Kyne followed the same direction for hours, the forest stretching in an apparently infinite pattern of violet trees, blue grass, and dancing shadows.
His steps were steady, eyes alert, but what he sought, dangerous creatures, new ways to die, simply did not appear.
"Looks like I'm really unlucky…" Kyne murmured to himself, his voice a whisper in the green-blue immensity.
The reason was simple. If he had encountered terrifying beasts like the small rabbit, he would have received new adaptations.
Each death was a lesson, each resurrection an upgrade in strength. But the forest, ironically, was far too peaceful that day.
Walking without purpose, without the anticipation of a lethal encounter, became… tedious for Kyne.
Night arrived without incident. Kyne stopped in a small clearing where the light of the giant moon penetrated more easily. Having already had the experience of making fire, the process was a bit faster this time.
As he spun the stick against the base of dry wood, his hands already calloused, a tiny spark finally appeared.
And then something different happened. Kyne felt a faint connection with that spark of fire.
It was not like the connection he had felt with the already lit bonfire. It was more subtle, more fragile, like a silk thread trembling in the wind. But it was there.
Intrigued, Kyne looked at the tiny spark and, almost instantly, extended his hand toward it. Not to touch it, but as a gesture of concentration.
And then the tiny flame grew.
It was not a natural growth fueled by oxygen or fuel. It was as if someone had turned up the brightness of a lamp.
The spark doubled in size, then tripled, and then, with a small crackle, ignited the dry branches that Kyne had carefully piled.
The bonfire this time was lit not as a struggle, but as an affirmation of Kyne's will.
Kyne sat heavily on the ground, breathing deeply. Fatigue struck immediately.
Not as severe as before, when he had used the fireball, but significant. He had not drained all of his mana, but a large portion of it.
Watching the flames that he himself had helped create, an understanding dawned.
Fire manipulation did not work only on fully established flames. It worked on any fire, no matter how small. He could strengthen it, control it from its very birth.
He smiled, lying down beside the bonfire. His eyes closed almost immediately, and he fell asleep to the crackling sound of the flames and the comforting heat that drove away the cold of the night.
…
When he woke, the light of dawn was already coloring the sky. The bonfire was almost extinguished. Only a few orange embers glowed faintly among the ashes.
Kyne looked at the embers, then extended his hand again. This time, not to strengthen, but to extinguish.
With a thought, a silent command, the last flames went out. The embers lost their glow, turning into black, inert charcoal.
The fatigue he felt was smaller. Just a light panting, a slight mental haze that disappeared in seconds.
He was learning adaptation not only through death but also through use. Mana seemed almost like a new muscle or limb, the more he used it, the more efficiently he learned to use it.
Kyne stood up, stretched, and continued his journey in the same direction.
Five hours passed. The forest slowly changed, the trees becoming more spaced out, the ground more rocky, and the air more humid. Then, suddenly, a new sound arose in his ears.
Water.
Not the gentle sound of a stream, but the constant roar of a fast-flowing river. Kyne stopped, his senses sharpening. A river. Finally.
Without wasting time, he ran toward the sound, his smile returning. A river meant several things.
A source of water, a natural route that could lead him to civilizations, and, more importantly, a new possibility of death that he had not yet experienced.
But as soon as he reached the bank, he came face-to-face not only with the water but with a beast.
The animal was enormous. An elk, but unlike any elk Kyne had ever seen on Earth. Its body was covered in a reddish-brown fur that gleamed under the filtered light, and its antlers were not branching racks but solid, intricate structures that extended more than a meter on each side of its head. Its height, from its hooves to the top of its shoulders, was at least two and a half meters.
The beast was drinking water at the moment Kyne emerged from the forest. Its intelligent brown eyes immediately fixed on the human, and a low, guttural grunt came from its throat.
Kyne froze for a moment, observing the creature. It was majestic, powerful, and clearly territorial.
Then, a smile appeared on his face, and he stepped closer.
"Heh. I've never seen one of you in person before." Kyne said, his voice calm.
"You're really huge. Don't worry about me, you can drink your water."
He continued approaching the river, his eyes alternating between the beast and the flowing water. The elk did not seem to understand his words, or, if it did, it did not care.
With a sharp stomp of its hooves against the rocky soil of the bank, the elk let out another grunt, this one louder, more threatening. Its muscles tensed beneath its fur.
Kyne was only three meters from the water when the elk attacked.
It was not a desperate charge, it was a calculated movement, far too fast for something so large. The beast lowered its head, pointing its massive antlers directly at Kyne, and charged.
Kyne had time for a single thought before the antlers struck him.
'Interesting'