Pleasant Journey

Terem awoke the next morning feeling both refreshed and confused.

'How could such a hardworking, kind boy turn out into this hateful, conniving lich? Wait, are they even the same person?' Terem half expected the lich to answer in his usual condescending way, but Davarose kept his silence.

'It's going to be a good day.'

Terem began to move his muscles, reveling in his new heightened perception. He now could consciously tune into the ambient flow of mana and subconsciously direct the mana paths within his own body. With a bit of practice, he began to use mana to bolster his muscle movements. After a bit of fine-tuning and practice, he found that he could crack tree bark with his bare fist without feeling pain and he chose to end the day's experiments at that.

Similar to the day he arrived at his campsite, Terem gathered his tools and excess food into one neat little pile, cursing himself for not having the foresight to make a simple leaf sack to store the acquired nuts and seeds, and set off into the forest once again. He took care to mark where he arrived from so departing in the opposite direction proved not to be too much of a hassle.

At this point, Terem was only searching for one thing. Aside from edible berries, he was searching for a water source. And alas, on the second day of marching since he discovered mana, a clear river came into view.

This was around midday by Terem's judgment and he felt that finding a water source was a task long overdue. Realistically, it should have been implausible to walk through a lush forest for close to a week and not once stumble upon a stream or brook of any size, much less a river or lake. It was almost enough to make Terem believe that he had been walking parallel to a water source, which is, in fact, what he had unknowingly been doing.

For the first time in weeks, Terem was allowed to revel in the blessing of liquid life. After a week of wandering with only berries to sate his hunger and thirst, water was a welcome change. However, he still had yet to learn fire magic or attempt to use his bow drill again. Terem, after a bit of deliberation, finally concluded that since he wasn't forced to resort to consuming nuts quite yet, he had no reason to use the bow drill and that was final.

Fire magic, however, would have made a fine addition to the already small arsenal Terem possessed so he continually practiced mana control and manipulation for two hours every night, trying to find a correct combination of syllables that would allow his mana to properly form into a spell. This practice was met with little success; although, he did learn how to constantly cycle mana through his system so it wasn't a complete loss. Nevertheless, there was something he was missing and Terem knew it; he just couldn't place his finger on it.

Davarose the unreliable boisterous encyclopedia also seemed dead-set on not helping since he was still in the process of sulking after he had locked his soul away to prevent further detrimental information leaks. Terem believed that this was probably the reason why he stopped dreaming about Davarose's past, but discovering more about that parasite wasn't going to help so he decided to leave the lich alone for the present.

Anyways, back at the river, Terem finished quenching his thirst and bathing so, with nothing to do, he began to consider his future path. What he knew was that towns needed water to survive; hell, even he eventually needed to find a water source to survive despite his abnormally long lack thereof.

So Terem concluded that he would follow the water stream, scavenging for food along the way. Last night, he had even spun more fiber threads and wove together enough leaves to make a leaf pouch. This was used as temporary nut storage, currently holding close to 150 small nuts and edible seeds while Terem estimated that it could contain close to 100 more. Overall, the sack was a success.

Now the problem was...

'Which way should I go?'

Although following the river was simplistic, Terem was split between traveling upstream or venturing downstream. After a minute of thought, he decided to follow the stream's flow downhill. Mainly because it was easier and only partially because he didn't want to become a mountaineer in his nude state.

Although Terem appeared to be unphased by the already cold climate that blanketed the forest. concluded that he lacked the necessary confidence to protect his bare body from sub-freezing temperatures. More specifically, he didn't know if the constant circulation of his currently weak magic circuit could produce enough heat to melt and protect against snowfall. Ultimately, just as this heating method was effective, Terem knew that it was not all-powerful.

Finally, with a decision made, the march continued along with the enjoyable silence.

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Half a week in this world's time flew by and Terem finally ran across a wide, flat, untrodden road that met with the river. Although it wasn't a village or city, it was much-appreciated progress. Now, no matter which direction he picked, he would wind up at some sort of human settlement or find a wanderer that could assist him, whether it be in the clothing department or the directional one. However, the lack of ruts in the muddy road made Terem doubt the latter scenario would come to pass.

<p style="direction: ltr;">Somewhat expectedly, not a soul was within sight so Terem settled on randomly choosing a direction before following the road along the endless walls of green. He also toyed around with the idea of making a leaf kilt to hide his privates, but Terem quickly discarded the idea since, either way, he would still be destitute in the eyes of vagabonds.

He even began to playfully curse his overbearing misfortune for not shepherding him into a pack of swarthy bandits that coincidentally would offer up their clothes out of the kindness of their hearts. After all, he was currently at a peak in his physical condition that was incomparable to any of the other 46 years of his life; however, no such incident occurred. Terem basically skipped across the forest detritus and moss as he followed the road, allowing his mind to picture the subtle pleasantries of a small medieval woodland village. Instead of the reality awaiting him.

Morning cycled to evening once more and Terem found a nice tree limb to cozy up to, utilizing the rope he made to lash himself against the sturdy branch before promptly falling asleep.

However, Terem had another dream.

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"This is sheer brilliance! I'm brilliant!" What Terem recognized as Davarose's voice shouted exuberantly from the darkness.

"I have done it. My masterpiece! The key to my immortality! They all called me mad, but look at those silly warlocks now. Those bitches and their disgusting masters can all fuck off!" A bone-chilling cackle tinged with signs of phlegm rolled through the dark, only ending when Davarose broke down into a fit of coughs, retching sounds, and wheezes.

Minutes passed before the fit finally eased, allowing the middle-aged Davarose to speak once again.

But he only continued to cackle like a mad hen, demonstrating his lack of foresight and clearly learning nothing from his previous attack, suffering a relapse shortly after.

Once this bout passed, however, Davarose spoke again.

"Now to begin."

The man's voice finally lost its twist of madness, adopting a hint of solemnity to replace it. Like this, he began to chant.

"Mairas... Bestile haren... Refein gyze... Xarenth..."

The string of words continued for nearly ten minutes before Davarose finally cut himself off.

And then something unexpected happened.

"AAA~H!"

The dream suddenly became vivid, depicting a man dressed in a black robe desperately clawing at his own face. The middle-aged man, however, was extremely gaunt from years of obvious malnutrition, and his eyes were deeply sunk within his skull.

But this still wasn't the strangest part. Slowly, the man's face began to change.

Along with Davarose's hand, the left side gradually began to wither away, not even leaving dust behind, while the other side seemed to become more vibrant and flushed out, regaining its vitality within seconds.

The high-pitched wail continued to drone on.

Finally, only bones remained on half of Davarose's body while the other half appeared to be rejuvenated, but plastered to the man's body like fake skin. The screams abated when the man passed out in the dark, stony room.