After the encounter with the strange creature, the boy doesn't go straight back to the cabin. Instead, he takes a detour, cautiously moving through the forest, keeping an ear out for any sign of the monster returning. He doesn't know what it is, but one thing is clear—it's dangerous.
Even with his Personal Reality, he was barely able to affect it. That alone tells him something important: whatever that thing was, it was beyond his current understanding. His power is tied to knowledge—if he doesn't fully understand something, his control over it is weak.
So that thing… whatever it is, I need to learn more about it.
But the question is: how?
He doesn't even know where he is, let alone what kind of world he's in. The monster's unnatural energy, its strange appearance, and its sheer resistance to his abilities—everything about it screams not normal.
As he walks, his mind begins racing with possibilities.
Could it be some kind of experimental creature?
Maybe something supernatural?
Or worse… am I in a fantasy world?
The last thought makes him pause. He glances down at his hands, then at the snowy landscape stretching before him. If this is a fantasy world… well, that explains why he has some weird power, but it also raises an even bigger concern:
What else is out here?
The monster wasn't the only thing in this world. If creatures like that exist, what else is lurking beyond the trees?
As he keeps moving, his thoughts are interrupted by a familiar sound—a deep, guttural growl.
He freezes.
Slowly, he turns his head.
Shit. It's still around.
The monster lunges.
Its massive claws rip through the air, tearing apart the snow-covered ground with terrifying force. The sheer pressure of its movement sends a gust of icy wind in all directions.
The boy barely dodges, rolling to the side as the beast's claws slam into the ground where he once stood. His breath is steady, his expression calm—but inside, he's analyzing.
I can't fight this thing directly… But maybe I don't have to.
He flicks his fingers experimentally, focusing on the idea of space manipulation.
Personal Reality responds.
At first, it's just a distortion—the air rippling slightly, like heat waves over asphalt. He tries to step through it, hoping for instant teleportation. Instead, his body jerks awkwardly, and he stumbles forward, feeling like he's walking through water.
The monster roars and charges again.
Not good.
He tries again, pushing harder. The air warps. This time, his body flickers—and in the next instant, he's a few feet away.
Teleportation.
It's rough, unstable—like trying to run on ice—but it works.
Okay, I can move through space… But what if I can do more than that?
He turns to face the creature, his mind working.
Space isn't just about movement—it's about structure, dimension, and boundaries. If he can manipulate it, then…
He raises his hand.
The air distorts again. This time, a thin, jagged crack forms in the space in front of him—a spatial fissure.
It flickers, unstable. He focuses, trying to expand it, but the edges keep shifting, slipping away from his control. It's like trying to hold onto something intangible.
The monster lunges again.
In a split-second decision, he throws the unstable fissure forward.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then—
A thin line appears across the creature's body.
A second later, reality itself splits along that line.
The beast stumbles, a deep, invisible wound appearing across its torso. But it isn't a normal wound—there's no blood, just a strange dislocation, as if part of its body was momentarily severed from existence.
It snarls in confusion, stepping back.
The boy watches.
Then he casually mutters—
"Ah, I get it now."
He exhales, rolling his shoulders.
Space isn't just something to move through… it's something to cut.
With a calm wave of his hand, he tries again. This time, the fissure forms smoothly—sharper, cleaner.
The monster lunges once more.
He doesn't move.
Instead, he simply swipes his hand through the air.
A thin rift appears—silent, nearly invisible.
The beast freezes mid-attack.
A heartbeat later, its body slides apart, neatly bisected by the spatial fissure. It doesn't even have time to react before it collapses in two.
The boy watches as the halves of the creature flicker and dissolve into nothing.
A moment of silence.
Then he shrugs.
"Huh. So that's how it works."