The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and old leaves. A strange, primal feeling tugged at his senses as he slowly regained consciousness. His body ached, his limbs stiff, and his surroundings felt foreign—everything was too quiet, too still. He tried to move, but the ground beneath him felt rough and uneven. Something was wrong, something deep.

As he opened his eyes, the blinding light of the sun pierced through the canopy of trees above, casting long shadows on the forest floor. The sounds of birds calling out to each other filled the air.

Where am I?

He sat up, the dull ache in his head persisting. The last thing he remembered was the screech of tires, the sharp pain, and then... nothing. Was he dead?

The world around him looked nothing like the sleek, modern city he had known. Instead of towering skyscrapers, he saw towering trees, stretching high into the sky. The ground beneath him was rough with stones and dirt, and the clothes he wore—rough, tattered animal hides—felt so out of place.

He stood unsteadily, trying to make sense of his new reality. Then, as if responding to his confusion, a voice—calm, clear, and unbidden—resonated in his mind.

> "Welcome to the world of Ascensia. You have been granted a second life under the governance of the System."

The voice didn't come from outside; it was internal, as though it had always been there, waiting for him to notice it. His mind felt flooded with the words. The System? Was this some kind of dream or delusion? He clutched his head, trying to make sense of the disorienting thoughts.

"What… what is this 'System'?" he murmured aloud.

> "The System governs creation. Every invention, every tool, every creation is tied to its creator. It cannot be used by another unless given permission. You are now in a world where creation and power are bound by these laws. Your journey begins now. Thrive, innovate, and ascend."

The voice faded, leaving him with more questions than answers. It felt real. Too real. As if the voice wasn't a hallucination but a force that was governing this world.

His mind raced. This was not a dream. Somehow, impossibly, he had been reincarnated. In some ways, this world seemed like a forgotten past, with primitive technology and ways of life. But this 'System'... it had rules, and it was clear it was a godlike force here. The possibilities it hinted at, the control over inventions—it was all so... familiar.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His thoughts went to his surroundings again. The forest stretched endlessly, the sunlight dancing through the leaves. This world was unlike any he had known, but there was a sense of survival that he felt—deep in his gut. He wasn't just here to exist; he was here to thrive.

---

The First Encounter

It didn't take long for him to find the tribe. His body was sore from the awkward walk through the thick woods, but his eyes were sharp. In the distance, he could see the thin smoke of a campfire rising from between a cluster of trees. He moved toward it instinctively, driven by the feeling that this was his only chance at survival.

The clearing opened before him, revealing a small group of huts built haphazardly out of wood and skin. The tribe was small—fewer than thirty people. They looked ragged, worn down by years of hardship. Their clothes were simple, barely stitched together, and many had vacant eyes, hardened by the constant struggle for survival.

A man with a grizzled face looked up as he entered the clearing. His expression was a mixture of suspicion and annoyance.

"Another stray?" he growled, eyeing the newcomer. "We barely have enough food to feed ourselves, let alone another mouth."

A woman, standing nearby, placed a hand on the man's arm, her voice gentle but firm. "Harron, he's just a child. Let him stay... at least for tonight."

The older man grunted but didn't object further. He watched the newcomer, his eyes still wary.

"Thank you," the man muttered, barely acknowledging her. He looked around, realizing that his body was… different. He was younger, smaller, his once firm muscles now thin and weak. And yet, there was a deep, unsettling feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't from this world.

I don't belong here.

But for now, there was little choice. The woman motioned for him to sit by the fire, and he did, feeling a sense of exhaustion creep over him. They gave him food—barely more than some dried meat and a small cup of water, but it was more than he had expected.

As he ate, the man, Harron, sat opposite him, his eyes narrowing. "You'll have to earn your keep if you're staying. We don't have enough to spare."

"I understand," the boy replied quietly, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened. The words of the System echoed in his thoughts. Thrive, innovate, ascend.

The System had said he was meant to innovate, but how could he do that in a world like this? There were no machines, no tools—just basic survival. It was as if he had been thrown into a world of stone and wood with nothing but his knowledge of a far more advanced society.

For a brief moment, he felt powerless, like a drop of water lost in an ocean of unfamiliarity. But then, a spark ignited within him. The knowledge he had from his previous life wasn't gone. If anything, it was more useful here than ever before.

I can do this, he thought. I can make a difference. I'll start small. Step by step. That's how it starts.

---

The First Invention

The next day, as the tribe went about its usual tasks—gathering food, watching for predators, and tending to the few animals they kept—the protagonist began observing. He studied the tools they used, the way they built their shelters, and the primitive methods they employed to make fire.

He watched a man struggle to start a fire using two sticks. The process was slow, tedious, and ineffective. His hands itched to intervene, but he knew he had to start slow. He couldn't push too hard, too fast.

He'd need their trust before they accepted any kind of change.

After watching them for a while, he decided to try something simple. He fashioned a basic fire starter using a few stones and sticks. The friction method was slow, but with a few adjustments, he made it more efficient. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

When he showed the tribe leader, the older man Harron, he was skeptical but intrigued. "It works. I'll give you that," he said grudgingly. "But don't expect us to be all impressed by a few rocks and sticks."

The boy smiled faintly. It wasn't much, but it was a step in the right direction. The fire starter worked far better than anything they had used before. He could see the spark of interest in the others' eyes.

This is how it begins.

---

The System's Influence

Later that night, as the tribe settled around their fire, he could feel the strange presence again—the System's voice, clear and concise.

> "Your creation has been recognized. You have taken your first step toward innovation. Keep creating, keep improving. Your journey has only just begun."

It was a cryptic message, but it made something click in his mind. The system wasn't just a passive force; it was there to guide, to push him forward. It was like a mentor, albeit one that offered no answers—only challenges.

And with each challenge, he would rise.