The dark was different when he opened his eyes.
Still silent. Still cold. But not empty.
He felt something now... like a soft burn just beneath his skin, pulsing slow and steady. Not pain. Not warmth either. Just presence. Something inside him that hadn't been there before.
His limbs were heavy. His stomach roared. His lips were cracked, his back sore, and the stone beneath him had become a second skin.
But he was alive.
Alive, after casting a spell that drained him dry.
He lifted his head. Bones cracked. Muscles trembled.
Then it appeared, waiting patiently above him.
[STATUS]
🧍 Name: Thane
🧬 Race: Human
🌍 Origin: Unknown Plane
❤️ Vitality: 4
💪 Strength: 3
⚡ Agility: 5
🧠 Intelligence: 6
🔥 Mana: 3 (30/30)
🔁 Passive: Law of Absolute Repetition (Active)
🎒 Skills:
[Firebolt – Untrained] (Mana Cost: 10)
📈 Level: 1
🧪 EXP: 18 / 100
[Passive Ability – Law of Absolute Repetition]
"One who repeats an action endlessly shall master it. One who masters endlessly shall reshape the world."
His eyes locked on one number.
Mana: 3.
It had been 2 before. He was sure of it. He had memorized that screen when he could barely breathe, barely think.
And now it was higher.
He hadn't eaten. He hadn't slept well. He hadn't meditated or been blessed by some priest.
He had pushed himself. Spent everything. Passed out.
And something inside him had changed.
His first thought wasn't joy.
It was confusion. Then suspicion.
Then, slowly, it settled into something quiet and unfamiliar.
Recognition.
For the first time in either of his lives, the world had given something back. Not out of kindness. Not out of charity. But because he had earned it.
He sat up.
Pain followed, but duller now... more like a bruise than a blade. His limbs were still weak. His mouth dry. But he could move.
And he had thirty mana now.
Three shots. Three chances.
He closed the screen with a thought. It faded without resistance, like it had just been waiting for him to acknowledge it.
The cave stretched around him. Damp walls. No light, save for the occasional shimmer from wet stone. It was colder now... or maybe that was just his body noticing it again.
He had no food.
No water.
No plan.
But he had mana.
He had fire.
Thane pulled himself upright and leaned against the wall, breathing slowly.
He remembered how the flame had come... what it felt like to will something into existence. Not hope. Not beg. Just act. Again and again until the world had no choice but to listen.
Firebolt.
He didn't cast it. Not yet. But just thinking it made something inside his chest thrum. Not a voice. Not a force. A hunger. Not the kind in his belly. The other kind. The kind that had no end.
He pressed his palm against the wall and let the rough stone scrape his skin.
"More," he whispered.
The word wasn't for the dungeon.
It was for himself.
He wasn't safe here. Not even close. But he wasn't helpless anymore either.
The fire had answered once.
It would again.
But he needed to be smarter.
Last time, he passed out from one repetition. One idea repeated until his mana broke him. Next time, he would need to be more efficient. Stronger. He would have to test what came first... mastery, or death.
He glanced at the wall he had burned. The scorch mark remained.
Proof.
Not a dream.
He moved deeper into the cave. Slowly. One hand against the stone. His eyes scanned the ground for anything that moved, for shadows that didn't belong.
Every step was cautious. Measured. Intentional.
He was learning.
Because if this was how the world worked... if it gave in return for pain... then he would give it everything.
He would bleed until it bent.