A figure burst out from the forest, sprinting across the grassy hill.
At first, he jogged, then slowed to a brisk walk before eventually strolling like he had no care in the world.
By the time he reached the edge of the lake at the bottom of the hill, he finally stopped, breathing heavily.
"Huff… huff… man, just a few steps, and I'm wiped. This body is seriously weak."
Ronan stood by the lake, catching his breath while grumbling to himself. He kicked off his deer-hide boots and tied them together before hanging them around his neck. Rolling up the sleeves and hem of his robe, he carefully stepped into the water.
The cold lake water washed over his ankles, creeping up his calves. Ronan scooped up some water and splashed it on his face, instantly feeling refreshed as the tension melted away.
In the rippling water, his reflection stared back—a teenage boy with chestnut-colored hair, thick eyebrows, and a sharp nose.
Not bad-looking, but… there were issues. His eyes were dull, his skin pale, and his cheeks looked a little puffy. Combine that with the dark circles under his eyes, and he gave off the vibe of someone who'd spent way too much time indulging himself.
"Yeah… this guy definitely liked his treats."
Splash!
Ronan smacked the water, shattering his reflection, then turned and wandered back to shore.
A tall walnut tree stood near the edge of the lake, its base surrounded by wild grass. Ronan sat down beneath it, resting his head against the trunk and staring at a group of black mountain goats grazing lazily on the nearby hill.
It had been three days since he woke up in this body.
Turns out, the original owner of this body was also named Ronan—Ronan Damien, the son of a count. His family had sent him off to this place when they discovered he had some talent for magic.
The catch? His talent wasn't that great. And to make matters worse, he was lazy.
Half a year later, he was still stuck at the beginner level, barely making any progress. If Ronan hadn't taken over this body, the original would've been booted out of the academy in a few months.
"If I'd just transmigrated a little later… I'd be back at the family estate, living the good life."
He sighed.
"Riding horses, sipping tea, playing cards with the maid… what a life that would've been."
But no. Fate had other plans.
"Terrible timing, man. Really terrible timing."
Ronan stood up and put his boots back on.
Today was the first time he'd left the house since arriving in this world. His plan was simple—cross the hill and explore the forest on the other side. Get a feel for the area and maybe map out his surroundings.
But before he could take more than a few steps, the mountain goats suddenly bolted, scattering in every direction.
He froze.
Two figures appeared on the distant hillside, one chasing the other. Bright flashes of light erupted between them.
"Oh, hell no."
Ronan's eyes widened, and without a second thought, he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. Memories flashed through his mind as he ran.
The Hoddam Sorcerer Haven was organized like this:
At the center was the Hoddam Sorcerer Academy, peaceful and safe, protected by a massive rune formation.
Around it were the marketplaces and residential areas—less secure but still relatively stable, thanks to the academy's sorcerers keeping order.
But where Ronan was now?
The wild outskirts, right on the border of the forest. No protection, no rules—a lawless zone.
This was where sorcerers came to settle grudges, duel, and hunt for rare treasures.
Ronan had only heard stories about it before. Today, he was living one.
As he neared the forest, he glanced back. One of the figures on the hill collapsed to the ground.
Ronan's chest tightened. He buried his face in his hood and ran faster, weaving through trees, his only goal being to put as much distance as possible between him and that chaos.
It wasn't cowardice—it was survival instinct.
He was just a Level 1 sorcerer apprentice, the lowest of the low. He didn't even know a single basic spell yet. In a fight, he'd be nothing more than a sitting duck.
No skills, no magic, nothing but the ability to run.
And run he did—past bushes, over hills, and around mud pits—until he finally reached a towering oak tree wrapped in thick vines.
A small wooden house sat nestled in its branches.
Home.
The house wasn't much. It was built high up to avoid wild animals, but its walls were thin, offering little actual protection. Still, seeing it made Ronan feel a bit safer.
The treehouse stood about seven or eight meters off the ground. Grabbing a vine, Ronan hauled himself up.
At the door, he fished out a brass key from under his collar.
Click.
Bang!
He slipped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.
The air inside was hot and damp, with a faint musty smell. Even though there was a window, the thick leaves and vines outside made the room dim.
Leaning against the door, Ronan took a few deep breaths, his heart still pounding.
"What if those sorcerers come looking for me? What if they kill me just to be safe? Should I run? But where?"
His thoughts spiraled until, eventually, his heart rate slowed. He made his way to the table in the center of the room, grabbed a water jug, and gulped down several mouthfuls.
Click!
He struck a flint, lighting a candle. The soft glow flickered, casting shadows across the room.
It seemed no one had followed him, but the close call left him shaken.
It had come out of nowhere. One second, everything was fine. The next, chaos.
He'd gotten lucky this time. But what about next time? Or the time after that?
In the wild, stuff like this wasn't rare. Sorcerers could be unpredictable, some downright bloodthirsty.
Ronan's expression darkened. He clenched his fists, making a decision.
"I'm moving. Tomorrow, I'm moving into town."
But after rummaging through his belongings and counting his savings, reality hit him hard.
Magic stones were the only currency that mattered here. And Ronan? He didn't even have a full one.
Renting a room in town? Minimum one magic stone for the deposit.
The academy dorms? One stone per month.
"Unless I sell the stuff I brought from the academy…"
But that would mean giving up on being a sorcerer entirely.
"Forget it. I'll tough it out a little longer."
There were plenty of people living in the treehouse district. As long as he kept his head down and avoided trouble, he should be fine… probably.
After all the running and emotional highs and lows, the stuffy treehouse made him feel drowsy. His body relaxed, and before he knew it, he was out cold.