The sun must have risen sometime, between when Tyler had woken up and when he’d finally managed to stand. He could hear the distant squawking of seagulls, and a few thin beams of light peeked through the blocked entrance to mix with the faint illumination of the green embers across the room.

  It was an oddly peaceful scene, all things considered. He’d lived to see a new day, and just as powerful as the actual mana in his soul was the hope that it brought with it. The high of survival and progress soothed his racing mind, making even this creepy cave filled with fruits and broken furniture feel much less ominous.

  Of course, the ambiance was ruined by the insectoid corpse sitting barely five feet away from him. It looked much the same as it had when it was alive — smooth, sand-colored and threatening — but the noticeably crushed chitin helped reassure him that it was just as dead as he’d left it.

  He’d expected it to smell putrid, but even after a night of sitting out, it didn’t have any noticeably strong scent. Though as he looked down at the dried bug fluids covering his entire lower half, he thought maybe his nose had just adjusted.

  He remembered what that Analysis message had told him — the smell of these dead insects caused their siblings to swarm. This one was apparently too young to have fully developed that ability, but that one duneclaw at his doorstep had still been fairly insistent. He wondered how long the thing had been trying to get in.

  Tyler laughed. “Hah, look at you losers. You got stopped by a dead tree.”

  He paused. Maybe taunting the swarm of murderous aliens wasn’t the best idea.

  Then again, maybe he deserved a bit of semi-delirious ranting. For the first time in years, he felt like he had a clear path forwards.

  Yeah, his body was in a horrid state. He’d sustained a couple of bad cuts and scrapes in his fight with the duneclaw, and he was stranded in a dark cave on a random island that he knew nothing about, with no way to contact anyone nor any possessions besides the pajamas that he’d been in on the night of the Storm.

  But he at least had a small supply of food that looked like the Earth fruits he was used to, and there were teachings on the walls — a path to master this strange new power he’d Awakened within himself.

  Even as he struggled to sit against the wall once more, he realized that the scabs must have formed fairly quickly over all of his cuts from the previous day.

  Maybe a tad faster than they were supposed to, he thought. He could feel the mana from his core suffusing his muscles like a fine mist, even without his conscious circulation. It was far subtler than the adrenaline-inducing power rush that he’d discovered from the cave carving, but it seemed to be constant. So long as he had the mana inside of him, he assumed it would provide some sort of benefit.

  This doesn’t feel like a curse, he thought once again.

  The text had made it sound like he would never be able to do magic, but wasn’t all of this magic? He could enhance his strength, heal faster, and even take hits better, if the state of his injured leg and chest was anything to go by. The duneclaw’s front pincer was clearly weaker than its tail leg, and this one’s limb had already been injured beforehand, but given his fragile state he was still astounded that he’d even been able to remain standing after that. With the enhancement running through him, he’d even been able to stand.

  Was it because of the Aspect?

  He didn’t know anything about this world, but Resilience did feel like something that would act mostly on his body anyways. If Savadiere’s title was anything to go by, the man had an Aspect of Reflection, or something similar. He couldn’t imagine that Reflection would have nearly as many bodily effects as he was currently experiencing.

  At the same time, Tyler didn’t need any System Boon to tell him that the effects that Reflection did have must have more than made up for it.

  He remembered that reality-bending magic, the instant reversal of momentum as a man just a bit taller than Tyler himself felled a beast the size of a house in the span of a nanosecond.

  Even now, as his own soul was brimming with magical power, he couldn’t comprehend how that had been real. It was as if for just a moment, the world itself had bowed to Savadiere’s will.

  Absolute Counter.

  If he remembered one thing for the rest of his life, it would be that moment. That was the power to change fate, to shrug off the weight of the world and take hold of your own destiny. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted… anything, maybe.

  But he suspected he would never get it.

  One’s meridians remain eternally locked, their mana unable to affect the outside world despite its unending volume.

  If he went by his current assumption, none of the things that Savadiere had done would be possible for him. If all he could do was affect his own body, then that left him with very little, all things considered.

  But he still had a path to that level of power. Past that level of power.

  He didn’t understand how. How could these scrawny little emaciated limbs ever survive a ginormous claw hitting with the speed and weight of a truck speeding down the freeway? How could they ever pound a beast bigger than a half-dozen elephants into the ground, then levitate a giant magic cauldron and —

  He paused. A giant magic cauldron. Could he still use magic items?

  The Core of Protection seemed to have worked despite the limitation, and that was clearly an external effect. Now that he thought about it…

  He turned towards the gray piece of crystal that had been sitting there on the cave floor this entire time.

  He concentrated on the artifact, squinting as he fumbled around for that mental ‘switch’ that he’d felt in that moment where the world had slowed down. It took him a couple of moments, but eventually:

  System Boon Engaged: Analysis

  The Core of Protection

  The Core of Protection was supposed to be a fully-autonomous artifact. When undamaged, this defensive treasure acted as an ever-shifting suit of crystalline armor, capable of reacting independently to defend its master from any number of attacks.

  By the time Savadiere, Master of Light had found it, the winds of time had greatly reduced its capabilities. Yet, it was still powerful enough to withstand the strikes of a thousand-year-old emerald dragon.

  However, in withstanding that attack, the Core of Protection was broken even further. It was reduced to a ghost of its most essential function — when fully charged, it may muster enough mana to repel a strike that may be deadly to a Novice.

  The Core of Protection has been blood-bonded to you through your Awakening. As an extension of your soul, it may slowly siphon your mana in order to charge itself.

  The Core of Protection will be fully charged in three days.

  Analysis. Nice.

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  It looked like this thing was a part of his soul, in a weird way. Had Savadiere given it to him on purpose, knowing what the Curse was? Or had it just been a lucky break?

  He could vaguely sense it if he delved deep into that mindset he used when visualizing his soul. It was a different feeling from the immense pressure from Savadiere he’d sensed the moment he’d begun Awakening, and a different feeling from the burgeoning sense of something permeating his surroundings that he still hadn’t quite figured out yet.

  Whatever the case, it looked like it would be ready to help him again in three days. And as he kept his mental palm on his Analysis, he turned to the rest of the cave, firing it off on everything he could see.

  Most objects just returned mundane descriptions — like his defense stick, which simply read Broken Table Leg. The magic banana seeds and the remains of Savadiere’s magical equipment also had oddly short descriptions, which contrasted with the cave carving depicting the technique he’d learned.

  The Flowing Sands

  The Flowing Sands is the foundational body enhancement technique for the Art of the Sandstorm, chosen cultivation path of the Reaman Tribes of Korshaan. Differing only slightly from the Reaman body’s natural enhancement patterns, the Flowing Sands emphasizes dexterity and steady strength when practiced with the Reaman peoples’ natural Aspects. With the Aspect of Resilience, the Flowing Sands slightly boosts the body’s durability as well, but the boost to dexterity is not as prominent as it would be with the Aspects of Sand or Bone.

  It seemed like the more he got to know the things themselves, the more the Analysis could tell him.

  And seeing that the technique boosted his durability made his eyes light up. Then again, it wasn’t like he needed another excuse to practice — he was pretty sure the only way he’d manage any sort of movement was with this technique.

  Taking a deep breath, he dove back into that mental space, coaxing his mana back into those loops and swirls. After a couple of fumbling tries, he got it to stick again.

  With a groan, he forced himself to his feet.

  Now was the hard part.

  Step. Step. Step.

  Falter.

  He hissed as his legs gave out underneath him. His knees impacted the ground hard, and he cursed as the new pain shot through him.

  “God dammit.”

  It took another two tries before he finally made it all the way over to the entrance of the cave.

  He was a little out of breath and his legs were shaky, but he’d made it.

  Now was the tough part. The duneclaw that had been scraping its claws against it had finally left, and he had no idea when another would come to take its place.

  With a deep breath, he restarted the technique. It coursed through him, strength blooming once more in every fiber of his body. With all that strength, he gathered himself against the log and pushed.

  Nothing.

  Okay. What if he pulled?

  Nothing.

  Maybe he was just setting himself against the log wrong. What if he tried a different stance?

  Nothing.

  What about using a stick to wedge in the gap? Or trying to worm things under the log so he could then lever it out? Or clawing away at the wood itself?

  As a last resort, he tried to tackle the log, getting to a hobbling run and then slamming against it as fiercely as he could.

  Nothing.

  “Fuck!” he shouted, panting against the heavy wood as pain erupted from his shoulder. “Really?”

  He couldn’t get out. He was trapped in here.

  He’d done what he was supposed to do. He’d survived the Curse, survived the duneclaw, learned magic, and even gotten a better handle of Analysis.

  He just wasn’t strong enough.

  Tyler slowly slid down against the wall, teeth gritted as the rough stone slightly scraped his back. He slapped a palm against his forehead over and over, as if throttling his brain might somehow make him realize that there was an easy solution to this all along.

  “Why? Why does everything always have to get fucking worse?”

  He was doomed to die as it was. His injured leg was too much of a liability to regularly walk on, and the inflammation ravaging him ensured that even with the passive healing he was getting the injury would last for far longer than it should. Even with the Flowing Sands he doubted he was strong enough to even open a coconut, much less free himself from the cave.

  He screamed with all the frustration built up from years of failure, so loud that he could feel the force of it reverberate in his chest.

  This wasn’t good enough. He needed to get stronger.

  Even if he got out of here, he was trapped on an island full of monsters. Monsters so vicious that even their children could decapitate him if he made a single slip-up. And then even if he got out of that, the only thing as far as the eye could see was a vast glitchy emptiness that was assuredly ten times deadlier.

  He needed to be prepared for all of it.

  Within him, he could feel that revived spark of determination catch on the wave of emotion, bursting into a brilliant blaze.

  His execution of the Flowing Sands was imperfect. He needed more consistency, more strength. He needed the power that Savadiere had promised he could achieve.

  Stronger. To get stronger, he needed to get his bearings.

  “Alright. I’m stuck in this stupid cave. I just hurt myself more in a last-ditch effort to get out. My inflammation is going even crazier than normal, and the only things that I have to help me are a bunch of fruit, broken furniture, and esoteric cave carvings. What can I do with all that?”

  Tyler thought for a moment, letting his breaths come slower and fuller. Most of the things plaguing him were outside of his control, but he supposed that he was used to it by now. He’d endure, just as he’d always done. And now, what could he do?

  “Well, I’m hungry as shit.”

  That was a start.

  Diving back into his soul, he thrummed the Flowing Sands back into motion and began moving himself. He didn’t bother with walking — that took a level of concentration and effort that he didn’t think he had right now — but he could inch himself over bit by bit.

  It took a while, but he managed to gradually shuffle over to the fruit sacks.

  He peeled a banana — a regular one, according to the Analysis — and downed the finger-sized thing in a single bite.

  The fruit tasted very different compared to a supermarket banana, but he kind of liked it. He spat the seeds over to the space where Savadiere had placed the ones from the larger magic banana, realizing with a grimace that the area had been splattered with a bit of his blood.

  But he supposed if he covered it with enough seeds, nobody would be able to know.

  Over the next half hour, he worked his way through a sizable amount of banana, passionfruit, and ackee — a weird, almost nut-like fruit that opened to reveal a trio of giant black seeds. It tasted kind of savory, but he didn’t hate it. It was hard to hate any sort of food when you were this hungry.

  By the fifth fruit, Tyler was starting to feel better.

  He’d thought about his situation as he gorged himself. He needed to open the door, and he needed to be able to survive after that log was dislodged.

  So, he was in a bit of a predicament. After his breakfast, he guessed that he had maybe two or three weeks’ worth of food. Maybe more than that of water — the sacks of coconuts far outweighed all the rest of the fruit combined — but only if he could access it. And right now, he was doubtful if he could. It was the same problem that seemed to plague his immediate chances of survival — the enhancement just wasn’t strong enough.

  Before he died of dehydration, he needed to get strong enough to open a coconut, and to do so he needed to get a better hold of the Flowing Sands.

  He Analyzed the Flowing Sands carving again, and this time he tried to mentally push.

  C’mon, give me more. I can feel there’s more there.

  The Flowing Sands

  All Reaman children who wish to one day become Warriors must master the Flowing Sands by the age of 10. It is a prerequisite for all higher techniques in the Ancestors’ Carvings, and it is drilled amongst the young until they can maintain the technique until their mana pool runs dry.

  A common schedule of training includes a session of practice before all four traditional meals, leaving enough room in between each session for the mana pool to replenish. As the children grow older and their capacity develops, they may dedicate a time every night before bed to hone the skill at length…

  “Wow,” he muttered.

  On the plus side, he was getting a hang of this Analysis thing. It looked like for this subject at least it would just keep spewing info the more he pushed, and even if most of the lore didn’t mean anything to him, he could extract tidbits of useful stuff here and there.

  On the minus side, he was currently getting beat by a bunch of alien fifth graders.

  Still, he couldn’t feel too bad about himself. The text seemed to imply that the average child practicing this technique could only do it a couple times a day at first. Meanwhile, if he looked at his mana pool…

  He chuckled. He’d been attempting to use it all morning, and there was hardly a dent.

  Tyler leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and dove back into his soul.