After Rathen left, I remained on the ground for a while.
It was still afternoon—
but my legs hurt more than anything else.
Not my arms.
Not my head.
My legs.
Every movement reminded me exactly why Rathen had targeted them.
Legs decide everything.
Duracal took one look at me, sighed, and shook his head.
"You'll destroy more than you help."
He pointed back toward the house.
"Go. Read."
I clicked my tongue—
but didn't argue.
At the moment, I had four books waiting:
The Miasma Book.
Khaun's book.
And the two books from the bookstore.
After a moment of thought, I chose the Miasma Book first.
If I was going to keep using it—
I needed to understand it properly.
As I read, I learned that miasma and mana were similar in structure—
but fundamentally different in nature.
Mana was natural energy.
Miasma—
contained poisonous properties within it.
That poison was part of its very existence.
Which meant attacks using miasma were naturally more dangerous to living beings than ordinary mana.
Some followers in THE HOLY EMPIRE — Chogauth even claimed:
Mana was divine.
Miasma was devil-born.
I didn't care much for religion—
but the practical parts mattered.
The book explained that miasma moved through the body much like mana.
But unlike mana—
for most humans—
it was toxic.
The poisonous properties could destroy the body from within if overused or improperly controlled.
Which explained something crucial.
My Poison Immunity.
That skill—
the one I was born with—
was likely the only reason miasma hadn't killed me already.
I leaned back slightly.
Skills…
Only that they were innate.
Born with you.
Passive.
Luck-based.
Some were powerful:
Night Vision.
Mana Sensitivity.
Enhanced Healing.
Others were… ridiculous.
Fast Hair Growth.
Sharp Teeth.
Stronger Nails.
Useful or useless—
it all depended on luck.
Mine?
Poison Immunity.
For the first time—
I started to understand just how valuable that might actually be.
I kept reading.
The dark brownish-red nature of my own miasma wasn't explained much.
No exact color classifications.
No deeper answers.
Still—
I did learn something useful.
Right now, my use of dark aura and miasma was crude.
Too crude.
I reinforced my body.
My weapons.
That was all.
No precision.
No advanced application.
No versatility.
And miasma itself had a serious flaw—
The more recklessly I used it—
the more unstable I became.
More aggressive.
More reckless.
Like I was pushing myself toward collapse.
That wasn't mastery.
That was danger.
In battle—
losing control could kill me just as easily as an enemy blade.
By evening, my head felt heavy from reading.
So I stepped outside.
Rusty was nearby.
Calm.
Grazing.
Peaceful.
Then—
I remembered something from the escort mission.
During one of my earlier uses of miasma—
some of it had reached Rusty.
At the time, nothing major happened.
But now—
I wanted to test it properly.
I informed Duracal I was heading out for a while.
Then I rode Rusty toward the outer edges near Lavian Forest.
Not deep enough to be reckless—
just far enough for privacy.
Once there, I dismounted.
Placed a hand on Rusty's neck.
And carefully—
very carefully—
channeled a small amount of miasma into him.
I had antidote potions ready.
Just in case.
At first—
Rusty whined.
His muscles tensed.
I immediately slowed the flow.
"Easy…"
For a moment—
I thought I'd made a mistake.
Then—
slowly—
he calmed.
Not forced.
Not struggling.
Accepting.
I narrowed my eyes.
For several minutes, I continued carefully.
Watching.
Waiting.
Nothing violent happened.
No collapse.
No visible poisoning.
No panic.
"…Interesting."
I stopped.
Maybe his body was adapting.
Maybe storing it.
Maybe I still didn't understand what was happening.
Either way—
that alone was useful.
I turned, preparing to mount fully and head back—
Then—
Rusty suddenly jerked.
Hard.
Before I could even react—
he leapt sideways with explosive force.
My body nearly lost balance.
I grabbed tightly.
And then—
the ground where Rusty had been standing—
exploded upward.
Dirt flew.
Mud scattered.
Something burst from directly beneath the earth.
My sensory field sensed nothing.
That alone was wrong.
Fast.
Violent.
Unexpected.
A Dung Rabbit.