“How can you even live here?” I coughed hard, waving the thick air away. The scent of burning herbs and damp earth was so strong it felt like I was inhaling a potion in gas form.

  The Shaman only chuckled softly, ignoring me.

  Flickering lights from enchanted candles danced along the walls, their shadows shifting restlessly like ghosts eager to escape. The entire hut oozed mystery.

  On both sides stood open shelves neatly lined with potion ingredients, each arranged by category. Judging by the labels, most of them came from Willow’s End.

  “So, what exactly are we doing here?” I asked casually, though my mind was already running through plans for the worst-case scenario.

  “Sit,” the Shaman said quietly, pointing toward a small cushion.

  “Wait, at least tell me what you’re planning to do first,” I protested.

  The last thing I wanted was for this to turn into something... strange.

  “No newborn has ever found the hidden grove before,” he said, his tone even. “Let alone the Tear. I just want to check your Mana.”

  “It was just luck,” I replied quickly.

  “Then you won’t mind if I check, right?” he said again, calm but probing.

  “And what do I get out of this?” I shot back.

  The old druid laughed, deep wrinkles creasing his weathered face.

  “You really are an interesting one, Leafshade,” he said in a slow, soothing voice. “What is it you want?”

  “Let me pick some potion ingredients,” I answered without hesitation.

  “So that’s your goal. What ingredients?”

  “Some Swift Lotus Seeds and a few Blue Glass Snails,” I replied before he could change his mind. Getting those would save me a lot of time.

  “Fleeting Potion, huh?” he mused. “You do realize druids rarely need that one?”

  “Yeah, I know. But it sells for a nice price,” I added with a shrug.

  The Shaman burst into laughter. “You remind me of my young self.”

  “So… we have a deal?” I asked cautiously.

  “Answer me first,” he said, his tone sharpening. “What do you know about the Tear?”

  “I have no clue,” I lied smoothly. “Just that it was buried underground. I picked it up because it looked valuable.”

  “How exactly were you able to sense it?” Suspicion crept into his voice.

  “I don’t know how. I just knew.” I paused, letting the words hang. “Same way I know there’s something hidden beneath this room.”

  His calm expression faltered. Shock flickered in his eyes as he grabbed my shoulders. “Show me exactly where.”

  He took the bait. Perfect.

  I walked slowly toward a small table cluttered with trinkets and jars, pretending to sense something. “Right under this table,” I said, pointing.

  He stared at me, half amazed, half curious.

  “What’s hidden here?” I asked.

  “You don’t need to know,” he said quickly.

  He didn’t need to know that I’d stolen it countless times before, back when I played Dreadspire.

  Lucky for me, even though the Shaman was different, their secret storage place was still the same.

  “So, when you said you could check my Mana, does that mean you can see my power level too?” I asked, half hopeful. It’d be great if he could read my stats.

  “One of them,” the Shaman replied. “I can also see the nature of your Mana, and the spells you possess.”

  That's good news.

  “It should be quick, right?” I pressed.

  “Yes,” he nodded slowly. “It only takes a few hours.”

  “What!? I can’t do that! I have a class at seven. Instructor Vallen will kill me if I’m late!” I protested.

  “I’ll handle it,” the Shaman said calmly. “Besides, no one will teach you about magic and spells better than me.”

  That actually made sense. He didn’t get the title Shaman for nothing.

  “Fine, only if I can get more potion ingredients out of this,” I bargained.

  “I thought we already had a deal.”

  “That deal didn’t include me skipping class, did it?”

  “You’re lucky I like you,” he said with a soft chuckle. “We’ll discuss that later. Let's start the ritual first.”

  I grinned before settling down on the cushion he pointed to.

  ***

  I had no idea how many hours had passed. I sat there motionless, feeling my Mana flow being stirred and twisted until nausea crept up my throat. The Shaman occasionally muttered under his breath or clicked his tongue in irritation.

  A few times, I dozed off, only to be jolted awake by a sharp, pinching sensation deep inside my body. I didn’t dare make a sound. The last thing I wanted was to break his concentration and have to start this cursed ritual all over again.

  “Hey, Leafshade,” the Shaman finally said after what felt like an eternity. “There’s definitely something unusual about you.”

  Half-asleep, I snapped upright, instantly alert.

  Did he… find out my secret?

  "I can sense that you are weak, even below average," he said slowly.

  I wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or oddly relieved.

  “But strangely,” he continued, his brow furrowing, “you possess exceptionally high Willpower.”

  I blinked. Willpower? That didn’t make sense.

  Dreadspire had four primary stats: Vitality, Strength, Agility, and Wisdom. There were also secondary stats like Dexterity that affected movement speed and evasion. But never, not once, had I encountered Willpower as a stat.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What exactly is Willpower?” I asked, cautious but intrigued.

  The Shaman exhaled slowly, as if the question demanded more than a simple answer. "It is not something easily described,” he said softly. "Willpower is... the essence of one's determination, the unyielding force that drives a being to survive, to push forward even in the face of despair. At its core, it is the strength to defy fate, to carve one's own path, and to change what others cannot.”

  His words hung in the air, their weight settling deep within me.

  And in that moment, everything clicked.

  I thought back to my old life: the accidents, the betrayals, the endless pain I’d endured. No matter how much the world pushed me down, I kept going. I fought to survive. And in the end, Dreadspire became my only escape.

  Now it all makes sense.

  My physical and mental condition in the real world is reflected in this realm, as if my very essence has been transcribed into this new existence. That’s why, out of all the races, I could only choose druid.

  The Shaman’s expression changed. His brows drew together, and a strange tension filled the air. His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

  “But there’s something else…”

  “…and what exactly is that?” I replied cautiously.

  He leaned in, eyes narrowing as if peering through layers of reality itself.

  “I can sense something dark... something terrifying clinging to you,” he said, his voice low and grave. His piercing gaze met mine, filled with concern. “You will face hardships, misfortune unlike any you’ve known. And I can only hope you’ll find the strength to survive it.”

  I swallowed hard. His words struck a chord deep inside me. Not because they were surprising, but because I had already suspected as much.

  “Is there a way to get rid of it?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

  “I don't know how,” he admitted.

  I stared at him. Seriously?

  “So you just… tell me I’m cursed and then shrug it off?” I said dryly.

  He gave a cryptic, annoyingly serene smile. “In every hardship and every stroke of misfortune,” he said, “there lies an equal reward waiting on the other side.”

  …Not helpful. At all.

  High Willpower. Terrible luck.

  I sighed and glanced down at the ground. There was no escaping my curse, no matter what world I ended up in.

  ***

  I spent the rest of the second day with the Shaman. After a short nap, we had breakfast, though calling that sludge “breakfast” felt generous. It tasted like boiled grass mixed with regret. Then we moved on to potion brewing and basic spell practice. He lent me one of his old training staves. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was easy to handle and perfect for a beginner like me.

  I took the chance to learn more about this world, especially about the Tower. As expected, the old man’s knowledge ran dangerously deep, as if he’d seen things he wished he hadn’t.

  Time flew by, and before I knew it, the sky had turned dark again.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” said the Shaman, stretching his back. “There’s nothing more I can teach you.”

  “Thanks, Shaman. I’ve learned a lot,” I said, handing his staff back.

  He waved a tired hand. “Now go. I want to rest.”

  “Remember our deal, right?” I said with a grin.

  He sighed, muttering something under his breath. “Fine. Just grab what you need and make it quick.”

  Without wasting a second, I started picking through his ingredient shelves like a starving raccoon.

  "Hey! You said a few! That doesn’t look like a few," he barked when he noticed me scooping up a generous handful of Red Nightshade.

  “I was just, you know, sorting them,” I said, pretending to put some back. “By the way, do you have any Emberfly? I didn’t see any around.”

  He gave me a look. “Do I look like a store to you? I already told you where to find them. Don’t be lazy.”

  “It’s called being efficient,” I shot back with a smirk. “Alright then. See you next time, Shaman.”

  “Don’t die, Leafshade,” he said, half-joking. “And don’t even think about stealing my Tear again.”

  I nodded, meeting his eyes one last time before stepping out of his hut.

  The night air greeted me: cool, damp, and clean, free from the lingering scent of herbs and smoke. For a brief moment, I glanced back at the flickering light inside, wondering if I’d ever see that eccentric old Shaman again.

  Then I tightened my robes and walked into the darkness.

  I headed west, toward the Nightspring Glades. It took a while to reach the area, nestled at the border of Willow’s End and Ellarion Woods, hidden beneath a veil of perpetual twilight. The air there hummed with quiet magic, thick with the scent of blooming moonlilies that opened only under starlight.

  Bioluminescent fungi clung to the bark of ancient trees, their glow painting the forest floor in shades of pale blue and silver. A cool mist drifted low across the glade, curling around twisted roots and still pools of moonlit water. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the occasional melodic trill of a nightbird unseen.

  "I guess I came at the right time," I whispered, spotting several tiny luminous creatures with wings like stained glass, glowing amber and gold as they hovered just above the water’s surface.

  I crouched low, moving slowly and carefully. Every step had to be silent. Even a snapped leaf could send them scattering.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a small glass jar filled with a bit of honey, the perfect trap for Emberflies. I was close, so close, when—

  Crack.

  A sharp sound cut through the stillness.

  My head snapped to the right. The Emberflies scattered in a flash of gold, vanishing into the mist.

  I straightened slowly, scanning the shadows. The grass there was shifting, something moving, just out of sight.

  My pulse quickened. Someone, or something, was there.

  “Who’s there?” I whispered.

  No answer. Only the faint echo of my own voice.

  Then, another sound. Footsteps. Soft. Getting closer.

  “Eryndor? Is that you?” came a familiar voice. “Where in the world have you been?”

  As the figure stepped closer, her form became clearer: a small-framed druid with a button nose and round, chubby cheeks.

  “Orin?” I blinked. “What are you doing here?”

  “The same thing you are,” she said matter-of-factly. “Catching Emberflies.”

  “Tried to catch Emberflies,” I corrected flatly. “Thanks to someone who scared them all away.”

  “Not my fault that branch was lying there,” Orin said, crossing her arms. “But, uh, sorry anyway.”

  Her tone didn’t sound even remotely sorry.

  “Before we continue,” she added quickly, “mind explaining why you skipped class today? You didn’t come back to the Nest last night either. We were worried!”

  “It’s… complicated,” I said with a sigh. “Long story short, I ran into the Shaman and ended up training with him.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait. The Shaman? How did that even happen?”

  “I got lost while gathering potion ingredients and, uh… accidentally took something that belonged to him. So he made me stay as punishment,” I said.

  “Stay with him?” she repeated slowly, her voice dripping with curiosity.

  “No, no, not like that,” I said quickly, waving both hands. “He just wanted to check my Mana. Apparently, he sensed something unusual about me. The ritual took a while, so… yeah, I ended up skipping class and training under him instead. Nothing weird happened.”

  “Sure,” she said with a teasing grin. “None of my business if something did happen, though.”

  I groaned. “You really need to work on your imagination.”

  She chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “So? What did he find out?”

  “Nothing. Just that I have terrible luck,” I muttered. “And judging by what just happened, he might be right. I was this close to catching the Emberflies.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” Orin said, this time actually sounding a little guilty. “Let’s hide and wait until they come back. I promise I’ll be quiet this time.”

  I gave her a skeptical look. "You'd better keep your promise."

  She glared at me but held her finger to her lips. “Shh. Just follow my lead.”

  So we crouched behind a mossy log, wrapped in silence. The air hung thick with the scent of damp earth and moonlilies. A faint shimmer began to return between the trees as the Emberflies drifted back into view like fragments of fallen stars.

  Slowly, I reached for the glass jar again. Orin caught my eye and nodded, her expression unusually serious.

  Closer… almost there.

  The glow of an Emberfly hovered right before us, wings pulsing gold and amber. I held my breath, inching the jar forward.

  Then, just as I caught it, the ground beneath us trembled, softly at first, then harder. The still water nearby rippled.

  Orin’s eyes widened. “Did you feel that?” she whispered.

  Before I could answer, a low growl rolled through the glade, deep and guttural, coming from somewhere behind the mist.

  The rest of the Emberflies scattered in a burst of light.

  And from the shadows beyond the trees, something massive stirred.

  At the very least, they won’t have to exhaust themselves collecting them one by one…

  As long as they don’t suddenly become the prey instead.