A week had passed.
Morning settled gently over the riverbank, unhurried and calm, as if the world itself had decided to take a breath.
"I see trees of green, and monsters too,
I see them bloom, for me and for you…"
Perched on a sturdy branch overlooking the flowing river, he swayed lightly as he sang. A long stick rested across his lap like an imaginary guitar, and his fingers moved along it with practiced ease, strumming invisible strings as if they truly existed.
"And I thought to myself… what a wonderful world."
A small smile lingered on his lips as his voice faded into the quiet hum of nature.
Below him, the river flowed endlessly, its surface shimmering in the morning light. Leaves drifted lazily along the current, carried wherever the water chose to take them. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling branches in a gentle rhythm that mirrored the calm he felt inside.
For once… There was no tension.
No urgency.
Just the simple act of being alive.
Then—
A low growl rose from below.
He paused mid-strum, glancing down from his perch.
Standing at the base of the tree, framed by dappled sunlight and shadow, was a familiar figure:
The Crimson Manticore.
"Oh, hey…" he called out casually, leaning slightly forward as if greeting an old friend. "Are you here for a rematch?"
He tilted his head, curiosity threading through his tone.
"How did you even find your way here?"
The manticore didn't answer—at least, not in words. It simply looked up at him, golden eyes steady, its twin tails swaying slowly from side to side.
There was no tension in its stance, no coiled aggression waiting to spring.
Instead… it felt calm.
Relaxed.
As if it had come for something other than battle.
And somehow—
He understood that.
He pushed himself off the branch and dropped lightly onto the forest floor.
Dry leaves crunched softly beneath his feet as he straightened.
The manticore didn't move to attack.
Instead, it turned its massive body—slow, deliberate—and lowered itself slightly, presenting its back to him.
He blinked.
"…Are you telling me to hop on?"
A low growl rumbled from the creature, deep but calm—almost expectant.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"Well then… invitation accepted."
He stepped forward without hesitation, giving the manticore a light pat along its side before climbing onto its back. The coarse texture of its crimson fur brushed against his palms as he settled in, adjusting his balance.
"Let's go."
He tapped it lightly.
The response was immediate.
With a powerful push, the manticore surged forward, its muscles coiling and releasing in perfect rhythm. The forest blurred around them as it ran, weaving effortlessly between trees, leaping over roots and uneven ground with practiced ease.
Wind rushed past his face, carrying the scent of earth and leaves. He leaned slightly forward, instinctively syncing his body with the creature's movement.
Fast.
Way faster than running on his own.
The journey didn't take long.
By the time the sun had climbed high above the canopy, casting sharp beams of light through the trees, they arrived.
The familiar clearing came into view, along with the towering tree that stood like a silent sentinel before the cave.
Without slowing much, the manticore carried him straight inside.
Darkness swallowed them as they entered the cave's mouth.
The temperature dropped instantly, the air turning cool and still. Their footsteps echoed faintly along the narrow passage as they moved deeper into the tunnel.
At first, there was only shadow.
Then—
A faint glow flickered in the distance.
Dim at first… barely noticeable.
But with every step forward, it grew stronger.
Brighter.
Until finally—
They passed through the end of the long corridor.
And the space opened up.
A wide cavern stretched out before them, vast and uneven, its walls and ceiling embedded with countless glowing ores. Soft light radiated from every direction, reflecting off jagged surfaces and bathing the entire chamber in a surreal, shimmering glow.
"Whoa…"
The word slipped from his lips as he took in the sight, eyes reflecting the glow of the cavern.
They were everywhere.
In the ground.
Along the walls.
Even high above, scattered across the ceiling like stars frozen in stone.
Two additional passageways revealed themselves at the far end—one to the left, one to the right—both disappearing into deeper darkness.
He slid off the manticore's back and stepped forward, drawn toward one of the scattered piles of shimmering ore. Kneeling slightly, he picked up a fragment, turning it between his fingers as its faint light pulsed softly.
"Let's see…"
He appraised it with his ultimate skill, Eye of Providence.
A translucent screen appeared in front of him.
Name: Lumenite Ore
Quality: Rare
Description: A rare ore that stores and emits natural energy. Often used as a power source.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Bingo… this smells like money."
There it was—that familiar spark. Not just survival… but opportunity.
Even the thought of it made him smile.
For a moment, he was completely absorbed, eyes scanning the surrounding veins of glowing ore, already imagining uses, possibilities.
Behind him, the manticore moved.
It padded across the cavern floor, heading toward a section of the earthen wall. Then it let out a low sound, just enough to pull his attention back.
"Hmmm?"
He glanced over his shoulder.
"What's wrong?"
The creature didn't answer. It simply walked forward—
—and vanished.
He froze.
"Whoa..."
He straightened slowly, blinking as his mind tried to catch up with what he had just seen.
"Hold on… is this Harry Potter?"
He muttered it under his breath, half in disbelief, half in amusement.
Carefully, he approached the spot where the manticore had disappeared. The wall looked completely normal—solid, unmoving, just like the rest of the cave.
"No way..."
He raised his sword and gave it a cautious poke.
The blade slid through.
No resistance.
No sound.
Just… gone.
His brows lifted.
"Seriously? Is Hogwarts on the other side?"
There was only one way to find out.
Taking a small breath, he stepped forward—
And passed through.
What he saw next made him stop dead in his tracks.
The space wasn't just a cavern—it was… a home.
Everywhere he looked, multiple DIY furniture pieces were arranged with surprising care. Tables, chairs, shelves, even a small bed—all seemingly crafted from whatever the previous occupant could scavenge.
Despite the rough materials, the arrangement had a rhythm to it, a sense of order and life.
And the rare ores… planted in every corner, casting a soft, steady glow across the room. Their light reflected off the walls and ceiling, turning the cavern into a gentle, golden sanctuary.
It was unlike anything he'd ever built himself—far neater than his ramshackle treehouse.
The manticore lay on its belly near a small table beside the bed, tail lazily twitching. Its head lifted slightly, eyes following his movements, calm as ever.
And then, his gaze fell on the occupant at the table.
A skeleton.
Sitting upright on a simple chair, its empty eye sockets stared straight ahead.
Instinctively, he froze.
Caution flared, honed over countless encounters with beasts and danger.
For a moment, his mind raced: Is it hostile? Undead? His overthinking trait—always a loyal companion—made a timely reappearance.
He let out a shaky laugh and placed a hand over his chest.
"OH… just a skeleton. Phew."
Relief washed over him in an audible exhale.
He stepped closer, circling to inspect it more carefully.
Its clothes were fragile, threadbare, and tattered from the relentless passage of time. Every fold and tear told a story of years forgotten.
Laid out neatly on the table before the skeleton was a scroll, meticulously shaped from bamboo and tied together with thin vines. Words had been written carefully, one per peach, in dark charcoal strokes.
Beside it… a pendant.
He picked up the scroll, careful not to damage it. A small thrill ran through him—fortunately, it was written in English.
"To the next person, if you happened to stumble upon this message, consider reading it carefully. My name is Elias, a reincarnator just like you."
His eyes flicked toward the skeleton, and for a moment, he imagined it nodding, silently acknowledging the greeting.
He continued reading.
"I'm a tamer, the first thing I picked, as I love animals."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Same, buddy. Same."
His fingers brushed the edges of the scroll as he muttered, thinking of his own shadow skills—picked at random, still shrouded in mystery with descriptions of nothing but question marks. It didn't matter.
He could relate.
He understood the joy of choosing what resonated with the heart, not just the mind. And his love for ninja lore made it all the more familiar.
He moved to the next part of the message.
"My dream was to live a slow life, so I picked non-combat skills that could be useful to the life I want to live, but that was a mistake."
His brow furrowed. A quiet nod followed.
He thought back to his time in the divine realm—how he, too, had aimed for a normal, healthy, peaceful life. A life that was taken away from him by his own destiny.
This wasn't just a message. It was a mirror.
And he understood it.
He moved on to the next section, eyes scanning the carefully written words.
"I was so excited thinking of this new life, but I found myself waking up in the middle of nowhere, with only a sword and a pendant at my side, surrounded by dangers."
He nodded slowly, a wry smile forming.
"I feel you, buddy. I feel you."
The words rang familiar—too familiar.
That sense of being dropped into a world that didn't care about your plans… he knew it all too well.
He continued reading.
"Fortunately, I managed to tame a crimson manticore that became my partner and guard."
His gaze flicked to the creature lying calmly nearby.
"Have you been guarding this place all this time?" he asked softly.
The manticore responded with a low, approving growl, tail swaying slightly.
"I see… You did well. Really, well done, buddy."
He gave it a thumbs-up, and the creature wagged its tail once more, the motion subtle but deliberate.
Even though its master had long since vanished, the manticore had remained.
Vigilant.
Loyal.
Guarding a home that now belonged only to memories.
And in that silent moment, he felt a deep respect—not just for the creature, but for the bond it had preserved, standing watch over a world that no longer had its original owner.
He stared at the scroll, the words pressing against his chest.
"Soon, I became accustomed to this new life. I told myself that living with nature was not too bad after all. But that was another mistake—and a crucial one that will cost me my life."
The sentence hit him like a sudden gust of cold wind.
He could feel it—the creeping comfort, the dangerous ease of being satisfied with simply surviving. He had been slipping into the same trap, lulled by the freedom of the wilderness and the rhythm of his days.
He shook his head, urgency prickling at the edge of his thoughts, and moved on to the next part.
"Winter came, and even though I prepared for it, it was harsher than I anticipated. I ended up catching a disease I couldn't figure out, and now I'm hanging on to a fleeting life as I write this letter."
He lingered over the words, emotions surfacing unbidden.
Pity.
Sadness.
Anger.
Finally, with a heavy heart, he read the last lines.
"So, if you are reading this, my advice for you is to leave this place as soon as possible. Take the pendant with you, and I pray that it will help you in your journey as it helped me in my short-lived life."
The scroll trembled slightly in his hands.
He stayed still, heart pounding, unsure how to respond.
Gratitude.
Regret.
Fear.
All tangled together.
The legacy of Elias—a life lived briefly, a companion lost, a pendant left behind—now rested in his hands.
And in that moment, he understood just how fragile and fleeting this second chance could be.
He lifted the pendant from the table, letting it catch the dim flicker of light from the ores.
Its surface gleamed faintly, almost as if it recognized the weight of the moment.
He appraised it.
Name: Pendant of Illusion
Quality: Rare
Description: A rare artifact that grants its wearer the ability to create illusions.
He turned to face the skeleton, posture straightening, and gave a crisp 90-degree bow. Silence filled the space, heavy but respectful.
"Thank you," he said, voice steady and sincere. "I'll use it well."
Gratitude welled inside him—not only for the pendant, but for the words, the life lessons left behind. This stranger had survived just long enough to leave a message, and in doing so, had spared him the same fate.
He knelt beside the manticore, running a hand along the creature's head in a gentle gesture. His voice softened, low and deliberate.
"Let's give your master a proper farewell."
It was all he could do—pay tribute to a life once lived, and honor the trust left in his hands.
The manticore nudged him lightly, understanding somehow, as if it knew this ritual mattered.
For a fleeting moment, the room held only respect, memory, and quiet reverence.
He inspected the woven reed blanket on the bed. Despite the years, it was still usable.
Carefully, he spread it on the floor, arranging the bones with quiet reverence, wrapping them with the utmost care. Each movement was deliberate—a silent promise to honor the life that had once been.
He took the sword from its rack and stepped outside.
The manticore followed closely, its massive paws silent against the cave floor.
Together, they wandered until the cliff above the cave's entrance came into view.
Below, the forest stretched endlessly, bathed in sunlight—a fitting place for a final rest.
He knelt and began to dig with the sword, the earth yielding slowly, just deep enough to hold the remains. Kagen appeared beside him, emerging from his shadow, and together they built a simple stone tower, the sword planted atop it like a sentinel.
He pulled the bamboo container from his satchel, tilting it carefully to pour its contents over the grave.
"May you be reborn in a better world," he whispered. The words carried weight, sincere—for a comrade he had never met.
Silence followed.
For a long while, the three of them stood there—warriors, guardians, witnesses—paying respect to a life that had left its mark even in absence.
"What's your plan now? Are you going to guard this place forever?" he asked, keeping a hand on the manticore's side. His tone carried a quiet hope—perhaps a momentary comfort for a loyal companion.
He knew too well the ache of losing someone dear.
The manticore responded with only a low growl.
Silence settled again, heavy but calm.
After a pause, he hesitated before asking, "Do you want to come with us?"
The creature let out a soft whimper, lowered its head, and nudged his side gently.
"Understood. Welcome to the family, buddy," he said, tapping its side a few times. The manticore wagged its tail lightly.
He chuckled softly.
The creature's actions were more like those of a dog than a fearsome beast.
They lingered for a few more minutes, savoring the quiet, before heading back home, now accompanied by a new family member.
By the time they arrived, the sun was already sinking toward the horizon, painting the sky in molten shades of red and gold.
He lay on his back on the balcony floor, eyes fixed on the fading light.
His mind replayed the discoveries of the day—the words of the scroll, the life of the predecessor he would never meet.
"If all of the reincarnators started in this wilderness… how many of us actually made it out alive? How many perished, their hope of a second life crushed by this cruel reality?"
The question hung unanswered, heavy in his chest.
Is this wilderness… a test?
He clenched his fists, staring at the horizon as if the sky itself might offer an answer.
"Fine… if you want me to prove I deserve it, then I'll earn it. Watch me, you cruel god… I'll find my way out of this wilderness—or die trying!"
His voice cut through the evening air—bold, defiant, tinged with desperation.
Silence answered him.
Nothing.
Only the echo of his voice—and the clarity of his newly forged goal.