Arka's breath caught in his throat as he stepped across the stone threshold. The air inside was heavy, thick with the scent of old paper and dust untouched for centuries. The trembling light from his torch danced across the walls, revealing a sight that left him speechless.
This wasn't just a room. It was a forgotten treasury, a time capsule from a lost civilization. Towering wooden shelves were filled with hundreds of thick, leather-bound books and ancient scrolls tied with fragile ribbons. His wild gaze swept around, catching the faint glint of various artifacts placed among the stacks of books: a cracked crystal ball that still emitted a dim glow, a strangely carved dagger that seemed to writhe in the firelight, and a neatly folded robe, its color still as black as night despite being covered in thick dust.
In one corner stood a small weapons rack. Hanging there was a slender longsword made of a bluish-black metal he didn't recognize. When he lifted it, he was shocked. The sword felt light yet had a perfect balance, far superior to the short sword he had found in the house. Beside it, a composite bow made of bone and sinew seemed to radiate a cold and efficient power.
His heart pounded with a mixture of awe and disbelief. After two years of living like an animal, focused solely on food and shelter, discovering this trove of knowledge and magical items felt like a dream.
In the center of the room, a dark wooden desk stood firm. On it were only two items. The first was a thick, leather-bound book, and the second was a ring. Arka approached, his eyes fixed on the ring. It was made of a dull, black metal, simple in design, but set in its center was a small gemstone so dark it seemed to absorb the torchlight around it. Driven by curiosity, Arka picked it up. The ring felt cool and heavy. Without a second thought, he slipped it onto his ring finger. Strangely, it was a perfect fit. He decided to keep it on.
His gaze then shifted to the book on the desk. Hope came from that book: an illustrated dictionary and grammar guide for the common tongue of the world of Hexa.
Arka's excitement peaked. He picked up one of the most interesting-looking books from the shelves—a sword treatise titled "Heartless Sword". He eagerly opened its pages, only to find rows of foreign symbols he couldn't comprehend. He spent nearly an hour trying to match even a single symbol with the dictionary, but the language in the treatise was too ancient and complex. He could see the diagrams of stances and sword swings, but the essence of the technique was locked away in a language he couldn't master.
A familiar frustration welled up inside him. He stared at the sea of knowledge around him, feeling like a thirsty man stranded in the middle of a saltwater ocean. Then, his gaze fell back to the desk and the thick dictionary upon it. A faint smile touched his lips. He realized there were no shortcuts. The real adventure wasn't about reading ancient spells or learning legendary sword techniques. The real adventure began here, with the first word.
After the euphoria of the discovery subsided, Arka was faced with a practical decision. The cave, while secure, was damp and dark. This was a library, not a home. His home was the stilt house by the beach. He realized he had to move his newfound "loan" there.
And so, a great undertaking began. For the next several days, Arka journeyed back and forth between the cave and his stilt house. The trek was exhausting, each step heavy with the weight of the books he carried in his leather bag. The foxes acted as his lookouts, ensuring the path was safe as he carried his precious cargo. He brought the new, superior sword and bow with great pride, replacing his old weapons on the rack at home.
The wooden stilt house was transformed. A once-empty corner of the main room now became a serious study area, filled with stacks of books and artifacts from the cave. The house was no longer just a shelter, but a library and an armory.
With his treasure trove of knowledge now safely stored in his home, Arka's true adventure began. Not a battle against monsters, but a fight against ignorance. He opened the thick dictionary on his desk, under the light of an oil lamp he had fashioned himself.
Arka's third year on the island was spent in focused silence. His nights were filled with the arduous struggle of copying every symbol, matching them to simple pictures. The process was slow and exhausting, but after several months, he could finally begin to read simple sentences.
He opened a book titled "Principles of Worldly Energy." From it, he finally found answers. This world, Hexa, was permeated by two fundamental energies: Aura, the energy of the physical body, and Mana, the energy of the soul and mind. A Warrior trained their body to control Aura, while a Mage trained their soul to master Mana.
Arka closed the book for a moment, massaging his temples. So, the previous owner of this body was a Warrior on the path of Aura, while within him lay an untouched potential for Mana. He looked at his hands—hands that could swing a sword because of another's memory—then closed his eyes, trying to sense the "lake" of Mana within him. He was at a crossroads between two paths, with a powerful legacy on one and a mysterious potential on the other. The feeling made him both excited and bewildered. He realized his journey to become strong had only just truly begun, and he had two roads laid out before him.