The tower still loomed on the horizon, its contours irregular, as though warped by reality itself. Despite the pulsing energy emanating from within, I knew I’d have to postpone exploring it. I had a more pressing problem: hunger. It began as a faint pang in my stomach, quickly growing into a persistent sense of emptiness. I could feel my body slowly demanding energy, and each movement became increasingly taxing. I needed to address this before the weakness started to slow me down even more.

I leaned against the wall of my shelter for a moment, letting my mind collect itself. My chaotic vision still wouldn’t let me perceive reality the way I was used to. Despite my perception and the Eye of Chaos, I couldn’t detect any sign of food nearby. The landscape was harsh, and the lines of energy I saw didn’t indicate anything edible.

I had to act. I looked at the Summoning Tower, which pulsed with a soft, muted light. Its energy was different from the rest of the territory—less chaotic, more focused. The system allowed me to summon my first unit, and I realized I could use that to my advantage.

“System, summon a basic unit.”

The air around the Summoning Tower thickened, and the pulsating stones glowed with a faint violet light. I sensed the flow of energy through the structure, converging at a central point. A moment later, the air trembled, and in the portal appeared a creature resembling a massive, distorted dog. Its body was unnaturally long, covered in ragged, matte fur, through which coarse, cracked skin showed in places. Despite its canine form, there was something unsettling about it—its claws dug into the ground with each step, and thick drool dripped from its maw. Its eyes gleamed with a pale, flickering light, like dying embers in the darkness. When it raised its head, a low, vibrating growl escaped its throat—a mix of a snarl and a rasping breath—as though it was just waiting for an order to leap into action.

Name: Hungry Hound

Type: Basic Unit – Chaotic

Loyalty: 100%

Description: A creature of insatiable hunger, capable of tracking food and resources. Low intelligence, highly effective in close combat.

I sighed at the sight of its name. My first summon... It should have been a moment of excitement, maybe even pride, but all I felt was unease. The creature in front of me bore no resemblance to the heroic warriors or mystical beings found in ancient legends. It was hideous—like a scrawny, flea-ridden dog that had survived far more battles than it should have. Its dull, ragged fur hung in patches, revealing skin riddled with scars and dried blood. It looked like it only knew hunger and the struggle to survive. Was this the effect of my talent? Had the chaos inside me summoned something that reflected its very nature? If it truly could track down food, then perhaps it would be useful.

“You have one task. Find food.”

The Hungry Hound shuddered at my words, as though it needed a moment to process the command. Then it suddenly took off—its lean, tense body moving low to the ground, as if following an invisible trail. Rather than running straight, it zigzagged in uneven circles, abruptly changing direction as though chasing something I couldn’t perceive. There was something unsettling about it—it didn’t move like an ordinary predator, more like a creature straddling the line between two worlds, drawing cues from forces I didn’t understand.

I followed, doing my best not to lose sight of it. The trek lasted less time than I expected. The Hound halted suddenly, sinking its claws into the dry, barren earth. It stood still for a moment, then started sniffing, its nostrils quivering with each sharp inhale. Quiet, guttural growls came from its maw as though it had cornered some unseen prey. Then it began to dig—forcefully, with a vigor that seemed disproportionate to its scrawny frame. Dirt flew aside as its claws ripped into the ground with an almost desperate fervor. A moment later, it pulled up a bulbous root—apparently the ancient remains of some long-forgotten plant life.

“Juniper Root”

Status: Edible. Low nutritional value.

I picked up the root and pressed it in my hands. It was hard, covered in a rough skin, and I could smell damp earth and decaying leaves beneath its surface. Hesitantly, I broke off a small piece and put it in my mouth.

The taste was repulsive. A bitter, stale flavor spread across my tongue at once, its texture like weathered cardboard soaked in mud. Even so, I forced myself to chew, feeling the dry fibers scrape the roof of my mouth. Swallowing required effort—like trying to gulp down something my throat wanted to reject. Each bite seemed to suck what little moisture remained in my mouth, and the faint hint of sweetness only made the whole experience more unpleasant.

I gritted my teeth, making myself keep eating. Bit by bit, the root was consumed, and a slight sense of fullness began to grow in my body. It wasn’t real satisfaction—more a brief reprieve from the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. But it would have to do for now.

“Find more of these and bring them back to the shelter. That’s your new assignment,” I said firmly. The Hound lifted its head, its eyes gleaming in the dim light. For a moment, it seemed to ponder my words, but then it slipped away soundlessly in search of more.

My hunger was temporarily under control. Now I had to deal with something else—thirst. Every minute, the dryness in my mouth grew more acute.

I knew my body couldn’t last long without water. I closed my eyes and focused on my talent.

The world around me changed when I allowed myself to fully open my perception. Lines of energy undulated and wove themselves into intricate patterns, and I began searching for something specific—a flow that was calm, harmonious, akin to a gently pulsing stream. However, with each passing moment, I felt a growing sense of overload. Information came in waves, too much all at once, like my senses were trying to process multiple realities simultaneously. My head throbbed with a dull ache, and the images before my eyes began to blur and flicker erratically. I clenched my teeth, struggling not to be overwhelmed by this state.

That’s when I saw it. Far to the northwest, beneath the earth’s surface, there was a slow but steady flow of magic—barely perceptible, but constant. Water.

I opened my eyes and looked in the direction the energy had indicated. “There.” I pointed with my hand, feeling a growing pain in my temples. The informational overload was getting to me, but I had to concentrate. Taking a deep breath, I headed toward where those pulsing lines of energy led. My steps felt heavy, each movement requiring more effort than it should. I sensed the world spinning around me, but I couldn’t stop now. Water was the priority.

The journey was difficult. Every step was a reminder of my weakness, and I began to feel my mind buckling under the strain. Yet when I reached a small depression in the land, the ground changed color—it grew more damp, and soon I saw a thin layer of water gathered at the surface.

“Water found: clean, potable.”

I knelt down and drank. A cool sensation spread through my body, delivering the relief I so desperately needed.

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Only after my basic needs were met could I turn my attention to the next problem. The water was here, but how would I transport it? I had no containers, no waterskins. For a while, I simply gazed at the water’s surface, trying to think of a solution.

Could I use energy to manipulate it? Maybe dig a small reservoir closer to the shelter? Or perhaps I should look for materials that could help me store water?

I needed to focus on solving the issues that were still plaguing me. The water was here, but how to carry it? I had no vessels, no waterskins. Maybe I could find something nearby that could serve as a makeshift container?

I started with Basic Energy Analysis, directing my attention to the nearby stones, looking for one that could be turned into a natural basin. A familiar analysis window opened in my mind, listing the details:

Object: Slate Stone

Energy Type: Neutral

Status: Stable

Properties:

* Fragility: Medium

* Water Resistance: Low

* Possible Uses: Building material, limited durability in humid conditions

I dismissed that and shifted my focus to another. More results appeared in my mind, but most materials weren’t suitable for storing water. Eventually, I found something promising:

Object: Basalt Boulder

Energy Type: Neutral

Status: Durable

Properties:

* Hardness: High

* Water Resistance: High

* Possible Uses: Construction, energy barrier (with the right manipulation)

That was it.

I placed my hand on the boulder’s surface and closed my eyes, concentrating on the energy flowing through the rock. Basic Energy Manipulation—I activated the ability, feeling the familiar pulse of mana fill my hands.

I sensed the stone’s structure—hard, dense, resilient. I needed to give it a new shape without compromising its integrity. I focused on the individual layers of material, trying to reshape them gradually. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the particles began to expand and shift—as though they were responding to my will.

The process required precision. I couldn’t allow the boulder to crack or become too brittle. Bit by bit, I hollowed out its core, forming a simple but sturdy bowl. My skin started to tingle, and a familiar weariness crept into my mind.

“Manipulation is tougher than I expected.”

I gritted my teeth and focused on smoothing the edges, reinforcing the structure so the water wouldn’t leak. Each shifted piece of energy carried a slight resistance, as though the stone itself resisted what I was doing.

After a while, I opened my eyes and looked upon the newly shaped vessel. Although far from perfect, it would serve its purpose—the smoothed, hardened walls of the boulder had been hollowed out carefully enough to hold water. I ran my hand gently along the inside, making sure the energy had left it stable and intact.

I wiped the sweat from my brow. Manipulating energy at this level was far more draining than I’d anticipated. I felt my mana depleting and a growing fatigue, but the satisfaction of my achievement helped me ignore it. Now I needed to fill the basin and carry it back to my shelter.

Even though this was only a temporary solution, it would suffice for now to keep me alive. The water in this makeshift container wouldn’t last long, but at least it would keep me from dying of thirst for half a day. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

It was a temporary fix, but an effective one. At last, I could transport water back to my shelter. Before picking up the vessel, however, I decided to check my status.

Status:

* Name: Unknown

* Level: 1

* Talent: Legendary – Eye of Chaos

* Exp: 15/100

Stats:

* Strength: 5

* Agility: 6

* Endurance: 4

* Intelligence: 8

* Magic Energy: 10

* HP: 100/100

* Mana: 20/50

I noted the significant drop in mana. Though it wasn’t yet at a critical level, I couldn’t afford any further experiments without resting. At least I had water. It should be enough to keep my body in decent shape for the time being.

I glanced at a new section in my status—Exp 15/100. I hadn’t noticed it before. Did that mean the system was tracking my progress? Which, in turn, implied I’d already earned experience points. But how? From analyzing rocks and manipulating energy? Did that mean that every time I used my abilities, I gained experience? If so, I could leverage that to my advantage.

I rubbed my face, mulling over the possibilities. If I could gain experience that way, it was useful, but if I wanted to level up faster, I’d need a more efficient method. Could I earn more EXP by heavily using my abilities? Maybe repeatedly analyzing objects or practicing my energy manipulation would speed up my growth?

I also wondered whether combat might be a source of experience. If using my abilities provided me with experience, what would happen if I used them in a fight? The Hungry Hound was a combat unit—perhaps I could use it for training, to test my skills in near-battle conditions?

I decided that from now on, I would use my abilities as often as possible. Not just to earn experience, but also to better understand and control them. Each analysis and each energy manipulation could bring me closer to mastering my talent.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if killing monsters would yield experience too. If using skills earned me points, maybe eliminating creatures was even more effective. What’s more, I was curious—what if I killed my own summoned unit? Would the Hungry Hound, as my creation, also grant me experience? And if so, did the system differentiate between hostile beings and those I summoned myself?

Finally, what about other Overlords? If I possessed my own abilities and a path to leveling up, then killing someone like me might yield a tremendous amount of experience. I didn’t have an answer yet, but one thing was certain—the more tests I ran, the better I’d understand this world’s rules.

For now, though, I had more pressing concerns: returning to my shelter and conserving energy.

Night was falling, and the air was gradually cooling, pushing out the day’s heat. On my way back, I noticed something that caught my eye immediately—roots scattered around the entrance to my shelter. The Hungry Hound must have brought more, following my instructions. Some were still partially covered in dirt, as if they had been tossed aside right after being dug up.

I carefully gathered the roots and piled them in one spot. Water and food—though insufficient for the long term, they would at least keep me going for the moment. I decided to store them all in the Resource Depot.

It gave me some peace of mind that I wouldn’t lose my supplies in the chaos of the coming days. My resources were still meager, but every bit of water and food mattered.

At least the problem of water and basic nutrition was temporarily solved, though I knew it was only a stopgap measure. I’d need better methods for securing a steady supply of both.

Once inside the shelter, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I leaned against the cold, stone wall and slowly slid down to the floor, letting fatigue take over. The ground was hard and unpleasantly chilly, but it didn’t matter—sleep was more important than comfort.

It had been a day full of challenges: summoning my first unit, obtaining water and food, and using my abilities more consciously. My body and mind were spent. Still, somewhere deep down, I felt a measure of satisfaction. I wasn’t dead. I’d made progress. I was one step closer to surviving in this unfamiliar world.

Staring at the ceiling of the shelter, I pondered my next moves. I had to find a more stable source of nourishment. I needed to learn more about my talent’s capabilities, its limits, and hidden aspects I might have overlooked.

However, one thing was certain—if I wanted to survive, I needed to start leveling up. That was the cornerstone of my growth. Every experience point could mean a greater chance of staying alive, a boost to my stats.

But what about my abilities? Besides the system-driven increase in power, could I also develop tighter control over energy simply by using it more often? Perhaps that was the key to true mastery—not just relying on the system’s mechanics, but actively refining my skills through practice and experimentation. If that were possible, I had to seize the opportunity. Each use of energy, every analysis and manipulation, might gradually improve my precision and effectiveness.

I also wondered about the mysterious tower. What exactly was it? Its presence gnawed at me—it pulsed with an energy I couldn’t yet understand. I had a feeling it concealed more than just ancient ruins—it was something greater, something that could be the key to understanding my place in this world.

Exhaustion slowly got the better of me. I closed my eyes, allowing myself a moment’s rest. Tomorrow would bring a new day, and with it, no doubt, new challenges. But today… today I had survived. And that, at least, was something.