Wooden planks that made one forget the absence of bones filled the entire cave.
Every nail driven into the walls had been a step toward making the place livable.
The wall and door built at the entrance were covered with brushwood; alongside strips of dried meat and a campfire, the place had been arranged to resemble a small resting spot for a wandering traveler.
The only difference was that the meat smelled like a corpse.
With its blackened color and stench, it seemed designed to suppress appetite.
A small but orderly room came into view. A bed leaning against the wall, a simple desk across from it, a bookshelf ready to swallow books, and a door that looked far sturdier than necessary…
Why the door was so strong, or why Karon had put so much effort into it, was a question only he knew the answer to.
With the sound of the door opening, an empty cage appeared; it added a strange weight to the room.
Puffing out his chest proudly, he said, "It was absolutely worth the time. I've managed to build a home that will provide enough comfort for as long as I live here."
After arranging the books he had taken out on the shelf in reading order, he placed two volumes with green and black covers on the desk.
He opened the newer-looking green book.
"What is mana and how is it used? Mana, the most fundamental form of energy in the universe, is subject to the law of transformation. With the necessary techniques, it can be converted into any type of energy. These techniques are called 'arts.' Mana can be used in many ways; with sufficient imagination and technical knowledge, anything is possible. As long as one takes into account the amount of mana and the laws of the universe, nothing is impossible."
"The history of mana and its basic applications…"
When his purple irises reached the end of the book, he lifted his head with a satisfied expression.
Thanks to his father's secret library, he had long possessed knowledge that was difficult to obtain—but now it was time for practice.
Ignoring his fatigue, he walked toward the other room.
He would learn the arts of the sword, and the first step was to acquaint himself with mana.
Sitting naked, a small knife and a strip of dried meat lay before him.
"After watching the Furball's battle, the danger of the forest sank into my bones. If I don't take risks, survival will only become harder—and Yumak's dangerous nature closely resembles the image I want to project on the battlefield."
Karon had watched the battle from beginning to end without blinking, admiring the decisions the Furball made during the fight. Even before entering the battlefield, the Furball had already regarded both monsters as prey. No matter how strong he was, facing two monsters at once should have been difficult, yet the Furball paid it no mind. He was savage until the very end, but consistent.
In his final clash with the owl, had he chosen to defend instead of attack, he might have survived—but he would not have won.
Replaying the battle in his mind, Karon picked up the knife and began making small cuts across his body.
He was careful with their depth to prevent excessive blood loss.
After finishing with his arms and legs, he moved on to his torso.
There, he deepened the cuts.
The ointment he had prepared against infection sat beside the bandages.
Ignoring the blood, Karon set the knife aside and picked up the meat.
Pinching his nose, he put it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
Focusing entirely on his sensations, Karon put into practice a technique forgotten for centuries, one he had taken down from dusty shelves.
As time passed, he ignored the blood running down his skin and fixed his focus on a single thing—
To feel what existed but could not be felt.
Slowly, a mucus-like sensation began to tickle his skin.
Suddenly, it was as if needles pierced through his entire body.
He writhed under a kind of pain he had never experienced before.
Struggling to endure, Karon focused on his stomach; there was a mass there that had not existed before.
He had reached the second stage of the technique. The danger was now far greater. If he were to lose consciousness at this stage, all his efforts would be ruined, and he might be left crippled.
He raised one hand and slipped it through a rope.
The other end of the rope was tied to a plank in the ceiling.
If Karon were to faint, the weight of his arm would pull on the rope, shifting the plank and spilling water down onto his head.
He was not certain the water would wake him—but it was better than nothing.
Focusing on the weight in his stomach, Karon tensed his muscles, creating turbulence within it.
After a while, he imagined moving his veins, forming a pathway toward the mass in his abdomen.
A strained sound escaped him. He had succeeded—but not enough.
Opening his eyes, he rose to his feet; his entire body was covered in blood.
Wrapped in bandages, Karon looked like a mummy.
With blood-stained wrappings, he took the black book and lay down on his bed.
By its very nature, the risks of this savage technique were not yet over.
The solutions born from the hardships of war had been learned in the harshest ways and written into books so that history would not repeat itself.
The thought that every mistake had cost lives—that each page might have been written as a result of someone's death—sent a chill through Karon.
He closed his eyes for a while and focused on his thoughts.
The fact that families performed this on their own children saddened him.
He opened his eyes and looked at the book's cover, dark as the past.
In an ancient language, it read:"On the Initiation of Children into Mana."