Dorian settled himself on the ground, seeking a moment of respite to gather his scattered thoughts.

‘It’s better if I get to know this world better before I meet Peter, especially because I have time now. That may not be the case if I go after Peter right now, as I might set off a chain of events i cannot put off and will be ill equipped to deal with’

‘I’m in the Northridge barony of the Titus Empire. I know that the empire is in a war with the republic, yet I know nothing about the extent and magnitude of the war’

‘It seems like there’s 2 main sources of power. Innate abilities and mana.’

"The mana in this world, just like in all those novels I read, is an energy wielded by both physical combatants and magicians,” he mused. While Dorian had only witnessed a magician soaring to the baron's castle once, he had witnessed formidable knights effortlessly sealing the towering city gates, standing at a staggering height of 30 feet, on multiple occasions.

‘Innate abilities seem to be much more complicated’

‘Every human goes through a trial at around the age of 15. The better the performance in the trial, the better the innate ability. Although a worse performance means someone will get a worse innate ability, it is impossible to die in the trial and not receive one.’

‘This original Dorian never awakened an ability!’

‘And one must undergo the trial in order to unlock the capability to use mana, effectively preventing me from accessing either power source!!’

‘No wonder he is so ill informed about the world. It seems like he gave up all hope and ambition, and only focused on putting food on the table.’

‘I’ll figure something out. If It’s possible to transmigrate across dimensions, then it’s definitely possible to replicate a common biological process that occurs in every human being. Worst case scenario I’ll hop on Growth Hormone Therapy.’

‘It’s not as if he’s completely different from everyone else though. Most people don’t possess a mana cultivation method, or simply didn’t perform well enough in the trial, as performance in the trial seems to be proportional to the total mana capacity one can contain within their body.’

‘Peter is included within these people. The Brutes gang however, contains some individuals with a certain level of power. I’ll have to be very cautious when going after them’

‘How exactly can I get to Peter though?’

‘Let’s try climbing the walls. Although they are 30 feet tall, they're weathered and might offer handholds’

Gazing at the stake, he contemplates, 'Let's make a weapon first.'

Unable to sharpen the stake with a rock, Dorian turned to the teeth of the fish, finding them surprisingly effective. Over the next 15 minutes, he meticulously crafted a short spear, honing its point to a sharpness that promised swift and accurate strikes.

Dorian crouches down, carefully gathering the remaining fish on the stake and its scattered teeth in his pockets, making sure not to waste a single resource.

He then retraces his steps, navigating through the dense foliage of the forest. The familiar sights and sounds of the nap clearing greet him.

‘I wish I could take a nap right now,’

Continuing on, he reaches the abandoned shack, its dilapidated walls weathered by time. Pushing the creaking door open, he steps inside, the familiar musty scent of abandonment filling his nostrils. Making his way to the old cupboard, he carefully places the fish and teeth inside, preserving them for future use.

However, he decides to keep half of one fish in his pocket, a precautionary measure against unforeseen circumstances.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

‘I’ll have to squish the fish meat into a ball so it fits. This is absolutely disgusting but needs to be done.’

After retracing his steps through the forest, Dorian reaches the outskirts of the city walls. Thick vines and overgrown vegetation mark the boundary between the wilderness and the urban expanse.

With a grin, Dorian smears a little mud on his face and arms, the earthy pigment lending him an air of camouflage. "A little mud on my face and arms should help me blend in with the night much better," he muses, satisfied with his makeshift disguise.

Keeping a watchful eye for any patrols or guards, he moves stealthily through the dense foliage, carefully navigating his way to the secluded section of the walls. The ancient stones loom above him, their imposing presence a stark reminder of the challenge ahead.

Dorian takes a moment to assess the wall, searching for any cracks, crevices, or footholds that might aid his ascent. However, he quickly realizes that the wall itself offers little assistance. Instead, his eyes are drawn to the thick vines and branches of overgrown vegetation that cascade down the wall's surface. A spark of ingenuity lights up his mind as he formulates a plan.

With a confident grin, he grasps onto a sturdy vine, testing its strength and finding it able to support his weight. With determination shining in his eyes, he begins to climb, using the natural handholds provided by the interwoven vegetation.

As he nears the top, the vertical stretch of vegetation ends, leaving him with eight feet of bare wall remaining. Dorian's gaze shifts to the continuation of the foliage diagonally to the right. Unfazed, he adjusts his grip, carefully navigating the new trajectory.

‘Finally.’ With a surge of exhilaration, Dorian pulls himself over the top of the wall, careful not to make any sudden movements that might draw attention.

‘For the first time, I’m thankful the Baron Doesn’t care enough about the slums to station guards to the wall segment adjacent to the slums.’

Step by step, he maneuvers along the wall, his movements fluid and controlled. His dark disguise blends with the night, making him virtually invisible to anyone who might glance up from the streets below.

As his feet touch the ground, Dorian takes a moment to orient himself in the labyrinth-like alleys of the slums. The dimly lit streets guide his path, and with a hint of relief, he mutters under his breath, "Good thing everybody knows where everybody lives here.”

Arriving at Peter's house, Dorian positions himself at a discreet vantage point, peering through a crack in the worn-out shutters to get a glimpse inside. His eyes scan the living room, but Peter is nowhere to be seen. The room lies empty, devoid of any signs of recent activity.

‘It’s late so he’s probably upstairs’

Satisfied that the coast is clear, Dorian silently makes his way inside the house, moving with calculated steps. He notices a soft glow emanating from one of the rooms upstairs. It's a subtle hint, but it confirms his suspicion that Peter is likely on the upper floor.

The wooden planks that made up the staircase caught his attention, and the age of the house suggested a high probability of the steps creaking.

‘Do I take the risk and sneak up?’

‘There are 3 possibilities’

‘The first is that he doesn’t notice me at all’

‘The second is that he does notice me, but acts like he didn’t, turns off the candles, and hides behind a door or something and attacks me’

‘The third is that he does notice me and fails to act in time. I’m confident in being able to overpower him’

‘Why even take a risk! I’ll just guarantee the third situation and run up, without even giving him enough time to prepare.’ Dorian pondered. He decided to take a more direct approach, not giving Peter enough time to react. As he observed the staircase, he noticed that it bent to the left halfway through and was covered by a wall. The height of the house meant that the hidden rest of the stairs had to be short.

A nervous excitement, fueled by adrenaline, welled up within Dorian as he visualized his plan. He backed up a few steps, getting a running start to build momentum. With a surge of determination, he catapulted himself up the first 6 stairs, his agile body leaping with precision.

Dorian did a little hop step from the 6th to 7th step, where the bend in the stairs occurred, to slow down and rotate his body the left. Once he landed on the 7th step, he quickly exploded off the ground with power, harnessing the energy from the landing to propel himself forward. In a matter of milliseconds, he cleared the remaining three stairs, his heart racing with adrenaline.