I lowered my palms into the stream. The icy water burned no less than yesterday’s spark. Thin steam rose from my reddened skin, and my fingers seemed to take on a life of their own, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.

  “Will to Live” was the only thing keeping me upright. The body’s reserves were nearly depleted, but my consciousness—spurred on by the skill—ran like clockwork. I had finally grasped the principle. Magic here wasn’t about chanting verses. It was about manipulating the density of the medium.

  A wet crunch in the bushes made me freeze. The sound was heavy. Dense.

  I slowly pulled my hands from the water. Droplets slid down my elbows, tracing paths across dirty skin. I wasn’t a fighter. I was a child barely able to stand. But my instincts, sharpened by the skill, were already screaming danger.

  It rolled out of the ferns.

  The creature resembled a wolf, but nature had clearly been in a foul mood when it made this thing. Instead of fur—overlapping gray bone plates, layered like roof shingles. Its eyes glowed a dull, venomous green. In bestiaries, they call it a “bone wolf.” To me, it was death on four legs.

  “Will to Live,” I ordered.

  Something turned over in my mind like a gear locking into place. The world slowed. Details sharpened. I had no intention of throwing sparks—that was inefficient. Instead, I focused on the space directly beneath the wolf’s paws as it leapt.

  I didn’t create gravity. I created a mana density gradient. A sudden compression of energy at a single point triggered a localized pressure distortion. The physics of this world were surprisingly pliable—you just needed to know the correct vector of applied force.

  The ground beneath the creature caved in.

  Already mid-leap, the wolf slammed into the earth as if a concrete slab had dropped from above. Its own mass, multiplied by the overload I’d generated, did the work for me. A dry, sickening crack of snapping bones rang out. The bone armor couldn’t withstand the internal pressure—its spine burst, and the predator collapsed into a sack of shattered fragments at my feet.

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  I staggered. Black spots swam before my eyes.

  “Efficiency… acceptable,” I rasped, wiping blood splatter from my face.

  The triumph didn’t last.

  Drawn by the noise, a second one burst from the brush. Larger. Sharp bone spikes bristled along its spine. It didn’t leap immediately. It crouched, assessing the threat, and released a low, vibrating growl.

  I tried to gather mana again. Tried to induce resonance within its bone plates—to make them simply disintegrate. But my hands wouldn’t obey. My fingers seized in such violent cramps I couldn’t even straighten them. Instead of concentrating, the energy lashed back at my own nerves in chaotic pulses.

  The second attempt failed.

  I was empty.

  This body—this fragile fuse—had burned out. I stood before the growling predator, unable even to raise a hand.

  The wolf coiled for the kill. Its saliva, faintly phosphorescent in the half-light, dripped onto the moss. I closed my eyes, bracing for death.

  Vooomph!

  The air shuddered with a powerful shockwave. A wave of such dense energy rushed past me that the skin on my cheek prickled. There was a brief yelp—then the heavy thud of something massive striking a tree trunk.

  I opened my eyes.

  The second wolf lay several meters away, its head twisted at an unnatural angle. Zeno stepped out of the bushes at an unhurried pace. He didn’t even look winded. Only the head of his staff glowed faintly.

  “Messy,” the old man muttered, nudging the first wolf’s corpse with clear disdain. “Too many unnecessary movements. Too much noise.”

  He came closer, studying the creature I had crushed. There was no praise in his gaze—only dry, cold wariness.

  “Weight distortion?” he asked.

  “I just used its own mass against it,” I forced myself upright, though my legs felt like cotton. “Why waste energy on a fireball when you can simply drop the target?”

  Zeno stared at me for several long seconds.

  “You nearly killed yourself with that little ‘trick.’ Your body isn’t an infinite source. It’s a fuse. And today, it burned out.”

  He pointed his staff at the first wolf’s carcass pinned to the earth.

  “Drag it back to the hut. We’ll butcher it today. Your skin is too fragile for this forest—you’ll need proper armor made from those plates.”

  I approached the corpse. It was heavy, foul-smelling, and slick with blood. I grabbed a broken bone protrusion and pulled. Every step sent pain shooting through my burned palms, but I stubbornly dragged the carcass down the path, leaving a dark trail across the rotting leaves.

  I needed a weapon.

  I needed strength.

  And now I knew for certain: if I wanted to survive in this world, I would have to force my flesh to obey my mind—whatever the cost.