"Ah, hell… is this the end of my life?" Rian groaned, his voice faint.
Suddenly, the hologram from the white realm flashed in his memory—images of hell, humans screaming in eternal torment. The fear jolted him awake. His heart pounded faster.
"No… I can't die this soon. Not yet!"
Summoning what little strength remained, Rian forced himself to stand. His sword trembled in his right hand. With a roar, he staggered forward.
The Troll was thrashing blindly, the dagger still stuck in its eye. Seizing the chance, Rian leapt, thrusting his sword at the monster's neck.
Steel pierced flesh. At the same instant, the Troll's claw slashed his leg. Blood spurted violently.
"Arghh! Damn it…"
He collapsed onto the ground, gasping. His head bled. His leg was torn open. The world tilted, but he was still alive.
"Why… why am I still conscious? I should be dead already…"
The Troll groaned, stumbled, and fell with a crash that shook the cave.
Rian wiped blood from his lips and laughed bitterly. "I killed it… but the cost was heavy." His arm throbbed. His leg was half-useless. He limped toward the wall, leaning heavily. His palm pressed against a rocky surface—
Crrreeaakkk…
A hidden mechanism shifted. A stone door opened slowly, revealing a secret chamber. Inside stood dusty shelves, a wooden table, and a straw bed.
Rian blinked. "A free base camp… bonus with no strings attached."
He tore strips from his shirt, tying them around his bleeding arm and leg. Then, dragging his body, he stumbled inside.
"Excuse me… just passing out here for a bit."
He collapsed onto the straw bed. It was lumpy, sour-smelling, but to him it felt like heaven. Sleep took him instantly.
When he woke, a faint light filtered through cracks in the stone wall. His wounds still burned, but he could move again.
He brushed cobwebs from warped spines, heart racing as each title emerged through mold. One tome survived intact. He cracked its brittle cover—inside, a folded map and faint annotations beckoned like a secret call. The book itself was divided into five chapters:
Monsters: Goblins, Trolls, Orcs, Dragons, and more.
Races: Elves, Dark Elves, Dwarves, Humans, and peaceful beastfolk.
Magic: Fire, Water, Wind, Darkness, Light, Nature.
Swordsmanship & Combat: basic techniques (some faded).
Medicine & Healing: theories of recovery magic.
Rian sighed. "This only explains the basics. No instructions on how to actually use them."
Disappointed, he set the book aside and returned to rest. Hunger woke him later.
He pulled out a rabbit from Storage—still warm, as if freshly hunted. The fish, fruits, even mushrooms inside were preserved perfectly.
"This… this Storage is insane. A time-based warehouse?!" His jaw dropped.
He searched his pockets for his lighter. Gone. He groaned, then grinned.
"Fine. Old-school it is."
Rubbing wood on wood, he sparked a flame. Pride filled his chest. "Behold… fire-making 101, brought to you by former match-factory worker, Rian!"
The rabbit roasted slowly. Smoke drifted through a chimney carved in the wall. While waiting, his eyes caught another book lying on the floor. Curious, he opened it.
His breath caught.
It was a guide to mana training—expanding the body's container, lists of basic spells, even healing magic.
"Yesss… jackpot!"
Laughing, he bit into the roasted rabbit, grease dripping down his chin.
That night, he tried his first spell. Sitting cross-legged, he placed his palm over his wound.
"Jampe jampe harupat, gera gede gera lumpat… HEAL!"
A green glow shone faintly. The torn flesh closed slightly, pain easing. His mana drained quickly. Darkness swallowed him again.
When he woke, the wound was half-healed. He raised a shaky thumb. "Not bad for a beginner."
Days passed.
Rian trained relentlessly in the hidden room. He learned to regulate his breathing—holding it to stretch his mana container. He practiced basic spells until he collapsed from exhaustion.
Sometimes he succeeded: water droplets danced on his palm, sparks lit his dagger, gusts stirred the air. Most times, he failed. But he always got up again.
One day, as sweat drenched his body, he finally did it.
A faint blue flame flickered on his sword's tip. It crawled along the blade, glowing brighter.
"Ow—hot, hot, HOT!" he yelped, dropping it.
Laughing at himself, he tried again—controlling the mana more carefully. This time, the blue fire enveloped the blade perfectly.
He slashed at a nearby log. Crack! The wood split clean in half, edges charred black.
Rian grinned wide. "Now that's what I call a power-up!"
Months turned into a year.
The cave became his fortress. Each morning he meditated, expanding his mana capacity. Each night he trained with sword, bow, and spell.
"Am I… even human anymore? I can hold my breath for a whole day," he muttered in disbelief.
Yet frustration gnawed at him. The two books only held beginner-level magic. He needed more knowledge.
Still, he carefully stored both volumes inside his timeless Storage.
"Whoever built this place… are they still alive? If I ever meet them, I'll return these."
With dried provisions packed, he stood at the cave's entrance. His sword strapped to his back, his heart burned with confidence.
He didn't know the truth—this cave was the safest fortress in the forest, a sanctuary hidden from packs of monsters.
From afar, the Goddess Bodas watched through her hologram. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips.
"Can he really live this new life well?"
She laughed, the memory of Rian's foolish death flickering again in her mind.
Her voice echoed into the void. "Let's see how long you last."