He regretted going out before he had mastered the next steps in the scroll. Concealing.
The boy had known that the ritual was only the first part, the beginning of something far larger. But in his desperation as his hunger grew too strong, he had to go out without fully considering the consequences. The scroll had warned him about the need to conceal his presence after the ritual was complete. It had been clear, though in cryptic language, that blending into the world of the living and the dead was a delicate balance. If he wasn't careful, if he didn't learn to hide himself properly, he would become an easy target.
Now, standing in the middle of the woods, the cold seeping into his bones, the boy realized just how badly he had miscalculated. Without concealment, he was a beacon in the night, visible to any ghost in the area, drawing their attention like moths to a flame. The very thing he had wanted to avoid.
You've made a mistake.
….
After seeing the ghost, the boy stumbled home, his legs barely holding him up. His mind was a mess. He was hungry but there was nothing there that could satisfy the hunger that burned inside him. His stomach growled, a hollow, painful sound that echoed through the room.
He starved to death in two days. Two days of lying in the dark, weak and shaking, too afraid to go outside after his run-in with the ghost. Regret was the only thing left in him, sharper than the hunger.
He had the power to see ghosts, but couldn't even feed himself. He had become a prisoner in his own cottage, scared of what might be out there.
Now, he was just another ghost story waiting to happen. How fitting.
….
As Jack reflected on the boy's death, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity. It wasn't just the wasted potential or the tragedy of it all—it was the fact that the boy, for all his ambitions, had fallen victim to his own missteps.
Jack couldn't help but feel a deep sense of regret for the boy. It was a foolish, tragic way to go. He had the world in his hands but hadn't known how to keep it from slipping through his fingers.
But then again, if the boy had succeeded, Jack would not be here, with a cheat.
He couldn't deny that a small part of him felt grateful for this second chance, even if it came at the expense of someone else's life. The boy's failure had become Jack's opportunity.
"Rest in peace, boy. I promise you that this body will never starve again," Jack muttered before stuffing the last of his food in his mouth.
He paused, a thought flickering through his mind. Maybe I should have more food?
Without hesitating, he grinned. "Let's have some sushi!"
Jack closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the image of fresh, perfectly rolled sushi—salmon, tuna, the whole spread. The familiar flavors danced in his mind. When he opened his eyes, sure enough, a plate of sushi sat in front of him, vibrant and fresh.
"Well, this is getting way too easy," he muttered, feeling a rush of satisfaction.
….
Now that Jack had gotten rid of his hunger, he looked at all the utensils that the food had come with. Plates, bowls, chopsticks, and even a little soy sauce dish sat neatly on the tray. They were modern, sleek, and completely out of place in the rustic, medieval cottage.
He picked up a pair of chopsticks, turning them over in his hands.
"Will it stay here for a while after I finish the food? Or will it stay here with me forever?" Jack wondered aloud.
To test his theory, he placed the chopsticks on the table and kept his eyes on them while He waited for a few moments, expecting them to disappear. But they stayed put, solid and real.
"Huh, looks like they're sticking around," he said with a satisfied grin. "This could be useful. Let's check on it again later. Maybe there is a time limite"
Now that he had satisfied his hunger, Jack's mind raced with possibilities. If he could bring modern conveniences into this world, surviving would be much easier. Not just surviving—thriving.
He glanced around the dimly lit cottage. The rough-hewn walls and crude furniture could definitely use some improvement. But he had to be smart about it. He didn't know the full extent of his abilities or the rules governing them.
"One step at a time," he reminded himself. "Let's see what else I can do."
Jack closed his eyes and focused, imagining a sturdy flashlight. When he opened his eyes, there was nothing in front of him. He frowned, a little disappointed but not entirely surprised. Summoning food and basic utensils was one thing, but maybe creating more complex objects required a different approach.
He tried again, closing his eyes and concentrating harder on the image of the flashlight. He envisioned every detail: the cylindrical shape, the button to turn it on, the bright beam of light. He opened his eyes again, but still, there was nothing.
"Come on," he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "It can't be that hard."
Jack tried a third time, putting even more effort into his concentration. He pictured the flashlight as clearly as he could, willing it to appear. When he opened his eyes, the table remained empty.
"Okay, so that's not going to work," he sighed, leaning back in the chair. It seemed that his ability to summon items had limits. Simple things like food and basic utensils were easy, but more complex objects, especially those involving technology, were beyond his reach.
"Maybe it's just about practice," he thought.
Jack decided to test the boundaries of what he could summon. Closing his eyes again, he focused on something simpler than a flashlight but more complex than a blanket. He imagined a small lantern, the kind that used oil and a wick.
When he opened his eyes, he was met with nothing again.
"Maybe I can only summon things related to food?" he wondered aloud. Determined to test his theory, Jack decided to try summoning a pot. After all, a pot could be considered related to food, right?
He closed his eyes, visualizing a simple, sturdy pot. He imagined its weight, the feel of the metal, and the way it would look sitting on the table. But when he opened his eyes, the table remained empty.
Jack frowned, his frustration growing. "Okay, so not a pot either," he muttered. "What am I missing here?"
He tried to think about all the items he had successfully summoned so far: pizza, Coke, sushi, and even the chopsticks. All of them were directly related to eating. Maybe the key wasn't just food, but things that were directly consumable or necessary for consuming food.
"Alright," he said, gearing up for another attempt. "Let's try something else."
Jack closed his eyes and focused on a loaf of bread. He pictured its golden crust, the way it would feel in his hands, and the smell of freshly baked bread. When he opened his eyes, there it was—a warm loaf of bread sitting on the table.
He picked up the loaf, feeling its warmth seep into his hands. "So it really is about consumable items," he realized. "Maybe I need to think more along those lines."
Encouraged by his success, Jack decided to experiment further. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on a jug of milk. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, a large jug of fresh milk sat beside the loaf of bread.
Jack poured himself a glass and took a sip, feeling the cold, creamy liquid slide down his throat. It was delicious, just like the food he'd summoned before.
"Alright," he said, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "If I can only summon food and drink, then I'll just have to make the most of it."