The road to the Tower was long, and I was on foot with no ride to speed up the journey.

I decided the first thing to do was to get to the nearest village. I needed a place to sleep and some food in my belly.

From where I stood, outside the Arashi estate, if I just kept walking straight, I should hit a village eventually, based on the information provided on the map.

I had no idea how long it would take, but this walk was also my chance to get stronger.

I figured if I ran instead of walked, I could work on my dexterity. The idea was to keep running until I couldn't run any more, or until the village came into view.

So, with the thought of the village as my goal, I started running.

The scenery unfolded before me like the pages of a book I had never had the chance to read.

Fields of tall grass swaying in the gentle breeze. Occasional clusters of wildflowers dotted the landscape, vibrant and pulsing with the rhythms of summer.

The air was fresh with the scent of earth and growth—a stark difference from the sterile, controlled environment of the Arashi compound.

Overhead, a few wispy clouds drifted lazily across, the only blemishes in an otherwise endless blue.

My feet kicked up small clouds of dust as I traversed the dirt path. The ground was firm, baked by the summer heat, but it felt good beneath my soles—real and solid.

Insects buzzed in the air, while birds sang from hidden perches in the occasional trees that lined the way.

Every sight, every sound, every scent was new to me. I had never known the world to be so full and so alive.

The estate, for all its luxury, had never offered me this—this unfiltered experience of nature. The true beauty this world had to offer.

I noticed how the landscape slowly changed as I ran, how the rolling hills rose and fell.

The further I ran, the more I realized that the world outside was a complex web of life.

It spurred me on, pushing me to run faster.

The sun, once high in the sky, gradually began its descent toward the horizon. Its golden hue slowly deepened, painting the sky in shades of orange and red.

Despite the beauty, a sense of urgency began to gnaw at me.

I hadn't encountered a single soul.

The paths, which I had imagined bustling with travelers and merchants, were eerily deserted.

The only companions I had were the occasional birds returning to their nests and the insects that seemed to grow louder as the day waned.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows on the ground, a mild anxiety began to set in.

The village, which I had assumed would be within a day's journey, was nowhere in sight.

The landscape, though beautiful, offered no hint of civilization, no smoke from chimneys or distant lights of a settlement.

My run slowed to a jog, and then to a walk. Fatigue was setting in, not just from the physical exertion but from the realization that I might have to spend the night outdoors, unsheltered and alone.

You have gone past your stamina limit! You have gained 1 Dexterity Stat!

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The alert from my internal status jarred me slightly.

I had just run all day non-stop to get this one point. It made me think about how hard it is to get better at something. When I worked on my Vitality, which took me a week to go from 5 to 6 points, I took a lot of breaks through the week. But for Dexterity, I had to run the whole day without stopping for that single point. I wasn't certain if this stat was easier or harder to increase compared to Vitality.

"There's no point in running anymore. Let's find a place to rest."

With the night closing in, the cold began to seep through my clothes, chilling me to the bone.

I shivered, realizing that the cloth provided by Elora and my mother, though comfortable, were not made for the harshness of a night outdoors.

My knowledge of survival was non-existent; I had no idea how to construct a shelter or start a fire. All I could do was find refuge behind a large tree and wrap myself in the additional cloth from the bag, hoping it would provide some warmth.

My body shaked uncontrollably from the cold, a desperate thought occurred to me. I was alone, with no one around to witness or judge.

"Perhaps...", I thought.

Carefully, I removed my clothes, leaving them in a pile beside me. I moved to a nearby clearing, a flat area devoid of trees and grass. On the ground, I gathered small branches and leaves, arranging them into a makeshift pile.

I knew nothing about starting a fire the traditional way, but I had something else - my self-immolation skill.

With a deep breath, I activated the skill. Instantly, flames engulfed my body.

The initial warmth was a relief in the cold night, but it quickly turned to pain.

I reached out, my hand ablaze, and touched the pile of branches and leaves. The fire from my body leapt onto the kindling, and soon, a small fire pit came to life, crackling and throwing off heat.

Quickly, I deactivated my skill. The brief exposure left my body scorched and sore, a harsh reminder of the skill's destructive power.

I hastily dressed again, wincing at the contact of the fabric on my tender skin. But now, I had a source of heat and light, a small beacon in the dark night.

Sitting by the fire, I felt a mix of relief and wariness. Despite the pain, I had managed to fend for myself, using the very ability that had caused so much turmoil.

"Who knew being a human torch could come in handy in the camping department?" I chuckled to myself, watching the flames dance.

As the fire crackled, its warm glow battling the cold darkness, I realized something important. I had made it through my first time out on my own.

This small win, needed and a bit desperate as it was, showed me that I was starting to become someone who could handle things by myself.

As time ticked by, sleep eluded me. There I was, sitting by the small fire I had created, wrapped in my thoughts.

The possibility of wild animals lurking nearby kept my senses on high alert.

Every crackle of the fire, every rustle of leaves in the gentle night breeze set my nerves on edge.

Maybe it was the fear of being attacked, or perhaps it was the sheer adrenaline of surviving my first day outside that kept me awake.

Unable to surrender to sleep, I decided to put the restless energy to good use.

Training seemed like the most practical option, a way to channel my focus and, hopefully, tire myself out enough to eventually fall asleep.

It was time to work on enhancing my strength stats.

I began with basic exercises - kicks and jabs. These movements, though simple, were effective at the early stages of building strength.

As I practiced, the night air felt cool against my skin. My initial attempts at kicking were clumsy, my leg movements awkward and unrefined, far from the precision I had imagined.

When I switched to jabs, it was the same story. My fists moved through the air with more enthusiasm than skill, each punch lacking the smoothness and force I knew they needed.

It was clear that, having never trained in martial arts before, I had a lot to learn.

Yet, as I persisted, I could feel a gradual improvement. Each kick became a little less awkward, each jab a bit more coordinated, though they were still far from perfect.

As I continued, my breaths became heavier, labored with each kick, each jab. Sweat beaded on my forehead, the cool night air turning it cold against my skin.

Finally, feeling thoroughly spent, I slowed down. My arms and legs were heavy with fatigue, I had turned a sleepless night into an opportunity to grow stronger.

Sitting back down by the fire, now just embers glowing softly in the dark, I felt a deep tiredness seep into my bones. Maybe now, sleep would come.

The rigorous workout had done its job, sapping the excess energy that had kept me awake and alert.

My body finally began to succumb to fatigue.

As I lay there, my mind began to quiet. The whirlwind of thoughts and worries that had plagued me earlier drifted away, replaced by a serene calmness.

My breathing slowed, my body relaxed, and I drifted off into a much-needed rest.