This is incredible. I hold my hand out in front of me, watching a small flame dance at the tip of my index finger, its reddish light flickering like a heartbeat. I can't help but think about how far I've come. Not so long ago, I was just Hans Müller, a 38-year-old German businessman trapped in a life that felt like a hamster wheel: endless meetings, midnight emails, a gray office that smelled of stale coffee and forgotten dreams. Monotony had devoured me, and although I was successful by the numbers, my soul was empty. But now… now I am Einar, or Eidel von Kreutz, or whatever this world wants to call me. I am free.
For the first time in so long, I feel like I can express what I carry inside. This world is a blank canvas, and little by little I've been painting it with colors I never knew I had. Every fight, from the Black Spider to the Armorsaurus, was a clumsy but brave stroke, proof that I could be more than just an ordinary man. Facing Velgrynd, a True Dragon, and coming out alive—though bruised—was like adding a vibrant red to the painting, a challenge that marked my soul. Every day in this cave, every spark I summon, is a new brushstroke, a step toward becoming someone who not only survives but truly lives. I'm not sure what shape this painting will take, but for the first time, I feel like I have control of the brush.
[Suggestion: Engage in physical activity to complement your magical progress. Your body is healed, but maintaining a physical routine will optimize your adaptation.]
Raphael's voice interrupts my thoughts, as direct as ever.
She's right. I stand up, stretching my arms and feeling only a faint echo of the pain that had me bedridden days ago. My burns have healed, though they left pink, rough marks on my skin—reminders of my mistakes and victories. Raphael has told me I need to keep training physically, and I don't complain. In fact, I've already grown used to the routine: running, climbing, practicing movements with the broken dagger I still carry out of pure attachment. But even this is starting to feel… easy. My body responds better every day, my muscles move with a fluidity they never had before, and even my reflexes seem sharper.
[Your body is adapting at a rate above average. Physical endurance has increased by 27% since your reincarnation. Continue as you are, and your current limit will expand.]
Raphael adds, almost as if she were impressed, though I know she's not.
I smile and step out of the cave, venturing into the forest that surrounds the cliff. The air is cool compared to the infernal heat from before, and the tall trees cast dappled shadows across the ground. As I run, I activate Aura and Will at the same time, feeling the pressure of Aura spread around me while Will stabilizes my body against fatigue. My steps are light, almost instinctive, dodging roots and leaping over small streams without breaking rhythm. Between strides, I ask mentally:
—"Raphael, what's my magical expenditure while maintaining Aura and Will like this?"
[Magical expenditure: 0.4% per minute. Minimal. With your Source of Life ability and the recent adaptation of your core, the consumption is nearly insignificant. If you continue refining your control, the cost could become nonexistent.]
The answer brings a wider smile to my face. I keep running, letting Aura flow like a second skin and Will keep me steady, practicing the balance between the two. Each step is a test, an exercise in controlling the flow of magicules that I now sense more clearly than ever. The forest becomes my training ground, and for a moment, I allow myself to enjoy this freedom: the wind on my face, the power in my veins, and the certainty that, little by little, I'm painting a canvas worth creating.
Back in the cave, the warm air wrapped around me as I caught my breath. My training for the day had been brutal: climbing the cliff up to the entrance of the cave where I was staying with Velgrynd. It wasn't just a rocky wall; it was a beast in itself, with treacherous cracks, ledges that crumbled under my weight, and a wind that seemed intent on tearing me from the stone. Every ascent was a challenge that made my muscles burn and tested my control over Aura and Will, but it also made me feel stronger, more capable. Reaching the top was a victory, even if my body still trembled from the effort.
But just as I collapsed onto the cave's rocky floor, seeking a moment of peace, Velgrynd decided it wasn't time to rest. Her voice echoed from the back, where she was coiled like a mountain of crimson scales.
—"Einar, I'm hungry. Go down and bring me something to eat."
I blinked, slowly turning toward her. Food? Seriously? I tried to stay patient, but a spark of frustration flared in my chest. She was literally ordering me around like her personal servant. I crossed my arms, ignoring the lingering pain in my shoulders, and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
—"Wait, hungry? How can someone like you, a True Dragon, be hungry? It's not like you need food to survive, right? That sounds… I don't know, way too mortal for you."
Velgrynd snorted, a gust of hot air stirring the dust around me. Her golden eyes narrowed, and her tone was a mix of impatience and condescension.
—"Don't be insolent, pup. I'm a living being, and living beings eat. I don't need to explain it to you. Now go, or I'll use you as a snack."
Before I could reply, Raphael intervened in my mind, her voice as dry as the desert.
[That is false. As a spiritual life form, Velgrynd is beyond the physical needs of earthly beings. Higher life forms, such as True Dragons, are immune to hunger, fatigue, or any bodily weakness. Her demand is likely a whim or a test. Probability that she truly needs food: 0.7%.]
I frowned, replying mentally while looking at Velgrynd, who now pretended to ignore me, adjusting her position with a slow flick of her tail.
—"Then why is she sending me to get food? Should I refuse? I'm not her slave, Raphael. I already climbed a damn cliff today, I'm not up for hunting giant deer!"
[Refusing has an 84% chance of provoking a negative reaction, which could include anything from more taunting to a simulated attack to 'train' you. My analysis suggests compliance is the safest option, though not the most dignified. Want my advice? Do it, but with attitude. Sarcasm included, of course.]
I rolled my eyes, feeling frustration and exhaustion wrestle inside me. Raphael and her sarcasm weren't helping, but I knew she was right. Refusing Velgrynd would probably just get me into more trouble, and I wasn't in shape to challenge a dragon again. I sighed, giving her an exasperated look.
—"Fine, I'll go get your food. But don't expect me to come back with a feast, okay? Not all of us can bring down prey with a single breath."
She didn't reply, just let out a low growl that suspiciously sounded like a laugh. I turned toward the cave entrance, muttering to myself as I began to descend the cliff once again, wondering how I'd gone from bored businessman to errand boy for a capricious dragon.
After two hours, I returned to the cave, exhausted to the bone. My muscles screamed from the effort of having hunted a deer —identical to the one Velgrynd had brought me before— with nothing but my broken dagger, now little more than a handle with a jagged, bloodstained edge. It had been a nightmare. With no decent weapons, I had to chase the deer through the forest, ambush it with Aura to disorient it, and finally bring it down with clumsy blows and imprecise cuts. The remaining blade of the dagger had snapped at the end, leaving me empty-handed. Then came the worst part: cutting the deer into small pieces, because there was no way to carry it whole, and climbing up the cliff with each piece, one by one, with sweat and blood mixing on my skin. When I finally dropped the last piece on the cave floor, I was panting, covered in grime, and ready to collapse.
Before I could even sit down, Velgrynd's voice rang out from her stone platform, as commanding as ever.
—"Cook it, Einar. I'm not going to eat raw meat like an animal."
I growled, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.
—"Cook it? Seriously? I just climbed a cliff five times with pieces of deer, and now you want me to be your personal chef?"
To my surprise, Raphael intervened, her tone unusually aligned with Velgrynd.
[Suggestion: Cooking the deer with your fire magic will improve your control over the inherited fire affinity. Flame manifestation precision increased by 19% with direct practice. Comply. It is an opportunity.]
I looked at the pile of bloody meat, then at Velgrynd, who was watching me with those golden eyes that seemed to enjoy my misery. I sighed, but an idea crossed my mind, and a slow smile formed on my face. I turned to her, resting a hand on my hip.
—"Hey, Velgrynd, why are you so mean to me? Seriously, what did I ever do to you? Is it because I'm human? Or do you just enjoy watching me suffer?"
She didn't answer right away. A whole minute passed, the silence filling the cave as the embers from the previous campfire crackled faintly. Finally, she let out a low laugh, laced with mockery.
—"Mean? I took you in, pup. I gave you a name, Einar, something few receive from a True Dragon. You should be on your knees in gratitude, not whining like a child."
I nodded, pretending to consider it, then replied in a light, almost playful tone.
—"Oh, sure, thanks for the name, very generous. But come on, taking me in doesn't mean treating me like your pack mule. Can't you be a bit more… nice? You know, like a kind dragon, not one who seems to enjoy sending me out to hunt and cook while you relax."
Velgrynd snorted, a gust of hot air ruffling my hair.
—"Kind? I'm not a pet, human. I gave you a purpose. If you can't handle it, maybe you don't deserve the name you carry."
I laughed, shaking my head as I began piling the deer pieces near the extinguished fire.
—"Purpose? Sounds more like slavery with a fancy title. Come on, Velgrynd, admit it — you enjoy having me run around. But you know what? A kind word now and then wouldn't kill you. You could say 'good job, Einar' or, I don't know, 'thanks for the deer.' It'd be a refreshing change."
Her eyes narrowed, and her tail hit the stone with a dry thud, a clear sign that my tone was starting to irritate her.
—"Careful, pup. My patience isn't infinite. Cook the food and shut your mouth before I decide you're the main course."
I didn't flinch, sparking a flame with my fire magic to reignite the campfire. The flames slowly grew, and I kept talking, maintaining a joking tone but pushing just a little more.
—"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about. Threats instead of kindness. Imagine how it would be if you said something like 'Einar, I appreciate the effort.' It's not that hard, right? Even dragons can learn manners."
—"Enough!" —Velgrynd snapped, raising her head. Her scales gleamed brighter, and the air heated up for a moment—. "I don't need lessons from a mortal who can barely hold a broken dagger. Cook, or I'll show you what a real punishment is."
I smiled, turning a piece of meat over the fire with a makeshift stick.
—"Oh, come on, Velgrynd. Don't get mad. I'm just saying a bit of kindness would make this whole Master-Subordinate relationship much more… pleasant. I don't want to fight, I just want a dragon who doesn't look at me like I'm a constant annoyance."
She growled, clearly on the verge of losing her temper. Her white spines bristled slightly, and for a moment I thought she was really going to blast me with fire. But then, to my surprise, she let out a long, heavy sigh, and her tone changed—softer, though still with a hint of wounded pride.
—"Fine. Maybe… I've been hard on you. I'm not used to dealing with humans so… persistent. I'm sorry. But don't expect me to become some soft creature just because I gave you a name."
I stared at her, genuinely surprised, then let out a soft laugh.
—"Wow, an apology from a True Dragon. I think I can die in peace now. Thanks, Velgrynd. And hey, I don't want you to be soft, just… a little less terrifying from time to time."
She snorted again, but this time there was a hint of amusement in her golden eyes.
—"Cook the food, pup, before I change my mind."
I nodded, smiling as I refocused on the deer, the flames growing under my control. For the first time, I felt like Velgrynd and I were starting to understand each other — even if just a little.
...
Night had fallen, and the cave was lit only by the dwindling embers of the campfire. I managed to cook the deer—or at least what was left of it after cutting it into manageable pieces. The aroma of roasted meat filled the air, and just as I set aside my portion—a charred but juicy leg—Velgrynd leaned down and, in a single bite, swallowed the rest of the deer, bones included. The crunch echoed in the cave, and I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the scene.
While I ate, sitting on the rocky ground with the deer leg in my hands, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Velgrynd was watching me—not directly, but with that subtle glance she threw from time to time, her golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. I paused mid-bite, a smile tugging at my lips, and looked up at her.
—"Hey, Velgrynd, did you enjoy the meat? Looked like you'd been waiting all day for that bite."
She didn't answer. She only turned her head slightly, as if my question didn't deserve a response, but I saw her shift her position, her crimson scales catching the light of the embers. I smiled wider, taking another bite of my food.
—"I'll take that as a yes. No need to admit it."
I kept eating, the smoky flavor of the meat helping me forget the day's exhaustion. But then, Velgrynd's voice broke the silence, lower than usual, with a tone I couldn't quite decipher.
—"Einar, why are you so… special?"
I paused, a piece of meat halfway to my mouth, and blinked, confused.
—"Special? I don't know what you mean. I'm just some guy who ended up reincarnated here, doing his best not to die. What do you mean by that?"
She hesitated, something rare for a being as confident as her. Her white spines shifted slightly, and when she spoke, there was a note of bitterness in her voice that I didn't expect.
—"Humans… have always seen me as a monster. A force of destruction, something to fear or hunt. They run from me, or try to kill me, as if my existence were an offense. I've never had company, not really. But you… you're still here, joking, defying me, even after I nearly incinerated you. Why don't you fear me like the others?"
I was silent for a moment, setting the food aside as I processed her words. Velgrynd, a True Dragon, a creature that could reduce mountains to ash, sounded… lonely. It was strange, almost impossible to imagine, but it was there, in the weight of her voice, in the way she avoided looking at me directly. I smiled softly—not mockingly this time, but with something warmer—and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
—"I don't see you as a monster, Velgrynd. I never really have. Sure, when I faced you on the cliff, I was terrified, but that was because you're powerful, not because you're evil. Since I've been here with you, what I see is… I don't know, someone who could be a friend. You're grumpy, sure, and you've got a very unique way of showing you care, like sending me to hunt deer or nearly burning me alive," —I said, laughing softly—, "but you also gave me a name. You saved me when I could've died. That's not what a monster does. That's what someone I trust does."
Her golden eyes met mine, and for a second, she seemed surprised, as if she hadn't expected those words. Then she frowned, though there was no real anger in her expression.
—"Friend? Don't be ridiculous, pup. I'm a True Dragon, not a companion for your human sentimentality."
—"Oh, come on," —I replied, smiling wider—. "Call it whatever you want, but here we are, sharing a cave, eating together… well, you eating everything in one second. That sounds a lot like friendship to me. And you know what? Let's make a promise." —I got serious, raising a hand like I was swearing an oath—. "From now on, you and I will protect each other. If someone comes for you, I'll fight by your side. And if I'm in trouble, I know you won't let me turn to ash. Deal?"
Velgrynd sighed, a long, resonant sound that stirred the cave's air. She looked away for a moment, but when she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost resigned.
—"Fine, Einar. Deal. But don't expect me to go soft because of this."
I burst out laughing, pointing at her with a finger.
—"Soft? Never! But admit it, you like having me around. Even if it's just to tease me. Am I not the best subordinate you've ever had?"
—"Careful, pup," —she growled, her spines bristling slightly—. "Keep talking, and I'll throw you into the forest to hunt another deer right now."
—"Oh, I'm terrified!" —I joked, pretending to shiver, but then I saw something: a faint smile curling her snout, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
—"You're insufferable," —she said, but the smile didn't fade, and for the first time, I felt like we were truly connecting—not just as Master and Subordinate, but as something more.
I leaned back against the cave wall, still laughing, and took another bite of my food, knowing that, no matter how much Velgrynd denied it, this promise was the beginning of something neither of us had expected.
....
The next morning, after the talk with Velgrynd, I'm back in the cave, training under the scorching sun that somehow manages to seep into this enclosed space. The heat is brutal, a direct courtesy of Velgrynd, who seems to enjoy turning this cave into a living oven. I'm sitting on the rocky ground, legs crossed, trying to increase the size of the flame I'm holding in my palm. The tiny spark I managed yesterday is no longer enough; I want something bigger, something that feels like a true echo of a True Dragon's power. I even dare to imagine a torrent of fire, a controlled blast that could slice through the air. But it's fucking hard. Every time the flame grows a little, it wavers and threatens to go out, as if my own energy is mocking me.
[Magic consumption: 2.3% per minute at this intensity level. Maintaining a stable flame requires more control than brute force. [Source of Life] is regenerating at 1% per minute, but you're at the limit of your current capacity. Reduce intensity or you will collapse in 14 minutes.]
Raphael intervenes, his voice as precise as ever, though with a hint of warning that makes me grit my teeth.
—Great, just what I needed, a countdown —I mutter, wiping the sweat from my forehead as I keep the flame alive. It's like trying to hold a water balloon without it bursting.
From her stone platform, Velgrynd lets out a deep laugh, and I feel the heat in the cave rise, the air becoming even denser, like I'm breathing hot soup.
—"Is that all, Einar? I thought the pup who faced me had more fire in him. This is pathetic." —Her tone is pure sarcasm, and her crimson scales glow with a radiance that seems to mock my tiny flame.
I roll my eyes, forcing a smile as I try to maintain control of the flame, which now flickers like it's about to give up.
—"Oh, excuse me, great dragon lady. Not all of us were born belching volcanoes. How about turning down the thermostat a bit and letting me work in peace?" —I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm, even though I'm sweating like I've run a marathon.
The flame in my hand grows another centimeter, but I feel the pull on my magic core, like someone's squeezing my energy with a press. [Source of Life] does its job, and I feel a cool current mix with the exhaustion, giving me back a little of what I'm losing. But it's not enough to keep up with the pace Velgrynd seems to expect. She snorts, and the heat rises again, making the sweat sting on already healed burns.
—"If you can't handle a little heat, how do you expect to master my fire? Keep whining, and I'll give you a real lesson." —Her golden eyes pierce through me, but there's a hint of amusement in her voice, like she's enjoying the show.
—"Whining? This is strategy, Velgrynd. I'm conserving energy for when I really impress you," —I shoot back, winking at her as I force the flame to stabilize. It's a bold bluff, but I'm not about to let her see me falter.
[Magic consumption now at 2.8%. You are straining your core unnecessarily. I suggest visualizing a steady flow instead of an explosion. Probability of success: 61% if you adjust your focus.]
Raphael insists, and though I want to argue, I know he's right. But with Velgrynd watching me like I'm an amusing experiment, I can't afford to back down now.
I take a deep breath, ignoring the searing air that burns my throat, and focus on the flame, trying to picture it as a river instead of a bomb. It's a challenge, but I'm not giving up—not with a dragon mocking me and my own magic begging me to get it right.
Suddenly, the flame in my palm grew, shifting from a trembling spark to an apple-sized sphere. I smiled, exhausted but thrilled, feeling the heat licking my fingers without burning me. For a moment, I thought I had it, that I was finally mastering this damn fire magic. But then, without warning, the flame turned unstable, vibrating as if it were alive, and before I could react, it exploded in my face with a pop! that echoed through the cave. A cloud of smoke engulfed me, and the smell of burning filled my lungs as I coughed like I had swallowed a lump of coal.
Velgrynd let out a growl from her platform, her golden eyes glowing with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
—"Pathetic, Einar. That's controlling fire? You look like a pup playing with lightning. Focus on the flow, not the size. Strength without direction is just chaos." —Her tone was light, but the scolding still stung.
Raphael, as expected, didn't stay silent, though his voice had that irritating calm that hid its own sarcasm.
[Critical error: Magicule overload in the materialization. Magic consumption peaked at 4.1% at the moment of explosion. I suggest calibrating your visualization to avoid unstable spikes. Your core is intact, but your hair wasn't so lucky.]
I blinked, still coughing, and reached a hand to my head. My fingers found a tiny flame dancing on a scorched lock, as if the fire were mocking me personally. I slapped it out, growling as the smoke settled. My face was covered in soot, black as coal, and I could feel it sticking to my sweaty skin. I looked at Velgrynd, then at the cave ceiling, and sighed, letting my shoulders drop.
—"Great, now I'm a walking charcoal. Thanks for the vote of confidence." —I muttered, wiping my face with my sleeve, though I only managed to smear the mess around.
Velgrynd snorted, a stifled laugh that made the air tremble.
—"At least you're entertaining, pup. Keep this up, and maybe one day you won't burn your face."
[Aesthetic damage: 0%. Damage to your pride: incalculable. Retry with a more stable approach.]
Added Raphael, and I swear if he had a body, he'd be smiling.
I shook my head, still feeling the residual heat in my fingers, and got ready to try again, though this time with a bit more care. I wasn't going to let an explosion and a couple of scoldings stop me.
...
All night I kept trying, over and over, until my eyes burned as much as the flames I was trying to control. Every attempt was a struggle: the spark would grow, tremble, and then collapse or explode in a cloud of smoke that left me coughing and cursing. I was exhausted, my body soaked in sweat and my face still smeared with soot. But it wasn't all in vain; I managed to keep the flame alive a few seconds longer, to make it move slightly according to my will before it spun out of control. I made progress, even if it was a small step on a path that seemed endless. However, as I gasped on the cave floor, I realized this wasn't going to work like this. I couldn't keep hitting the same wall and expect different results. I sighed, tired to the bone, looking at the shadows the moonlight cast on the cave walls. It was already night.
[Warning: Source of Life is active, regenerating 1% of your magic reserves per minute. Total session consumption: 37%. Your core is stable, but I recommend rest to optimize recovery.]
Raphael said, his voice a constant reminder that even in failure, I was still standing.
Velgrynd, lounging on her stone platform, watched me with those golden eyes that seemed to see beyond my scorched skin. She let out a snort, a mix of mockery and something that, surprisingly, sounded like approval.
—"Pathetic, but not entirely useless, Einar. At least you didn't give up. That's more than I expected from a pup like you."
I let out a snort of my own, shaking my head as I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
—"Wow, a compliment. Careful, Velgrynd, you almost sound kind," —I muttered, though a tired smile formed on my face.
As I stood up, my eyes caught a glint at my belt: the coin pouch I still carried with me, a reminder of my life before this cave. Then I thought of Tarnis, the city where everything had started to change for me. I had learned a lot here with Velgrynd, but if I wanted to master my magic and my skills, I needed a different environment, a place where I could train without the risk of burning my face every five minutes. Tarnis had taverns, blacksmiths, maybe even trainers or mages who could help me refine what I had gained.
I looked at Velgrynd, who was still watching me with curiosity, and spoke with a determination that surprised even me.
—"I'll be back later, Velgrynd. I need to go to Tarnis for a while. Don't worry, I'm not running from your lessons."
I got up from the ground, ignoring the pain still throbbing in my muscles, and began walking toward the cave entrance. Velgrynd raised her voice, her tone laced with suspicion.
—"Tarnis? And what do you plan to do there, pup? Don't think you can escape me so easily."
I didn't answer. I smiled to myself and kept walking, beginning to climb down the cliff carefully, my hands finding familiar holds in the rock. When I reached the ground, the forest's cool air hit me, a welcome relief after the cave's infernal heat. Raphael spoke in my mind, his voice clear and precise.
[Route to Tarnis: Head southwest through the forest. Estimated distance: 12 kilometers. Approximate time on foot: 3 hours at your current pace. Avoid the northern trail; probability of beast encounters: 41%.]
I nodded, adjusting my coin pouch and what remained of my tattered clothes. With Aura activated to keep my senses sharp and Will dampening the fatigue, I began to run, following Raphael's directions. The forest passed around me in a blur of trees and shadows, but my mind was fixed on Tarnis, on what I might learn there, and on the promise I had made to Velgrynd to protect each other. I would return to her, but first, I needed to become someone worthy of that name: Einar.
Three hours later, I arrived in Tarnis, my boots kicking up dust on the cobbled streets. The city was just as I remembered: bustling, with the smell of freshly baked bread mixing with the stench of manure and molten metal. Horse-drawn carts rattled alongside merchants shouting their offers, and the townspeople came and went, some casting curious glances at my appearance. I didn't blame them; my clothes were in tatters, my face still bore traces of soot, and the pink scars from burns peeked through my exposed skin. I ignored the stares, letting Aura keep my senses alert as I walked with determined steps.
Then I saw it: the Broken Horn guild, with its crooked sign hanging over the door like an old friend. I smiled, a knot of nostalgia and determination tightening in my chest. This was where it all began, where Hans Müller began to become Einar. Without hesitation, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The interior was just as noisy and chaotic as before: adventurers drinking at the tables, the jingle of coins and the rustle of parchment filling the air. My eyes fixed on the counter, where Lira, the receptionist, was organizing a stack of documents with her usual efficiency. I approached, still smiling, but when she looked up and saw me, her face went pale as if she had seen a ghost. Her hands froze, and a scroll fell to the floor.
—"E-Eidel? Is that you? By the gods, I thought you were dead!" —she stammered, her eyes scanning my wrecked state.
I let out a soft laugh, dropping my coin pouch —the last thing I had— onto the counter with a dull thud.
—"Not quite dead, Lira. Come on, I need a mission. Something worthwhile."
She kept staring at me, stunned, not reaching for the coins. My patience, already worn thin by exhaustion and the journey, snapped.
—"Fine, I'll do it myself," —I said, grabbing a scroll from her stack. I unrolled it and read quickly: Five Black Spiders. Location: Western Forest, minor cave. Reward: 67 gold coins.
[Easy, —said Raphael in my mind, his tone almost bored—. Black Spiders have a low threat level. With your current control of Aura, Will, and fire magic, success probability: 92%. Estimated time: 1 hour.]
I smiled, rolling the scroll back up and tucking it into my belt. I looked at Lira, who still seemed caught between shock and concern, and gave her a wink.
—"Thanks, Lira. See you when I'm back."
Without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heels and left the guild at a brisk pace, heading toward the Western Forest. I knew that place well; I had faced Black Spiders there before, when I barely understood this world. Now, with [Source of Life] regenerating my magic, an affinity for fire, and a stronger magic core, this would be nothing more than a warm-up. As I ran, the cool Tarnis air filled my lungs, and a spark of excitement ignited in my chest. It was time to show this world who Einar was.
...
An hour had passed, and the Black Spiders were nothing more than a formality. Everything went as Raphael predicted: easy, almost boring. I used a rock to crush the first one that tried to ambush me, letting Aura amplify my presence to disorient the others. Will kept my body steady, without a trace of fatigue, and when one spider got too close, I summoned a spark in my fingers and aimed it straight at one of its eyes. The screech it let out as it writhed was almost satisfying. I didn't need anything more than that; the others fell quickly, and soon I was dragging the five corpses back to Tarnis, tied with an improvised rope I found in the cave.
Entering the city with five giant spiders in tow attracted more stares than I expected, but I ignored them. I went straight to the Broken Horn guild, dropped the corpses in front of the counter —Lira nearly fainted again— and collected my reward: 175 gold coins, much more than the scroll had promised, probably because the spiders were more intact than usual. With the pouch heavy on my belt, I headed to the clothing store I'd visited before, with that sharp-eyed lady. This time, I didn't look for anything extravagant; I bought a simple gray linen tunic, reinforced trousers, and a short brown cloak. Functional, cheap, perfect for moving around without drawing attention. I said goodbye to the lady with a smile and went on my way.
My next stop was the town's blacksmith, a burly man with a beard that looked like it absorbed the soot from his forge. I asked for the most expensive weapon he had: an elven steel sword, light yet strong, with a blade that promised to cut more than my old broken dagger. It cost almost everything I had, leaving me with only 25 gold coins. I didn't care. Money was meant to be spent, and a good weapon was worth more than a pile of gold gathering dust. The blacksmith told me it would be ready in two days, so I nodded and left, feeling the weight of my decisions settle with satisfaction.
With free time, I returned to the Tarnis library, a place I had visited before, but now with a clearer purpose. I settled at a table in a quiet corner, surrounded by dusty shelves, and began reading about the fundamentals of spellcasting. With Raphael processing the information at an inhuman speed, I turned pages almost every second, absorbing diagrams of magical flows, theories on elemental materialization, and methods for stabilizing the magic core. It was like drinking from a waterfall, but I didn't stop, my eyes jumping from line to line as the words engraved themselves into my mind.
[Question: Why this approach? The theory is useful, but your current progress depends more on direct practice. Probability of improving your fire control through theoretical study: 38%. Combined physical and magical training: 76%.]
Said Raphael, his voice cutting through the silence of my concentration.
I smiled, without looking up from the book, ignoring his question. It wasn't just about knowledge; it was about understanding. I had been running, fighting, summoning flames without truly knowing how any of it worked. These books were my way of filling in the gaps, of turning my instincts into something more precise. Besides, I liked the idea of surprising myself, of finding a puzzle piece even Raphael hadn't anticipated. I kept reading, flipping another page, as the murmur of the library and the weight of my new clothes reminded me that, step by step, I was building something greater.
Several hours had passed, and the table in front of me was buried under a mountain of books. Dusty tomes on magical theory, faded scrolls with elemental runes, even a treatise on the interaction between magicules and the soul—all stacked in an organized chaos that only I understood. The Tarnis library was silent, except for the occasional rustle of pages and the distant echo of some nocturnal student. My eyes burned, and a headache had begun to throb at my temples, but I ignored it, moving on to another book: Principles of Elemental Materialization. Every word was another brick in the foundation I was building, and I wasn't going to stop now.
[Recommendation: Stop and rest. Your cognitive capacity is decreasing by 17% due to mental fatigue. Continuing reduces information retention by 29%. Probability of collapse from exhaustion in 6 hours: 41%,]
Said Raphael, his voice cutting through the flow of my thoughts like a scalpel.
I shook my head, not looking away from the diagram explaining how to channel magicules to stabilize a fire spell.
—"No, Raphael. We're going to spend the whole night here. I need to study. This is more important than sleep." —My tone was firm, though the headache made me clench my teeth.
[Analysis: Magical theory can provide a framework to optimize your control. Understanding the laws of materialization increases the efficiency of your spells by 24% in the long term. However, direct practice is still superior for your current level. Simulation: 10 hours of fire practice would double your current precision; 10 hours of study would only increase it by 9%. My recommendation stands: Prioritize action over theory.]
Raphael insisted, his logic relentless as always.
I let out a soft laugh, flipping another page while mentally highlighting a passage about elemental resonance.
—"Knowledge is power, Raphael. Anything that has to do with the word 'magic', I want to understand it. I'm not going to be just a guy who throws flames for no reason. I want to know why they work, how they work, and how I can make them mine. Practice will come later, but this…" —I tapped the book with my fingers— "…this is the foundation."
Raphael fell silent for a moment, as if processing my stubbornness. Then, with a tone that almost sounded like resignation, he replied:
[Understood. I will continue processing the information to maximize your retention. Warning: If your mental fatigue exceeds 60%, I will force a break. I will not negotiate with your health.]
I smiled, satisfied, and returned to the book, my eyes devouring lines about the conversion of magicules into thermal energy. The mountain of books grew, so did the headache, but I didn't care. Each page was another step toward becoming someone who not only survived in this world but dominated it. And if that meant staying up all night, so be it.
...
Morning came before the sun had even peeked out, and I left the library with my head pounding as if someone had used my skull as a drum. Each step echoed with a stab behind my eyes, but I kept Aura active, letting its subtle pressure wrap around my mind and dull the mental pain. It wasn't a cure, but it made it bearable. I smiled weakly, ignoring the exhaustion that weighed on my eyelids. My body, at least, was fine; my legs responded, and there was no trace of the physical fatigue that had crushed me days ago.
[Warning: Mental fatigue is at 58%. Aura is mitigating the pain but not resolving the cognitive overload. I recommend 8 hours of rest to stabilize your condition. Continuing like this reduces your efficiency by 34%.]
Raphael said, his tone more insistent than usual.
—"I'm fine, Raphael. Just a headache. I survived a dragon, this is nothing," I replied, still smiling as I headed toward the Broken Horn guild. I needed gold coins. The sword I had commissioned was a good start, but if I wanted decent gear, food, or even a place to sleep that wasn't the ground, I had to work.
The guild was empty when I arrived, a strange silence for a place that usually buzzed with activity. The tables were deserted, and the counter where Lira usually stood didn't have a soul. I sighed, letting myself fall into a chair near the entrance, and decided to wait. My eyes felt heavy, and without realizing it, my head dropped forward. The world faded in an instant.
A few hours later, I woke up with a start, blinking at the light coming through the window. It was afternoon; the sun was already high, painting the streets of Tarnis a warm orange. I rubbed my eyes, confused, until Raphael spoke.
[You slept 12 hours. Your body forced rest due to mental overload. Mental fatigue reduced to 22%, but the headache persists. In 48 hours, your magic core will adapt to the absorbed knowledge, and the symptoms will disappear.]
I sighed, but right then a sharp pain pierced my head, like someone had driven a needle into my brain. I groaned, pressing my temples with my hands.
—"Damn it… fine, Raphael, you win. But I'm not going to sit around."
I stood up, swaying a bit, and walked to the counter. Lira was there now, organizing scrolls with her usual efficiency. When she saw me, she raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on my disheveled appearance.
—"Another quest, I assume," she said, more as a statement than a question.
—"Yeah. Give me something good," I replied, leaning on the counter.
She slid a scroll toward me. I unrolled it: Hunt a Black Spider. Location: Western Forest, secondary cave. Reward: 15 gold coins.
—"Black Spiders again. They're popular, huh?" I muttered, but I saw there were more scrolls in the pile.
—"Give me a couple more. I want to stay busy."
Lira hesitated, but handed me two additional quests: one to gather rare herbs in the same forest, and another to escort a merchant to a nearby village. I nodded, stored the scrolls, and left the guild, feeling the headache like an annoying companion but determined not to let it stop me. With Aura and Will ready to back me up, and [Source of Life] keeping my magic stable, I headed to the Western Forest to start with the Black Spider. It was time to turn knowledge into action, even if my head still protested.
...
....
It was finally over. Night had fallen over Tarnis, and the stars shone faintly through a layer of thin clouds. The missions had been a success: the Black Spider fell without complications, its legs scorched by a torrent of fire more controlled than ever; I found the rare herbs after a couple of hours searching the forest with Aura to sharpen my senses; and escorting the merchant was more tedious than dangerous, although his cart got stuck twice along the way. When I returned to the guild, Lira handed me 89 gold coins, a sum that made my pouch weigh with satisfaction. It was enough. More than enough. Excitement bubbled in my chest as I walked through the silent streets of Tarnis, because tomorrow morning I would pick up my new sword, the first tangible step toward something greater.
I reached the city's central fountain, the water gurgling softly under the torchlight. I crouched down, washed my face, feeling the coolness ease away the day's dust and sweat. I had no intention of paying for a room; the ground was comfortable enough for someone who had slept in caves with dragons. I let myself fall beside the fountain, using my cloak as an improvised pillow, and looked to my side. There it was: a huge horse, with shiny black fur and muscles that looked carved from stone. The merchant had given it to me as thanks for an "exceptional job," although I suspect he just wanted to lighten his load on the way back. I smiled, thinking about how useful it would be for my next journey.
As I got comfortable, my mind replayed the conversation with the merchant. I had asked him, almost in passing, if he knew of any place where I could find advanced magical knowledge. His eyes lit up, and he told me about a kingdom to the north: Eldoria. It wasn't a vast empire or a military powerhouse, but a medium-sized kingdom known for housing elves and humans with a talent for sorcery. Its magical academies attracted aspirants from across the continent, and its libraries, according to the merchant, held tomes that made Tarnis's look like a notebook. Eldoria didn't stand out for its wealth or its army, only for its magic—and that was exactly what I needed.
Satisfied, I felt a part of my plan begin to fall into place. The coins, the horse, the sword I would pick up tomorrow, and now a clear destination: Eldoria. With Raphael processing the knowledge I had absorbed and my magic becoming more stable every day, I was ready to take the next step. I sighed, looking at the night sky one last time, and closed my eyes, letting fatigue carry me away. Tomorrow, a new adventure would begin, and for the first time, I felt like I was chasing something more than survival.