After a long soak in the bath, I took out a mirror, looked at myself, and stared. By this point, I should have become accustomed to surprises left and right, but I wasn't. I looked even younger—like I did in my mid-twenties. But since I always looked much younger than my peers, I looked twenty tops. My eyes and hair were also changing. I always had a unique eye color, a light gray with purple undertones, but now the purple was much more vibrant and pronounced. My hair used to be light blond, almost bleached-like, but now it looked closer to silver than blond. The changes were so drastic, I couldn't help but feel a sense of confusion and curiosity about their origin and implications.
After shaving, I looked closer at my skin—it looked smoother than ever. In the past, I had some acne scars, but now they were gone. Focusing specifically on all the changed parts, I diagnosed my body and discovered that everything was fine—more than fine, in fact. I was a young, healthy male. After taking out a full-length mirror, I undressed and looked at my body; the changes continued there. I used to have a slight potbelly that my wife called my pasta baby; now I had a six-pack. It wasn't big or defined like a bodybuilder's; I was still slim, but now I had a pronounced muscle definition. My shoulders were broader, I had muscle definition in my arms and legs, and I thought I was taller, but I wasn't sure. I didn't bring a measuring tape—an oversight. Still almost no body hair—oh well, you can't have everything.
I went to sleep thinking about all the changes. Is this the mana's doing, or the stats, or what? The mystery of these changes kept me awake, my mind racing with possibilities.
After enjoying an excellent breakfast of something resembling oatmeal in the morning, I approached the innkeeper. "Thank you for your service during my stay," I said, handing him three coppers as a tip.
He held up his hands, refusing the money. "You don't need to do that," he said, shaking his head, his confusion evident. It was as if the concept of a tip was completely foreign to him, which I found quite amusing.
"It's called a tip," I explained with a smile. "Just a way to show appreciation for excellent service."
He commented, "You island folks must be rich if you give your money away willy-nilly."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Only to deserving people for exceptional service."
He looked pleased as he took the tip. "Do you have more of those 'rich folks' coppers' to change?"
"Actually, I do," I replied.
His eyes widened with excitement as he produced another ten gold and forty silver coins. I handed him twenty-eight pouches filled with copper. He started counting the first five pouches, his fingers moving quickly.
After a moment, he just took the rest and said, "I'll return the pouches shortly."
I waved my hand dismissively. "You can keep the pouches."
He shook his head firmly. "Those leather pouches look real fancy; you can sell them for many coins."
I smiled, unsure how to explain that it wasn't genuine leather but PU leather, so I just let it go.
Outside, I took out my bike, connected the trailer, Stretch hopped in, and we rode to the location of the jurbers. It took me five hours to reach the area, so before looking for them, we had lunch. Stretch ate twelve burgers and looked like he could eat more.
I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw he was changing too. He was taller—before his torso reached my mid-thigh, and now it reached my pelvis. He was stockier and looked less "stretched." His paws looked bigger, and his fur, which used to be mottled with white, gray, tan, and black, had smoother transitions between shades of light and dark gray with a lighter white belly. I Diagnosed him, and his body was in top condition.
I Identified him:
Stretch
Adult Bushland Dog
Progress to awakening 34%
Scratching his neck, I said, "We are changing, huh, buddy?" He wagged his tail furiously and slobbered all over my face.
After lunch, I put on skinny jeans and loose, thick leather pants on top of them to protect my legs, a thick flannel shirt, and a leather-armored motorcycle jacket. I immediately started sweating and felt like I was melting, but it was better than getting bitten. Just in case, I put on a full-face motorcycle helmet and summoned my staff. Stretch gave me a strange look and shook his head—I hadn't imagined it; he shook his head judgementally. I couldn't see his eyes from where I was standing, but I got the feeling he rolled them—hard.
We went looking for the jurbers. After five minutes, Stretch started growling, his hackles raised and eyes sharp with focus. I knew we had found them. I looked in the direction he was growling and followed it.
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The first jurber leaped out at me, its jaws snapping shut just inches from my leg. I swung my staff with a swift, practiced motion and crushed its skull, the sound of bone cracking echoing in the air.
Almost immediately, another jurber lunged at me from the side. I spun around, my staff a blur, and struck it down. Before I could catch my breath, two more jurbers sprang at me, their teeth bared and eyes gleaming with feral hunger. I barely had time to react as I swung my staff wildly, fending them off.
Then, suddenly, over twenty jurbers surrounded me. They moved in a chaotic frenzy, their growls and snarls filling the air. They were fast and vicious, darting in to bite and then retreating before I could strike them. One sank its teeth into my calf, and I felt a sharp pain followed by a warm trickle of blood. Another bit my thigh, but the damage wasn't as bad as I expected—it felt more like deep scratches than serious wounds.
I gritted my teeth and kept swinging my staff, each impact sending a shock up my arms. It was easy to dispatch them; they weren't tough, just fast, bitey, and incredibly annoying. Each time my staff connected, another jurber fell, but their numbers seemed endless.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stretch in action. He was a blur of motion, his powerful jaws snapping and tearing through the jurbers. He took care of a few of them, but I noticed he got bitten a few times, judging by his winces and yelps. Despite the bites, he never slowed down, his determination unwavering.
The fight felt like it lasted an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few intense minutes. Finally, the last jurber fell, and I stood there, panting and covered in scratches and blood. I immediately went to Stretch, who was wagging his tail despite his wounds. I healed him and cleaned his fur, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as his injuries disappeared.
Stretch looked pleased with himself, his tail wagging even harder. I checked my health to understand how the numbers worked, but it wasn't enlightening. My legs hurt, and I could feel I was bleeding, but the numbers showed 2980/3000. It made little sense.
What else is new?
With a sigh, I facepalmed and shook my head. I had the mana dart spell I once used on Earth to heal the rider and had forgotten it ever since. It would have been better if I had baited them to come out and shot them from afar. LitRPG books even mention mages being compared to artillery. I need to make a list of all the ideas I got from those books and practice implementing them. What was the point of calling it "research" if I never used what I learned?
After undressing, I healed my legs, cleaned myself and my clothes, and inspected them. The leather pants had small tears in many places, but the jeans had only small holes. I'd need to fix that. I had an idea–I checked the Skills and Spells list and found the Mend spell. After a short deliberation, I bought it. Forty-eight ability points left. I was still good on that front.
The red dot was blinking rapidly, like it was jumping and shouting, "Check me! Check me!" so after getting re-dressed, I checked it.
Level 1 Jurber defeated
Level 1 Jurber defeated
Level 1 Jurber defeated
Level 1 Jurber defeated
Level 1 Jurber defeated
Level 1 Jurber defeated
Level 1 Jurber defeated …
Of course, there was no other information. What did I expect?
I approached the first jurber, diagnosed it, and got a BIG surprise. My surprise didn't even surprise me—I was getting used to surprises left, right, and center.
Or was the mental aspect of my Strength stat finally kicking in?
The jurber wasn't a real animal or creature. Despite having a type of anatomy, it primarily consisted of polluted mana and was dissipating rapidly. It was possible for me to "see" it breaking down and dispersing into the air. Instead of attempting to loot it my "traditional" way, I swiftly channeled my mana around it like a bubble and started compressing it, recognizing the futility of my initial plan. I partitioned my mind and, with the second half, tried to visualize a "spirit coin." I just kept compressing and compressing and holding the idea of a coin made of mana. It shrank more and more with the pressure until it felt like it folded on itself. My mind trembled as I compressed it even more, reaching a point where I couldn't compress it any further. After releasing it, a small green-gray crystal fell to the ground.
I identified it:
Polluted Earth Mana Crystal
Inferior quality
Unstable
I tried to diagnose it but couldn't; I felt a strong resistance. Instead, I sensed for its mana and immediately understood why it was "polluted" and "unstable." The mana was filthy; it felt even dirtier than in "jurber form." And it was breaking down fast; what I did hastened the dissipation.
I ran over to the next jurber and repeated the process, but this time, I partitioned my mind into three parts: One to wrap in mana and compress, one to hold a picture of a mana crystal—I gave up on the coin idea, I knew it wouldn't work—and one to cast Purify on the mana. It was more challenging, and I got a headache, but I persisted until I got the crystal. Before even identifying it, I wrapped it again in mana and tried to create a shell around it to stop the dissipation. It felt like I could add mana into it, so I added mana into the crystal with the precise intention of cleaning and stabilizing it until it felt "full," and I couldn't add any more.
My red dot was blinking. Yay!
You have learned to harvest Mana Crystals
Again, not a Spell or a Skill, but learned.
Why?
It's not fair! I want a spell—a one-cast deal! I want to think "loot" and get cool stuff!
After a few minutes of mental griping, I Identified the crystal.
Earth Mana Crystal
Medium quality
At least it was progress.
Now, I tried something else; I created a mound of five jurbers and repeated the process. It was even more challenging and took much more concentration, but I managed. Identified it:
Earth Mana Crystal
Medium quality
The only difference was that the first crystals were the size of a pea, but this one was the size of a grape.
Once I formed a bigger mound of half-dissipated jurbers and started again, a sudden wave of lightheadedness washed over me. Mana: 45/4200.
Deciding that I made good enough progress for one day, I went to make camp.