Vieran rummaged through one crate after another, his hands shifting through supplies. He uncovered some healing pills, nutrition pills, and a few other useful resources. But his breath hitched when he found what he was really looking for—a blueprint.

He adjusted the lantern, casting a steady glow over the parchment. As he unrolled it, the title at the top caught his eye. "Lightfinder Blueprint," he read aloud.

Vieran had already heard stories about this blueprint. Although it was regarded as the most ancient and widely used blueprint, its potential was incalculable. Its cost was comparable to that of a tiny mobile home, and this model was the least expensive, yet for most people, buying one was a once-in-a-lifetime investment. In spite of its lowly status, the Lightfinder Blueprint was unique. Numerous Lightseekers had forged new routes with it over the ages, unlocking possibilities that stretched far beyond its original design.

Vieran memorized the lines and symbols as his eyes followed every inch of the layout. His eyes swept over elaborate annotations, labels, and schematics, memorizing the essence of the design.

Suddenly, a familiar system message flickered into view before him.

[A Blueprint detected. Do you want to input it into the database?]

Without hesitation, Vieran muttered, "Yes."

The moment the word left his lips, the blueprint's ink began to fade. The images, text, and diagrams vanished as if drawn into thin air. In their place, a wave of understanding surged through Vieran’s mind. Every instruction of the Lightfinder Blueprint now etched deep into his mental archive like he had studied it for years.

[Blueprint: Lightfinder

Tier: 1-A

Primary Ingredients: Purified Phantom Core

Luxury Ingredients: 1000+ Ingredients]

After absorbing the blueprint, Vieran sifted through the cluttered crates. He needed a Purified Phantom Core to increase his blueprint progress, and fortune smiled on him. Nestled between other bizarre supplies, he found one, its faint glow pulsing like a trapped spirit.

But the core alone wouldn’t be enough. He also needed luxury ingredients. Each luxury ingredient would increase the chance of success, but only by 25%. Failure meant something far worse than wasted effort—he would immediately transform into a Phantom Beast. The thought of losing himself to that fate made his hands falter for a moment, but he pressed on.

Digging deeper, Vieran uncovered two luxury ingredients. The first was a Beacon Stone, a crystalline shard that shimmered with ethereal light. The second was a Solar Apple, warm to the touch, as if it had absorbed sunlight from another world. Together, these two gave him a 50% chance to succeed.

It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And if he failed...

His jaw tightened. There was no alternative. He was alone now, stranded in a world that wouldn’t wait for him to grow stronger. With his current power, survival was a fleeting dream—unless he took this risk.

Vieran knelt on the ground, stretching his hand forward. A faint pulse of energy radiated from his palm, and shimmering lines began to etch themselves into the air. The lines swirled and expanded, weaving into shapes until a glowing circle materialized beneath him, pulsating with soft azure light. This was the blueprint circle, something he could now summon after absorbing the knowledge from the Lightfinder Blueprint.

Vieran retrieved the Beacon Stone and Solar Apple, placing them carefully within the circle. As the Purified Phantom Core touched the surface, it sank slightly, as if the blueprint was hungry for it.

[Do you want to absorb the ingredients?]

Vieran clenched his fists, inhaled deeply, and muttered, "Yes."

The circle flared to life, the runes igniting with radiant energy. In an instant, the ingredients disintegrated, drawn into the blueprint like embers sucked into a flame. The light surged toward Vieran, wrapping around him like searing chains. Pain tore through his body. Sharp. Burning. As if his bones were being stretched and reshaped from the inside out. He gritted his teeth, his muscles trembling, but he refused to scream.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the pain ebbed. The light dimmed, and Vieran collapsed onto one knee, gasping for breath. His heart pounded in his chest, but there was something new, a strange vitality pulsing in his veins, as if his body had shed a layer of weakness. His muscles felt tighter, more responsive, and an unfamiliar endurance settled in his core.

[You have unlocked stamina and strength traits. Blueprint progress: 10%]

Vieran wiped the sweat from his brow, his breath still uneven. A flicker of hope sparked in him. The blueprint had only begun its transformation, and so had he.

[Name: Vieran Voss

Tier: 1-B

Circuit: Lightfinder (10%)

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Factors: 0

Traits: Strength, Stamina

Vitalumen: 85%

Nox: 15%]

Vieran stood up, his breath steadying as resolve hardened within him. He would survive no matter how grim things seemed. He had to make it through the black mist and find a cluster of Luminorbs. Without them, survival was impossible. Luminorbs were vital, radiating energy that kept the darkness at bay and provided the strength to push onward. But that also made them highly sought after, drawing others into the mist in desperate search.

Survival wasn’t just about finding the Luminorbs; it was about finding others too. Alone, he’d be easy prey. But if he could find people along the way, he might stand a chance. The only problem? He had no idea which direction to go. The black mist wasn’t just a veil of darkness. It would devour anyone who wandered in blind.

Still, Vieran wasn’t without hope. Fortune had smiled at him by making Lightfinder his first blueprint. Though it was the most basic of all blueprints, it held a crucial factor, the Guidelight Eyes.

With those eyes, he would be able to see threads of light connecting living beings to the nearest Luminorbs. It was the perfect factor for this situation.

But the factor wasn’t his yet. The knowledge lay dormant in his mind, waiting to be unlocked. Vieran clenched his fists, determination sparking in his chest. If he was going to survive this, he needed to learn that factor.

To unlock the factor, the most efficient path was to consume the appropriate resources. But that wasn’t an option. He had nothing left to fuel his growth. If he wanted to gain this factor, he’d have to do it the hard way through self learning.

It was sluggish, but not impossible to learn on his own. Without outside help, he would have to rely entirely on his determination and concentration to make improvement. Days or even weeks may pass before the factor hidden in the blueprint is awakened. Usually, patience was a luxury, but Vieran was aware that he didn't have much of it.

Still, a faint hope lingered at the back of his mind. He remembered reading a study once, claiming that people often awakened hidden talents when faced with danger. When life was on the line, the mind and body broke through barriers they couldn’t in safer moments. And right now, danger was all around him. The black mist pressed tighter against the light barrier with every second, like a predator waiting for him to falter.

Vieran inhaled slowly, forcing his racing thoughts to steady. Panic would only cloud his mind. If survival demanded this factor, he would learn it, even if it took everything he had. He just needed to focus. No distractions, no fear, only progress.

He sat cross-legged on the cold ground, closed his eyes, and began meditating. His thoughts drifted through the fragments of the blueprint stored in his mind, feeling for the hidden threads of knowledge woven into it. The factor was there. He just had to reach it.

And with every passing moment, the weight of danger pressed heavier on him, sharpening his mind like a blade on a whetstone.

A faint shuffle echoed through the air, like feet brushing against gravel. Vieran’s focus shattered. His heart skipped a beat, and his breath hitched. The sound was unmistakable. Footsteps. Panic surged through him.

He clenched his fists, trying to calm the rising fear. Then it hit him. Glowshards could keep the black mist at bay, but they did nothing to repel phantom beasts. Only Luminorbs could do that.

Slowly, Vieran cracked his eyes open, praying it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But his hope withered the moment his gaze settled on the figure standing just inside the barrier.

A phantom beast.

It was a sickly, pale humanoid with limbs too long for its body. Its head—grotesque and equine—swayed unnaturally atop its thin neck, black eyes gleaming with malice. It let out a shrill neigh that pierced the air like the scraping of iron on glass, and its gaze locked onto him with predatory intent.

Vieran’s pulse hammered in his ears. He clenched the lantern tightly, the cold metal grounding him. Slowly, he rose to his feet, forcing himself to stay calm even as every instinct screamed to flee. But running was not an option. Out there, in the mist, another beast could be waiting.

His eyes darted around the scattered crates, searching for anything useful. His gaze fell on a half-broken crate spilling pickaxes across the ground. They weren’t weapons, but they’d have to do.

Vieran reached the pickaxes and snatched one up. It was lighter than he expected, the wooden handle splintered and worn, but the iron head was still sharp enough to deliver a blow.

The phantom beast snorted, pawing at the ground like a restless animal, and Vieran knew he had no time to hesitate. He never fought phantom beasts, but experience only meant so much when your life was on the line. Now there was no time for fear or second-guessing. He had to fight, and he had to win.

Taking a step forward, Vieran steadied his breath. "This is the moment. No more hesitation. No more doubts. I need to live through this."

The phantom beast lunged first, its bony fingers stretching toward Vieran like claws. He swung his pickaxe with all his might, aiming to strike the creature down, but the beast was fast. It caught the shaft mid-swing, its grip iron-like and unyielding. With a snarl, the beast sent him sprawling onto his back.

Vieran hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Before he could recover, the beast loomed over him, jaws wide as it snapped forward, aiming to sink its jagged teeth into his neck.

Heart pounding, Vieran shoved the handle of the pickaxe between them, pressing it against the beast’s throat. The creature thrashed, growling and gnashing its teeth inches from his face, the rotten stench of its breath making his stomach churn. Every muscle in his body strained as he held the beast back, but he knew he couldn’t last long. His arms shook, and his stamina drained with each second.

Think! Think! His mind raced, but panic clouded every thought. The beast’s relentless pressure crushed any hope of strategy. All he could focus on was the weight bearing down on him and the inevitability of failure. If he didn’t act now, he’d be torn apart.

Desperation sparked a wild idea. With a sharp breath, Vieran braced his feet on the ground and thrust his hips upward. The sudden movement caught the beast off-guard, and with a violent shove, he bucked it off him. The phantom beast tumbled backward, clawing at the air as it scrambled to regain balance.

Vieran didn’t wait. He rolled to his feet, gasping for breath. The beast whipped its head toward him, but he was faster this time. With a fierce cry, Vieran swung the pickaxe down, the iron head slamming into the beast’s side.

The creature let out a blood-curdling scream, a noise that chilled Vieran to his core. But he didn’t stop. The sheer will to survive exploded inside him. He swung again. And again. Each strike landed with a dull thud, sending tremors through his arms.

The beast writhed and shrieked under the relentless assault, but Vieran didn’t let up. His mind went blank, overtaken by instinct and fear. He hammered the pickaxe down over and over, his breath ragged and his muscles burning.

He only stopped when his body refused to move any further. Gasping for air, he stood over the lifeless creature, his chest heaving. Blood smeared the ground beneath him, and his trembling hands barely held the pickaxe upright.

Vieran staggered back, every inch of his body aching. But he was alive. For now, that was all that mattered.