Ethan sat with his back against the tree, chest still heaving from the earlier encounter. His hands trembled, not from exhaustion but from the raw truth pressing on him—he could have died. A single misstep, a wrong reaction, and that thing with earth magic would have buried him beneath stone.
For a moment, he let his head fall back, staring up through the canopy. He thought of all the novels he had read late at night—those isekai where the protagonist was gifted with a cheat ability, some overpowered weapon, or a system that guided them through every step. It almost made him laugh.
"This isn't a book," he muttered to himself. "No cheats, no status screens. Just me."
The memory of the fight played over in his mind. The creature had power—real, devastating power. And yet, it didn't press the attack. Why? Was it cautious of him, or was it simply toying with prey? He couldn't tell. But one thing was certain: here, every living thing could use magic. That changed the rules of survival completely.
He flexed his fingers, staring at them. Could he? Was there something inside him waiting to be awakened, or was he defenseless in a world where even insects might be dangerous? He didn't know. And gambling on guesses wasn't going to keep him alive.
"Think, Ethan. Survival first. Answers later."
He inventoried what little he had: the grocery bag, some food, a lighter, a pen, a notepad. Pathetic tools against a world of monsters and magic, but tools nonetheless. He knew enough not to waste food—who knew when he'd find more? His water situation was worse. He'd need a source soon, or dehydration would finish him faster than any beast.
Pushing himself up,dusting himself off, and grabbing his bag. The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, shadows shifting as the sun moved higher. Every sound set his nerves on edge—the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves. It reminded him of the survival stories he had read, but this wasn't entertainment anymore. This was his reality.
A thought crossed his mind, unbidden: If this really were a novel, I'd be the weakest character. The one that doesn't make it past chapter five.
He shoved the thought away.
That wasn't going to happen.
He'd prove that even without cheats, without plot armor, a man with nothing but stubborn will and a sharp mind could survive—even in a world that wasn't his own.
And so he walked on, deeper into the unknown.