I lowered my palms into the stream. The ice-cold water burned no less than a spark. A thin veil of steam rose from the reddened skin.
"Will to Live." It was the only thing keeping me on my feet. My body's resources were at zero. But my consciousness, spurred on by the skill, worked like clockwork. I finally understood the principle. Magic here is the manipulation of environmental density.
A wet crunch in the bushes made me freeze.
Slowly, I pulled my hands out of the water. Droplets trickled down my elbows, leaving trails on skin covered in road grime. I'm no fighter. I can barely stay on my feet. But my instincts, sharpened by the skill, were already screaming: "Danger."
The creature burst from the ferns.
It resembled a wolf, but instead of fur, it had gray bone plates. Overlapping, like shingles on a roof. Its eyes glowed a dull, toxic green. In bestiaries, they are called "bone wolves."
"Will to Live," I commanded.
The world slowed down. Details grew sharper. I focused on the space directly beneath the wolf's paws—the exact moment of its leap.
I created a mana density gradient. A sharp compression of energy at a single point caused a local pressure distortion.
The ground gave way beneath the beast.
Mid-leap, the wolf was slammed into the mud. Its own mass, multiplied by the G-force I created, did the work for me. The dry crunch of breaking bones echoed through the forest. Its spine snapped. The predator collapsed at my feet.
I staggered. Black spots danced before my eyes.
"Efficiency... acceptable," I rasped, wiping blood splatters from my face.
The triumph was short-lived.
A second one burst from the thicket, drawn by the noise. Larger. Jagged bone spikes bristled along its spine. It crouched low to the ground, apparently assessing the threat. It let out a growl.
I tried to induce resonance in its bone plates—to make them shatter. But my hands wouldn't obey. My fingers were locked in such a savage cramp that I couldn't even straighten them. Instead of concentrating, the energy backfired. Chaotic impulses fried my own nerves.
Why am I doomed to this? the thought flashed.
I stood before the snarling predator, unable to even lift a hand.
The wolf tensed before the leap.
I closed my eyes, preparing for the end.
At that moment, space shuddered from a massive shockwave. A wall of energy swept past me. A short yelp—and the heavy impact of something massive against a tree trunk.
I opened my eyes.
The second wolf lay a few meters away, its head twisted at an unnatural angle. Zeno stepped out of the bushes, his pace unhurried. His breathing wasn't even labored. Only the top of his staff glowed faintly.
"Sloppy," the old man muttered. He kicked the corpse of the first wolf with obvious disdain. "Too many unnecessary movements."
He stepped closer, examining the beast I had crushed.
"Weight distortion?" he asked.
"I just used its own mass against it," I forced myself to straighten up, though my legs felt like straws. "Why waste energy on, say, a fireball, when you can just drop the target?"
Zeno stared at me for a few long seconds.
"You nearly killed yourself with that little 'trick.' Your body is not a bottomless well. You must know your limit."
He pointed his staff at the carcass embedded in the mud.
"Drag it to the cabin. Today we skin it. You'll need decent armor made from these plates."
I approached the corpse. Heavy, foul-smelling. Slippery with blood. I grabbed a fragment of a bone growth and pulled. Every step sent a wave of pain through my burned palms. But I stubbornly dragged the carcass along the path, leaving a dark trail on the rotting leaves.
I needed a weapon. I needed strength.
Logic dictated a simple answer.
This life is an unprofitable project.
The risk is too high. Resources are too scarce. Guarantees of a result—zero.
In my past life, everything was stable.
I would choose that life without hesitation.
...Then why do I keep fighting?
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