb An introduction the first 10 floors Ah that nagging feeling! Maybe that the higher being, he think as he try to focus on that feeling. A blue box jump out. His mind was in turmoil, struggling to grasp understanding once more. He is not seeing this box with his eyes yet it was vividly present in his mind, ever so steady so clear. So different from the other thought that is storming though to make sense of this box. It it just... surreal This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Welcome to the Tower
An introduction of the Tower Things you must do before you start your climb An introduction the first 10 floors Right, he should probably read it. "Welcome to the Tower?" Ha! So heaven isn¡¯t called heaven but the Tower... This place is not heaven "Ah!" he yelp in supprise. The box, it...it spoke to him, it read his mind and it spoke to him Yes, I have read your mind and answered your question. You can call me "Guide." Pleased to meet you. Now please read what I have prepared for you. "Umm, ok.. ah ''Guide''?" The things she prepare for him, let see. "An introduction of the Tower" The Tower is a series a challenges and trials that you will have to go though. There will be 100 floors to the Tower and a difficulty increase every 10 floors. You will not die in the Tower but should you feel unable to continue you can tell the ''Guide'' you give up. "So short?" I thought people with power love hearing themselves talk, especially when it come to bragging. Surely there is a lot more can be introduce about such a mysterious place. And that part where you can not die ? It is true that there are a lot more to the Tower, but for it''s introduction this will suffice. As for that part, it is more accurate to say you can die but you will be return. That is all you are allow to know "Things you must do before you start your climb" The Tower will grant you gifts before you begin your climb. You should claim as many as your soul can hold. The gifts are divided into 4 categories: traits, knowledge, skills, and items. For more details, please check out the catalog. "Gift... What do these gifts do?" How can the Tower just give me knowledge? That doesn''t make sense. And my soul is supposed to hold on to these gifts. What exactly is my soul anyway... His mind is going off again, though thankfully it was interrupted. For more details, please check out the catalog "Okay, how about categories like knowledge or traits, what do those do?" Maybe not that thankful, the ''Guide'' seems to be limited in the information she could provide him, or she could be messing with him, or he could be overthinking again... For more details, please check out the catalog "Oh come on! Surely you can tell me how much my soul can hold," he yelled, a little frustrated now. He should properly check out this catalog she keeps talking about. Your soul have a weight capacity of 6. You will understand what this mean when you open the catalog Yes, she finally answered differently. Should he pursue this topic a little bit more? "And what if I go over this limit?" he asked as innocently as he could. He knew that breaking the rules was undoubtedly forbidden, and the consequences would be severe. Yet, a morbid curiosity gnawed at him, compelling him to ponder the grim fate that awaited those who dared to defy their soul''s limits. What kind of cruel punishment would befall the overly ambitious? Despite the certainty of death, a small, irrational part of him clung to the hope that perhaps, staying true to it earlier words, the Tower might restore them to life after whatever happen. This fleeting thought, though improbable, lingered in his mind. Your soul become unstable and disassemble itself. You die Ok that sound very bad, he think. And that absoluteness in her voice, it is certain that the tower will not return him after such a death. Right, that was a stupid question. Onto the catalog now Chapter 2: The Catalog CHOOSE WELL, FOR YOU WILL NOT HAVE ANOTHER CHANCE
Trait Knowledge Skill Item "Trait" Trait
Acceptance Enhances your ability to accept situations and people as they are. 1 soul weight
Adaptability Improves your ability to adjust to new mental challenges and changes. 1 soul weight
Alertness Increases your awareness and readiness to respond to mental stimuli. 1 soul weight
Altruism Boosts your willingness to think of others and act selflessly. 1 soul weight
Analytical Enhances your ability to think logically and solve problems. 1 soul weight
Anticipation Improves your ability to foresee and mentally prepare for future events. 1 soul weight
Appreciation Increases your ability to recognize and value positive aspects of life. 1 soul weight
Attentiveness Boosts your focus and concentration on tasks and details. 1 soul weight
Acuity Sharpens your mental clarity and perception. 1 soul weight
Awareness Enhances your understanding of your own thoughts and emotions. 1 soul weight
... The list kept going on and on, options cascaded seemingly endlessly, an ocean of choices stretching beyond the horizon of one''s comprehension. Each line seemed to shimmer with possibility, a fate yet known. The boys stood frozen, the sheer enormity of the choices seemed to have reduce him to a mindless puppet with the sole goal of finding the end of the list. His mind goes though the line one by one, taking in it name, it meaning and then discarding it out for the next line. Each line erode his rationality, leaving behind a raw sense of helplessness. ! "Oh? Can you help me with my choices, ''Guide''?" Yes, let us start with a trait that help you with your mind weakness before the incomprehensible, I recommend the trait Calm mind "Calm mind" Trait
Calm mind Enhances your ability to remain calm and rational at all time 1 soul weight
Do you want to choose Calm mind? "Yes" Just like that? You will not question it or at least put some thoughts into it? "No, I trust you, ''Guide''." His voice came out shaky, more like he was asking himself than answering her. A strange calmness washed over him. Yes, he trusted her, what other choice did he have? He stood there, feeling lost and small. The ground felt strange under his feet, making him feel even more out of place. He was just a street rat, a boy who only knew how to survive. The choices in front of him were confusing, each one reminding him of how little he knew. But even in all this confusion, there was a tiny bit of hope. The mechanical voice in his head, the ''Guide'', gave him some direction in this mess. It was like a light in the dark. He held onto it, hoping it would lead him to something better, something he couldn''t see yet. "I have to trust you," he whispered to himself, barely audible. "I don''t have any other choice." Very well, let us move on to the next choice. Do you have any aspiration? Some grand dream? Maybe a glimpse at a greatness you want to try? "No, all I could ever think of was surviving until the next day" Then do you, umm..., want to hit people very hard, create things, make lot of friends or do stuff like making fire and moving things with your mind? "No, I don''t need friends," he muttered, dismissing the idea quickly. Friends were a liability, something he couldn''t afford. Hitting things... yeah, that could help him stay safe. And making things... maybe he wouldn''t starve. He lingered on the thought, imagining the possibilities. Creating tools, finding ways to get food, maybe even building a shelter. It seemed practical, something he could use every day. Then his mind wandered to the last option. Doing stuff with his mind... making fire, moving things without touching them... it was strange, almost unbelievable. But the idea intrigued him. It was powerful, something beyond his understanding. He felt a cautious curiosity, wondering what it would be like to have such abilities. "And while I would like to do the other things, I want to have the bare minimum to survive first, please" If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Yes. Do you understand what I mean when I say ''mana''? It is strange. He understood the word''s meaning and what it was referring to, but the idea that such a thing existed felt foreign. It made a part of him angry, unable to accept that he had never noticed it before. How very strange, he just learned of its existence now and yet he was this riled up over missing out. "Yes ''Guide'', I understand the word ''mana'', but I have never been able to perceive it." What a shame. Then you should get the trait Weak ''mana'' perception and the skill Rudimentary ''mana'' control. Though do understand that what you are trading for is simply what many are born with. Under favorable conditions, you could acquire these abilities yourself and inside the trial there are plenty of such opportunity. He felt a surge of frustration and desperation. The thought of missing out on something so fundamental gnawed at him. He couldn''t afford to wait or take chances. He needed those abilities now."''Mana'' perception and ''mana'' control," he said quickly, dismissing her words and rushing to get those two skills. Trait
Weak ''mana'' perception Allow you to perceive ''mana'' weakly 1 soul weight
Rudimentary ''mana'' control Allow you to establish a rudimentary control on ''mana'' 2 soul weight
Do you want to choose Weak ''mana'' perception and Rudimentary ''mana'' control? "Yes" As soon as he made his choice, his mind was flooded with a myriad of colors. The world before him seemed to have spilled paint upon itself, twisting and stretching in surreal patterns, performing tricks his eyes could barely comprehend. His body felt light¡ªliberated, even. He lay down, surrendering to the euphoria as his mind soaked in the kaleidoscope of hues and shapes. And then, it stopped. The crash hit him hard, leaving him staggered as the vibrant fantasy faded, replaced by what had once been. Or so he thought. No¡ªthis was not what had been. The endless grass field before him now glowed with a corona of colors he had never imagined, shades that defied perception. His once-mundane body now felt thrillingly alive, dotted with new, unperceivable hues. The transformed reality took the boy breath away. He couldn''t help but marvel at the world before him¡ªevery blade of grass, every stone, even the very air shimmered with an ethereal brilliance. For the first time, he felt truly connected to the essence of everything, as though he was witnessing the true nature of existence itself. His arm reach up, trying grasp one of the floating wisp in the air with his new skill. He did it, he could feel a connection between him and that wish. He try to fling it left, the wish follow and along with it a light breeze. He suddenly feel tired, his mind feel like it have experience a long day hiding from the gang. Please don''t over strain yourself messing around. Let us move on to choosing your next gift. I recommend the trait of either Adaptability or Healthy body "Adaptability and Healthy body" Trait
Adaptability Improves your ability to adjust to new mental challenges and changes. 1 soul weight
Healthy body Enhances your physical resilience and vitality, allowing you to endure greater hardships and recover more quickly. 1 soul weight
Do you want to choose Body and mind(Fake)? "Yes", that would be 5 out of 6 already. He wonder what would she recommend for the final one. All the one he gotten so far seem very helpful but what if this was the wrong way to go at it. Maybe he should have just chosen a path forward instead of just choosing to survive. Maybe he should have taken one of the 5 soul weight instead of these small trait. Maybe he should have use Calm mind and read though the list to chose for himself. But then, the calmness settled over him again, like a steadying hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, letting the doubts fade. No, this was the path he had chosen. These were the choices he had made, and they were not wrong. Each step he had taken so far had been deliberate, guided by his instincts and the ''Guide.'' He reaffirmed his resolve, knowing that survival was not just a necessity¡ªit was his foundation. Whatever came next, he would face it with the tools he had chosen, and he would make them work. Hmm. Well, let us move on to the final choice. Given that the only things you know is how to survive in the street, some knowledge of the wider world would go a long way. I recommend Trivial knowledge I or Fast learner if you seek to acquire those knowledge yourself "Trivial knowledge I and Fast learner" Skill
Trivial knowledge I Grants you basic knowledge of the world and its workings. 1 soul weight
Fast learner Increases your ability to learn new skills and knowledge quickly. 1 soul weight
Do you want to choose Fast learner? "Yes" Now that you have a foundation to begin your climb, go and see the final thing I can offer you here. Before he could fully take in the accomplishment of what might very well be a huge turning point in his life, she snapped him out of it. He wondered why¡ªthere was no sense of urgency in her mechanical voice, no trace of irritation. But he decided not to dwell on it. Not after all she had done for him. Perhaps it is just how it is. Chapter 3: The forest "An introduction the first 10 floors" The first 10 floors will be where your jorney begin. Here, you will take your first step toward transcending your fate. These first floors offers you time to breathe, to feel the weight of your choices, and to begin shaping the path ahead. It is a place of quiet beginnings, where the faintest spark that is you might begins to flicker and become a flame. "An introduction the first 10 floors" Now step forward and go into the trial, I, the ''Guide'', wish you luck The grassfield around him disappear, leaving him standing in the middle of a void. The boy stood frozen, the Guide¡¯s words echoing in his mind. "Step forward and go into the trial." His eyes darted toward the empty space ahead, then back to the nothingness beneath his feet. The introduction to the first 10 floors replayed in his head¡ªthe talk of beginnings, choices, and sparks becoming flames. It sounded grand, almost inspiring, but it didn¡¯t feel real. Not to him. Not yet. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists. He wasn¡¯t ready¡ªnot for this, not for whatever lay ahead. The thought of stepping into the unknown made his stomach churn. What if he failed? What if he wasn¡¯t strong enough? The questions clawed at him, each one heavier than the last. He wanted to stay here, just a little longer, to gather his thoughts, to prepare himself. But the Guide¡¯s words gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. He glanced around, as if searching for something to hold onto, something to anchor him. But there was nothing. Just the cold, empty stillness of the Tower. His legs felt like lead, refusing to move, and for a moment, he thought about staying where he was. Maybe if he waited, the trial would pass him by. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t have to face it at all. But perhaps there was a reason for her words. Perhaps the Guide knew something he didn¡¯t, something he couldn¡¯t yet see. Taking a shaky breath, he forced himself to take a step forward. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of what might await him. He didn¡¯t want to go, but he had to know. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it¡ªbecause he couldn¡¯t turn back. The boy¡¯s foot landed on something soft, and the void around him vanished in an instant. He blinked, his breath catching as the world shifted into a dense forest. The air hit him first¡ªthick and damp, carrying the scent of moss and wet earth. He froze, his eyes wide as he took in the towering trees around him. Their twisted branches reached high into the dim canopy, forming a web of shadows and faint streaks of light that filtered through the leaves. He had seen pictures of forests before, heard stories about them, but standing here now, surrounded by the sheer scale of it, was something else entirely. The trees seemed impossibly tall, their rough bark like the skin of some ancient, sleeping giant. It was overwhelming, strange, and utterly alien. As he stood there, his eyes lingering on the trees, he began to notice it. Tiny pinpricks of light dotted the bark, faint and scattered, like stars hidden in the wood. The glow wasn¡¯t obvious¡ªit matched the deep brown of the bark, blending so naturally that it was easy to miss. On the moss, the light was softer, a muted green that seemed to pulse faintly, as if the moss itself were alive. Even the air carried faint traces of it, like tiny motes of dust catching the light, shifting and drifting with no discernible pattern. His mind drifted back to the grassfield, to the strange corona of light that had covered everything¡ªthe grass, the stones, even the air itself. He hadn¡¯t thought much of it then, too focused on the moment to process what he was seeing. But now, standing in the forest, he could see it more clearly. This was mana. The trait he had chosen allowed him to perceive it, and it was unlike anything he had imagined. He felt a strange mix of wonder and unease. How much of this had always been around him, unnoticed and unseen? How much of the world had been hidden from him until now? He start walking, his foot sank slightly into the mossy earth, and he winced at the faint squelch it made. Every sound felt amplified in the oppressive silence, each step a reminder of how exposed he was. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see something¡ªor someone¡ªfollowing him. But there was nothing. Just the endless forest, alive with faint, shifting lights that seemed to watch him from the edges of his vision. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. The boy stood still for a moment. He couldn¡¯t just walk aimlessly. His throat felt dry, and he realized he hadn¡¯t had water since... well, since before all of this began. The thought made his stomach twist. Water. Food. Shelter. He didn¡¯t know how long this trial would last, but he knew he wouldn¡¯t get far without those things. His eyes darted around the forest, searching for any sign of a stream or a clearing where he could rest safely. Among the faint lights of mana clinging to the trees and moss, there was a subtle shift in color, a faint concentration of blue. It wasn¡¯t obvious at first, just a few dots here and there, but as he focused, he realized the blue lights were more numerous in one direction, clustering faintly in the distance. Could they lead him somewhere? He didn¡¯t know, but it was better than wandering. With a deep breath, he decided to follow them. The uneven ground made every step a challenge. He stumbled more than once, scraping his hands against rough bark as he caught himself, his eyes fixed on the faint cluster of blue ahead. After what felt like hours, he heard it¡ªa faint, trickling sound. His heart leapt, and he quickened his pace, pushing through the undergrowth until he found it: a stream, its clear water glinting faintly in the dim light. Relief washed over him as he dropped to his knees beside it, cupping his hands to drink. The water was cool and refreshing, easing the dryness in his throat and calming the pounding in his chest. He sat back, his hands resting on his knees as he stared at the stream. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a start. He would need more than water to survive, though. Food. Shelter. The forest floor felt too exposed, every shadow gnawing at his nerves, each rustle of leaves feeding the growing paranoia that something unseen was watching him, waiting for him to falter. His eyes landed on a tree near the stream, its trunk leaning, reaching for the area above the creak. It is shorter then it kind, probably due to those sprawling roots that anchored it, the angle made it look climbable. He stepped closer, brushing his fingers against the rough bark. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He jumped, grabbing hold of the trunk, but his grip slipped almost immediately. His feet scrambled for purchase, but the rough surface didn¡¯t provide enough to hold onto. He fell back to the ground with a thud, landing harder than he expected. He sat there for a moment, catching his breath and brushing dirt off his hands, his eyes fixed on the branches above. Back in the streets, he had climbed walls and fences to escape trouble, but this was nothing like that. The tree leaned, its grooves and knots offering some holds, but it was still a challenge unlike anything he¡¯d faced before. Still, he had learned one thing from those days: if you kept trying, you¡¯d eventually find a way. He stood again, brushing dirt off his hands, and studied the tree more carefully. The bark was uneven, with grooves and knots that might give him better holds. He took a deep breath and tried again, wrapping his arms around the trunk and pressing his feet against it. He pushed upward, but his arms burned, and his grip faltered. He slid back down, scraping his hands against the bark. His breaths came in short gasps, his body already aching. His mind replayed the attempt, analyzing every movement. He realized he had been relying too much on his arms. His legs were stronger¡ªif he used them to push himself upward, it might work better. He forced himself to focus, adjusting his approach. He tried again, planting his feet more firmly and keeping his body pressed against the tree. He used his legs to push upward while his hands gripped the grooves in the bark. He made it a little higher this time, but his strength gave out, and he fell back to the ground, landing hard on his side. Pain shot through his arm, and he groaned, clutching it as he rolled onto his back. His chest heaved as he stared up at the canopy, frustration and exhaustion settling in. He forced himself to his feet, to try again. He had tried over and over, his mind replaying each failed attempt. He could feel his body adjusting, his movements becoming more deliberate. Without realizing it, he tapped into his mana, his muscles surging with strength and precision. The warmth spread through him, subtle but steady, aligning his body with his thoughts. He jumped again, this time gripping the trunk firmly and using his legs to push upward in small, controlled bursts. His hands found holds more easily, and he pulled himself upward with a steady rhythm. He focused on keeping his movements smooth and efficient, his body working in sync with his mind. Each step felt more natural, as though his body was learning and adapting with every motion. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached a branch wide enough to sit on. He hauled himself onto it, collapsing against the trunk as he caught his breath. His limbs trembled, and exhaustion hit him like a wave. He hadn¡¯t realized how much energy he¡¯d burned until now. His mana had pushed him further than he thought possible, but it left him drained. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel relief. He was off the ground, safer than before. Chapter 4: The first night The boy leaned back against the trunk, his body still aching but no longer trembling from the climb. He had rested for a while now, enough for the burning in his arms and legs to dull into a faint throb. From his perch, he could see the forest stretching endlessly in every direction, its canopy a sea of twisting branches. The mana clinging to the trees and moss below didn¡¯t glow but instead dimmed to match the deep greens and browns of the forest, blending seamlessly into the fading light. It was there if he focused¡ªsubtle, like a quiet pulse in the corner of his vision. The sun, though hidden behind the dense canopy, painted the sky above in streaks of gold and crimson, the colors filtering through the gaps in the leaves. Shafts of light pierced the forest floor in scattered beams, illuminating patches of moss and bark with a soft, muted radiance. The air grew cooler, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of damp wood and leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a low, melodic hum echoed faintly, like the forest itself was singing the day to a close. It was beautiful, but it didn¡¯t feel safe. The fading light made the shadows stretch longer, deeper, and the once-faint rustling of leaves now seemed sharper, more deliberate. The boy¡¯s eyes darted to the edges of his vision, where the mana dimmed and shifted like faint ripples in a still pond. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was moving or if it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the sleepiness that clung to him like a heavy fog. The mana rippled again, this time closer. He blinked, focusing harder, but the disturbance was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had come. The forest below remained still, its dim hues blending into the deepening twilight. A soft rustle broke the silence, barely audible over the faint hum of the forest. The ripple returned, faint but deliberate, like a quiet warning. His breath caught as he scanned the branches around him, his muscles tensing. Something was there, moving just out of sight, its presence masked by the forest¡¯s natural rhythm. Before he could react, it lunged from a branch to his left, claws outstretched, aiming for his side. The boy twisted instinctively, raising his arm to block the blow. The creature¡¯s claws raked across his forearm, leaving shallow but stinging cuts as it rebounded off him and landed on a nearby branch. Pain flared, and he hissed through clenched teeth, his legs pressing firmly against the branch to keep himself steady. The creature crouched on the nearby branch, its long, bushy tail flicking sharply behind it as it let out a sharp, guttural hiss. Its dark fur bristled, blending into the bark and shadows, while its glowing eyes locked onto him with an intensity that made his chest tighten. The sound was primal, a warning that sent a shiver down his spine. Its claws scraped against the branch, the faint screech of bark peeling away adding to the tension. The boy¡¯s breath came in shallow bursts, his injured arm throbbing as blood trickled down in thin lines. He pressed his back harder against the trunk, his legs gripping the branch beneath him like a vice. The creature¡¯s mana rippled erratically, jagged waves pulsing outward, amplifying its presence. It wasn¡¯t attacking again¡ªnot yet. The boy¡¯s chest heaved as he steadied his breathing, his injured arm throbbing with every heartbeat. The creature¡¯s mana rippled faintly, like a soft vibration in the air, its presence pressing against his senses. It crouched low on the branch, its bushy tail flicking sharply behind it, the motion quick and agitated. Its glowing eyes stayed locked on him, unblinking, as if waiting for him to make the first move. The boy¡¯s mind was a haze of exhaustion and pain, but one thing was clear: it was trying to scare him. The way it bared its teeth, the way its claws scraped against the bark¡ªit was a challenge, a display meant to make him back down. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and forced himself to sit up straighter, pressing his back firmly against the trunk. If it wanted to intimidate him, he¡¯d have to show it he wasn¡¯t an easy target. He bared his teeth, a low, guttural sound escaping his throat¡ªnot quite a growl, but enough to make his intent clear. His uninjured hand clenched into a fist, and he slammed it against the branch beneath him, the dull thud breaking the tense silence. The creature flinched, its tail flicking sharply as its ears flattened against its head. It hissed again, louder this time, but it didn¡¯t move closer. They stared at each other, the tension between them like a taut string ready to snap. The boy¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, but he didn¡¯t look away. The beast knew it couldn¡¯t stay here any longer. The boy was bigger, and its attack had failed. The creature shifted its weight, its claws flexing against the bark, but it didn¡¯t lunge. Instead, it let out one last sharp hiss, its mana rippling faintly before it turned and darted back into the shadows, disappearing into the maze of branches above. The boy didn¡¯t move, his body frozen in place as the adrenaline coursed through him. He waited, his eyes scanning the branches for any sign of movement, but the forest had gone still again. Only then did he let out a shaky breath, his body sagging against the trunk as the tension drained from him. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The adrenaline that had kept him steady began to fade, leaving behind the sharp sting of his injured arm. He glanced down at the shallow cuts, blood trickling in thin lines and staining his sleeve. The sight made his stomach twist, but he knew he couldn¡¯t leave it untreated. Infection was the last thing he needed. He tore a strip from the hem of his shirt, wincing as the fabric ripped unevenly. With trembling hands, he wrapped it tightly around his forearm, the pressure stinging but slowing the bleeding. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would have to do for now. The boy leaned his head back against the trunk, staring up at the canopy above. he sky beyond the twisting branches had softened into hues of lavender and deep blue, the fading light filtering through the leaves in gentle, muted tones. The forest seemed to exhale with the coming of night, its colors dimming into a quiet harmony of shadow and twilight. The edges of the leaves shimmered faintly, catching the last traces of light as if brushed with silver. The air felt cooler now, carrying the scent of damp moss and the faint sweetness of distant blooms. Somewhere in the distance, the rhythmic chirping of unseen creatures began, blending with the soft rustle of the trees as they swayed in the evening breeze. For a moment, the boy let himself sink into the stillness, his body heavy with exhaustion but his mind beginning to clear. Then his eyes caught on something above¡ªa cluster of leaves and twigs wedged between two branches. It was uneven and messy, but unmistakably deliberate. A nest. The realization hit him slowly. Of course, it had been defending something. His stomach growled, a sharp reminder of his own needs. If it was a nest, there might be food. He shifted his weight carefully, testing his balance on the branch before reaching for a higher one. His muscles protested, exhaustion pulling at every movement, but hunger drove him forward. The nest wasn¡¯t far, just a few feet above him. As he climbed, the faint scent of something earthy and sweet reached his nose, spurring him on. When he reached the nest, he paused, his fingers gripping the edge of the branch as he peered inside. Among the tangled mess of leaves and twigs were small, round fruits, their skins smooth and glistening faintly in the dim light. His stomach twisted with both relief and caution. If the thing can eat it, he could probably eat it as well right?. Carefully, he plucked one from the nest, turning it over in his hand before taking a tentative bite. The skin was thin and tough, breaking unevenly under his teeth. The flesh inside was firm, with a tangy, almost sour bite that made his mouth pucker. It wasn¡¯t as sharp as the unripe fruits he¡¯d stolen before, but it lacked the full sweetness of the ripe, cultivated ones he¡¯d occasionally managed to snatch. There was a faint sweetness buried beneath the tang, just enough to make it tolerable. The juice coated his tongue, leaving a slightly earthy aftertaste that reminded him of the wildness of the forest. It wasn¡¯t bad, not really. He chewed slowly, his hunger overriding any hesitation. It wasn¡¯t the kind of fruit that would sell in a market, but it was far from the worst thing he¡¯d eaten. He swallowed, waiting for any sign that it might be unsafe¡ªbitterness, a burning sensation, anything¡ªbut none came. It sat heavy in his stomach, easing the gnawing ache of hunger. Encouraged, he took another bite, chewing faster this time. The tang still made his jaw ache, but the faint sweetness lingered, and for now, that was enough. The boy relax, his body heavy with exhaustion as the last bite of fruit settled in his stomach. The tang still lingered on his tongue, but the ache of hunger had dulled, replaced by a faint warmth that spread through him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn¡¯t feel like he was on the edge of collapse. The forest around him had grown quieter, the cool night breeze brushed against his skin, carrying with it the faint scent of moss and distant blooms. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a blanket. He shifted slightly, pressing his back more firmly against the trunk, his legs dangling off the branch. The rough bark dug into his skin, but he didn¡¯t care. His body ached, his arm throbbed, and his mind was a haze of exhaustion, but for now, he was safe. The creature was gone, the fruit had eased his hunger, and the forest seemed content to leave him be. His breathing slowed, each exhale softer than the last. The dim light filtering through the canopy above faded into darkness as his eyes fluttered shut. The boy¡¯s thoughts drifted, scattered and fleeting, until they dissolved entirely, leaving only the quiet embrace of sleep. Chapter 5: The ripple The boy shifted on the branch, his body stiff and aching from the climb and the restless sleep that followed. He let out a low groan, rubbing his injured arm as he muttered under his breath. ¡°This is the worst. No food, no bed, no nothing. Just me, a stupid tree, and a stupid forest.¡± His stomach growled, and he scowled at it. ¡°Yeah, I know. You¡¯re hungry. Like I didn¡¯t notice.¡± He leaned his head back, staring up at the sky through the gaps in the leaves. ¡°At least back in the streets, I could find something. A crust of bread, a half-eaten apple, anything.¡± He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°And people. Even if they were jerks, at least there were people.¡± He snorted, shaking his head. ¡°Crazy. I¡¯m actually missing that place. The alleys, the noise, the smell of garbage. What¡¯s wrong with me?¡± He sighed, rubbing his face with his uninjured hand. ¡°Talking to myself now. Great. That¡¯s how it starts, right? First, you talk to yourself, then you go crazy, and then¡­¡± He trailed off, his voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°Then you don¡¯t make it.¡± His eyes drifted upward, catching sight of the full moon hanging high above the lattice of leaves and sprawling limbs. Its pale light filtered through the gaps, casting soft patterns of silver across the forest floor below. For a moment, he forgot his hunger and exhaustion, his gaze fixed on the moon. It was beautiful, in a way that felt distant and untouchable, like something out of a dream. The light softened the forest¡¯s edges, making it feel less hostile, less overwhelming, and for the first time since he¡¯d arrived, he felt a flicker of calm. But the calm didn¡¯t last. His thoughts drifted back to the day, to the moments when he¡¯d found the creek. The mana had been there, faint but noticeable, clustering in soft blue hues that stood out against the greens and browns of the forest. And then there was the creature. He flexed his fingers, feeling the dull ache in his injured arm. The mana had rippled before it attacked, a subtle shift that made his body tense up. He hadn¡¯t seen it coming, not at first, but the ripple had been enough to warn him, enough to make him react in time. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªhe¡¯d still been hurt¡ªbut it had saved him from something worse. That much he was sure of. He needed to get better at this new sense. But how? He looked around, trying to catch and feel all the details the mana revealed to him. The brown of the tree trunk beneath him stood out faintly, with the green of the leaves and moss clinging to the branches, and small black dots shimmering dimly in the dark? Hmm... Ahh forget it, whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t worth the trouble. Occasionally, a silver glimmer of moonlight filtered through the gaps¡ªsoft, fleeting, serene. He tried again, focusing harder, but nothing changed. The same scattered, dotted lights filled his vision, frustratingly incomplete. His gaze drifted toward the creek below, where the faint blue dots he¡¯d seen earlier were now dim and fading. He squinted, trying to see if there was more to the blue, but it stayed the same¡ªjust faint, scattered specks. Disappointed, he let out a quiet sigh and turned his eyes upstream. That¡¯s when he spotted it: a faint ripple, subtle but distinct, breaking the stillness of the mana. The boy¡¯s eyes narrowed as he focused on the faint ripple upstream. It was subtle, barely noticeable against the stillness of the mana around it, but it was there. His curiosity stirred, pushing aside his frustration. The ripple remained steady, faint but distinct, drawing his attention like a thread pulling him forward. He maneuvered through the branches, each step bringing him closer. The moonlight filtered through the leaves above, casting shifting patterns of silver across the forest floor and the creek below. His injured arm throbbed with each movement, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. As he neared the source of the ripple, he froze, his breath catching in his throat. There, in the water, was a creature unlike anything he¡¯d seen before. It stood still in the shallow creek, doing something. The boy squinted, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of its movements. The creature¡¯s mana rippled faintly, but unlike the erratic pulses he¡¯d felt from the squirrel-like thing earlier, this ripple was controlled, steady, almost deliberate. It didn¡¯t disturb the water around it, the surface remaining calm and undisturbed despite the creature¡¯s presence. The wolf-like thing lowered its head slightly, its glowing eyes scanning the water. Its ears twitched, and its body remained perfectly still, save for the faint rise and fall of its chest. The boy watched as it moved slowly, one paw stepping forward with practiced precision, barely making a sound as it shifted its weight. Its mana ripples adjusted with each step, flowing outward in soft, measured waves, as if it were using them to sense something beneath the surface. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Then it struck. The creature¡¯s head darted forward, its jaws snapping shut with a sharp splash. When it pulled back, a fish wriggled in its snout, its silver scales glinting faintly in the moonlight. The wolf-like thing held the fish firmly, its glowing eyes scanning the area one last time before it turned and padded away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. The boy let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding. His mind replayed what he had seen¡ªthe way the creature¡¯s mana rippled faintly, steady and controlled. The way its glowing eyes seemed to sense what lay beneath the water¡¯s surface. He could do that too, couldn¡¯t he? He was sure of it. That glowing eyes thing¡ªit was just the creature moving mana to its eyes, right? He could do that as well. He focused, trying to gather the scattered dots of mana inside his body and direct them to his eyes. The mana moved easily, much more so than when he had first tried to manipulate it back on the grass field. His excitement grew as he felt the energy shift, but then his eyes began to burn. At first, he thought it might be a good sign, proof that it was working. But the sensation quickly grew sharper and his mind suddenly felt as though it had been doused with cold water. Right. He shouldn¡¯t push too far. If his body was telling him it hurt, it was probably best to listen. His excitement had gotten the better of his judgment. The burning in his eyes lingered faintly, but his thoughts were sharp and clear now. Something had gone wrong. It should not have hurt like that. The creature had done it so easily so why couldn¡¯t he? He frowned, his fingers brushing against the rough bark of the branch as he thought it through. Maybe it was the purpose. The creature had been using its mana for something specific¡ªsensing the water, finding the fish. But he hadn¡¯t done that. He¡¯d just moved the mana to his eyes without any clear intent. Was that the problem? Did mana need a purpose to work properly? Or maybe it was the amount. He thought back to the grass field, to the time he¡¯d moved a single dot of mana and how it had stirred a light wind. If just one dot could do that, then moving multiple dots to his eyes might have been too much. His eyes weren¡¯t meant to handle that kind of energy, and they¡¯d burned because they were overloaded. Then there was the control. The creature¡¯s mana had rippled steadily, calm and even, a stream flowing smoothly. His own attempt had been nothing like that. He had grabbed a bunch of mana and hurled it toward his eyes, careless and unsteady. Maybe that was the problem¡ªit wasn¡¯t just about moving mana; it was about guiding it carefully, keeping it steady and controlled. But there was something else, wasn¡¯t there? His brow furrowed as he considered a fourth possibility. Maybe it was his mental image. He didn¡¯t really know what he was doing¡ªhe was just imagining the mana moving to his eyes. What if his image of it was wrong? What if he wasn¡¯t picturing it the way it was supposed to work? He shook his head, dismissing the thought. The creature had been a beast. It wouldn¡¯t have needed a perfect mental image to make its mana work. That couldn¡¯t be it. Then again, maybe it was the type of mana he was using. The creature¡¯s glowing eyes had been strange, shimmering with multiple hues. His own mana had been a single, scattered color. Could the type of mana matter? He frowned again, but then discarded the idea. The creature¡¯s eyes had glowed with multiple colors, not just one, and it hadn¡¯t seemed to struggle. If the type of mana mattered, it wouldn¡¯t have been able to use so many at once. His gaze dropped to the creek below as he thought back to the creature¡¯s eyes. That¡¯s when it clicked. The glow hadn¡¯t come from its entire eye¡ªit had been focused in its iris. A circle. His brow furrowed as he considered it. Maybe that was the key. Maybe it wasn¡¯t just about moving mana to his eyes¡ªit was about how he moved it. The creature¡¯s mana had rippled steadily, and its iris had glowed in a perfect ring. Could it be that he needed to move the mana in a pattern? A circle, like the creature¡¯s iris? The boy let out a slow breath, his thoughts settling on the idea. Purpose, amount, control, and now the pattern. He didn¡¯t know how to fix all of that, not yet, but at least he had a place to start. Chapter 6: The fish The boy shifted his weight carefully, testing the sturdiness of the branch beneath him. The climb down wasn¡¯t going to be easy. He gripped the rough bark with both hands, lowering himself slowly. The first few steps were manageable, but as he descended further, a sharp sting flared in his injured arm. He winced, pausing for a moment as the pain spread. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening instinctively. He hadn¡¯t noticed it earlier, but now the ache was impossible to ignore. Each movement after that was slower, more deliberate. By the time his feet touched the forest floor, his body felt stiff and heavy, as though the climb had drained what little energy he had left. He leaned against the tree for a moment, catching his breath, before pushing himself toward the creek. The cool sound of running water grew louder as he approached, and he crouched by the edge. The boy crouched by the creek, scooping up a handful of water with his good hand and bringing it to his lips. The cool liquid was a welcome relief, soothing his dry throat and clearing his head. He drank deeply, letting the water trickle down his chin as he leaned closer to the stream. Once his thirst was quenched, he dipped his injured arm into the creek, wincing as the cold water stung the raw skin. He scrubbed at the wound with his fingers, working quickly to clean away the grime and dried blood. The water swirled red around his hand, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out as the pain flared. When he was done, he shook his arm dry and glanced around. His eyes landed on a nearby bush with broad, green leaves. They looked sturdy enough. He tore a few off, wiping them clean with his good hand before pressing them over the wound. Using the damp fabric from his old bandage, he tied the leaves in place with quick, practiced movements. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it would hold for now. The boy flexed his fingers, his gaze drifting to the creek. The faint ripples of the current shimmered in the moonlight, but his focus was elsewhere. The wolf-thing¡¯s glowing eyes and the steady ripples of its mana replayed in his mind. It had been deliberate, precise, and controlled. He could do that too¡ªhe just needed to figure out how. He glanced at his injured arm. Moving mana to his eyes again felt reckless¡ªhe wasn¡¯t ready for that. But his arm? That was safer. He could test it there first. Taking a slow breath, he reached inward, searching for the scattered dots of mana within him. They were faint, like distant stars, but they were there. He focused on gathering them, pulling as many as he could toward his arm. The mana stirred sluggishly, resisting his efforts at first, but then it began to move. His heart quickened as the sensation returned, faint but growing stronger. But then it all went wrong. The mana surged wildly, slipping out of his control. The tingling in his arm turned sharp, almost painful, as the scattered dots collided and scattered in every direction. He flinched, pulling his hand back as the sensation vanished entirely. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered, clenching his fist. He had tried to take control of too much at once, and it had overwhelmed him. He sat back on his heels, his brow furrowed in frustration. The wolf-thing had made it look so easy, but for him, it was like trying to grab a handful of sand¡ªno matter how tightly he held on, it kept slipping through his fingers. He needed to start smaller, to find his limit. Taking another breath, he steadied himself. This time, he would try something different. Just one. He would focus on moving a single dot of mana, guiding it steadily before adding more. He closed his eyes, reaching inward again, where the scattered dots of mana floated faintly within his body. He focused on one, isolating it from the rest. Slowly, he began to move it, guiding it toward his arm, followed the circular path he envisioned. It was shaky at first, wobbling as it moved, but he adjusted, smoothing out the motion. His breathing slowed, his focus narrowing. The dot rotated steadily now, tracing the circle in his mind. Encouraged, he reached for another. The second dot joined the first, slipping into the same circular path. The sensation grew stronger, sharper, as the two dots moved together. They wobbled slightly, threatening to slip out of alignment, but he adjusted, guiding them back into place. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, his grip on the motion tightening. He exhaled slowly, his focus sharpening. This was working. But he wasn¡¯t done yet. He wanted to see how far he could push it, to find the point where it all fell apart. Carefully, he pulled it into the circle, guiding it to join the others. The tingling flared, sharper now, as the three dots began to move together. For a moment, they rotated in unison, their motion smooth and synchronized. His heart quickened. He was holding them¡ªbarely. But the strain was building. The third dot wobbled, threatening to slip out of alignment. He scrambled to correct it, but the effort threw the others off balance. His brow furrowed as he gritted his teeth, trying to hold them steady. The strain in his arm grew sharper, almost painful, as the motion teetered on the edge of collapse. He clenched his jaw, realizing he couldn¡¯t keep this up. If he pushed any further, it would all fall apart again. With a sharp exhale, he stopped the rotation, pulling the mana back into stillness. A sharp, stinging pain shot through his arm as the motion came to an abrupt halt. He flinched, clutching his arm as the ache lingered, his breath coming in uneven gasps. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Damn it,¡± he hissed through clenched teeth, shaking his arm as if to dispel the lingering sting. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He had stopped it too suddenly, and the backlash had hit him harder than he¡¯d expected. He couldn¡¯t afford to make that mistake. The ache in his arm lingered, sharp and insistent, as he stared at the creek. The water shimmered faintly in the moonlight, its surface broken by gentle ripples that spread and faded without a sound. Tiny eddies swirled around the rocks, their motion slow and unhurried, as if the creek itself was in no rush to reach its destination. The soft murmur of the current filled the air, soothing and constant, like a lullaby meant to pull his thoughts away from the sting in his arm. His gaze lingered on the current, and something clicked in his mind. He had been trying to force the mana, to control every tiny movement, but that wasn¡¯t how it worked. It wasn¡¯t something he could grip tightly or bend to his will. It was more like... a current. Something that flowed naturally. He needed to guide it, not hold it too tightly. Let it move on its own, but keep it within the boundaries he set. His jaw tightened as he straightened, the ache in his arm still present but ignored. He closed his eyes again, his voice low but resolute. ¡°One more time,¡± he murmured. ¡°Let¡¯s do this right.¡± He get three scattered dots of mana and guide them into the same circular path. This time, he didn¡¯t try to micromanage every movement. He let the dots flow, keeping the circle steady but loose, like a wheel spinning on its own. The wobble was still there, faint but manageable, and he adjusted with small, deliberate corrections. Slowly, the motion smoothed out, the three dots rotating in unison. His lips twitched into a small smile. He was holding them. For a moment, he let the motion continue, testing his control. The tingling in his arm was strong but steady, no longer threatening to overwhelm him. He exhaled slowly, his focus sharpening. ¡°Alright,¡± he murmured under his breath. ¡°Let¡¯s try more.¡± He drew a fourth dot into the circle, guiding it to join the others. Four dots rotated together, their motion smooth but fragile, like a plate spinning on the edge of a stick. He held them steady, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. ¡°Still good,¡± his voice low but steady. ¡°One more.¡± He reached for a fifth dot, guiding it into the circle. The moment it joined, the tingling in his arm surged, sharp and insistent, like a taut rope about to snap. The motion faltered, the added weight throwing the rhythm off balance. He tried to adjust, his focus narrowing as he fought to steady the rotation, but the strain was too much. He didn¡¯t fight it. Instead, he let the rotation slow, easing the dots into a gentler rhythm. The strain in his arm eased as the motion gradually came to a stop, the dots settling back into stillness. He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as the strain faded without leaving a sting behind. ¡°Better,¡± he muttered under his breath, flexing his fingers experimentally. The ache in his arm was still there, but it was dull now, manageable. He had stopped it correctly this time, and the difference was clear. ¡°Five¡¯s too much,¡± shaking his head. ¡°Not yet.¡± He have the motion down now. But motion needed purpose. He started with a simple thought, a wish: Sense the fish. The dots continued their rotation, steady but unchanged. He concentrated harder, imagining the mana amplifying his awareness, sharpening his sensitivity to the water around his arm. At first, it seemed to work. He felt the faintest ripples, subtle shifts in the current. But then the sensations grew stronger, sharper, until they overwhelmed him. Every tiny vibration crashed into his mind like a tidal wave. His head throbbed, the pressure building behind his eyes as his focus shattered. He gasped, clutching his head as the spinning dots scattered. The amplified sensations vanished, leaving behind a dull ache in his skull. "Ugh, not again,¡± he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. He had pushed too far, too fast. Amplifying his arm wasn¡¯t enough¡ªhis brain couldn¡¯t handle it. He sat back, catching his breath. He will have to try it with his eyes now, just like the wolf-like thing. Maybe it''s approach is the correct one. His jaw tightened as he straightened, determination flickering in his eyes. He closed them briefly, focusing on the dots once more. This time, he guided them upward, toward his head. The sensation shifted, settling behind his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed the thought forward: See the fish. When he opened his eyes, the world looked sharper, clearer. The moonlight reflected off the water, but it wasn¡¯t the light that caught his attention. In the creek, faint outlines began to form¡ªsubtle, glowing shapes that moved with the current. His breath caught. Fish. They weren¡¯t glowing like mana, but their movements stood out, highlighted against the stillness of the water. He blinked, his heart quickening as he focused on the shapes. One darted closer, its outline brightening for a moment before fading as it swam away. The vision wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªthe shapes flickered and wavered, and he had to concentrate to keep them in focus. But it was enough. He could see them now, even if only faintly. His heart raced as he leaned closer to the water, his eyes locked on the glowing outlines darting beneath the surface. A fish swam closer, its movements slow and unhurried, and he felt a surge of excitement. He could do this. Carefully, he dipped his good hand into the creek, moving as slowly as he could to avoid disturbing the water. The glowing shape flickered but stayed in place, hovering near a cluster of rocks where the current slowed. His fingers hovered just above it, trembling slightly as he prepared to strike. But before he could move, the fish darted forward¡ªand straight into the shallow edge of the creek. It thrashed, momentarily trapped between the rocks and the bank. His eyes widened in disbelief. Without thinking, he lunged, plunging his hand into the water and closing his fingers around the wriggling shape. For a moment, he just stared at it, water dripping from his hand as the faint glow of the fish¡¯s outline flickered and faded. He¡¯d caught it. He¡¯d actually caught it. A breathless laugh escaped him, and he held the fish up, its slick body thrashing in his grip. ¡°I... I got it,¡± he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loudly might undo his success. The fish wriggled harder, snapping him out of his daze. He tightened his grip, careful not to let it slip free. His stomach growled, a sharp reminder of why he was doing this in the first place. ¡°Finally,¡± he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°Something went right.¡± Chapter 7: The noble The forest had become his world. Days blurred into weeks, each one marked by the same rhythm: hunt, eat, survive. The boy crouched low in the underbrush, his eyes fixed on a small creature scurrying through the leaves ahead. It was a rodent of some kind, its fur blending almost perfectly with the forest floor. He tightened his grip on the crude spear in his hand, his muscles coiled like a spring. He let mana flow into his legs, a faint hum beneath his skin. His body felt lighter, his movements sharper. The rodent paused, sniffing the air. He struck. The spear flew from his hand, faster than it ever could have without mana, and struck true. The creature twitched once, then went still. He let out a breath, stood, and brushed dirt from his knees as he approached his catch. Pulling the spear free, he slung the rodent over his shoulder. ¡°Not bad,¡± he said, glancing at the rodent. ¡°You didn¡¯t even see it coming, did you?¡± The forest answered with silence. He adjusted the strap of his makeshift satchel and started walking, his steps light and deliberate. The sun filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the ground. He paused briefly to listen, his ears catching the faint rustle of leaves in the distance. A bird, maybe. Or something larger. He let mana sharpen his hearing, the sounds of the forest growing clearer. The rustle came again, softer this time. A bird. He moved on. The boy stopped at the creek, crouching by the water¡¯s edge. He dipped his hand into the cool stream, letting it run over his fingers. His reflection stared back at him, distorted by the ripples. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a handful of berries, popping one into his mouth. They were tart, but edible. He¡¯d learned which ones to avoid after a particularly bad night spent clutching his stomach. He glanced at the rodent slung over his shoulder. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would keep him going. His gaze drifted to the trees on the far side of the creek. He knew this area well now¡ªthe way the ground sloped gently toward the east, the cluster of thorny bushes where small game liked to hide, the hollow tree that served as a den for something much larger. He¡¯d seen the claw marks on the bark, deep grooves that hadn¡¯t been there a week ago. He crouched by the tree, running his fingers over the marks. They were fresh, the edges of the grooves still sharp. ¡°Bigclaw,¡± he muttered. That¡¯s what he¡¯d started calling it. He¡¯d never seen the creature, but he¡¯d heard it¡ªlow, rumbling growls in the dead of night, heavy footsteps that shook the ground. It was big, bigger than anything else in the area. His eyes flicked to the ground, where faint paw prints overlapped the claw marks. Smaller, but no less dangerous. ¡°And you,¡± he said softly, tracing the print with his finger. ¡°Glowy¡± He¡¯d seen it once, its glowing eyes cutting through the darkness. It had been hunting near the creek, its movements silent and precise. He hadn¡¯t seen it since, but the signs were there¡ªterritory markings, scattered bones, the occasional howl in the distance. The claw marks told a story. Bigclaw was moving in, pushing into the Glowy¡¯s territory. He frowned, his fingers brushing the bark. That wasn¡¯t normal. The creatures here had their boundaries, their unspoken rules. Something was changing. He stood, slinging the rodent over his shoulder again. ¡°Not my problem,¡± he muttered, though the unease lingered. He adjusted the strap of his satchel and kept walking, his footsteps crunching softly against the forest floor. As he walked, he glanced at the rodent again. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, you know,¡± he said. ¡°Could¡¯ve been worse. At least you¡¯re not one of those thornbacks. Those things are nasty.¡± The sound of his own voice faded, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird. He adjusted the strap of his satchel and kept walking, his footsteps crunching softly against the forest floor. The silence pressed against him, heavy and unrelenting. He glanced at the rodent again, as if expecting it to answer. The creek widened as he followed it upstream, the sound of rushing water growing louder. The waterfall wasn¡¯t far now¡ªa place he¡¯d discovered a few days ago. It was peaceful there, the sound of the water drowning out the silence that seemed to follow him everywhere. But something was different this time. The air felt heavier, the usual stillness of the forest broken by something he couldn¡¯t quite place. He tightened his grip on the spear, his senses sharpening as he let mana flow through him. His footsteps grew lighter, quieter, as he crept closer. When he rounded the final bend, he froze. Someone was there. A figure lay crumpled at the edge of the pool beneath the waterfall, their body half-submerged in the shallow water. Their clothes were unlike anything he¡¯d ever seen¡ªrich fabrics torn and muddied, a deep blue cloak tangled around their legs. The faint glint of metal caught his eye: armor, dented and scratched, its polished surface dulled by blood and grime. Two arrows jutted from the man¡¯s back, their shafts splintered and fletching soaked. One had pierced through the edge of his shoulder, the other lodged deep near his ribs. Blood seeped from the wounds, staining the water around him a faint red. The boy¡¯s heart pounded in his chest. He took a cautious step forward, his eyes darting to the trees around him. No one else was here. Just the figure, motionless except for the faint rise and fall of their chest. He edged closer, his spear held tightly in one hand. The figure¡¯s face came into view¡ªa young man, barely older than himself, with sharp features and short, dirty blond hair matted to his forehead with sweat and blood. Blood streaked his face, and a deep gash ran across his temple. His breathing was shallow, his lips pale. The boy¡¯s gaze dropped to the man¡¯s chest, where the armor had been split open by a vicious blow. Blood seeped from the wound, staining the water around him. His left arm hung at an odd angle, the fabric of his sleeve torn to reveal bruised and swollen skin. The boy crouched a few feet away, his spear still raised. ¡°Hey,¡± he called, his voice low but firm. ¡°You alive?¡± The man didn¡¯t respond. His head lolled to the side, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before closing again. The boy hesitated, his grip on the spear tightening. He didn¡¯t know who this man was or why he was here, but he looked like trouble. The kind of trouble that could get him killed. He glanced at the sword lying in the water, its hilt just out of the man¡¯s reach. The sword lay nearby, its blade chipped and its hilt worn from use. The pommel bore the mark of a bird with outstretched wings, a symbol of vigilance and strength. It looked important. Expensive. Whoever this man was, he wasn¡¯t just some soldier. The boy¡¯s curiosity warred with his caution. He should leave. This wasn¡¯t his problem. But the man¡¯s shallow breathing and the blood pooling around him made it clear he didn¡¯t have much time. ¡°Damn it,¡± the boy muttered under his breath. He lowered the spear and stepped closer, crouching beside the man. ¡°What the hell happened to you?¡± A sharp jolt of pain dragged him from the depths of unconsciousness. It started in his shoulder, radiating down his side with every shallow breath. His ribs ached, his head throbbed, and for a moment, he wasn¡¯t sure if he was awake or still trapped in some feverish dream. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. He groaned softly, the sound barely audible over the crackle of a nearby fire. His eyelids felt heavy, but he forced them open, blinking against the dim light. The world swam into focus¡ªshadows dancing on the trees, the faint glow of a campfire, and the cool night air brushing against his skin. He tried to move, but his body protested. His shoulder burned, and his ribs felt like they were wrapped in iron bands. He let out a slow, shaky breath, his mind struggling to piece together what had happened. The battle. The arrows. The forest. He¡¯d been running, hadn¡¯t he? Running to buy time for the others. But now... His gaze shifted, and he saw the fire. Small but steady, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill creeping into his bones. His armor was gone, set aside in a pile near the fire, along with his sword. The sight of it brought a flicker of relief¡ªwhoever had found him hadn¡¯t taken it. Not yet, at least. Then he felt it. A presence. Someone was watching him. Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes scanning the clearing. At first, he saw nothing but the trees and the flickering firelight. Then, just beyond the edge of the clearing, he spotted movement. A boy, crouched behind a tree, half-hidden in the shadows. His posture was tense, his body coiled like a spring, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. The crude spear in his hands trembled slightly, though his grip on it was firm. The noble didn¡¯t move. He stayed where he was, letting the boy watch him. His instincts told him to speak, to break the silence, but he held back. Words wouldn¡¯t help here¡ªnot yet. Instead, he shifted his gaze to the fire, making a show of ignoring the boy. He reached out slowly, wincing as pain flared in his ribs, and picked up a small stick from the ground. He tossed it into the flames, watching the sparks rise into the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy flinch at the movement. His grip on the spear tightened, his knuckles white against the wood. The noble let the stick fall from his hand and leaned back against the tree behind him, careful to keep his movements slow and deliberate. The boy didn¡¯t move. His gaze stayed locked on the noble, wary and calculating. His hair was black, though not the deep, clean black of polished stone¡ªit was slightly ashen, as if dulled by the forest¡¯s dust and grime. His eyes were sharp, glinting in the firelight with an intensity that made him seem more dangerous than he was. He was small and lean, his frame wiry and underfed, but there was something about him that tugged at the noble¡¯s memory. The boy reminded him of the wild cat that used to sneak into the horse barn back home. It had been scrawny and cautious, slipping through the shadows to steal scraps of food. He¡¯d spent weeks trying to coax it closer, leaving bits of meat and sitting quietly until it decided he wasn¡¯t a threat. It had been a game of patience, of careful movements and unspoken understanding. This boy felt the same¡ªwary, feral, but not beyond reach. The noble let out a slow breath, lowering his gaze to the fire again. He didn¡¯t need to look at the boy to know he was still there, watching. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant rustle of the forest. It wasn¡¯t uncomfortable, not exactly. It was the kind of silence that came with waiting, with deciding. He shifted slightly, testing the limits of his injuries. Pain flared in his ribs, but he ignored it. He needed to show the boy he wasn¡¯t a threat. Slowly, he reached for the pile of belongings near the fire, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He picked up a small pouch and opened it, pulling out a piece of dried meat. He held it up, letting the firelight catch on it, before setting it down on the ground between them. Then he leaned back again, careful to keep his posture relaxed. He didn¡¯t look at the boy, didn¡¯t say anything. He simply waited. The boy¡¯s eyes flicked to the meat, then back to the noble. He didn¡¯t move, but the tension in his posture shifted slightly. He was still wary, still ready to run, but the noble could see the faintest flicker of curiosity in his expression. The noble stayed where he was, letting the silence settle again. He knew better than to push. Trust wasn¡¯t something you could force. The boy didn¡¯t touch the dried meat at first. He stayed where he was, crouched behind the tree, his sharp eyes flicking between Gareth and the offering on the ground. Gareth didn¡¯t push. He leaned back against the tree, letting the silence stretch between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant rustle of the forest. Eventually, the boy moved. Slowly, cautiously, he crept forward, his spear still clutched tightly in one hand. He stopped just short of the meat, his gaze darting to Gareth as if waiting for some sign of aggression. When none came, he snatched the piece of dried meat and retreated a few steps, settling back into the shadows to eat. Gareth allowed himself a small smile. Progress. He reached into the pouch again, pulling out another piece of dried meat for himself. He tore into it with his teeth, the tough texture doing little to satisfy his hunger, but it was better than nothing. He chewed slowly, his eyes flicking to the boy every so often. The boy ate quickly, his movements hurried and messy, as if he were afraid that someone might steal it away For a while, they sat in silence, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the clearing. Gareth didn¡¯t mind. The flames crackled softly, their warm glow dancing across the trunks of nearby trees. Above them, the moon drifted in and out of the clouds, its pale light filtering through the canopy in fleeting bursts. The creek murmured in the distance, its gentle flow weaving through the stillness of the forest. Leaves rustled faintly in the breeze, brushing against moss-covered trunks and low-hanging branches. A shadow stretched and shifted on the ground, its edges jagged and uneven, cast by the figure leaning against the tree. The shadow moved slightly, adjusting as the figure shifted, its outline flickering with the rhythm of the fire. Beyond the reach of the firelight, another shape lingered, crouched low and still. It hovered at the edge of the clearing, just beyond the boundary where the light faded into darkness. Slowly, cautiously, the second shape began to move. It crept forward, its movements deliberate and measured, the faint rustle of leaves accompanying its approach. The firelight caught on something¡ªa glint of an eye, the faint outline of a face. The second figure hesitated, its form half in shadow, half illuminated by the warm glow of the flames. For a moment, it lingered there, as if testing the safety of the light. Then, with a final, careful step, it crossed fully into the clearing, settling near the fire. The two figures sat in silence, the firelight playing across their forms. One leaned back against the tree, its shadow stretching long and thin across the ground. The other sat closer to the fire, its movements quick and sharp, tearing into its food with a quiet urgency. Around them, the forest murmured softly¡ªthe distant rush of a creek, the rustle of leaves, the occasional creak of a branch swaying in the breeze. It was the boy who broke the silence. ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked, his voice low and cautious, but clear. His sharp eyes fixed on Gareth, studying him with an intensity that made him seem far older than he was. Gareth straightened slightly, a flicker of pride lighting in his chest. He¡¯d been waiting for this moment, for the boy to show some interest in him. He cleared his throat, brushing a hand over his dented chestplate as if to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles. ¡°I,¡± he began, his voice taking on a theatrical lilt, ¡°am Gareth Proudwing, of House Proudwing. A noble house of great renown, known for our valor and strength. We¡¯ve stood as pillars of the kingdom for generations, our name ¡ª¡± He stopped abruptly, a sharp pain lancing through his ribs. He winced, clutching his side as the breath caught in his throat. The boy flinched at the sudden movement, retreating a step, his spear rising slightly. Gareth waved a hand weakly, trying to reassure him, but the pain was relentless. He doubled over, coughing violently, his face contorted in a grimace. The coughs racked his body, each one sending fresh waves of pain through his ribs and shoulder. His breath came in short, wheezing gasps as he tried to regain control. ¡°Damn it,¡± Gareth muttered between coughs, his voice strained and hoarse. He slumped back against the tree, his hand still pressed to his side, his face pale and damp with sweat. For a moment, the boy stayed where he was, his body tense and ready to flee. But then, something shifted. His sharp eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying to suppress a smile. A quiet giggle escaped him, muffled behind his hand. Gareth glanced up, his face still pale from the pain. His eyes narrowed slightly as he caught the boy¡¯s expression. ¡°Really?¡± he rasped, his voice hoarse but tinged with indignation. The boy shook his head quickly, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. He ducked his head, trying to hide his amusement, but it was no use. Another giggle slipped out, and this time, Gareth couldn¡¯t help but notice the faint sparkle of mischief in the boy¡¯s eyes. For a moment, Gareth stared at him, his own expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement. Then, he laughed. It started as a low chuckle, but quickly grew into something louder, freer. The sound was rough and uneven, broken by the occasional cough, but it was genuine. The boy¡¯s giggles turned into full laughter, his voice light and unguarded. Their laughter echoed softly through the clearing, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the rustle of the trees. For the first time since waking, Gareth felt lighter, the weight of his injuries and the tension between them momentarily forgotten. Chapter 8: The offer The boy chewed on the dried meat, his sharp teeth working against its tough texture. It wasn¡¯t the best thing he¡¯d ever eaten¡ªtoo salty, too dry¡ªbut after weeks in this godforsaken forest, it might as well have been a feast. He swallowed another bite, savoring the way it filled the gnawing emptiness in his stomach, even if just for a moment. The man caught his gaze and offered a smile¡ªa bit forced, but smooth and practiced, the kind of smile that might have fooled him once. But the boy had seen smiles like that before, the kind that tried to hide pain. He could see it now, in the faint tightness around Gareth¡¯s eyes, in the way his hand lingered near his ribs even as he tried to appear at ease. Slumped against the tree, his face pale and drawn, he looked like someone who should¡¯ve been resting, not trying to impress anyone. And yet, he¡¯d tried. He¡¯d puffed himself up, spoken loudly, like he thought the world still cared about names and titles. It reminded the boy of the kind old man from the streets¡ªthe one who gave away his bread even when he had none for himself, who smiled and spoke of heaven as if it were just around the corner. Foolish, yes, but not in a bad way. It was the kind of foolishness that made you want to believe, even if you knew better. The boy tore another bite from the meat, his gaze lingering on Gareth for a moment longer. He swallowed, the words forming in his mind before he could stop them. ¡°Why are you here?¡± he asked, his voice quiet but carrying a thread of curiosity. ¡°What happened to you?¡± Gareth¡¯s hand shifted slightly where it rested near his ribs, his fingers brushing against the fabric of his tunic. He didn¡¯t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the fire. The flames reflected in his eyes, flickering like something distant and unreachable. When he finally spoke, his tone was light, almost casual. ¡°Ah, well, that¡¯s a long story,¡± he said, offering a faint smile. ¡°But it¡¯s not a very interesting one, I promise you.¡± The boy tilted his head, watching him closely. Gareth sighed softly, leaning back against the tree. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve had a bit of bad luck,¡± he added, his voice quieter now. ¡°But nothing I can¡¯t handle.¡± The boy frowned slightly, not out of distrust but because he could sense the weight behind Gareth¡¯s words. He knew the man was deflecting, skirting around the truth with practiced ease. It reminded him of the old man from the streets¡ªthe way he¡¯d smile and wave off questions about his own struggles, always turning the conversation back to something lighter, something easier. The boy had learned not to push back then, and he knew better than to push now. Sometimes, it was better for both of them to just let it go. Then Gareth tilted his head slightly, his smile softening. ¡°What about you?¡± he asked, his tone light but curious. ¡°What brings you out here, in the middle of nowhere?¡± The boy froze, his fingers tightening slightly around the piece of meat in his hand. How could he even begin to explain? That he¡¯d been dragged into a place that shouldn¡¯t exist, forced to climb a Tower filled with things that defied reason? That he¡¯d been given a "Guide" who spoke in riddles and left him to fend for himself? It all sounded like a bad joke, the kind of story that would earn him nothing but disbelief. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant rustle of the forest. Finally, the boy looked away, his gaze dropping to the ground. He didn¡¯t say anything. Gareth didn¡¯t press him. He simply waited, his expression calm and patient. The boy shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against the spear resting across his lap. After a moment, he broke the silence again. ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡± he asked, his voice quieter now. ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Gareth blinked, caught off guard by the question. He straightened slightly, his hand falling away from his ribs. ¡°My plan?¡± he repeated, as if testing the words. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Well, I suppose I¡¯ll have to figure that out, won¡¯t I?¡± The boy¡¯s gaze flicked back to him, his expression unreadable. Gareth smiled faintly, his tone turning thoughtful. ¡°For now, I think I¡¯ll focus on getting out of this forest in one piece,¡± he said. ¡°After that¡­ well, we¡¯ll see.¡± ¡°I can help you,¡± the boy said, the words coming out more earnest than he intended. Gareth blinked, surprised by the offer. Then he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s kind of you, lad,¡± he said lightly ¡°But I¡¯ll manage. I always do.¡± He shifted slightly, wincing as he adjusted his position against the tree. ¡°Besides, I owe you one for keeping watch earlier. Let me return the favor. I¡¯ll guard while you sleep.¡± The boy froze for a moment, then snapped back, his tone sharp and mocking. ¡°You? Guard me? What are you going to do, scare off a wolf by coughing at it? Or maybe you¡¯ll just fall over and crush it.¡± Gareth raised his hands in mock surrender, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Fair point,¡± he admitted, his voice tinged with amusement. ¡°But I still owe you something. I don¡¯t like being in anyone¡¯s debt.¡± The boy rolled his eyes, tearing another bite from the meat. ¡°I don¡¯t work for free,¡± he said, his tone still sharp. ¡°But I don¡¯t take payment from someone who can¡¯t give it, either. Just sleep. You¡¯ll pay me back when you¡¯re strong enough.¡± For a moment, Gareth said nothing, his gaze steady on the boy. Then he nodded, his smile softening. ¡°You¡¯ve got a good head on your shoulders, lad,¡± he said quietly The boy didn¡¯t respond. He simply shifted his position, leaning back slightly as he kept his spear close. The fire crackled softly between them, the warmth of the flames brushing against their faces. Gareth let out a slow breath, leaning his head back against the tree. For the first time in what felt like days, he allowed his eyes to close. Gareth woke to the faint smell of something cooking. For a moment, he stayed still, letting the warmth of the fire and the soft crackle of its flames ground him. The ache in his ribs was still there, dull but persistent, but it was manageable. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The boy was crouched near the fire, carefully tending to a pair of fish skewered on sticks. Thin slices of leaves were pressed against the fish, and a handful of small, dark berries sat nearby, their juices staining the boy¡¯s fingers as he worked. Gareth blinked, surprised by the sight. The boy moved with quiet precision, his sharp eyes focused entirely on the task at hand. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Morning,¡± Gareth said, his voice rough from sleep. He shifted slightly, wincing as he adjusted his position against the tree. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡± The boy glanced at him briefly, then returned his attention to the fish. ¡°You were snoring,¡± he said flatly. ¡°Figured I¡¯d do something useful.¡± Gareth chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Fair enough,¡± he said. His gaze lingered on the fish, the faint aroma of cooked meat making his stomach growl. ¡°How¡¯d you catch them?¡± he asked, more to start a conversation than anything else. The boy didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Mana,¡± he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°I used it to sharpen my senses, to find them in the water. Then I boosted my speed to spear them before they could get away.¡± Gareth blinked, caught off guard by the answer. ¡°Mana?¡± he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. ¡°You used mana¡­ to catch fish?¡± The boy tilted his head, as if not understanding why he ask it back, before shrugging, turning his attention back to the fish. Gareth stared at him for a moment, then let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. His lips curled into an amused smile as he leaned back against the tree, shaking his head slightly. He didn¡¯t say anything, but his thoughts churned. Mana. Of course. Every mana user he¡¯d ever met had wielded it with purpose, with ambition. Mages and arcanists bending the world to their will, reshaping reality with a flick of their fingers. Nobles like himself, using it to enhance their strength, their speed, their presence on the battlefield. And then there were the truly terrifying ones¡ªthe individuals who stood outside the two great paths. Most mana users either served a kingdom, earning nobility through their loyalty, or joined the mage and arcanist schools, dedicating their lives to study and mastery. But a rare few chose neither. These were the ones strong enough to command respect without bending the knee, powerful enough that neither crown nor council dared challenge them. And then there were the beasts. Any creature capable of wielding mana was a force to be reckoned with. A mana-using beast wasn¡¯t just strong¡ªit was a one-man army, a walking calamity that could level entire battalions with ease. And here was this boy, in the middle of nowhere, using mana to catch fish. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh again. He pressed a hand to his ribs, stifling the sound before it could escape. The boy glanced at him, his expression unreadable. ¡°What?¡± the boy asked, his tone defensive. Gareth waved a hand dismissively, still smiling. ¡°Nothing,¡± he said lightly, though the amused glint in his eyes remained. He rested his head back against the tree, letting out a quiet chuckle under his breath. Perhaps he can accept the boy offer. But the thought of dragging him deeper into this mess made Gareth¡¯s stomach twist. The war wasn¡¯t just a distant threat¡ªit was here, in the forest, in the blood on his armor and the arrows that had nearly killed him. The men who had chased him into these woods wouldn¡¯t stop. They¡¯d hunt him down, and if they saw the boy with him, they wouldn¡¯t hesitate to strike. But Gareth couldn¡¯t afford to stay lost in this forest much longer. His people needed him. His camp was out there, somewhere beyond the endless trees, and every moment he spent wandering was another moment his men were left vulnerable. The boy clearly knew the forest¡ªhe moved through it with the ease of someone who had lived in its shadows for a long time. If anyone could guide Gareth back to his camp quickly, it was him. Gareth¡¯s jaw tightened as he considered the implications. He couldn¡¯t let that happen. The boy wasn¡¯t a soldier, wasn¡¯t someone who should ever have to face the horrors Gareth had seen. No, if it came to it, Gareth would make sure the boy got away. He was confident in that much. He glanced at the boy again, his expression softening. The kid was quick, sharp, and clever. If Gareth could hold off whatever was left of the men chasing him, the boy would have a chance to escape. Gareth¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile. He¡¯d been hailed as a genius once, after all. If it came to a fight, he¡¯d make sure it was one they wouldn¡¯t walk away from. But the thought still weighed heavily on him. Was it right to even ask the boy to stay with him, knowing the risks? Gareth sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared into the fire. The decision wasn¡¯t easy, but one thing was clear: if the boy stayed, Gareth would do whatever it took to protect him. The boy stood suddenly, breaking Gareth¡¯s train of thought. He walked over to Gareth and held out a skewer of fish. Gareth blinked, momentarily surprised, before taking it with a nod of thanks. The fish was simple, but the aroma of the leaves and berries made his stomach growl. He took a bite, the flavors sharp and earthy, and let out a soft hum of approval. ¡°Not bad,¡± he said, glancing at the boy. ¡°Lad,¡± he began, his tone calm but firm, ¡°I need to ask something of you.¡± The boy looked up, his expression unreadable. ¡°I need a guide,¡± Gareth continued. ¡°Someone who knows this forest. My people are out there, waiting for me. They need me, and I can¡¯t afford to wander aimlessly any longer.¡± He paused, meeting the boy¡¯s gaze. ¡°In return, I¡¯ll teach you. About mana, about the world beyond this forest. You¡¯ve got potential, and I don¡¯t leave debts unpaid.¡± The boy tilted his head slightly, then gave a small, nonchalant nod. ¡°Fine¡± Gareth frowned, his jaw tightening. ¡°Fine?¡± he repeated, his tone sharpening. ¡°Do you even understand what I¡¯m asking? This isn¡¯t a game, lad. There are men out there¡ªarmed, trained, and ruthless. They won¡¯t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way. This is war.¡± The boy¡¯s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening slightly on the skewer in his hand. ¡°I know what war is,¡± he said, his voice low but steady. ¡°And I know how to run. I¡¯ve been running my whole life. If it comes to it, I can get away.¡± Gareth¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°And what if you can¡¯t?¡± he pressed. ¡°What if they catch you? Do you think you can fight them off? Kill them?¡± The boy¡¯s gaze hardened, his voice rising slightly. ¡°Maybe I can,¡± he shot back. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll have to. I¡¯m not afraid of them.¡± Gareth¡¯s expression darkened, his frustration boiling over. ¡°You think killing is something to take lightly?¡± he snapped, his voice sharp. ¡°You think war is just about running and fighting? It¡¯s blood and death and pain, lad. It¡¯s not something you should ever want to be a part of.¡± The boy glared at him, his jaw set stubbornly. ¡°I didn¡¯t say I wanted it,¡± he retorted. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to sit here and let you scare me into thinking I can¡¯t handle myself.¡± Gareth let out a slow breath, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He set the skewer down beside him and straightened, his gaze steady on the boy. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, his voice cold and measured. ¡°If you¡¯re so confident, prove it.¡± The boy blinked, caught off guard. ¡°What?¡± ¡°A duel,¡± Gareth said firmly. ¡°You and me. No killing, no bloodshed¡ªjust a test. You think you can handle yourself? Show me.¡± The boy hesitated, his eyes flicking to Gareth¡¯s ribs, where the man¡¯s injuries were still evident. ¡°You¡¯re hurt,¡± he said flatly. ¡°I can fight you with a leg and an arm, blind¡± Gareth replied, his tone sharp. ¡°And if you¡¯re going to guide me, I need to know you can hold your own. So, what¡¯s it going to be?¡± The boy¡¯s grip tightened on his skewer, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he stood, his movements deliberate and calm. ¡°Fine,¡± he said again, his voice steady. ¡°But don¡¯t blame me if you regret this.¡± Gareth¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. ¡°We¡¯ll see, lad. We¡¯ll see.¡±