The forest lay still in the aftermath of the storm. Shafts of morning light pierced through the thick canopy, dancing along the moss-covered floor. Damp earth filled the air, mixed with the distant calls of unseen creatures. Tatsuya sat against the hollow of a large tree, nursing the bandages he had wrapped hastily around his side. The gash, from the horned beast he had slain yesterday, still burned.
But he was alive.
He had survived another day.
He had also learned something important—pain was real here, but so was his strength.
His fingers trembled as he brought up the translucent blue screen in front of him.
[Status]
Name: Tatsuya Ren
Age: 17 (Body) / 24 (Mind)
Race: Human
Title: Reincarnated One
Level: 5
HP: 97 / 220
MP: 360 / 360
Skills:
– Mana Sense (Lv.1)
– Basic Swordplay (Lv.2)
– Survival Instinct (Lv.3)
– Flame Thread (Lv.1)
– Analyze (Lv.1)
– Unyielding Spirit (Unique)
New Skill Unlocked: [Mana Flow Control Lv.1]
That last one made him pause.
"Mana Flow Control, huh? Finally some real progress." His voice was hoarse. He'd barely spoken in two days.
He closed the screen and leaned forward. The stream nearby rippled calmly, mirroring his thoughts. Every day since his arrival had been a fight to survive. He had not spoken to a single human being since awakening in this forest over two months ago. His meals consisted of roasted root vegetables, hunted rabbit-like beasts, and the occasional fruit he prayed wasn't poisonous.
But what weighed most heavily was the silence.
He missed voices. Conversations. Even meaningless chatter. The silence here felt too vast—like the forest itself was watching him.
He rose slowly, favoring his injured side, and retrieved his makeshift spear. It was crude—a sharpened branch hardened in fire—but it had saved his life. He had taken to calling it "Fang." Naming it made it feel less like a stick and more like a partner.
"Let's find civilization today, Fang," he whispered. "I can't keep fighting like this forever."
Midday
The terrain began to change. The dense trees thinned slightly, giving way to rocky terrain and the faint scent of smoke in the distance. Tatsuya's eyes narrowed.
Smoke meant fire. And fire meant people.
He followed the trail carefully, keeping low. His senses, honed from weeks of hunting and near-death experiences, stayed sharp. After an hour of cautious advance, he reached a ridge and peered over.
Below, nestled between the hills, was a small wooden outpost. A few simple cabins, a central firepit, and the outlines of a fenced garden. He spotted figures—people—carrying tools, stacking wood, tending animals.
His heart pounded.
He wasn't alone anymore.
But approaching was another matter entirely.
He needed a plan.
He knelt behind the brush, observing. There were about a dozen individuals, most dressed in rough leathers. A few carried swords or bows. Adventurers, maybe? Or mercenaries? He couldn't tell. He couldn't afford to walk in and draw attention. Especially not with Flame Thread and Unyielding Spirit in his skill list—skills that could give him away as something… unnatural.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the rough pendant he had carved out of stone. It bore a simple rune—his own symbol, something meaningless in this world, but a reminder of his past life. Of who he had been.
"Time to be someone else," he muttered.
Late Afternoon
After waiting until most of the residents had gone into the woods or out of sight, Tatsuya approached the outpost slowly, limping slightly to sell the idea of a wounded traveler. He had even rubbed mud on his face and shredded his cloak for effect.
"Who goes there?"
A sharp voice rang out. A guard with a curved blade stepped from the shadows of the gate.
Tatsuya raised both hands. "Peace. I'm a traveler. Lost… for a long time."
The guard eyed him suspiciously. "You came from the forest?"
Tatsuya nodded. "Been stuck there for… months, I think. Please. I need rest."
The man didn't lower his blade immediately, but a younger voice called out behind him.
"Let him in. Look at him—he's half-dead."
A girl with short brown hair stepped forward, wearing a rough tunic and fingerless gloves. Her green eyes glinted with curiosity. "You're lucky to be alive. Not many survive in that forest, especially not alone."
Tatsuya bowed. "I'm not even sure how I did."
The girl smirked. "Then the spirits favor you. Come. We've got food and fire."
Evening
The outpost was a temporary camp known as Elder's Rest, made up of wanderers, hunters, and those too poor or too stubborn to live under a noble's banner. Tatsuya learned their names slowly—Jarn, the gruff gatekeeper. Elda, the brown-haired girl. A healer named Mira. A one-armed blacksmith. Each had their story.
But no one asked too many questions. Perhaps because everyone here had something they were running from.
Tatsuya didn't give his full name—just Ren. It felt like the right thing to do.
He sat near the fire that night, sipping weak soup. For the first time in months, warmth filled his stomach. He wasn't fully safe—but he wasn't alone.
Elda sat beside him, leaning back on a log. "So, Ren. What did you do before getting stuck in that forest?"
"I was… a courier. In another life, I guess."
She chuckled. "Aren't we all?"
The flames crackled between them.
Later That Night
Tatsuya lay on a straw bed in a small cabin. He stared at the wooden ceiling, thoughts racing.
He needed to stay hidden. His powers, even limited, were dangerous. If word spread that someone could create spells from scratch—well, he wouldn't be welcomed as a hero. He'd be hunted. Experimented on.
Still, he couldn't help but smile. He had made it through the forest. He had found people.
And his journey… was just beginning.
His hand closed around the pendant.
"I swear," he whispered to the darkness, "I'll rise. Quietly. But powerfully."
The night outside was peaceful.
But the winds had changed.