The sun barely rises when Rosh finds himself in the training field again, his mind sharp and focused as he practices mana manipulation. He's been working on this for three weeks—feeling the mana inside, trying to give it shape, but the stubborn force refuses to bend to his will. Today feels different, though. There's something more natural about the flow of energy within him. He closes his eyes, focuses, and channels the mana into his hands.
Sweat trickles down his temple as he concentrates. The air around him feels heavy, buzzing with the sensation of magic. Slowly, a shape begins to form. First, a small wisp of darkness flickers between his palms, but Rosh grits his teeth, focusing harder. The wisp stretches and grows into the thin shape of a stick, shimmering faintly.
"Ahhh... finally..." Rosh breathes out, his voice shaking with relief. His heart races, not from the effort but from the excitement. In his hand, a small, dark stick no longer than his palm hovers in the air.
"It's small… but it's a success." He stares at the stick in awe, feeling the weight of accomplishment. It may not be grand, but after weeks of hard work, this moment feels monumental.
He dispels the mana and sits down to catch his breath. The exhaustion is there, but it's different—more like a victory he's earned rather than a burden he's carrying. Out of habit, he pulls up his status window to check his progress.
Status Window:
Mana: 300
Strength: 20
Agility: 18
Endurance: 21
Intelligence: 18
Wisdom: 18
Skills:
Necromancy (LV 3)
Gravebound (LV 1)
Dominion (LV 1)
Insight (LV 5)
His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the numbers. "Oh… my stats have grown quite a bit."
His strength, agility, and endurance have all increased. He clenches his fist, feeling the muscle beneath his skin.
"It must be from all that grueling physical training…" The thought brings a small smile to his face.
Then his eyes land on his skills. "Necromancy... level three. And Insight's reached level five. That's great."
He's satisfied with his growth, but there's also a new fire lit within him. The progress is motivating, but the journey ahead still feels long. He shakes off the lingering thoughts and stands back up, determined to keep pushing his limits.
As the day progresses, Rosh dives back into his training, repeating the same exercises—channeling mana, trying to manifest it in different shapes. But something feels… off.
At first, it's just a subtle discomfort. His focus keeps slipping, his mind wandering for no reason. It's as if there's something tugging at the back of his consciousness, pulling him away from his training. He shakes his head, trying to focus, but the feeling lingers.
He looks around the training field, his eyes scanning the faces of the other students. Nobody seems to be paying him any attention. But why does he feel like someone… or something… is calling him? His heartbeat quickens, and a shiver runs down his spine. What's this unease?
Throughout the rest of the session, the discomfort only intensifies. Every few minutes, he glances over his shoulder, feeling like he's being watched, but there's nothing there. The sensation nags at him, an invisible weight pressing down on his chest.
When the session ends, Rosh leaves the institute and heads home, but the feeling doesn't fade. In fact, as he approaches home, it grows stronger.
By the time he steps into his house, the unease has transformed into a suffocating pressure. Rosh tries to shake it off, but the more he tries to ignore it, the heavier it gets. His mind drifts back to a moment weeks ago in that dungeon, when he had first found the mysterious stone.
"This feels just like then… like something is pulling me toward it."
Dinner at home is quiet, filled with the usual chatter. Clara talks about his day at school, and his aunt hums softly as she clears the table, occasionally joining the conversation. Rosh tries to participate, nodding along and answering with small words, but his mind is elsewhere. He feels like he's watching the scene from afar, his focus stolen by the ever-growing sense of dread building inside him.
After finishing dinner, he excuses himself, heads upstairs, and returns to his room. The moment he steps inside, it feels like he's walked into another world. The discomfort, which had been bearable before, now spikes into something intense, almost suffocating.
"What… what is happening to me?" His breath comes in quick, shallow bursts. His eyes dart around the room, looking for something, anything, that might explain the feeling, but everything looks normal.
His thoughts swirl, unfocused, and his mind feels cloudy, but somewhere in the chaos, something clicks. Without thinking, Insight activates on its own. His vision sharpens instantly, the magic enhancing his awareness. And then… everything changes.
The air in his room thickens, turning cold and oppressive. His eyes widen as he scans the space. Black mist clings to the walls, swirling slowly, lazily, as if alive. The entire room is bathed in an eerie darkness that wasn't there before, and the silence is thick, unnatural.
Rosh's heart races, thudding loudly in his chest. His hands tremble, but his eyes are glued to one thing—the source of it all.
On his desk, the mysterious stone he had found weeks ago is shrouded in the same dark mist, seeping out from it like a poison. The mist swirls in chaotic patterns, and every fiber of his being screams to back away, to escape.
His heartbeat quickens, pounding in his ears as he takes a step closer, drawn to the stone despite the overwhelming terror clawing at his chest.
The mist wraps around the stone, pulsing with a dark energy that feels… alive. The longer Rosh stares, the more oppressive it becomes. His instincts scream that this isn't normal—that this stone, this object, is dangerous. But he can't look away.
"What… is this?" His voice is barely a whisper, his throat tight with fear.
The room feels like it's closing in on him. Every breath he takes is heavy, the weight of the darkness pressing down on him. And yet… he steps closer.
His mind races, trying to make sense of what he's seeing, but nothing adds up. This stone… he had found it in the dungeon, but he had never felt anything like this from it before. Why now? Why this sudden surge of darkness?
As the mist swirls around the stone, Rosh's chest tightens, fear clawing at his heart. He can feel the air growing colder, the oppressive silence almost deafening now.
His hand twitches at his side, but he doesn't move any closer. The stone sits there, ominous and terrifying, exuding an energy that sends chills down his spine. He feels trapped, paralyzed by the dark mist swirling in his room.
And then, in the stillness of the moment, the room feels even more suffocating as the stone pulses once—just once—and the air grows thick with danger. Rosh's eyes widen in terror.
His instincts scream to run away as fast as possible...