With the Mana-Repelling Tent now set up, its subtle barrier shimmering faintly in the encroaching twilight, Adam finally felt a modicum of safety. He crawled inside the surprisingly spacious interior. The air within was calm, free of the oppressive mana hum of the outside world, and a profound sense of relief washed over him.
He lay back, the soft ground beneath him a welcome change from the hard earth. The immediate threats had receded, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, but also a quiet space for his thoughts to finally surface.
A Past Life's Echoes
Adam's mind drifted back to his old world, a world he now realized he'd been merely surviving in, long before this fantastical transmigration.
After his parents' sudden passing, life had become a constant, uphill battle. His guardian, a distant relative, saw him as little more than a burden, a financial obligation to be shed. The moment Adam turned eighteen, he was unceremoniously evicted, left to navigate the brutal indifference of society alone.
He remembered the hollow ache in his chest as he'd unlocked the door to his tiny, sterile apartment, the silence amplifying his profound loneliness. He'd worked tirelessly, studied relentlessly, not for ambition, but simply to keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach. His existence had been a desolate cycle of work, study, and the gnawing sensation of not belonging, of being utterly alone in a vast, uncaring city. Survival, even there, had been his grim mantra.
He looked around the mana-repelling tent. It was a stark contrast to his cramped apartment, yet here, paradoxically, he felt... different. There was no cold judgment from indifferent guardians, no crushing weight of bills, no suffocating societal pressure. He was fighting for his life, yes, but it was a primal, clear-cut struggle.
There was a strange, almost liberating absence of human interaction, a quiet void that wasn't necessarily lonely, but rather, felt like a fresh, terrifying, yet invigorating start.
"It's strange, Lyra," Adam whispered, his voice raspy. "My old life... it wasn't easy. I was always fighting to survive, even then. This world, with all its monsters and dangers... it doesn't feel that bad. I don't know if it's because there are no other people here, or if it's just a sense of starting over."
Lyra's voice was soft, devoid of her usual analytical crispness, infused with a rare, almost empathetic quality. "Adam, I have accessed your memories. I understand the hardships you endured. You truly did your best, against overwhelming odds, to simply exist and sustain yourself in your previous world. You demonstrated immense resilience."
Her words, so simple yet so profound, shattered Adam's carefully constructed emotional barriers. To hear an AI, a non-human entity, acknowledge his struggles, to validate his past pain, was overwhelming.
Tears, hot and stinging, welled in his eyes, a release of months, perhaps years, of unspoken grief and silent fortitude. He let them fall freely, allowing the exhaustion and emotion to finally claim him. Adam Levi, the lonely survivor, wept himself into a deep, much-needed sleep within the temporary sanctuary of his tent, the mana-rich world humming softly outside.