One full day had passed since Veigar ventured deep into the suffocating green maze that surrounded the village of Hillford. He had no compass, no map, and barely enough common sense to navigate this living labyrinth. What he did have, however, was desperation — and that had carried him through nearly 80 kilometers of roots, rocks, mud, and existential whining.
During this time, he'd tried to deepen his connection with nature — to sync with the mana around him, to reach some inner peace. And to be fair… he managed a bit of that.
When he wasn't hallucinating from hunger.
He'd eaten a few strange, low-hanging fruits that looked like mutant plums and tasted like feet soaked in mint. Not poisonous (hopefully), but not filling either. His stomach had been growling so much that he was starting to worry local predators would think he was challenging them.
It was now early morning. His clothes clung to his body with sweat and grime, his eyes were sunken, and his legs wobbled with every step.
Then — salvation.
A sound.
Subtle at first. Faint. But real.
Running water.
Veigar's ears perked up, and a surge of primal hope burst through his chest. "A stream! A freaking stream!"
He bolted toward the sound like a thirsty hyena, crashing through branches and stumbling over roots. But just before he reached the edge—
Wait.
Think.
If I'm this desperate for water, then so are the wolves, the beasts, and probably some pissed-off forest hermit who thinks the stream is sacred.Last thing I need is to get jumped by a druid with a squirrel army.
He froze mid-step.
"I… should probably not rush in like a dumbass."
So instead of diving headfirst, Veigar crouched and crept forward, slow and silent, hugging the underbrush. He lowered his breathing. Focused. Tensed every muscle.
…And promptly stepped on a twig.
"Shit."
He held his breath, crouched behind a dense bush. Peeking through, he caught his first glimpse of the stream: narrow, clear, sparkling beneath the sunlight that filtered through the trees like divine approval. It was beautiful. Untouched. Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
He waited. Listened and watched.
Seconds turned into minutes.
Minutes into what felt like a decade.
Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Screw it."
Veigar darted forward, dropped to his knees at the edge of the stream, and dunked his entire face into the water.
And drank.
Like a man possessed.
The cold water hit his tongue and sent shockwaves through his soul. He drank, gasped for air, drank again.
"Dear sweet baby Poseidon, this is the best thing I've ever tasted," he muttered between gulps.
He splashed water onto his face, neck, arms — washing away grime and dried blood. Then he stripped to his underwear, waded into the shallows, and let the current rinse off everything the past 24 hours had thrown at him.
He even scrubbed his dagger, watching the blood swirl away into the current like a memory being erased.
"Well, not exactly spa day levels of comfort," he muttered, "but hey… at least I'm not drinking my own tears anymore."
The moment felt like a fragile blessing — a brief truce with the world.
Birds chirped. The breeze cooled his skin. Mana sparkled faintly in the air.
He laid back on the mossy bank, eyes half-closed, letting the rhythm of the water soothe his frayed nerves. For the first time in a while, he didn't feel like he was one mosquito bite away from total collapse.
Eventually, he sat up, stretched, and whispered:
"Open Status Panel."
The familiar glow blinked into existence.
[ User: Veigar ]
[ Constitution: 5 ]
[ Strength: 5 ]
[ Agility: 5 ]
[Intelligence: 10 ]
[ Mana: 34 ]
Veigar blinked.
"…Damn. How the hell did my mana shoot up like that?!"
[That is natural. Since you absorb mana passively without much effort, your reserves increase steadily.]
"Wait, wait. Let me get this straight. 34 mana points. That's gotta be impressive, right? Like… 'mage academy dropout but still OP' level?"
[Not exactly.]
"…What do you mean 'not exactly'? That sounds like a lot!"
[For comparison: a proper magic apprentice would typically have around 100 mana points.]
"…"
[You currently have the mana reserves of an enthusiastic candle vendor with dreams of greatness.]
"…I see."
"Okay, what about the rest of my stats? How do I compare to normal people? Like, average peasants? Bakers? Sword-for-hire types?"
[Across Constitution, Strength, Agility, and Intelligence:10 is the theoretical human maximum. Only those who use mana or aura can go beyond it.]
"Hold on. You're saying I have 10 Intelligence. Does that mean I'm, like… a genius?"
[Among common humans, yes. You're a one-in-a-billion prodigy. Among mages? That's baseline entry level.]
"…Then why don't I feel smart? I'm pretty sure I still can't solve complex equations."
[Intelligence is not the same as education. Even noble-borns often require months of training to reach your level of mana accumulation. You've done that in under 48 hours.]
Veigar stared at the glowing panel.
"…Damn. That actually sounds kind of impressive. Thanks, System. That was… kind of motivational." — He said with a slight smile
[You're welcome, Veigar.]
"Dear abductor System, can you tell me more about the power hierarchy in this world? Like, power scaling, class systems, anything useful?"
[No. Discover it yourself. I believe in you.]
Veigar stared blankly.
"…love you too, dear."
He closed the panel with a sigh, resisting the urge to scream into the trees.
Still, despite the sarcastic voice in his head and the crushing realization of how weak he still was — he felt better.
Hydrated. Clean-ish. Mana full. Dagger shiny.
Only one problem remained.
"…I'm still starving."
His stomach growled, echoing through the woods like a dying bear.
And so, with a wet shirt, tangled hair, and a slightly lighter heart, Veigar stood, adjusted his belt, and resumed his march into the unknown.
The forest was wide.
The world was cruel.
But damn it all — at least he had clean socks.