Chapter 14: Magic
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The condensing of my Magic Core had taken all night and by the time it was done dawn broke.
A wave of exhaustion crashed over me, my limbs heavy, my mind sluggish. The cold made my skin numb as I tried to move again. Yet despite it all, a thrill pulsed through my veins.
The freezing morning air pierced my lungs but I couldn't help myself—
I burst into lighthearted laughter.
"Hahahahaha… Yes!"
A Magic Core meant I could finally wield some magic which was also accompanied by strength, what in its own way, was the key to achieve to freedom.
For freedom power needed. With it I could carve my own destiny and be unshackled by duty or any external expectations.
I always wanted to live true.
To be a real person.
Not someone hiding behind a mask of attitude and pretence.
Not someone who restrains himself because of the duty and responsibilities that society forces onto him.
Not a pawn to be used by others.
…Even if those others are the very gods themselves.
But to achieve that—to be truly free—
I have to grow stronger.
Unimaginably strong.
Strong enough to surpass gods and demons alike.
Right now, I finally completed the first step
to that goal.
GROWL...
-_-
My stomach growled and ruined my moment.
I gathered the sticks I had previously stored in the hut to dry. Then, I laid down the rocks I had collected, arranging them into a rough circle. Carefully, I placed the wood in the center.
For a moment, I paused, feeling the stillness in the air. No breeze. No movement. It was the perfect chance to try my luck.
"Ignite!"
As the word left my lips, a strange sensation bloomed in my abdomen—something was depleting, draining away and materialzing into the world. Was it mana?
For the briefest moment, an ember flared in my palm, a spark of raw power. My heart leaped—but then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it died, swallowed by the cold air.
Then, as if mocking me, a cold gust swept across my face.
My fingers curled into a fist. I clenched my jaw, my breath slow and measured. Had I done something wrong? Maybe I needed to direct the spell toward the wood instead of casting it without vision, or perhaps another incantation would be more effective.
I focused on the sticks, my eyes fixated on them like they were glued onto the material, envisioned them to catch fire, imagining the wood to nurture a flame.
Again, that odd sensation stirred in my core. Then—
A spark.
The small flame flickered to life, hesitant at first, then growing, twisting, feeding on the dry wood. Heat, a concept foreign to this icy mountain, radiated outward, chasing away the numbing cold.
A campfire.
My heart pounded with exhilaration.
For the first time since I had woken up in this world, I didn't just resist the cold—I felt warm.
Without wasting a second, I hurried to my makeshift ice fridge, grabbing the rope the hare was tied to. Hunger gnawed at my stomach as I held the carcass above the fire. Slowly, its raw red color darkened, turning into the rich brown of cooked meat.
As I stood there, watching the flames lick at my dinner, a thought surfaced.
'Where is the language book Aldov, the goddess, promised?'
Was it supposed to simply appear in front of me? Or had it been left somewhere nearby, waiting for me to find it?
A sharp, acrid scent pulled me back to the present.
Burning flesh.
Cursing, I yanked the meat away from the fire. The heat seared my fingers, but I barely cared. Blowing on the meat, I tore off a piece and popped it into my mouth.
In reality, it was bland—lacking salt, seasoning, anything that would make it taste better. But in that moment, it was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten.
Savoring each bite, I tossed more sticks into the fire, ensuring it wouldn't die down too quickly.
My hut was small, barely four square meters, but as I glanced inside, a new thought took root.
I needed to seal the gaps between the logs and make a proper bed.
To turn this rough shelter into something that truly felt like home.
I needed something that functioned as a bowl. With a bowl, I could finally harden leather properly and could cook meat.
With that thought in mind, I strode over to my pile of small tree trunks. With my ax in hand and a goal in head, I struck the log I had chosen several times. Soon, I had a rough cylinder.
I tried to shape it more into a bowl, cutting away excess wood.
As it slowly took form, I switched to my knife and began carefully carving out the inside.
By the time dusk settled in, I had finally crafted a bowl.
Sure, if someone looked at my creation, they would probably call it "bowl-blemished," but having a rough, imperfect bowl was leagues better than having none at all. At least I thought so.
I stepped out of my hut, my mind troubled by the question of thr language book of aldov. Was it supposed to just drop into my hands like a divine gift, or did I actually have to search for it? The goddess of knowledge surely wouldn't have lied to me… right?
Before I could dwell on the thought any longer, my stomach growled in protest, demanding something to fill it.
With that hunger-driven sensation, I wandered between the tall, snow-covered pine trees, beneath the fading light of the setting sun.