Excerpt 21

  (Page 3, Section 1)

  There is danger in what you cannot control—but far greater danger in what grows unchecked, until control is no longer possible. A small issue beyond your influence may resolve itself with time—ignored, it fizzles out without leaving much of a trace. But when a problem becomes too big, it no longer goes away. It becomes entrenched. It spreads. It starts influencing everything around it.

  Minor, unmanaged problems are often forgotten. But large ones—especially those allowed to grow unchecked—can shape the course of entire lives, or even history. Some become personal regrets, never voiced but always remembered. Others become world disasters, recorded and retold long after everyone involved is gone. In either case, the root cause is the same: what could not be controlled, and what was allowed to grow too far.

  Whether a problem becomes a private burden or a historical event depends not just on the problem itself, but on who faces it. The more power, reach, or responsibility a person holds, the more impact their problems have. A mistake made in isolation might be invisible; the same mistake made by someone in a position of influence could affect hundreds or thousands. Power magnifies consequences.

  So when you hold power, you don’t just risk failure—you risk legacy. The higher your position, the farther your fall. And when you fall from a great height, you don't fall alone. Others fall with you. Structures collapse. Systems fail. The wreckage becomes part of the story, remembered not for what you did right, but for what you let spiral out of control.

  Power does not erase failure. It preserves it—and makes sure others remember.

  Source: Chains of Influence – Talaron Essavir, Keeper of the Old Record

  Excerpt 21 End

  While exercising his senses, Hassan also decided to train his body, mind, and soul, just as he usually did.

  After many trials, he discovered that training any one aspect in isolation led to slower growth overall. One example of this was when he felt mentally drained—continuing to push himself with additional brain exercises didn’t help at all. In fact, it made things worse and even caused harm.

  He once reached a state of burnout after trying to push deeper into the Mind Manual. He had hoped that gaining more knowledge would help him master magic more quickly in the future, but instead, he found it was counterproductive and damaging.

  Eventually, he realized that after a solid mental workout using the Mind Manual, it was more effective to switch to soul training, then follow that with physique training, and then repeat the cycle. This pattern allowed his body, mind, and soul to recover gradually and more completely between each shift in focus.

  As for the senses, they were considered part of both the physique and the soul—but mostly aligned with the soul. Therefore, when his senses became overworked, switching to mind training helped as a recovery phase.

  Part of the Mind Manual training tested his intellect through puzzles and cognitive exercises like these:

  *****

  Five warriors enter. Only one leaves.

  You are one of them.

  Each fighter is armed, skilled, and fully determined to survive. You don’t know if any of them have alliances—if they even exist at all. You don’t know their strategies—only that each one has one. Some may choose to wait, others may attack. The arena offers no cover, no exit—only open ground and blood-soaked sand.

  Your challenge is this:

  What is the optimal path to survive and win?

  Do you strike first? Do you hide your strength? Do you wait for others to fall before making your move? Or do you attempt to form a fragile alliance, knowing full well that betrayal is inevitable?

  There are five.

  Only one can stand.

  What is your strategy?

  *****

  There often wasn’t a perfect answer—sometimes there were multiple acceptable outcomes—and he usually had to refer to the book’s explanations after attempting it himself to understand the ideal approach.

  It was essential to review the correct solutions afterward because assuming he knew the answer, when in reality he didn’t, could lead to flawed thinking and reinforce incorrect logic.

  Once both his senses and mind were trained, he would move on to physique training. When inside the tent, he focused on agility drills to avoid drawing suspicion. In the system training space, however, he preferred resistance training, as it gave greater improvements to his physique. Still, he never let agility fall behind. The Physique Manual had warned that agility must be built while young—zamongarai found it extremely difficult to improve later in life.

  There were times when he got bored and took breaks from training, only to realize that he had nothing else to do. In those quiet, in-between moments, he found himself reflecting on his future—usually thinking of his family back on Earth, and about magic in this new world. Those thoughts, more often than not, rekindled his motivation.

  But this time, his thoughts turned toward building a weapon using the materials in his tent. He knew he needed a way to grab a thorned branch without injuring himself, and the best option he could think of was using animal hide. There was also rope nearby that might help secure the leather, but it was too thick to be practical.

  He decided the best approach was to use the knife to cut smaller strips of leather to make the hide wrap securely around the branch.

  Having made up his mind, Hassan then realized it was already nighttime. He began to get ready for sleep.

  #####

  The next day, he resumed his normal schedule. When food was served, he prepared to enter the system space, and the thirty-second countdown began.

  He quickly picked up the food bowl and scooped in some of the paste. He also grabbed a few extra waterisus and food herbs to prepare multiple meals—he’d figured out some time ago. Then, he took three large animal hides and the caregiver’s knife.

  With everything gathered, he entered the system space.

  Looking around, he immediately spotted the branch on the ground—but the snake corpse was gone.

  That surprised him. Was the snake edible? He’d have to test that theory later.

  For now, he scanned the area for predators. Finding none, he picked up the leather hides and got to work.

  His goal was to craft a leather handle, something that would make the weapon safer to wield.

  He grabbed two rocks and wedged the caregiver’s knife between them to hold it at an angle that allowed him to cut leather with less movement. The knife was still too heavy for him to lift properly, but with effort, he could roll it back and forth. He kept rotating it until he positioned it correctly.

  Then, using the knife like a saw, he began cutting the leather into usable strips. Once he made a piece that looked good enough to serve as a grip, he tested it. It held up well.

  He cut several more strips, wrapped the handle, and tightened it securely using the leather.

  Hassan looked down at the result: a safe, functional weapon.

  But then he looked around and realized something troubling.

  His current position was vulnerable. There was no aerial protection, and no clear escape path if a predator showed up—especially one like the lizard creature.

  He needed a better home base, one that offered cover and security.

  As he began searching, he used the opportunity to train his movement—critical in a chase. Carrying the food bowl, the remaining hides, and his weapon at the same time doubled as physical training.

  When he became tired, he switched to training his senses. He used sight and hearing to scan for threats and, at times, smell—to detect camouflaged creatures that evaded his eyes and ears.

  Touch helped him better understand the terrain, especially through his hooves. It also aided his balance. Taste played a role later—he planned to identify poisonous leaves by sampling them in small amounts, banking on the assumption that his zamongarai body could digest most of them.

  Stick.

  Suddenly, Hassan couldn’t move. He looked down and felt a jolt of terror.

  A nearly invisible web had latched onto his chest.

  He tried stepping back—but the web was too strong and far too sticky.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Panic rising, he considered triggering a system exit—but a horrible thought hit him.

  If he exited now… wouldn’t he return stuck in the same place?

  Frantically, he tried everything he had on hand. First, he used a piece of animal hide to pull off the web—it stuck too.

  Next, he smeared food paste on it—nothing changed.

  Then, he tried slicing the web with his stick-sword—but it also got stuck.

  Desperate now, Hassan yanked the sword with all his might. It snapped. A thorn shot into his chest.

  Blood.

  “No, no, no—”

  His vision blurred. The world faded.

  A familiar message appeared:

  #####

  You have perished

  Exiting System Training Space

  #####

  That was the dumbest death he’d had so far.

  Why was that spiderweb so insanely strong?!

  After calming down, he accepted the loss. His branch was gone. He’d need to find another. But that could wait—he still had the rest of his day to get through.

  #####

  Hassan looked toward the forest ahead. It felt easier to approach than he remembered. His improved physique had significantly increased both his speed and endurance.

  What used to be an almost full-day walk had now been reduced to just two hours. His stamina felt nearly endless—he had practically run the entire way. He could’ve arrived even faster if he weren’t weighed down by the items he was carrying.

  It was unfortunate he couldn’t craft a sword this time—he lacked a knife.

  As he stepped through the edge of the forest, he didn’t bother to camouflage himself. This time, he felt confident.

  Caoo.

  The sound cut through the air.

  He looked up and saw it: a familiar crow-owl, a massive bird nearly twice his size, diving toward him.

  Really?! Was camouflage secretly some kind of test to avoid triggering attacks from this thing?

  Fear struck instantly—an automatic, bodily reaction.

  He remembered this creature well. It had killed him once before.

  With no hope of fighting it head-on, he immediately triggered the system space exit. The countdown began.

  60, 59, 58…

  As the seconds ticked down, he bolted toward the forest. If he could make it to the trees, the bird’s mobility would be restricted. But the real challenge was getting there in time.

  The bird closed in fast. When it was only moments away from reaching him, Hassan suddenly stopped—then dodged at the last possible second.

  The crow-owl landed hard, talons scraping the dirt, and Hassan seized the chance to sprint again, dashing into the forest's edge.

  This time, the bird didn’t pursue on foot. It likely realized that Hassan was far too fast on the ground. Instead, it took to the skies again—though it didn’t soar high. It chased low, gliding just above the terrain.

  Seeing it rapidly closing in once more, Hassan held his ground. He waited.

  When it came within range, he hurled an animal hide toward its beak and dove out of the way.

  It swerved off course, soaring past him.

  That gave him the opening he needed. He sprinted the final stretch and made it to the nearest tree. Pressing himself behind its thick trunk, he crouched low and held his breath.

  Only 13 seconds remained.

  A few moments later, he heard the beating of wings—close, but too late.

  #####

  Exiting System Training Space

  #####

  Hassan let out a long breath of relief.

  This was more than just a lucky escape—it was tangible proof of his progress.

  The first time he’d seen that bird, it had killed him before he could even react. Now, he had survived.

  A small smile formed on his lips. Maybe next time, he wouldn’t be the prey. Maybe the bird would be.

  Pushing aside that daydream, he returned to his training, this time more driven than ever.

  #####

  Upon reentering the system space, he scanned the forest around him. No bird in sight. It had likely flown off in search of easier prey.

  He had brought the kitchen knife this time—he planned to craft a new stick weapon.

  Having learned from his last mistake, he wasn’t going to let himself get caught by another hidden spiderweb.

  So, he grabbed a stick from nearby. He would use it to probe his path ahead—and leave markers along the way so he could return to the knife later.

  He then set out in search of a thorny bush.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take long.

  A few minutes later, he found one. It was different from the last—this one had yellow leaves instead of green—but based on what the system quest had taught him, he could reasonably assume it was poisonous.

  He needed to gather a few branches, but he had to be cautious. Last time, he was lucky to have caught the snake hiding in the bush. He doubted he could do that again.

  Approaching slowly, Hassan scanned for any movement. When he was close enough, he used an animal hide to grip the bush and pull. A branch snapped free.

  He didn’t waste time—he sprinted back immediately. Fortunately, nothing attacked him.

  Using the trail he had marked earlier, he returned to the kitchen knife.

  With more experience this time, he quickly crafted another handle for the stick and secured it tightly using leather scraps.

  Once the weapon was complete, he began scouting the forest’s edge for a secure spot to serve as a base.

  As he moved, he used the stick to probe ahead. Though part of him felt it was wasting valuable training time, he soon realized just how important it was.

  While checking the path ahead, the stick he was carrying snagged on something almost invisible—another web.

  What was going on with all these hidden webs?!

  He immediately backed away along the same path he had just taken.

  Before moving further, he took a moment to study the area. It looked no different from the rest of the forest—except for one thing. It was noticeably darker. As if the creature responsible was using the low light to hide its trap more effectively.

  From that point forward, he decided to avoid dark areas as much as possible and favor well-lit paths.

  After putting some distance between himself and the web, he found another stick and resumed his search, this time even more cautious.

  Eventually, he stumbled upon a location that looked perfect.

  The area was densely wooded, with tree roots that provided cover from both above and below. Even better, there was a clear escape route that led toward the nearby grassy plains.

  This was exactly what he had been looking for.

  Hassan decided that this would become his temporary training base.

  And once he felt truly comfortable in the forest, he would go deeper.

  #####

  “Have you… it actually… impossible—there is no way that is true.”

  Hassan strained to follow the muffled conversation outside. His grasp of the local language was still clumsy, but it was improving little by little. He could recognize fragments, phrases that hinted at meaning. Maybe he was wrong. Or maybe just partially right. But even if his understanding was incomplete now, it was only a matter of time before trial and error pieced it all together.

  The speakers eventually parted ways, drifting toward different groups nearby. That gave him a new idea—ambitious, maybe reckless. What if he tried listening to both conversations at once?

  At first, it worked. He caught flickers of meaning from two directions. But then, his perception cracked open too wide.

  It hit him like a sudden storm.

  His balance twisted. The world didn’t spin around him—it twisted, as if space itself folded at the edges. His stomach flipped violently. Everything in his body screamed confusion. His skin crawled with strange tingling. His eyes blurred and sharpened unnaturally. His ears rang with noise, then magnified whispers. Smells punched through his awareness like unseen claws. Even the air tasted sharp and sour.

  Then he puked.

  The taste hit hard. Too clear. Too vivid. It was like drinking sour bile and old metal—and knowing every molecule of it. That made him gag again. A chain reaction.

  Somewhere through the haze, he noticed the caregiver rushing toward him. Their expression flickered between worry and helplessness. They hovered, unsure whether to intervene or wait. In time, his hypersensitivity began to dull. His senses didn’t vanish—but became manageable. He could breathe. Think. Move again.

  The caregiver watched him for a moment longer, then cautiously sat nearby, still glancing at him now and then.

  Hassan wiped his mouth and leaned back, understanding dawning through the fog.

  His senses had likely evolved.

  He brought up the system panel to confirm it.

  #####

  Name: None

  Race: Zamongarai

  Age: 96 days

  Tier: 0

  Attributes:

  Physique: 6.73 → 7.44

  Mind: 13.75 → 14.21

  Soul: 13.01 → 14.13

  Talents:

  Human Intelligence (Rank 3: 45% → 49%) – Expand

  Human Soul (Rank 3: 38% → 42%) – Expand

  Zamongarai’s Physique (Rank 2: 5% → 17%) – Expand

  Zamongarai’s Sense (Rank 2: 92% → Rank 3: 1%) – Expand

  Zamongarai’s Soul (Rank 2: 1% → 9%) – Expand

  Vessel Control (Rank Unknown) – Expand

  Skills: Physique Manual (Basic: 33% → 37%), Mind Manual (Basic: 43% → 47%), Soul Manual (Basic: 40% → 44%), Tracking Manual (Basic: 21% → 37%)

  System Training Space – Time remaining until reset: 12 hours, 14 minutes, 47 seconds – Current Mode: Tutorial

  #####

  He exhaled.

  It was exactly what he’d suspected—and it ranked among the most painful evolutions yet. Even worse than the last physique boost—when electricity surged through his body like wildfire. But this? This was invasive. Deep. Overwhelming.

  The worst had passed. Now he needed to understand just how much he had changed.

  He started with hearing. Immediately, the world was louder, but not chaotic. He could hear distant murmurs as clearly as close whispers. Distant footsteps outside echoed like drops falling on stone. Better yet—he could adjust it. He instinctively dialed his hearing down, muting unnecessary noise, then back up to catch far-off sounds. This alone would help him learn the language far faster and survive better in the forest.

  His sight came next. Every object in the tent looked... different. More defined. He saw imperfections in the stitching of the hide walls, faint color differences in the woven fabrics, the pores on his own skin. Even the residue from his vomiting shimmered with disturbing clarity. Outside, light filtered through seams in the tent, casting rays that now looked impossibly precise.

  Touch had transformed as well. He felt the draft entering from beneath the tent, the shifting of air when the caregiver moved, the warmth from his own body radiating and reflecting off the hides. The sensation was no longer simple—it was layered. Complex. Almost... interactive.

  Taste was still reeling from the earlier experience, but its sensitivity was unmistakable. The sour aftertaste of bile still clung to his mouth like glue, but he knew now he could detect fine differences in foods or substances. Maybe even poison, given enough experience.

  Then came smell.

  It hit like a second wave of nausea—the acrid stench of vomit lingered in the enclosed space. He gagged again but resisted. Thankfully, the magic plant did its work, pulling the bile underground, absorbing the vomit and waste into the soil beneath.

  It would pass. Like everything else.

  His senses weren’t just sharper. They were tools now—extensions of his will. And if he could train with them, adapt to them, they’d become weapons in their own right.

  #####

  The forest looked different now.

  Not because it had changed—but because he had.

  The veil was lifted. Colors were richer. Sounds layered. Every leaf carried weight. Every crackle of bark told a story. The world had not shifted, but his place within it had.

  He turned his gaze toward the edge of the tree root where his weapon lay. The thorned branch sat just where he left it—but incomplete. Its leather handle had vanished again.

  Of course.

  The system space never retained external items. Materials brought in from outside were only temporary, functional while inside. Every tool made with outside materials had to be rebuilt each time he reentered. A frustrating limitation, but one he had grown used to.

  He moved with purpose.

  Reaching for one of the leftover animal hides he had brought into the system space, he pulled it close and placed it over the massive knife blade. He couldn’t lift the weapon—it was still too large—but manipulating the hide around it was far easier now, thanks to his strengthened physique and heightened control.

  He cut with care, shaping a fresh leather grip.

  Using thin slices of hide, he made bindings and wrapped them tightly around the thorned wood, securing the new handle into place. Every knot, every tug, felt like part ritual, part routine, part training.

  By the end, the weapon was functional again.

  A small smile formed on Hassan’s face. It was crude, but it worked. And better yet, it felt earned.

  He glanced around, evaluating his shelter. Nestled beneath a massive root near the edge of the forest, the spot offered a natural canopy of protection and a quick escape path if needed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was safe enough for now.

  Today, he felt bold.

  His senses were sharper. His awareness deeper. His confidence greater.

  It was time to hunt.