Having left the convenience store, Chance was at a literal and proverbial cross road. He could continue to the right, leading deeper into the city and rummage through the rubble, or double back to the left and exit into the burgeoning forest.

The question that lingered the most on his mind was the value of either action. Having seen a forest sprout up infront of his old apartment complex skewed Chances thoughts. Figuring that if a forest could seemingly grow over night that there would be further opportunities that grew along with it. Chance hesitated no more. He walked, retracing his steps, in the direction of the forest.

His body moved more agilely after the change. A refreshing cool wind appeared within his diaphragm with each breath. His legs also felt like iron rods, stsked within the ground, even when on uneven flooring. Feeling experimental, Chance began to throw his center of gravity around he walked.

Bad idea.

Within a few steps, Chance loosed a rock in the rubble he walked on. An avalanche of tumbling stones almost took him away, down into a ravine that lead to the sewers. Deep pungent smells waft in the young man's nose. What ever was in the sewers, he didnt want to find out.

The leaky sound of condensation falling crept into his ears at times. If he focused, Chance could reconstruct images of the world around him based on the sounds he heard. He felt as if he was a bat, collecting information with the slightest movement of his ears, and a hound from the distinct smells his nose now picked up on.

Largely, the least affected point of his body seemed to be his nerves. Though his body reacted in a more streamlined way to stimuli, more instinctively, Chances total reaction speed was relatively the same. In order for him to reach, Chance needed to perceive a threat towards him.

Much like in the incident with the sewers, Chance would allow his instinct to control him as stress dictated. To him, his life preservation skills came from a primal form. Conscious decision making would slow the process down, and instinctively Chance knew that over thinking his circumstsnce would be killing himself.

He reached the location where Charles had died. A porous skeleton lay in the aftermath. Chance regarded that skeleton with rapt attention. Small white mushrooms littered the bones, feeding from them, and turning them to soil. Chsnce watched as the wind took some of the mushrooms into the air. He half wamted to touch them, but doom hung in the bsck of his mind.

Turning a blind eye to the fungi, Chance held himself in higher regard. He recalled the conversation Charles had with him. He recalled his adamant proclamation wanting to be better than a God. 

Chance stood with his back like a spear, and ventured further on, not looking back. The regal, animal, air coagulated in his steps. Slightly haunching with each rhythmic tap of the soles of his feet on the moist ground. He walked on past all distractions. When he passed the ruins of his home, he looked at the rubble. His will wavered before the memories of family, but a cool flame severed the last trace of potential mortal bond in his body. He told himself, 'I wont be crushed under the weight of the world. I'll be the god that moves the world.'