Nikolai sat down on a fallen tree with a sigh, inwardly cursing Vitzer. The bastard just didn’t let up.

  Absorbing the runes had been, well, anticlimactic. One after another, he had absorbed them, and the knowledge had simply been there. He now had six spells he could perform, as if they had always existed—simple as moving his hand. He was pretty sure there was more to it, probably at least a bit, but essentially he just had to call on the runes, and there you go.

  Once finished, he had been ecstatic—a feeling that lasted all of three minutes. Vitzer had shoved a knife into his hand, then ordered him to stand in that bloody ritual circle. Moulin had looked incredibly worried, and Vitzer had grinned at him with that sinister gleam in his eyes. That was how he had ended up here, in a forest.

  After feeling like he had been flushed down a toilet for a few seconds, struggling to breathe or even think, he had been dumped into a small clearing. In every direction he looked, there were only trees, brush, more trees, and yeah… a fucking forest.

  Nikolai felt dizzy from whatever Vitzer had done and decided the fallen log was as good a place as any to rest. “Okay… so, this is a forest, in a magical world, where there’s probably something dangerous lurking,” he mumbled to himself, trying to calm his nerves.

  He found that sometimes speaking a problem aloud helped him organize his thoughts. “I have a knife, which is useful. It’s not a fucking sword, but then again, I have no idea how to use a sword, so that probably wouldn’t help me anyway.” He sighed, pocketed the knife, and stood.

  Currently, he had a pair of simple leather boots, linen pants, a shirt, a thin coat with a few pockets, a knife, and a rucksack. This was essentially how most RPG games started: in a difficult situation, with little to no gear, and no idea what was going on. So, what would one usually do in a situation like this?

  Explore, of course. Kill monsters, obtain loot or materials, survive using those materials. A plan began to form in his head. He wasn’t completely out of options—he had magic now, which was awesome, and would probably be the key to his survival.

  He reached out to the shadows cast by the trees and rose to his feet. He was still a bit dazed, but his mana flowed freely inside him, and the shadows responded. He let them wrap around him loosely, giving him a bit of stealth while moving through the forest.

  He nodded to himself, forcing down the panic rising in his chest. He could do this. He had to. Clenching his hands to stop them from shaking, he moved among the trees as quietly as he could. He very much wanted to see any dangerous creature before it saw him.

  The forest was alive around him, sounds coming from everywhere: rustling leaves, distant animal calls, birds chirping, insects buzzing.

  A branch snapped under his boot, and a few steps later it happened again. Nikolai was no outdoorsman—not even a little. He was a good swimmer and had been on boats, but sneaking through a forest? He might as well have been a bumbling idiot, making every conceivable mistake.

  More cracks, and then something moved nearby. It wasn’t very big, but it was fast. Nikolai froze, trying to hide behind a thick tree trunk. Long moments passed in silence, then something rustled nearby. Nikolai’s head snapped in that direction—and immediately regretted it. Something bit into his calf, the force of the attack sending him tumbling to the ground with a grunt.

  Nikolai wheezed for air while looking on in horror as a fox-like creature tore into his leg. He was already bleeding profusely; injuries were piling up by the second. The creature was fairly large, with orange fur, pointed ears, and clawed hands on both fore and hind legs.

  It dug its claws and teeth in mercilessly. He tried to kick it, landing a solid blow, but when the teeth and claws were already embedded in flesh, kicking only worsened the wounds. The pain nearly made him faint—until he remembered he had magic.

  Wanting to kick himself, he called forth a rune: Mind Wipe. The spell would briefly blank the target’s mind, essentially stunning it, it needed eyecontact though. The magic flowed from his eyes, a barely visible white-dark mist hitting the creature between the eyes.

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  It yelped, froze, and let go of his leg, tumbling onto its back comically. It blinked stupidly, but the effect would last only a few seconds. Nikolai bit back a scream and threw himself onto the creature, his leg still on fire. He called on another rune, grabbing its throat: Minor Essence Drain.

  The magic responded instantly. He felt a surge of energy rush up his arm. The drain spell siphoned essence, essentially lifeforce, from the target, making it available to him. The only downside: he had to be touching the target, which admittedly wasn’t currently a problem here, of course.

  As he forced his mana into the spell, he realized something: putting more energy into it increased its speed and efficiency. Since he regained some of what he used, he decided to push a little further.

  For a few seconds, he drained the creature, and by the time it regained awareness, it was already too late. Nikolai had siphoned enough of its lifeforce that it was barely clinging to life. Vitality surged through him, staunching the bleeding in his leg. The wounds remained, but at least he wasn’t bleeding out.

  Moments later, the creature died with a whimper, its fur turning sickly gray, thin and wispy. Nikolai rolled off its lifeless body, gasping. His leg throbbed with agony. When he looked down, his eyes widened: his leg was a bloody mess, raked and torn, blood still trickling.

  For long moments he stared in horrified fascination before snapping back to reality and activating the Minor Heal rune. His pant leg was shredded, leaving his skin exposed. As the spell took effect, an almost unbearable itch crawled across his flesh, and he watched in stunned awe as the fairly shallow wounds agonisingly slowly began knitting themselves shut.

  It took more than ten minutes, but soon his leg was healed, and he sighed in relief. Then the headache hit—a migraine so intense he saw stars. He groaned, noticing how little mana was flowing inside him. A trickle compared to earlier.

  “Shit… three spells, and I’m reduced to this!?” he whispered.

  Lying there, he almost wanted to cry in relief at being alive. He had never fought for his life before, never been in an actual fight at all. “Hell of a first time…” he choked out, then slowly sat up. The pain had receded and he realized something.

  A small ball of energy lingered inside him, diminishing. For precious seconds he stared inwardly, then cursed: “The creature’s vitality!”

  He reached out and guided it toward his mana channels, delighting as it slightly strengthened his trickle. He had instinctively used the essence to stop his bleeding, but apparently it could be used in multiple ways. What essence meant exactly would have to wait. For now, he was just happy the headache was fading.

  Relief ran through him as the last of the creature’s essence was absorbed. He knelt beside the body and poked it cautiously, loathing what he was about to do. He had seen enough survival programs to know that leaving potential lifesaving food to rot was a bad idea.

  He had no idea how long Vitzer planned to leave him here; preparing for the worst was prudent. Swallowing bile, he drew his knife. This was going to fucking suck.

  Nikolai flipped the creature onto its back and held the cooling carcass with his left hand while slicing the belly with his right. The moment the knife touched the fur, a small, translucent illusion appeared above it, asking: “Loot?”

  His eyes widened. Focusing intently, he answered: “Yes.”

  For an instant, the knife glowed dull blue. The corpse vanished in a puff of mist, leaving something else behind: meat wrapped in brown paper tied with string, rolled-up fur, and claws and teeth in a small paper pouch.

  Nikolai stared, then grinned. “I fucking love magic!” he whispered, stuffing everything into his rucksack. It took up very little space, and he noticed the interior seemed larger than it should have been.

  Reluctantly, he gave a silent prayer of thanks to his mentors. These two items alone made it all worth it.

  Now, he had a looting knife, a magically enlarged rucksack, and a forest full of monsters. So what would an adventurer do? Objective one: find a way out of the forest, preferably to civilization. Objective two: hunt monsters and grind himself to more power. Killing creatures in a game was palatable, but this was real—he had no choice. Environmental concerns would wait; he needed power.

  He leaned against a tree, planning his approach. He had three support spells and three offensive ones. In games, there was usually an optimal sequence. He would apply that logic here. Mind Wipe had a short cooldown, roughly a minute. The others had no cooldown but required time to work.

  His drain ability required physical contact—fine as long as Mind Wipe was in effect. Curse of Torment would gradually break a creature down from within. Drain left him with a pool of energy to use as he liked: reinforce vitality, dull pain, or fuel mana. It was his most versatile ability.

  Nodding to himself, he began moving. No more self-pity—it was time for a grinding montage.