The predawn chill bit at Zaylan's skin, a sharp contrast to the internal warmth radiating from his Dantian. He maintained his meditative posture, drawing in the ambient mana, pushing it through the pathways that were now clearer, more defined within his body.
Each circuit felt like a drop of pure water added to his internal well, slow but steady.
His Mana Saturation had barely budged from his previous fights, remaining at 0.14%, but he could feel the subtle strengthening, the integration of mana into his very cells.
The process was exhausting, demanding intense concentration, but he knew it was vital. Every ounce of energy invested now would pay dividends when the true storm arrived.
He had spent the remainder of the night after his second skirmish in deep contemplation, interspersed with bouts of active mana absorption. The System, his silent guide, offered no tutorials, no grand cultivation manuals.
He was pioneering his own path, relying on fragmented memories from the webnovels of his past life and his own evolving instincts.
He visualized the mana, not as a gaseous energy, but as a flowing liquid, filling his Dantian, then being pushed through intricate channels—his meridians—to nourish every part of his being.
He imagined purifying any lingering corrupted mana from his brief encounters, ensuring only pure energy remained within. This meticulous, internal work, though unguided, felt instinctively right.
If fighting significantly accelerates mana absorption, he reasoned, recalling the small but concrete jumps in his Mana Saturation after each kill, then finding more corrupted beings is crucial. But the thought was tempered with caution.
The first two encounters had been challenging, demanding his full focus and mana application. What if the next ones were stronger? What if a pack found him?
He was still just at Foundation Building Stage 1, essentially a novice in the grand scheme of cultivators from the worlds he'd read about, even if he was a formidable force in this nascent mana-infused world. He needed a strategy, not just brute force.
As the first faint streaks of dawn painted the eastern sky in hues of rose and grey, Zaylan opened his eyes.
The forest, bathed in the soft, ethereal light, seemed to awaken with him, a symphony of rustling leaves and chirping unseen creatures.
He felt a profound connection to it, a resonance with the raw mana that permeated every leaf and root.
His newly sharpened senses picked up the distant murmur of water—a stream, perhaps, or a small river—and the faint, almost imperceptible shift in the wind that carried the scent of pine and damp earth.
He needed to resupply. His small pack of nutrient bars and water bottles was dwindling rapidly. He also needed information.
The docks of Aethelburg, chaotic as they were, had at least provided snippets of the outside world, hints of how humanity was reacting.
He couldn't stay isolated in this mana-rich, monster-filled forest indefinitely. A return to civilization, however brief, was necessary.
He rose, his movements fluid and noiseless, a testament to the improvements in his agility and control. He scanned the surrounding area with a keen eye, looking for any lingering traces of corrupted mana.
The immediate vicinity of the spatial tear felt calmer now, almost peaceful, as if his prior struggles had cleansed it temporarily.
He decided to move away from the tear for now, heading towards the general direction of Aethelburg, but taking a wide, circuitous route through the denser parts of the wilderness.
He would stay hidden, relying on his enhanced abilities, until he found a safer spot to observe and potentially gather supplies.
As he moved, he began experimenting with his mana application in subtle ways. He channeled a small amount of mana into his legs, feeling an effortless surge of speed that allowed him to cover ground at an incredible pace, barely disturbing the leaves underfoot.
He tried channeling it into his eyes, and the world seemed to sharpen even further, colors becoming more vibrant, details popping with astonishing clarity.
This passive enhancement, a direct result of his Physical Refinement and Foundation Building, was truly remarkable.
It wasn't just about punching harder; it was about living better, sensing more, moving with unprecedented efficiency.
Every step was a learning process, every moment a chance to understand the intricate dance between his cultivation and the mana within him.
He spent the entire day trekking through the untouched parts of the forest, occasionally pausing to absorb ambient mana, pushing his internal circulation. His Mana Saturation remained stubbornly low, reaffirming his suspicion that direct combat with corrupted beings was the most efficient way to grow stronger.
Yet, no more corrupted beings appeared. Perhaps they were drawn specifically to the tear, or perhaps their appearances were sporadic, still relatively rare in these initial days of the Awakening.
The lack of immediate threats allowed him a chance to truly integrate the changes to his body, to solidify his Foundation Building Stage.
As night fell again, Zaylan found a small, hidden cave, its entrance obscured by thick vines and moss. It was damp, but secure, providing a much-needed shelter from the elements.
He started a small, smokeless fire using dry leaves and twigs, his enhanced dexterity making the task almost effortless. The crackling flame cast dancing shadows on the rough cave walls, providing a small measure of comfort in the vast, unknown wilderness.
He ate one of his last nutrient bars, the bland taste surprisingly satisfying to his heightened senses. His mind, no longer consumed by immediate danger, began to drift back to the broader implications of the Awakening.
The government... what are they doing? he wondered. The last he'd heard, they were scrambling, attempting to categorize Awakeners, dealing with public panic and societal breakdown.
He imagined the vast, complex machinery of the world's governments, once so powerful, now struggling against an entirely new paradigm.
The "Ability Users" with their overt magical powers, the "Rune Masters" enchanting objects... they were all distinct from him. He was cultivating his very being, changing at a fundamental level that they hadn't even begun to understand.
He was an anomaly, an outlier they likely hadn't even conceived of, let alone categorized. This uniqueness was both a strength and a profound isolation.
He also pondered the "Awakening Worlds" mentioned by the Radiant Figure. What were they like? Were they also facing these corrupted beings? Or were they the source of them? The entity hadn't offered details, just a stark warning. This world, his new home, was now connected to a grander, more terrifying cosmic tapestry.
It humbled him, yet solidified his resolve.
He was here, now. He had power.
And he would use it to survive, and perhaps, to understand this new reality that had been thrust upon them all.
He was one of this world's new inhabitants, thrust into a fight no one saw coming.
He lay back, staring at the flickering shadows on the cave ceiling. The two weeks were still counting down, relentlessly. He needed to find more corrupted beings. He needed to push his cultivation further. He needed to be ready.
The world was changing, and he was at the forefront of that transformation, a silent, powerful force in a world grappling with a magic it barely understood.