[Part 2: The Apprentice]
***
The next day, Michael did not find anything that was valuable to him, aside from a few clothes and blankets. After a thorough search of every room, every corner, he decided to leave, not disappointed, but not content either.
"Well, that's that," he said to himself as he closed the front door for the last time. "At least I got to sleep in a proper bed."
His second and third days travelling up the river were not very fruitful. The river, a silver thread snaking through the wilderness, offered no food, only water.
There were no settlements, no signs of human life, just the relentless rhythm of the water and the dense, encroaching green.
He spent those days simply dragging the cart behind him, a task that gave his mind ample time to wander—to marinate in dangerous thoughts.
What if he did not make it? What if he was alone in this world? What if…
When hunger demanded his attention, he hunted. His meals were meagre small game, and whatever edible plants he could identify—the river providing no fish for reasons he did not understand. But that was well and good, he had come to hate fish.
Nights were spent beneath the clear sky, suffering the treachery of leeches the next morning. If only he could maintain spells even in his sleep, then he wouldn't have to suffer so—he had a spell to ward off insects after all.
"Curse them," he growled that morning, swatting at the last of the leeches clinging to his skin. "I swear, if I ever find a spell to eradicate them…"
On the fourth day of his expedition, he found a cave not too far from the river. It was a small mercy, but it was something. Though it was still early in the day, he decided to make it his shelter for the night. The thought of another open-air slumber was enough to encourage his decision.
He built a fire pit just outside the cave's mouth, muttering under his breath. Once he secured his belongings, he ventured back into the forest to scavenge for food.
An hour later, he returned, a single ash-coloured rabbit clutched in his hand.
"At least I'm getting better at hunting these things," he said to himself. The solitude had begun to wear on him, and he found himself talking to himself more often than not.
He skinned the rabbit, removing everything he didn't intend to eat. The fire crackled as he prepared his feast.
After devouring the rabbit, its warmth spreading through his body, Michael decided to explore the cave. Even after five minutes of walking, the cave did not end. It twisted and turned, its walls a patchwork of vanishing shadows. So he continued on his path, carrying a torch burning with fire.
When he reached a wider part of the cave, something glinted at him from the far wall. Intrigued, Michael hastened his pace, the torch illuminating the gem protruding from the wall.
"What have we here?"
He leaned closer to inspect his find and realised they were coral stones—also known as Cnidariaum.
"Well, this is certainly unexpected," he said, his voice bouncing off the cave walls.
Michael's mind raced. These stones were valuable, perhaps even rare. Without hesitation, he exited the cave, retrieving his shovel from the cart. Returning to the cavern, he cast the [Plough] spell on the wall containing the coral stones, transforming the hard rock into soft, yielding earth. He shovelled, the stones tumbling into the growing pile at his feet. That day, he collected seven of these shimmering treasures.
"Isn't this a haul?"
He absorbed one Coral Stone into his Magicore, only to be disappointed to realise it did not enhance his mana reserves in the slightest. It was as if pouring water into an already overflowing ocean. So he decided to keep it instead. Perhaps he could trade them for something of value like money once he reached a human settlement.
Michael spent over a week in that cavern harvesting all the Coral Stones he could. In the end, there were fifty-three of them. After that, no matter how much he mined, he found no sign of any stone, so he stopped mining and continued on his journey.
Michael regretted leaving the cave behind. For he was now trudging through a heavy rain that obscured his view, that was more than five metres ahead of him, turning everything into a misty haze. This was the first time since he arrived in this world that it had rained. And indeed, it rained like there was no tomorrow, turning the compact dirt into a thick slushy mud that was difficult to walk on and frustrating to pull his cart.
"Great," he cursed, the cold rain slapping his face. "Just great."
The rain itself was not the only problem. It was the cold it brought. Every five minutes he had to stop to cast the [Thermo Domain] to keep himself warm for a fleeting moment before continuing on his journey. If only he could adjust the spell, making it move with him, but that was impossible. This spell was bound to a location, and if he wanted to make it move with him, he would have to constantly cast and dismiss the spell—a mentally taxing prospect.
"Come on, Michael, think. There has to be a way."
But no matter how hard he tried, no solution presented itself.
Thankfully, that day the rain stopped before nightfall, allowing him to make a makeshift camp out of fallen branches and trees, and huddle inside it. The wind howled through his shelter, but at least it wasn't raining. Exhausted and shivering, he curled up into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest.
"This is bad. At this rate, I will die of hypothermia before finding any people."
Indeed, even the next day it was raining like the world itself had gone mad, lightning flashing as if two gods were battling in the heavens. The thunder roared, a constant, deafening clap that echoed through the forest.
Unable to walk even a single step, he sat on top of a rocky outcropping and cast his [Thermo Domain], warming up the environment. A sigh of relief escaped from him as the cold that had seeped into his very bones slowly evaporated from him. Any droplets of rain that were hitting him were now warm.
"Thank the gods for this spell."
He retrieved a banana from his pack he had collected the day before from a grove of banana trees. This was the last one. It vanished in a wink, and he did not even feel like he had eaten anything.
"Gods, but I'm hungry."
His stomach growled in agreement, but he did not even have the energy to hunt anything, so he just sat there for hours, the rain washing over him.
"What am I doing? I need to find a cave or I will die."
He fell asleep after the rain stopped.
When he woke up the next morning, every joint in his body ached as if someone had struck them with a hammer one by one. Michael grumbled, massaging his knees.
"I should have stayed at the cabin, at least I would not have to suffer from this pain. I had everything I needed, food, water and even a proper shelter. Why did I have to leave?"
Slowly, painfully, he got to his feet and stretched, continuing on his path. Though he complained, he did not stop moving. And finally, the fruit of his difficult travel bloomed before his eyes. In the distance, nestled at the foot of a hill, was a small village surrounded by a fence.
Hope, a long forgotten mistress, danced in his soul. There, he thought, there were people, shelter, and perhaps, food.
There was no direct path to it, so he would have to cross around a few hills to reach it. But now he had a target in his mind to motivate him, and the good thing was he saw a few people moving about, though they were merely a speck of colour in the distance.
The rain was heaviest this day, but he did not let it stop him, and he walked with renewed vigour, dragging the cart behind him. And in just three hours, he reached the hill with the village at its feet. Michael began to descend immediately, his heart pounding with hope.
But as he did so, the earth beneath his feet began to shift. A tremor ran through the ground, and then, with a roar that seemed to come from the depths of the earth, the hillside began to collapse. The ground beneath him gave way, pulling him down into the chaos.
"Fuck!"
First, it was a slow, sickening slide, and then, a terrifying freefall as the earth crumbled around him. Thankfully, his [Lesser Reflex] kicked in at the last moment, and he activated the [Flight] skill. He should have done that the instant he had seen the village.
He thought he had managed to break free from the clutches of the landslide, but as he tried to fly away, something hit him in the back of his head and he tumbled back to flowing earth. Before he could react, he was swallowed by it.
The world went black.