The world was swallowed by gray fog, and he was suddenly standing nowhere at all. It was hard to describe for a human used to three dimensions of space and one of time. He was now in a place that had four spatial dimensions, and he felt as if time didn't flow. He was simultaneously standing on a black, cold floor and levitating in nothingness. The black fog around him was all-consuming. There was an otherworldly scream coming from all around him and, at the same time, from a distant place ahead that he couldn't see. He didn't hear the scream; he felt it. And with it came fear—indescribable fear. It wasn't a normal predator-prey instinct, or a life-or-death situation. It wasn't even "something unknown" type of fear. It was existential anguish, as if the very concept of his existence was scared—as if the concept of fear had solidified into four spatial dimensions and black fog.
The fear was overwhelming and drowning. He wanted to scream, but his mouth wasn't emitting any sound. He instead screamed on an existential level. It was the same scream he felt coming from around and ahead of him, but much less intense. It felt as if the place itself was something forbidden, something mortals were never meant to gaze upon. The something that emanated that deep, intense existential scream scarred him in a way that would never be healed, and he suddenly lost all hope. Only his intelligence remained.
Then, he felt something deep within him. It was as if his intelligence had solidified. It was a concept. A piece of the concept of wisdom and intelligence was burning deep within him in a form similar to a monster core; however, it was purely white. There were no circles around the wisdom core, that had embedded itself in his existence, and no knots. The lively and intelligent golden light it emanated was dim and weak at first, but then it grew stronger and stronger until it became a violent outburst of light.
With that, he was reminded of what he had read in the half-destroyed book, and he willed himself to win. His mouth didn't open this time; his being spoke on an existential level. He didn't know how, but he spoke words describing his very being. He spoke his name into existence.
'Maledictus Sanguine'—that was the base of his being upon which he could build. His will now clashed with the fear conceptualized as the black fog. It was a violent clash between the concept of wisdom and the concept of fear. The clash lasted centuries, then millennia and eons. He felt the wisdom core start to change. It began to consume the primordial fear and started to weave a purple, ethereal ring around itself. It was the same circle as on the monster core he had picked up. But it didn't end there. As the fear began to lose and the wisdom started to dominate, two knots were tied on the fully formed ring around his core. His evolution was complete, and he found himself gasping for air on the floor of the destroyed library, back in the world under the white sky.
He lay on the cold floor for what felt like two hours. The feeling of fear had washed away, but he was extremely tired and his injuries hurt like hell. He slowly concentrated on where he felt the core; an image formed in his mind of a white stone illuminated by a calm light and, around it, a purple ring with two knots. He concentrated even more, and he could feel the name written on reality where the stone resided. It was time to try the Shaping skill the book detailed. He now had a wisdom core with one circle, which seemed to fulfill the needed prerequisite.
'By casting incantations and names in common language... hmm. I don't know any standardized spells, if there even are any. I have a name now. I should probably try something to heal myself. Let's not expect the incantation to heal me right away, but if I find something that works, I should be able to get ready in a few days and I should have meat until then.'
Sanguine—that was his name now. Maledictus Sanguine. He wondered what that could mean for some time, but then left the futile attempt behind. He concentrated on his core again. He assumed the magic would do something with his core and that the rings were probably indicators of how powerful he now was. If that was the case, then that wolf was truly the weakest monster. What didn't fit for now were the knots. Their meaning eluded his mind, but there would be ways to find out later. He concentrated his mind once more, thought about the name as the base, and then spoke.
"Heal."
As the words left his mouth, he felt the ethereal ring around his core twist once around its circumference. Then, he felt a sharp pain in his head, as if it were being split in two. At the same time, however, he felt his injuries begin the process of repair. He sat on the ground with his head in his arms, trying to withstand that horrible pain.
'Why does everything in this damn place hurt me so much...'
It was about five minutes before the pain finally stopped and Sanguine fell to the ground. One of the deep cuts was now fully healed, while the others unfortunately remained. He recalled the book again to try and conclude what he had done so wrong.
He sat and thought for two minutes, then stood up, concentrated, and spoke again.
"Let the flesh heal, the gaping wound close. Let my blood flow once again through healthy veins and wash away my pain. Let it be so done by the will of Sanguine. I command my body. Heal."