Magic: 4/50

I sit there in the open, basking in the lake’s beautiful atmosphere. I feel each and every single second pass by, waiting for one thing to change. Even with its beauty, I still get a little bored and start playing with my inner mana to pass the time. Eventually, three minutes pass while I sit there patiently for something to happen.

Magic: 5/50

That’s what I was looking for. It finally went up after three minutes. So… three times fifty… two and a half hours to regenerate to full. A frown appears on my face. Nice as this place may be, I wouldn’t want to stay here for two and a half hours just sitting down.

I guess I should spend my time doing something productive while I wait for it to regen. I get up from where I sat, and start heading towards a more rocky area. I look for sharp rocks that I can use as materials for an axe so I can begin to obtain some of this mushroom timber. I’ve decided that I need a proper base to rest in – no more sleeping out in the open. I reflect on all the times I’ve either slept or passed out in this cavern, and the thought of what could’ve happened if a monster found me fills me with shudders.

While looking for a suitable rock, I also keep a lookout on pieces of flint that I could maybe, with the help of a little magic, use as a crude knife. I continue to sift through the numerous amounts of rocks that litter the cavern floor, finding, as to be expected, lots of stone, but little else. I sigh in quiet frustration at the lack of variety.

I am literally trapped in a cave, and I can only find a single type of rock. Maybe it’s because of where I decided to search? I keep searching as I wait for my mana to top out again. I wish I could listen to music while doing this. Images of my past life of me enjoying the various wonders of technology flash into my head, and I begin to feel a little homesick.

No. I can’t keep thinking of that place. I need to learn to accept reality for what it is now. I let out a sigh and continue searching for my desired stone.

Suddenly, I see a black sheen in the corner of my vision. I look up to where that rock was, and I see a familiar dark color. I walk up to it as numerous other rocks pop up into my view, all located around the lake.

Oh, so it really was where I was looking. Feeling a little miffed with myself, I collect the rock and start to plan out how I will design these tools. The axe is easy enough – just a wedge would do the job fine. I hold up the piece of flint I found and inspect it. It’s the longest, and narrowest piece of flint I could find. Its shape is absolutely perfect for what I need it to be. I pick up another piece of flint and chip it off at one of the ends.

It doesn’t chip. Feeling a little more impatient, I hit much harder this time, and to my dismay, I end up breaking that flint piece in half.

God. Damn it.

I facepalm myself and look for another piece of flint with similar specs. Upon finding one, I sit down and try to chip it off with more control and care. After a little while of careful shaping and refining, I end up with what some could maybe call a knife. It works… fine enough probably. The edge looks like it could cut and, although it isn’t the neatest knife in the world, it’s at least kinda straight. I stay persistent in my endeavor and continue to chip off more and more, eventually realizing that I really suck at this.

I let out a sigh of exasperation, then steel myself for the future troubles I will soon experience trying to survive in this world.

Getting frustrated at the problem won’t fix it, Aaron. I gotta just accept the facts as they come and continue to move forward.

I pick up another piece of flint, chipping off pieces with the same care as my past attempt. It comes out looking a little better actually, almost usable.

Unfortunately, my “almost” isn’t good enough – it doesn’t make the cut. I snicker to myself, and then toss the failure into the river and try again.

I grab another piece of flint and begin mindlessly chipping away, the motions putting me into a strangely calm state of repetition. The attempt this time yielded much better results, resembling an actual, functional knife. I decide to call this one a success. I think the deciding factor in this attempt was my use of this strange, orange rock that seemed to appear under the shallow waters of the lake. It’s remarkably hard compared to what I’d seen so far, but unfortunately, it breaks very unevenly, rendering it unusable as a knife.

My first knife. I think I’ll name you… Knifey.

I chuckle to myself at my naming convention. Knifey, what a ridiculous name. Actually, I think I might stick with it, just for the sake of it.

I carry knifey around with me, feeling satisfied with myself. I’ll wrap the handle with some of the thick, tall grass around the left side of the cliff, after drying and braiding it. Hopefully, it’ll be strong enough to not fall apart. In case it doesn’t work, I guess carrying it around without a handle might be fine, but I could cut myself easily on the blade if my hand slips.

I walk towards the grassy areas, keeping my camouflage ever active. I wonder if that works on these tools as well. I can’t really notice if it’s working because, well… it’s a black knife blending into a black background. I don't really notice the difference.

What I do notice, however, is my lack of pockets. I don’t really have any clothing on me right now. Should I be embarrassed? I am walking around naked, even if the shadowy haze conceals my being.

Come to think of it though, I never really had a need to poop since I came into this world, haven’t I? I look down at myself.

… and find nothing there. Is this… a property of shade beasts perhaps? What even is my biological gender…

Can shade beasts even have parents? Using identify told me that they are apparently a rare type of monster that arise from dark areas in places of high mana concentration, so my parents are… darkness? I shudder and shake my head and stop thinking about the topic.

Well, moving on from that… dilemma, I arrive at the place where I originally arrived into this lake – the one with the tall grass. I grip my knife and begin to cut off whole bunches of grass at once, gauging its level of effectiveness.

After slicing off a nice, big hand full of cave grass, I actually find that the knife cuts much sharper than I’d have imagined. Honestly, with my luck, I was half expecting the knife to fall apart or simply not work. I am pleasantly surprised.

I continue cutting off more and more grass. Maybe I could turn this into rope and fashion myself a carrying bag. Or pants.

I could also use this as a roof for the small base I will build at the bottom of the cliff. Using the mushroom timber, and maybe with a little help from the medium-sized shrubbery around me, I could end up building a pretty reasonable base. The only matter is its security.

Sure I could camouflage it so predators won’t notice, but I don’t think that will be enough for me to sleep safely and soundly. My mind wanders to the boomshrooms that litter the area. Up until my fight with the scorpion, I have never heard a single boomshroom detonate around here. With its prevalence, I could only assume that the monsters here know to avoid its yellow cap.

Maybe I could cultivate it around my base?

I shake my head. Doing that would mean too much downtime before I get an actual line of defense. Even then, I would need to pack it close to each other, and well, the idea of packing that many explosives close together…

Needless to say: A Very Bad Idea. It would probably be very attention grabbing as well.

I think what I’ll actually go with is to bury some boomshroom caps around my base, marking them with some sort of twig or something. I'll probably have to put a stone bowl under each one to prevent the mine from going inert after the cap decomposes and the liquid seeps into the ground. Well, any adjustments can be made when the time comes.

While thinking to myself, I end up grabbing a lot more grass than I could carry in my fun time with Knifey, so I just leave the excess there while I bundle up as much as I can and go. I stroll leisurely on the path, soaking up the atmosphere of this place. I still use identify constantly to try and level it up.

Indigo Mushtree

A close relative to the Indigo Mushroom, the Mushtree stands much taller and wider than it. It’s different biology, being similar to regular trees, allows it to share the same sturdy quality that regular wood has. Grows underground in areas of high mana concentration and water.

Cave grass

The underground variant of grass, just as prolific as it too. This commonly seen grass varies in height in a linear relationship with the nearby area’s mana concentration. Its biology uses mana instead of light and carbon dioxide to respirate and produce its energy. Grows underground.

Lots of interesting stuff to be found here. As I continue walking, I hear a soft rustling noise behind me. I pause in my steps, and I look behind me.

It’s too dark to see anything there, but it’s bright enough to see the rustling of the plants as a creature shifts through the area.

I immediately grow more wary, wondering what monster could possibly be in there. Cold sweats start to run down my back as I consider the possibility of one of those 10+ level monsters being there. I gently let my bundle of grass onto the ground.

Slowly and carefully, I begin to back up from the source of the rustling. Just in case, I begin to gather mana into my hands, ready to conjure up an ice bullet at any time.

Suddenly, I see a paw exit the brush and into the open. I grit my teeth.

Ice bullet.

It forms into my palm and I grab it. Mana still gathers into my hand, readily convertible into energy. I enhance my arm to give it some more strength. I'll make sure to start this off with a bang.

Before I even see the rest of the monster, I ready my arm with the intent to shoot it immediately.

The rest of the monster’s body comes into view. Out of the brush, I see an image of a bruised and battered exoskeleton. It’s covered in scratches all over, and its head is bashed in. Those eyes of it still stare at me, grim and lethal.

It’s the gray cavern scorpion.

My hand freezes, and the gray cavern scorpion jumps at me in my moment of hesitation. Mid pounce, the scorpion changes into a wolf, it’s mouth wide open for my neck. Out of reflex, I block with my arm, and the wolf latches on. Tight.

I panic and begin trying to shake off the wolf. I end up making my wound worse in doing so, and the wolf bites down even harder. With my other hand, I bring down Knifey onto the wolf, but the wolf notices it and dodges out of the way.

My arm is bleeding profusely. Purple blood spews out of my arm through the holes from the wolf’s fangs. With a flick my wrist, I toss my ice cube into my other hand, moving the congregate of mana along with it.

I grit my teeth angrily, and the wolf prepares another charge. Magic requires ideas and a will to guide it. I guide the ice bullet into my enemy’s face. It ends up missing its head and instead lodges itself into its shoulder.

Hmph. Unfortunate that the bullet didn’t do more damage. I didn’t have the foresight to drop my knife and actually throw the cube instead of using solely magic. The wolf however, is frightened by the unexpected ranged attack. Its instinct told it that juvenile beasts shouldn’t be able to utilize magic at all and that it should run immediately. It ducks its tail and turns.

Oh no you won’t.

I’m not allowing this dog to leave alive. My eyes are alight with fury. I redirect the flow of mana into my legs to enhance it and make a running leap onto the mutt. Knifey slips in my hand during the jump and leaves a gash on my palm, but I don’t notice it in the adrenaline rush. The dog’s movements are slowed considerably due to the ice bullet, and I easily catch up to it with my jump.

I pin the wolf down, sinking my spiked hand into it. It thrashes wildly in a desperate attempt to free itself. I am unable to claw the beast – my fingers are made for puncturing, not slashing – so the wolf frees itself as I try to lift my hand in the air. As it does so, I flinch for a small moment, and look down to see a familiar body under me.

I pause in my tracks, looking at the Aaron on the ground.

It’s the old, human me. Singed and still burning, eyes filled with dread and hopelessness. The sight hits me with crushing sadness and shock.

Was this me in the building? I am unable to tell if I’m looking at myself or a corpse. The flames continue to engulf me and I lay there, bleeding from my shoulder and from my abdomen. My eyes remain dull and emotionless. I see a tear slid down my face as I burn.

The sight stirs something in me, and my eyes start to tear up. I remain frozen in complete emotional overload. The burning Aaron looks at me, and it moves its face closer to mine. A snout appears in the air, and it reaches for my face. I back up quickly and move my hand again in reflex, still with the same shocked expression on my face. This time, instead of my arm, my right hand gets bitten.

I stab my fingers into the wolf’s head. It tenses up, and then goes limp.

I shake off the dead monster from my hand. There I sit, still in shock from the imagery, while the burning Aaron slowly transforms to reveal a wolf with light, silver fur.