The screams didn't stop for hours.
They came from every direction human voices twisted by panic, echoing through the endless trees. The forest itself seemed to feed on fear; the air trembled with it.
Lee Haneul crouched low in the underbrush, his breath shallow and his uniform soaked with sweat. His body still shook from the light that had swallowed him, but his mind was clear frighteningly clear.
In the distance, he saw fire someone had tried to fight. Then the sound of tearing flesh.
He didn't go that way.
He stayed quiet, still, invisible.
It had been a few hours since the Guardian vanished into the sky, leaving a thousand lost humans in a world that wanted them dead.
Some people tried to form groups.
Some tried to pray.
Most were gone by now.
Haneul had moved alone. Always alone.
At first, he'd thought his fifty points in Magic were a mistake his body was fragile, his stamina low, and even walking felt like dragging a chain. But he could feel something inside him a warmth that pulsed faintly beneath his ribs, like a second heartbeat.
Mana.
The word came naturally to him, as if whispered by the world itself.
He spent the first few hours testing it focusing, breathing, trying to draw it out.
At first, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, he began to sense it: threads of light dancing at his fingertips.
He willed them to stay to form something.
And they did.
A small orb of blue light flickered to life in front of him, no larger than a marble. It hovered uncertainly, shaking like a newborn flame before fading.
He tried again. And again.
By nightfall, he could make three of them faint, unstable, but his.
He named them Mana Orbs, though later he would call them something more fitting: Satellites.
Night came without warning.
The forest darkened completely, and strange howls echoed across the horizon.
He found a small stream to drink from the water tasted metallic but didn't kill him, so that was a start. Hunger followed soon after.
He'd seen a few animals earlier rabbit-like things with horns, and something that looked like a deer but had scales. None of them looked friendly.
Still, food was food.
He picked up a broken branch sturdy, sharp at one end and wrapped a thread of mana around it. The wood shimmered faintly, as if coated in light.
"Let's see if this works," he muttered.
He crouched near the bushes where he'd seen movement before. Minutes passed. His arms ached.
Then rustle.
He tensed. A creature, small and quick, hopped into view rabbit-shaped, with golden eyes and faintly glowing fur. It sniffed the ground.
Now.
He hurled the spear.
The mana flared the spear flew faster than it should have and struck the creature's side. It squealed once before falling still.
Haneul stared, half in disbelief. His first kill.
A small blue message blinked in front of him:
[You have defeated a Lesser Forest Hare.]
[+20 EXP]
He exhaled.
Relief. Guilt. Satisfaction.
And hunger.
It took him nearly an hour to make fire.
Two stones, dry leaves, frustration, and sheer stubbornness but eventually, sparks caught.
He cooked the meat over a crude pit, the smell filling the cave he'd found nearby.
The walls were damp, the floor uneven, but it was safe a hollow space hidden behind thick vines, deep enough to block the wind.
He'd found it while running from larger noises distant growls, the sound of trees breaking.
Luck, or maybe instinct. Either way, it would do.
He ate in silence, the flickering fire painting shadows across the walls.
The meat was tough and bitter, but warm.
He chewed slowly, forcing it down. Each bite reminded him how fragile he was how easily this world could erase him.
But he was still alive.
That counted for something.
When the flames began to die, he lay back against the rock, eyes fixed on the faint light of his three mana orbs hovering near the ceiling.
They pulsed gently, like fireflies waiting for command.
He reached out and whispered, "Stay."
They did.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not joy just quiet satisfaction.
Magic. Real magic.
And it obeyed him.
The next few days blurred together a rhythm of survival and silence.
He learned to ration.
He stored rainwater in carved-out bark.
He hunted smaller beasts with mana-enhanced spears and used their bones as tools.
He gathered herbs that didn't make him sick and used moss as bedding.
The cave became his home.
He cleaned it, marked the walls, even set small traps around the entrance.
Every night, he summoned his orbs, testing their limits.
At first, he could maintain three for an hour before exhaustion hit.
Then five. Then seven.
Each one drained him, but also filled him with a strange peace as if every orb he made connected him a little deeper to this world.
On the fifth night, while practicing near the stream, something changed.
His mana pulsed differently denser, heavier.
He wove the energy tighter this time, compressing it into a small sphere, feeding it more power than usual.
It didn't flicker. It shone steady and bright, like a star.
He created another. Then another.
By the end, ten orbs floated around him in perfect harmony, orbiting like planets around a sun.
They hummed softly in the air, reacting to his thoughts.
He raised a hand. The orbs spun faster.
A pulse of blue light exploded outward, carving a clean line through a nearby tree trunk.
The tree fell with a crash.
Haneul froze half terrified, half awed.
The air still crackled with energy.
He looked at his hands, trembling slightly. "So this is what fifty points in magic feels like…"
A blue notification blinked again.
[Skill created: Mana Satellite]
[Current Limit: 10 Orbs]
[Efficiency increases with Intelligence and Control.]
A laugh escaped his lips quiet, disbelieving.
He had something no one else did.
Not brute strength.
Not speed.
But power that could wait power that could think.
And in this world, that was all he needed.
That night, under the glowing light of his mana satellites, Lee Haneul sat at the mouth of his cave, watching the stars.
Somewhere beyond those skies, the gods were watching.
He didn't know their purpose, or why they'd dragged him here.
But if they wanted a show, he'd give them one.
"You'll remember me," he whispered, eyes glinting green. "I'll make sure of it."
The forest wind carried his voice into the dark.
And above him, unseen, something ancient stirred amused, perhaps… or curious.
The first hunt had ended.
The game had only begun.