The golden filaments of Ether—barely visible before—intensified. They danced, like strands of light beneath the world’s skin.
The trees were no longer ordinary.
Their trunks bore marks—deep scars, as if the bark had been burned from within, then regrown in jagged, almost organic patterns.
Some areas looked like they had melted before hardening again, forming glossy growths striated with mineral veins that shouldn’t exist in living wood. I ran a finger over one. The surface was smooth, almost waxy, but beneath it, the matter itself seemed to struggle, fighting to return to its original form.
The leaves were another problem. Their green was no longer uniform—translucent patches streaked them. The chlorophyll had fled in places, leaving behind brittle, nearly vitrified zones.
When the wind stirred them, some snapped clean off, crumbling to dust before hitting the ground. I picked up a fragment between my fingers. It disintegrated on contact, leaving only a faint golden trail—residual Ether clinging to the last molecules.
— OK. So the forest is disintegrating. Perfect. Just what I needed.
Beneath my feet, the ground resisted strangely. Not like loose soil, not like compacted clay—no, it was worse.
Each step sank too easily. The cohesion between particles was weakening.
I scooped up a handful of dirt. It crumbled between my fingers into uneven grains—some normal, others… different. Grains that glowed faintly, evaporating on contact with air like salt crystals under flame. I watched them dissolve, leaving behind spirals of Ether that rose before dispersing.
— Damn. Even the ground is sick here.
And then there was it. The Ether.
Here, it didn’t dance. It didn’t flow in orderly filaments. It swirled, caught in an invisible current, pooling into tight knots that pulsed at a painful frequency. Every time my gaze brushed one of these clusters, a dull pressure throbbed through my skull—not a migraine, no, worse. Like someone pressing on my eyes from the inside, forcing my perception to bend to a logic that wasn’t mine.
— So either this zone is dying, or it’s mutating. Only problem is, I don’t know where to go. I just need to survive for now.
I sat against the oak trunk, the quartz clutched in my hand. Its surface was cold, but not unpleasant. Just… present. Like an anchor.
I closed my eyes for a second.
When I opened them, the filaments were still there, denser now, as if the darkness fed them.
The trees were no longer just silhouettes—they were networks, living structures where Ether circulated in tight loops around the trunks, pooling in the wood’s knots. Even the still leaves vibrated with an energy I couldn’t name.
Then I heard the sounds.
First, a crack—not a branch snapping, no, this was sharper, more deliberate. Like a measured step. I froze. My breath shortened.
— OK. Either an animal, or something that’s going to eat me. Neither option thrills me.
A growl. Low, guttural. Not a wolf. Not a bear. Something else. I turned my head slowly.
Between the trees, a shadow moved.
Not a normal shadow. A distorted figure. More humanoid than human, whatever it was—absorbing the Ether around it, warping it into jagged waves.
I narrowed my eyes. The silhouette was squat, hunched, with limbs too long. All I knew was that its Ether was chaotic, as if it were made of mismatched pieces.
None of this was good. Not good at all.
I crouched slowly, picking up a stone at my feet. It was smooth, worn by time. I turned it in my hand, seeing its atomic structure overlaid on its physical form. The bonds between atoms were loose in places, as if the stone itself was exhausted.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
— Let’s try modifying this…
I closed my eyes, focusing. Not on the stone itself, but on the space between its atoms. The Ether there moved in fits and starts, like poorly insulated electricity. I breathed, trying to feel rather than see.
Then I pushed.
Not with my hands. With… something else. A will. Like I’d suddenly grown a sixth finger capable of pressing against reality.
The stone groaned.
Not a sound. A vibration. Under my fingers, its surface grew denser, atomic bonds tightening like flexing muscles. When I opened my eyes, the stone hadn’t changed shape—but it was harder. Denser. I hurled it at a tree trunk three meters away.
OK. So I can make weapons. That’s something.
I gathered a handful of pebbles, repeating the process. Some resisted. Others shattered under my will, reduced to dust. But three or four became proper projectiles—stones with edges sharp as obsidian shards.
Perfect. Now I just have to survive the night.
The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something else—a sour stench, like rusted metal mixed with rotting flesh. I pressed against the tree, the quartz still tight in my hand. The Ether around me stirred, as if reacting to the creatures’ presence.
They’re close.
I wasn’t afraid. Well, I was. But fear was background noise now, like the constant hum of Ether. What mattered was adapting fast or dying.
The shadows moved again.
This time, I counted three.
They advanced as a group, their forms distorted by the Ether’s warping around them. One stopped abruptly, turning what might’ve been a head toward my hiding spot. I held my breath.
A rough growl.
Then laughter.
Not human. Too deep, too wet, like the creature’s throat was full of mucus.
Do they know I’m here?!
I gripped one of the modified stones in my hand. My pulse pounded in my temples, but my fingers didn’t shake. Not yet.
The first creature took a step toward me.
That’s when the rain started.
The first drops struck the leaves with dull thuds. Then came the downpour.
Water fell in thick sheets, turning the forest into a shifting fog where Ether filaments danced like miniature lightning between droplets. I pressed back against the oak trunk, trying to make myself as small as possible.
Now I’m soaked AND in mortal danger.
The creatures—whatever they were—had stopped. Their silhouettes blurred with the rain, but I could still see their Ether distortions, those holes in the world’s normal fabric. One raised what might’ve been an arm, as if sniffing the air.
Then they left.
Their forms grew faint, then vanished between the trees.
I stayed still for another minute.
Then two.
Then I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.
Either they’re afraid of rain, or they couldn’t sense me through it.
I laughed alone. A dry, joyless laugh.
I quickly made a shelter nearby with a pile of half-rotten branches I’d stacked against another oak trunk. With the rain, it barely stood. Water was already seeping through in places, forming dark puddles on the ground.
— Great. This is going to be a hellish night.
I took one of the modified stones from my pocket—the one that had responded best to my will—and placed it on a flat branch I’d salvaged earlier. Then I closed my eyes.
If I could make a stone harder… maybe I could do the same with wood.
I reached for the branch, feeling the rough texture of the bark beneath my fingers. But beyond that, there was the other layer—the wood fibers, the water molecules trapped between them, the Ether spiraling loosely along the grain.
I focused on those spirals.
And I pulled.
Not to break them. To tighten them.
The branch groaned, as if alive. Under my fingers, the wood grew denser, smoother. The fibers realigned, expelling excess water, compacting into a tougher structure.
When I opened my eyes, the branch was no longer a branch.
It was a blade.
Not a sword—no, too crude for that. But a wide, flat knife with an edge that faintly reflected the Ether filaments’ light.
— Alright. Now I’ve got an improvised melee weapon and three sharp stones. I’m practically a warrior.
I laughed again, but this time it was less forced.
With the last branch in place, I collapsed. Exhausted, but… satisfied. Deeply.
And then it happened. Not a voice. A certainty. As if the universe had just validated my existence.
Characters floated in my vision, sharp as equations:
[SURVIVAL: CREATED TEMPORARY SHELTER]
[First-Time Bonus / Extreme Conditions / Novel Ether Use / Innovation]
+27 XP
Progress: 27/100 toward Level 2
— Twenty-seven XP? Like… experience points? Seriously?
I blinked. The characters lingered, then faded. But the sensation remained: warmth in my chest, a feeling of… progress.
— I’m gaining XP?! Like in a game?! I level up?!
I scribbled in my notebook, hands shaking: "Quantified progression system. Significant actions = XP. Level 2 threshold: 100 XP."
The number spun in my head. 27 out of 100. I wanted more.
The rain kept falling, but the shelter held—for now. I sat cross-legged beneath the branches, the quartz resting on my knees. Its light was soothing, like a miniature campfire.
Outside, the storm howled.
But for the first time since I’d arrived here, I felt… calm.
Not safe. No.
Just clear.
I could see the Ether. I could feel it. And now, I could even modify matter with it. Level up. A little, at least…
I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of rain on leaves.
— And maybe… maybe I’m not as lost as I thought.