By the fourth day, the combination of insomnia and physical exhaustion had taken its toll, and Renoc's face had begun to darken with fatigue.
Now, even the other workers were reluctant to approach him.
The overseer deliberately assigned Renoc to a poorly lit corner of the parts room and then completely ignored him.
It seemed like they wanted to keep his barely functioning body from collapsing and disrupting work.
For Renoc, who had been planning to cause a commotion to escape, this was actually a good opportunity.
He fiddled with some parts for a while before discreetly getting up and moving toward the hallway.
In the process, he briefly locked eyes with a weary-looking worker. But the man quickly averted his gaze, as if pretending he hadn't seen anything, and said nothing.
While the overseer was busy swinging a whip with a furious, flushed face, Renoc swiftly slipped out of the parts room.
As he stepped outside, the stifling air was replaced by a refreshing breeze, making it noticeably easier to breathe.
But if he stayed here too long, he would inevitably be discovered.
Pressing himself against the hallway wall, Renoc staggered forward, making his way as discreetly as possible.
The hallway was lined with old, worn-out picture frames and broken window frames. The floor was filthy, and a noisy ventilation fan whirred in the background. Nothing particularly stood out, yet that was precisely what felt off.
The game WORLD, which Renoc had played, had always been a typical medieval fantasy setting—at least up until version 2.0.
If this world was different from the WORLD he knew, things would become even more complicated.
If he couldn't rely on his game knowledge, one of the few hopes he had left would be completely shattered.
The thought alone unsettled him, but worrying about it now wouldn't change anything.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Renoc focused on memorizing the path as he walked through the grimy corridor.
Fortunately, his memory was far beyond average, making it easy for him to retrace his steps.
More than that, he could precisely estimate distances and turns, constructing a three-dimensional mental map of the area as he moved.
By analyzing the way the corridors branched, he could gauge the layout of the factory without having to see it all.
Though he hadn't been walking for long, just moving through the hallways had allowed him to piece together a rough blueprint of the facility in his mind.
At some point, a sharp, acrid smell began to sting his nose.
Unlike a simple foul odor, this one stimulated both his sense of smell and his brain in an intense way.
It was the scent of a highly addictive cigarette—or something equally potent.
Moving silently, Renoc advanced a little further until the hallway opened up, revealing a small side door leading outside the factory.
Through the slightly ajar door, wisps of smoke drifted out along with muffled voices.
Positioning himself where he wouldn't be immediately seen if the door swung open, Renoc carefully listened in on the conversation.
"The new ones are too damn slow. I don't know if we'll make the delivery on time at this rate."
"What can you do? They're just abandoned scum from the city. If they don't pick up the pace, we'll just have to beat it into them. If we fall behind schedule, the boss might put out his cigarette on your forehead again."
"Shit… I'm never letting that happen again. The last time hurt like hell—I even teared up a little."
The man's crude remark was followed by raucous laughter.
From their conversation, Renoc deduced that the people beyond the door were likely other overseers, much like the burly one he had encountered earlier.
"Why the hell is the union so obsessed with timing? Every time they come down on us, the boss takes it out on us even more."
"You really don't know? The stuff we make here gets sold to necromancers through the union."
"What? What the hell do necromancers need grinders for?"
So they were manufacturing grinders here. Having spent all his time locked in the parts room, Renoc hadn't even known what he was helping to build.
"At least this world has magic," he thought.
If even magic didn't exist in this unfamiliar world, then his talents would have been completely meaningless.
Relieved, he took a quiet breath and continued to listen to the overseers' conversation.
One of the men lowered his voice significantly before answering.
"If necromancers are buying grinders, isn't it obvious? They're using them… for bodies."
"Damn it… I suddenly feel sick. I need another smoke."
"Here, hold it in your mouth—I'll light it for you."
Through the crack in the door, Renoc saw a thick hand holding a lighter.
"Nice lighter. How much?"
"Got it from Kelvin & Cubs recently. Runs on magic, believe it or not."
The man flicked his thumb, and a small blue flame ignited at the tip of the lighter.
At that moment, something inside Renoc changed.
It was as if a trigger had been pulled in his mind—an entirely new sensation exploded through his body and consciousness in an instant.
It was a sixth sense beyond his five natural ones, a third eye, a second self.
In that moment, Renoc understood.
This force was the foundation of this world, the power that defined existence itself.
It had always been there, flowing through everything—he simply hadn't realized it until now.
In his previous life, he had never even considered the possibility that he had such a talent. His mind had been crushed under despair and suffering during his time in the factory, preventing his awakening.
But he was no longer that same person.
Now, he was fully aware of the magic running through his body and the talent sleeping within his soul.
All he needed was a trigger—just like the tiny flame from that lighter.
Overwhelmed by the sensation, Renoc momentarily lost himself, savoring the moment of his awakening.
The power coursing through his fragile body was his most valuable weapon—his greatest hope.
Bringing his thumb and forefinger together, Renoc whispered softly.
"Light."
Fwoosh—!
As the incantation took form, the magic overlapped with the image of flames in Lenok's mind, piercing through the realm of ideals and concepts to manifest in reality.
It was magic.
Whoosh!
Lenok shuddered faintly as he watched the blue flame flicker into existence in his palm.
The flame was identical to the one he had seen through the door crack—the tiny spark from the lighter now mirrored in the fire dancing atop his fingertips.
Everything around him had changed, yet the magic of WORLD, as he knew it, had remained the same.
For some reason, that fact alone gave Lenok a small sense of solace.
Lenok continued eavesdropping on the overseers' conversation for a while longer before slipping away unnoticed and returning to the parts room.
The overseer raged when he realized Lenok had disappeared, but fortunately, it ended with just a few blows.
From the murmurs of nearby workers, it seemed that grim rumors were already circulating—that he was wandering around looking for a place to die.
After finishing his watery gruel in a single gulp, Lenok lay down, lost in thought.
"Three days until the union comes to collect the products."
Even after lighting each other's cigarettes, the overseers had talked at length, allowing Lenok to glean valuable information.
"Once the union members arrive, the overseers' vigilance will loosen… That's my only chance."
If he waited any longer, his frail body wouldn't last.
The only thing keeping his mind intact in these harsh conditions was the mental attributes he had invested in when creating his character.
But if his body were to completely break down, who knew if he could maintain this level of judgment and rationality?
Time was not on his side, but he wasn't without options.
Lenok carefully pulled his blanket over his head, curled up, and turned toward the wall.
He brought his fingers together once more, and as he visualized the blue flame, a soft glow flickered to life, illuminating the inside of the blanket.
"..."
Perhaps because he had already used it once, magic no longer required an incantation.
Staring at the flame, Lenok focused on bridging the gap between his knowledge of magic and its manifestation in reality.
The truth was, he had no real understanding of how to manipulate magic or cast spells properly.
The Gunslinger Mage character he had played simply followed his commands from behind the screen—reciting incantations, forming hand signs, and then designating a target before firing spells through a gun.
What Lenok was doing now—casting magic without incantations or hand signs, purely through willpower—was something he had never experienced before.
Only one possibility came to mind: the magical attributes he had maximized when creating his character.
If his theory was correct, then Lenok was reproducing the magic he vaguely remembered, purely through raw talent.
The ability to cast magic without knowing incantations or hand signs—
Lenok fully understood just how absurd and incredible this was.
If he could combine this talent with his extensive knowledge from the game, rapid growth wouldn't be impossible.
However, there was one issue—
Even if this world's magic system aligned with WORLD, Lenok's knowledge of magic was incomplete.
In ver 2.0, his character had been limited by the constraints of the Gunslinger Mage class, allowing him to use only a shared magic system called Dexter.
The unique magic system used by true mages—Sinister—was something he had only heard rumors about, on par with other players' speculations.
But for now, that didn't matter. The Dexter system alone contained plenty of useful spells.
"The true value of magic isn't in its flashiness or destructive power."
Had he not awakened his magic, he would have needed a different strategy.
But from the moment he could wield even the smallest spell, the difference became stark.
All that remained was to carefully put his plan into action, step by step.
Clenching his fist to extinguish the flame, Lenok straightened his body and closed his eyes.
The relentless insomnia still tormented him. It had been four days of drifting in and out of restless sleep.
In this foul-smelling, snore-filled room, getting a proper rest was out of the question.
Spending another sleepless night, Lenok continued practicing magic in silence until it was nearly time for the other workers to wake.
If he failed to master this feeling, he had no future.
There was only one runway available to him—
And the one who had forced him onto it was none other than himself.