The shoot was still tiny, the seed's surface still cracked, though less brittle than before. It's better but not fixed and it's taking too much time to heal.
It will this take more than 7 days with this speed.
I need to keep using my ability
If I keep doing this… slowly, carefully… I can heal it faster. But the cost was clear. Healing takes vitality… my vitality.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the faint pulse of the seed's vitality. It was stronger now, like a patient stabilized but not recovered. He'd poured his own energy into the seed, and now his body was paying the price. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow, steady but weaker than before.
Three days, he estimated, his stuntman's instinct for timing kicking in. If I keep this up, push my vitality into it every few hours, I can heal it in three days. Then it'll sprout the Treehouse Sanctuary.
The thought brought a flicker of hope. The voice had promised a sanctuary—his base, his protection. Knowledge surfaced, as if etched into his mind:
No building can exist without the Treehouse Sanctuary, and no building can exceed its level. Once the seed sprouted, he'd have a foundation, a place to start.
Without it, he couldn't build a forge, a building, or even the Summoning Gate.
He glanced at the faint circle of light where he'd planted the Summoning Gate Shard earlier. It hadn't summoned anything, not yet. He'd used five Essence Crystals in his first attempt, hoping for companions, but the energy had fed the seed instead.
The gate's useless until the Sanctuary sprouts, Karl realized. He carefully dug up the Summoning Gate Shard, its faint hum quieting as he placed it back in his pouch alongside the remaining 14 Essence Crystals. I'll try again once the seed's healed.
He considered absorbing one of the crystals to recover his strength, but another piece of knowledge resurfaced: Absorbing Essence Crystals takes time and focus. He sat, focusing inward, and absorbed one crystal. A faint warmth spread through him, restoring some strength, after half hours his stats only partially recovered:
[Status Panel]
Name: Karl Varn
Lord Level: Bronze I
Strength: 7.2 (5 → 6)
Agility: 8.2 (6 → 7)
Vitality: 10.2 (3 → 5)
Intelligence: 6.2 → 5.2
Abilities: Breath of Spring
Five vitalities. Half what I started with. The memory of the drain—pouring his life force into the seed—made his legs feel heavy, his stomach growled, pulling him back to reality.
He was still hungry, a hollow ache that made his head spin. I'm starving. Without food, he wouldn't have the energy to heal the seed or survive the Wilderness.
He scanned the clearing, eyes lingering on the vines draped over the trees. Some had clusters of berries, small and glossy, but he didn't trust them. Poisonous?
Maybe.....His Breath of Spring talent tingled faintly, sensing the vitality in the berries, but it didn't tell him if they were safe to eat from distance. I need to find something edible, fast.
Karl stood, his legs shaky but his resolve hardening. I need to heal the seed in Three days and unlock the Treehouse Sanctuary, but first thing first I need to find something to eat and drink. Then I can focus on the seed
The Wilderness stretched beyond the shimmering dome of his protection barrier, vast and untamed. Somewhere out there were beasts, mines, and food—if he could survive long enough to find it.
Karl stood at the edge of the clearing, the shimmering dome of the protection barrier glinting faintly under the alien green sky. The timer in his vision ticked relentlessly:
[6 days, 22 hours, 30 minutes].
He couldn't afford to waste time, but stepping beyond the barrier felt like a gamble with his life.
The clearing offered little in the way of sustenance. The trees bore clusters of berries that his talent flagged as suspicious—their vitality erratic, laced with a subtle dark aura that made his skin prickle. Poisonous, probably, he thought.
As he was about to turn away his Breath of Spring talent tingled sharper, drawing his attention to a cluster of vines near the barrier's edge. Their leaves were broader, their vitality brighter and steadier than the rest, lacking that ominous undertone. Something's different about these.
Karl approached slowly, boots sinking into damp soil. The vines bore clusters of small, pale-green pods, each no bigger than a grape. His talent pulsed, sensing a clean, nourishing vitality—not the chaotic thrum of the berries. These might be safe.
He reached out, fingers brushing the smooth surface of a pod. It was Firm. Warm—almost alive, like the faint pulse of the Essence Crystals in his pouch. Feels alive.
He plucked one, rolling it between his fingers, inspecting it for any sign of danger—thorns, sap, a bitter smell. Nothing. Just a faint sweetness in the air, like fresh-cut grass after rain.
His stomach cramped. His throat ached with thirst.
If I'm wrong, I'm dead.
The thought anchored him in place for a long moment. But his talent didn't waver. Hunger gnawed harder.
He Trust his instinct.
He slipped the pod into his mouth and bit down. A burst of sweet, watery juice flooded his tongue, a mix of cucumber and honey, refreshing and light. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste, waiting for any sign of trouble—burning, nausea, dizziness.
Nothing came. Instead, the pod's vitality seeped into him, easing the dryness in his throat, softening the hollow ache in his stomach. His talent remained calm, steady, approving.
Karl exhaled, a quiet, shaky laugh escaping him.
Edible.
Relief washed through him, though it didn't last long. He plucked a handful more, stuffing them into his jacket pocket. Their faint warmth pressed against his side, a small comfort in a world that promised none.
Karl leaned back against the barrier's faintly humming surface, chewing another pod slowly, almost reverently. Each bite carried the subtle reassurance of life,
but the pods weren't enough to calm his hunger. His stomach rumbled again, demanding more than a few pods of berries. I need real food that can fill my stomach, and water.