Zeke sat cross-legged upon the mushroom’s cap, trying desperately to achieve something approaching peace. It was difficult because he was still exhausted, both mentally and physically, from unraveling the cursed runes. Not only did he feel weaker than he’d felt in months, but it was also as if his very soul had been shredded into pieces, and he was only just figuring out how to put them back together.

Until this point, Zeke had thought of his soul as something ephemeral. Intangible. Mystical. But now? After having spent the better part of a week dipping his mind into those turbulent waters, he knew it was far more tangible than he’d once thought. Of course, that didn’t mean he understood it, except at the most basic level, but he had gleaned a few facts whilst unraveling the curses.

First was that his soul was the battery that provided the mana which fueled his skills. But it was more than that, too. It was also the essence of who he was, and each time he activated a skill, he lost a tiny sliver of himself. It was easily replenished, but he suspected that if he overtaxed his soul too much, extremely bad things would happen. He didn’t know if he’d become a simpleton, a vegetable, or just lose his connection to his identity, but he had little interest in investigating it too deeply.

In addition, he suspected that when he used [Leech Strike], he didn’t just steal his enemies’ vitality. He’d have to test it to be sure, but he was almost certain that the skill also took a bit of their souls. It was the main reason it didn’t cost much mana to maintain; it got all the energy it needed from his victims.

And then there was the matter of how his stats affected his soul – or rather, his available pool of mana. His constant manipulation of his mana had given him more than a few hints into its nature and how it related to his stats. Intelligence seemed to be related to the volume; each extra point of the stat would give him more mana. Wisdom, on the other hand, was like the vitality of the soul. The higher it was, the more quickly his mana would regenerate. And to a lesser extent, it also determined how easily his mind would recover from being overtaxed.

The grade of his soul was a different matter altogether, and as far as Zeke could tell, it appeared to affect the quality of the mana. He couldn’t be sure, because he didn’t really have any context, but he expected that as he evolved his soul, his mana would become, for lack of a better way to describe it, thicker and more powerful. Or that was his theory, at least – he could only vaguely remember how his mana felt before evolving his soul, so he couldn’t confirm any of it yet. But his instincts told him he was right, and one of the first lessons he’d learned upon being reborn was to trust those instincts.

As he’d worked on unraveling the curses, Zeke hadn’t just learned about his soul and how it related to his mana. He’d also learned quite a bit about the runes themselves. Zeke’s initial assessment that the troll’s cursed runes were less complicated than the ones provided by The Framework was accurate, but that didn’t mean the runes were simple. They were still made of layer after layer of intricate symbols and glyphs, each comprised of even more complex patterns. In the old world, Zeke would’ve taken one look at the tangled designs and abandoned it altogether. There was no way he’d have been equipped to understand it back then. But his increased mental statistics hadn’t only enhanced his soul and mana pool. They’d also made it easier for him to concentrate, and to a lesser extent, they’d provided some insight into the complicated tangle of patterns and symbols.

He was a long way from true understanding – he hadn’t even scratched the surface, really – but he at least thought such comprehension would one day become possible. And he’d also managed to identify some of the basic, repeating structures, even if he wasn’t entirely sure of their purpose. However, Zeke felt optimistic that, with enough time and study, he could figure it all out, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement about the possibilities that might open up.

Zeke sat there, pondering the nature of runes, as he slowly recuperated. He hadn’t realized how close to death he’d really been, and more than once, he’d found himself wondering how he’d managed to find the strength to ascend to the top of the mushroom and find safety. In the end, it took him nearly three more days before he felt well enough to resume his climb to the cave system’s exit.

He still intended to continue his rampage. He hadn’t forgotten the grotesque larder, after all. But he knew he couldn’t just storm through the caves, taking all comers. He needed to be smarter about it, else he’d just end up in the same situation once again. While he didn’t fear the troll warriors much, mostly because he felt confident in being able to escape if things got too bad, he didn’t want to find himself on the wrong end of a dozen curses. If he did, that would be the end of him, then and there. He wouldn’t even escape his tutorial dungeon.

So, towards the end of his recuperation, Zeke started to formulate a plan. Or considering that he was no tactical genius, it would probably be better categorized as a basic strategy. In any case, as he finally stood, stretching his stiff muscles, he felt confident in his chances.

By this point, most of the hunting parties had moved out of the area. Likely, they assumed that he’d slipped past them to continue his ascent. The mere fact that they hadn’t even considered looking up was a testament to their lack of intellect, at least as far as Zeke was concerned. But that only made things easier.

Once he’d limbered up, Zeke picked up his mace and took off across the mushroom cap. The surface was surprisingly firm, but its consistency still felt a little like an exercise mat. It gave a little with each step, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down. When he reached the edge, he leapt, sailing through the air and covering the ten feet to the next mushroom. He continued like that, pausing every couple of minutes to listen – or in some cases, smell; the trolls had a very distinctive odor that carried easily through the caves – for his enemies. After half an hour, he was finally rewarded when he heard the telltale grunts that comprised their language.

Slowly, Zeke crept forward and soon found himself peeking over the edge of the mushroom. Below him were seven trolls – one shaman and six warriors. He could handle that much, so long as they didn’t get reinforcements. And given the size of the fungal forest, Zeke felt certain that the hundred-or-so trolls that had ambushed him were spread out enough that they wouldn’t be able to respond to a battle, even if they heard it.

Zeke rolled his shoulders, then took a deep breath as he toggled [Leech Strike] on. Mana rushed out of his soul core just behind his navel, flowing through his pathways and into the rune on his hand. An identical rune lit up on Voromir, extending the skill to his weapon. For a long moment, Zeke marveled at the complexity of the runes, but he quickly jerked himself out of his stupor. He had work to do.

Without further stalling, he stepped off the edge of the mushroom and fell the hundred-plus feet, plummeting straight into an unlucky troll. Predictably, it practically exploded from the impact, its bones breaking and skin rupturing like it had gone skydiving without a parachute. For his part, Zeke only grunted as the shock reached his knees. It hurt, but it wasn’t debilitating, and there wasn’t any real damage.

Only a second later, his mace whistled through the air and into the troll shaman’s ribs, collapsing them in an instant. But this one was more durable than most, and though it was probably a fatal wound, the monster still managed to cast its horrible cursed rune. Zeke winced as it connected, but its effect wasn’t enough to stall him.

From that point, Zeke was a whirlwind of blunt force trauma. Curiously, even though he hit the trolls with enough force to launch them dozens of feet away, they remained rooted to the ground. Perhaps the more powerful someone got, the less they were subject to the natural laws of the universe. Or maybe this new world didn’t work the way the old one did. Either way, regardless of whether or not they went flying, his mace still did plenty of damage, and soon, the entire hunting party became a series of scattered corpses.

Zeke quickly inspected the bodies for anything of value, but the monsters didn’t carry anything other than a few knives and their weapons – none of which could even hold a candle to Voromir. So, once he’d taken care of that, he scurried back up the mushroom and, using the tops of the mushrooms as his own personal highway, vacated the scene of the battle. Once he felt he was far enough away, he began the arduous process of unraveling the rune.

He needed to find a better way.

The troll shaman were too quick. And if he was unlucky enough to come across a hunting party that had more than one, he would have to spend hours ridding himself of their curses. He wasn’t in a hurry or anything. After all, he’d spent the better part of a year-and-a-half in the caves by this point. But he hated wasting time that he could be using to get stronger.

It was a stark revelation, figuring out that he didn’t really flinch at the thought of dying. But wasting time? That irritated him in ways he couldn’t really articulate. Some of it was due to the fact that he’d spent most of his young life pursuing a goal to the exclusion of all else. He had lived and breathed for baseball. So, if he wasn’t trying to improve, even in this new world, he really didn’t know what to do with himself. Zeke was used to that, and he’d long since accepted that it was just how he was. However, his attitude was probably just as much due to how addictive improvement in the new world was.

In his old life, progress was incremental. Gradual. He didn’t see it, day by day, but rather, week by week, or even month after month. That was what he was used to. But now? He could gain a level, and suddenly, he would feel that influx of power. And that was discounting the addictive nature of coming out on top in a life-and-death struggle. Sure, he’d experienced some shadow of it during his athletic career. Getting a hit, throwing a guy out at second, hitting a walk-off homerun – those had once been the pinnacle of that feeling for him. But winning against something that was trying to end your life? That was the culmination of victory, an ideal that he felt like he’d been searching for all his life.

It all coalesced to push him forward, and when circumstances conspired to keep him in the same place, even for a moment, Zeke grew impatient.

So, the last thing he wanted to do was spend another few days unraveling runes. He needed to figure out a better way, so, as he gradually picked the curse apart, he bent his mind toward doing just that.

The problem was that he didn’t really have much of a strategy aside from full, frontal assault. Sure, he’d assassinated plenty of trolls in their sleep, but his go-to was to rely on the power disparity to see him through. But he wanted to be better than that. No – he needed to. While the trolls weren’t necessarily that big of a threat right now, he held no illusions about the rest of his climb to the top of the cave system. Eventually, he’d run into something he couldn’t just overpower. So, he needed to expand his repertoire.

Zeke had almost finished unraveling the curse when the idea struck him. He’d been looking at it from the wrong perspective. He didn’t have a lot of skills that had carried over from the old world. His years of swinging a baseball bat had given him some prowess with a club – and later, his mace – and he certainly knew how to take a beating. However, there was one skill he’d so far neglected.

And he knew why.

When Zeke had been in that car accident, he’d come very close to losing his right arm. It had healed, but even then, it had only barely been functional. Because of that, he’d forcefully ignored it for nearly two years. So, the idea of throwing something had never even crossed his mind.

But before he’d been injured, he’d possessed a very good throwing arm – to the point where very few baserunners ever even tried to steal on him. In scouting reports, it was even listed as his second-best attribute, only behind his power at the plate. So, what could he do with his massively increased strength and dexterity? As soon as the idea came to mind, Zeke became impatient to try it.

He finished picking apart the curse, then dropped down from his perch atop the mushroom and started gathering rocks. Out of necessity, he still carried the human-skin satchel, and he used it to hold his chosen ammunition. The rocks he found were a wide variety of sizes, but it didn’t take him long to accumulate a sack-full of fist-sized stones.

When he finally started testing things out, he couldn’t help but grin. Oh, this was going to change everything.