It took a while—a long while—for Faust to recompose. Getting so close to death, even closer than when he had actually wanted to die, was an experience he did not wished to repeat.

  However, although an event like this should border the limits of a human mind, Faust didn't find it deeply traumatic. The reason for that was simple.

  Without even consciously thinking about it at the moment, the truth was that he was now a mana user. He could feel it: an energy traversing from his heart to his arms, legs, abdomen, and brain, cleansing every blood vessel, capillary, and cell of his body with an unfiltered state of purity.

  The result was notable not only physically—now he could hear the rustling of leaves outside the cave, see in the dark with far more precision, and feel his own body with astonishing depth, from the blood carried in his veins to every beat of his heart. It was, in a way, as if he had become completely aware and connected to his own body.

  But the awakening of mana provided even more boons. His mind was calmer, stabler, and his thoughts seemed to flow faster and sharper, able to analyze his own situation and many other factors in the blink of an eye. Though this awakening also stirred an unusual impression in him, he paid it little attention; the situation he was in demanded far more focus.

  Touching his missing eye briefly, Faust did not react strongly. An eye for mana? That seems like a decent trade.

  Not only that, but all of his other injuries had already healed and closed. Though, his eye did not seem to return. Quickly, Faust understood: mana also helped with his regeneration! That was… magical, quite literally. However, it also had some limitations. Apparently, destroyed or missing parts could not be regenerated. It would be unwise to lose a limb or let it be damaged beyond repair… though that would be unwise with or without mana.

  Faust was sat beside the dead body inside the cave, the cold stone sending chills through his spine that he could now feel with near perfection. Cross-legged, he breathed slowly and let go of focusing on his injury. The damage was already done; there was nothing he could do about it anymore.

  Instead, he focused on the future and what he could do from now on.

  So I’ve become a mana user?

  His face was stoic, unable to find a suitable expression.

  Does that mean I’m one of the strong now?

  But how do I use it… Hm!

  An idea surged into his mind. Couldn’t he do just like they did in the books? It seemed easy!

  “Fireball!” he shouted, moving his hands around.

  Nothing happened. Nothing at all.

  “Fireball!” he said again, pointing his finger in a specific direction.

  Again, nothing happened.

  He was confused but did not allow small failures to bother him too much. He shook his head and tried one last time. “Fireball!”

  Once more, nothing happened.

  Sighing, Faust let it rest for now. It was clear that using mana was not as easy as he had thought. At the moment, he evaluated his current situation.

  It was not good, but it could be far worse.

  What were the negatives? He had lost an eye. Someone had attempted to kill him. Someone had stolen the bronze cube, which seemed important, rendering his entry into the cave useless. He did not delve deep into the cons... there were many.

  Massaging his temples, Faust shifted his focus to what he had gained.

  First, he had acquired confirmation that he was not alone inside the dungeon. Other villagers had already entered, which likely meant Chris had as well. But that was information he had already pieced together before. What was surprising was that the villagers were not only hostile toward each other but actively violent.

  They were killing each other.

  Not only the Black and Yellow Star villages, but also a third party—the masked person.

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  There was also the fact that a huge battle seemed to have taken place in the charred portion of the forest, which he could now tell was likely a result of the same conflict. But the why still remained. In any case, Faust also now knew that there were threats inside the dungeon higher than monsters.

  Chris, who could turn people into ashes and use golden light…

  The masked person, who used arrows laced with… poison… or whatever that was.

  Both of them represented people with a power ceiling far higher than his own, which meant they could easily kill him—and in turn, end his survival.

  Faust was not a foolish child; he was a realist child. The answer to that problem came easily to him.

  Power.

  It was the path he would need to pursue if he wanted to keep surviving, at least while inside the dungeon.

  “Play the game with the dice you’re dealt,” he muttered to the cave walls. “I just hope my dice is a lucky one.”

  …

  Hours later, Faust was surprised by his mental speed. He could now maintain an accurate count of time with fair precision for a long period, far more than before.

  In any case, his focus was not rewarded. He attempted many times to use mana—to shoot something with it, to create something with it, or to do anything that could prove that mana was as powerful as people claimed.

  But after several failures, he gave up for the moment.

  Right now, he simply accepted that it was not possible.

  The books had lied.

  Thankfully his attempts were not completely fruitless.

  He discovered that he could “see” his mana. When his eye was closed, he could perceive something within himself: a small, flickering orb of light around his heart. It was small and weak, but unmistakable.

  It was mana.

  Observing it was strange—it did not feel like simple sight, but as if all five of his senses had merged together into a new one.

  It was a strange feeling, but he grew accustomed to it.

  He also tested, in a rather dangerous way, the effect of mana on his body’s healing. It was one of the first things he had noticed, the thing that intrigued him the most, and currently, the thing that seemed most likely to contribute to his goal of survival.

  It took some courage, but he cut his palm open with the blade of a dead man. An injury that would have taken days to heal closed in a matter of hours. The speed was impressive, truly impressive!

  Faust did not know what he was feeling now that he could use mana. He did not feel jubilantly happy, but he was not sad either. He was not bored, but not exactly excited. Curious? Something close to it.

  Mana itself was not as useful as he had thought it would be. Where were the moving oceans and destroying mountains?

  Even turning people into ashes seemed like a stronger power than simply regenerating faster.

  But he wondered if the effects of the crimson flames he had experienced earlier, or the sacrifice sigil etched into his forearm, were influencing his mana.

  If so, could this prove to be something stronger than he thought? Or maybe they were incompatible, and he could not use mana because of it? Was he overthinking, or on the correct path?

  Faust shook his head violently, focusing his gaze on the body of the dead noble.

  Focus on the present. I will see what I can do about mana later.

  Approaching the body, he spared no prayers this time, reaching into their clothes to find anything useful.

  At first touch, he could tell the noble’s clothing was of good quality—somewhat thick, light, and resistant. Its not-quite-intact appearance made it clear that it was not immune to cuts, but it offered resistance similar to leather armor.

  So, he quickly looted the body and undressed it, leaving the dead noble man naked. As he removed the clothes, Faust found some interesting items.

  One of them was a blade, a strange blade made of clean steel. Its upper part curved forward, while the bottom part was straight. The handle was wrapped in dark leather, and the weapon was heavy, though decently small—about 40 centimeters long.

  Faust waved it around. Its weight was close to that of an axe, the only weapon he was even barely versed in. He lost no time in adopting this weapon as his new one; it was far better than a wooden stick.

  Why didn’t that guy use this to defend himself instead of running away? Faust cast a cold gaze at the dead noble.

  The other interesting finds were a bag full of colored herbs and grasses, and a small book of around thirty pages or so, with a simple leather cover and no title.

  Upon opening it, it seemed to be a diary of sorts, but a very detailed one.

  “Alchemy is such a beautiful craft. It’s simple enough that even brutes could try their luck at it, with a skill ceiling further than the heavens—it has no limit at all!

  “I must present my Lady with a special gift for allowing me to partake in the studies of this art at a deeper degree! I will make a potion to hide her age… wait! A woman might take it as an offense. But what then? I will think of something.”

  “To think she was able to get her hands on books from both the Alverith Alchemy Guild and the Celestia Academy. Sometimes I wish I could pry into her thoughts to know how she is capable of that, but I fear what she might do to me, if honesty is needed.”

  Faust kept turning pages, talking aloud to himself. “Alchemy? So he was an alchemist? What is an alchemist doing inside this place? I thought they were cryptic people, stuffed into a laboratory all day creating monsters and such…”

  As he passed through the pages, the book mostly listed ingredient locations and a few recipes for basic potions, such as healing and revitalizing potions. This knowledge intrigued Faust, but he lacked the experience and the necessary tools to even attempt potion-making. According to the book, he would need a full setup: fire, glass vials, powders, oils, alcohol, and other things he did not even know how to find.

  “Am I even simpler than a ‘brute’…?” His brows furrowed as he looked at the dead noble. “At least I’m alive.”

  Closing the book, Faust dressed in the noble’s white and gold robes, storing the curved blade in his belt alongside the small herb bag and the book, which could be useful in the future.

  He checked the bodies of the two dead men as well but found nothing useful besides their swords, which he also looted and let hang at his waist.

  Finally, once he felt ready both physically and mentally, he left the cave with a simple plan that involved just two steps:

  Survive. Reach the dungeon goal.