Midnight came quietly.
No system announcement.
No monsters.
No screams echoing through the forest canopy.
Only the thin, biting cold of the mountain air and the steady rhythm of Ren's breathing as consciousness slowly returned to him.
His eyes opened.
For a brief moment, confusion reigned.
Dark stone above. A faint glow from the moon filtering through broken clouds. The scent of ash, scorched ice, and blood still lingered faintly in the air. His body screamed in protest the instant he tried to move, every muscle trembling as if it had been stretched and torn apart.
"…Still alive," Ren muttered hoarsely.
That alone felt like a small miracle.
His chest ached where the vine blade had pierced him earlier. The wound had sealed under the influence of ice magic and residual mana circulation, but it wasn't healed—not truly. Every breath reminded him how close he had come to dying.
Slowly, carefully, Ren pushed himself up.
Pain flared.
His legs buckled instantly, forcing him back to one knee.
"Tch…"
He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms, grounding himself. He had lived twenty-seven years in his previous life, long enough to understand something crucial: rest was important, but complacency was lethal.
If he slept through the night without adjusting, without learning, without preparing—
He might not wake up again.
Ren closed his eyes and began circulating his mana.
Not aggressively.
Not forcefully.
Slow, deliberate cycles—pulling mana from his core, guiding it through strained channels, reinforcing weak points, calming the turbulence left behind by Sky Jet and his instinctive ice shield.
Minute by minute, the shaking eased.
It wasn't recovery.
But it was control.
After nearly ten minutes, Ren forced himself to stand again.
This time, he succeeded.
His steps were unsteady at first. He moved carefully across the uneven mountain stone, every footfall deliberate, testing balance, testing endurance. The night wind brushed against his face, cold but clarifying.
Below him, clouds drifted lazily past the mountain's edge.
High ground.
Defensible.
Temporary safety.
After several slow laps around the rocky outcrop, Ren lowered himself onto a flat slab of stone and exhaled.
Now came the most important part.
Planning.
From his spatial pouch, he retrieved a thin notebook—little more than a rough drawing pad scavenged earlier during the trials. Its pages were worn, edges frayed, but to Ren, it was more valuable than any weapon.
Ideas lived here.
Mistakes died here—before they could kill him.
He flipped to a blank page.
The charcoal in his fingers felt familiar, grounding him further.
At the top of the page, he wrote:
Sky Jet (Prototype)
Ren paused, then added a small underline.
"Not flight," he murmured. "Movement."
He began sketching.
A rough humanoid shape. Beneath it, a jagged ice construct forming a streamlined base—part sled, part jet frame. Behind it, arrows indicated propulsion.
Ice Magic – Frame / Stability
Forms the structural core. Prevents backlash. Absorbs shock.
Fire Magic – Thrust
Rear propulsion. Burst acceleration only. Unsustainable.
Wind Magic – Control Blades
Directional control. Lift adjustment. Emergency stabilization.
He stared at the diagram for a long moment.
Sky Jet wasn't a technique yet.
It was an accident—born from desperation, instinct, and fear.
That made it dangerous.
But also promising.
"If I refine this…" Ren muttered, tapping the page. "It becomes an escape tool. Not a weapon."
He turned the page.
Burst Step
A simpler concept.
He sketched a small figure launching forward from the ground, mana erupting beneath the feet.
No vines. No slingshot.
Pure timing.
Fire for initial burst.
Wind for directional correction.
Ice to reinforce joints and prevent self-destruction.
"Short range only," Ren said quietly. "Any longer, and my legs snap."
Still—usable.
Reliable.
He flipped again.
Puppet Man (Prototype)
This page filled faster.
A rough humanoid shape composed of vines, roots, and reinforced plant fibers. Not autonomous—never autonomous.
A conduit.
Controlled through continuous mana flow.
"Distraction," Ren murmured. "Decoy. Not combat."
He circled the drawing and wrote Mana Drain: High beside it.
Another idea followed quickly.
Icicle
Simple.
Efficient.
A sharp ice projectile compressed for penetration rather than size.
Low mana. High lethality—if aimed correctly.
"This should've been my first ranged attack," Ren sighed.
He kept writing.
Ice Domain (Defensive Formation)
A semi-circular barrier.
Layered ice walls reinforced with Slip to deflect force. Vines woven through the structure for flexibility and regeneration.
Temporary.
Not absolute.
But enough to buy time.
Ren leaned back slightly, staring at the growing collection of half-formed ideas.
In his previous life, this was how he survived.
Not through strength.
Through thinking.
Back in Tokyo, weak and isolated, bullied at school, harassed on the long trek home, mocked for his poverty—thinking had been his only refuge. He hadn't been strong enough to fight back. Not smart enough to escape his circumstances.
But here?
Here, thought had power.
"Next time," Ren whispered to himself, "I don't rely on instinct."
His grip tightened on the charcoal.
"I rely on preparation."
Satisfied—for now—Ren closed the notebook and tucked it back into his pouch. His mana circulation had stabilized, exhaustion creeping in once more.
Sleep called.
But this time, it wasn't fear dragging him under.
It was resolve.
Ren lay back against the cold stone, eyes closing as the mountain wind whispered past him. His mana continued to circulate slowly, passively recovering.
Sky Jet wasn't finished.
Burst Step wasn't refined.
None of it was ready.
But the path was clear.
And tomorrow—
Tomorrow, he would take another step forward.