I started walking toward the light, but then it hit me—why was I walking? I was an astral soul. Walking felt primitive when I could probably float—or even fly.

Stopping in my tracks, I focused on the concept of levitation. In this world, intent seemed to be the key to power. I visualized my aura gathering at my feet, willing myself to rise.

To my delight, it worked. My body lifted off the ground, and I hovered, exhilarated by the sudden success. But the feeling didn’t last. Almost immediately, a sharp sense of exhaustion washed over me, as though something deep within me was being drained.

I panicked and lost focus, tumbling to the ground. The fall didn’t hurt, but the sense of failure stung. I hadn’t even floated for more than a few seconds before my energy had given out.

Something was wrong. I needed a way to monitor my energy usage and reserves more effectively. Closing my eyes, I focused on the system interface.

Total Energy: 3/160

Energy Regeneration: 2.1/s

A chime echoed in my mind, followed by a familiar notification.

Skill Learned: Levitation (Common)

Leave the dirt to grass; the sky is your domain. Levels primarily with Astral Mind.

It clicked now. I’d barely floated for a minute, and the skill had drained nearly 5 energy units per second. My regeneration rate of 2.1 per second wasn’t even close to keeping up.

I realized then that managing my energy would be just as important as building my strength. Focusing solely on my total reserves—my Astral Spirit—might let me last longer in short bursts, but without a strong regeneration rate, I’d burn out too quickly.

A strategy began to form. With two attribute points granted per level, I decided to prioritize Astral Mind, putting two points into it every level-up. That way, my energy regeneration could grow rapidly. On alternating levels, I’d split the remaining points between Astral Body for durability and Astral Spirit to slightly improve my energy pool.

It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it aligned with my current weaknesses. Raw reserves weren’t enough if I couldn’t sustain them. I’d focus on recovery first and fine-tune the rest as I progressed.

Leaning back, I allowed myself a moment of frustration—but also a sliver of pride. Failing wasn’t the problem; staying stagnant was. Every stumble was another step toward growth.

With that in mind, I decided it would be best to practice my Manifestation skill. I focused hard, picturing a dagger, but the best I could manage was a jagged piece of bronze. I tried lengthening it, but anything over a foot and a half dissolved into mist. It was clear my Aura Control needed work. I experimented with shaping a gauntlet instead, considering the pugilist route, but without formal martial arts training, close combat seemed like a recipe for disaster.

I always leaned toward a quality build in video games—a balance of power and versatility—but this wasn’t a game. Here, a single mistake could get me seriously injured or worse. I needed to fight smart.

The shadow creatures I’d seen so far seemed to rely on instinct. That would have to be my edge—my intelligence and planning. Steeling myself, I resumed my march toward what I knew would be my first battle.

The forest was unnervingly quiet. No bird songs, no insect hums—just the muted rustling of leaves and my own footsteps. I periodically activated Astral Sight, keeping it brief to avoid the headache it caused when overused. After about half an hour, I noticed movement at the edge of my vision.

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I crouched low and crept forward, carefully parting the underbrush. Four wolf-like creatures were gnawing on ancient bones. They were monstrous—scrawny and zombified, with jagged black teeth and pus-like drool dripping from their maws. They worked tirelessly at the bones but weren’t making much progress.

Focusing on the largest of the group, I used Identify:

Rotwolf (Level 7)

A once-proud member of a forest wolf pack, corrupted by disseminating energy and prolonged exposure to the Astral Realm.

The Rotwolf suddenly stopped gnawing, lifting its grotesque muzzle into the air. It seemed to have sensed something—me. It couldn’t pinpoint my exact location, but it was only a matter of time. My pulse quickened. I needed a plan. Fast.

I scanned the area and spotted a massive rib cage from some ancient beast nearby. It was large enough to use as cover, but climbing behind it would take time. As I deliberated, the lead wolf fixed its decayed eyes on me. It knew.

With a choking howl, it summoned the other wolves. They turned toward me as one, their movements jerky, almost mechanical, yet disturbingly fast. Fear gripped me. What was I thinking? I wasn’t ready for this. Velarion was right—I wasn’t some overpowered hero with nerves of steel. I was just a city guy who’d watched a few YouTube videos and thought I could wing it.

The wolves closed the distance quickly, their uneven sprint turning into a coordinated charge. They were barely a dozen yards away now—leaping distance. Panic surged, and instinct took over. I jumped.

The lead wolf skidded to a halt, confused, likely expecting me to trip or stumble. But instead, I activated Levitation. My sudden ascent caught it off guard, and the remaining wolves crashed into it in their blind rush. They tumbled past me in a disorganized heap.

One wolf managed to swipe at me, its decayed claws brushing my foot. A wave of that familiar draining sensation hit me, and I could feel my energy reserves dwindling fast. I didn’t need to check my stats to know I had seconds left.

I deactivated Levitation midair, hitting the ground running toward the rib cage. It wasn’t elegant, but it was my only shot at survival.

With a little lead, I barreled through the underbrush, branches snapping against me as I forced my way through. Behind me, the pack of Rotwolves snarled and growled, their movements chaotic and erratic as they untangled themselves. I didn’t dare look back; the sound of their claws tearing through the dirt was enough to spur me forward. Every instinct screamed at me to keep running, but I knew it was going to be close. Too close.

The ribcage was just ahead—a hulking relic of some ancient beast. Its massive bones jutted out of the ground like the bars of a cage, promising at least a moment’s reprieve. With a desperate leap, I grabbed hold of one of the ribs, barely avoiding the snapping jaws of the wolves below. Their frenzied nipping at my heels sent a fresh wave of panic through me.

I tried to haul myself up, but the lead wolf surged forward and clamped its jagged teeth around my ankle, its decayed strength pulling me down. Pain flared as the creature’s teeth tore at me, and I knew I couldn’t hold on for long.

Desperation fueled my next move. Concentrating on my aura, I willed my free foot into a jagged spike—a crude weapon, but all I had. I slammed it down onto the wolf’s snout, again and again. Each strike sent a jolt through my body, and the wolf’s grip refused to loosen. My energy was draining fast, and I could feel my control faltering.

With one final, frantic stomp, the wolf yelped and released me. I scrambled up and tumbled over the rib, landing hard inside the cage. My breaths came in ragged gasps as I crawled deeper into the shelter. The wolves barked and growled, their frustration evident as they pawed at the gaps between the ribs. Thankfully, the spaces were too narrow for them to squeeze through—for now.

I slumped against the base of the ribcage, my whole body trembling as I forced myself to open the system interface.

Total Energy: 21/160

Status:

* Rot: -1/s (5 minutes remaining)

* Injured: -1/s (1 minute remaining)

So Total Energy was more than just a fuel source for skills—it was tied directly to my vitality. A grim realization struck me. Would I actually die if I ran out of energy?

The wolves continued their assault on the cage, snapping and clawing at the bones with relentless fervor. My energy regeneration wasn’t enough to make up for the ongoing drain, and I couldn’t afford to burn more energy without a plan.

I needed time to recover and think, but time wasn’t on my side. Each second that passed was one closer to a life-or-death decision.

One thing was certain—I couldn’t stay in this cage forever.