The boy shifted on the branch, his body stiff and aching from the climb and the restless sleep that followed. He let out a low groan, rubbing his injured arm as he muttered under his breath. “This is the worst. No food, no bed, no nothing. Just me, a stupid tree, and a stupid forest.” His stomach growled, and he scowled at it. “Yeah, I know. You’re hungry. Like I didn’t notice.” He leaned his head back, staring up at the sky through the gaps in the leaves. “At least back in the streets, I could find something. A crust of bread, a half-eaten apple, anything.” He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And people. Even if they were jerks, at least there were people.” He snorted, shaking his head. “Crazy. I’m actually missing that place. The alleys, the noise, the smell of garbage. What’s wrong with me?” He sighed, rubbing his face with his uninjured hand. “Talking to myself now. Great. That’s how it starts, right? First, you talk to yourself, then you go crazy, and then…” He trailed off, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Then you don’t make it.”

  His eyes drifted upward, catching sight of the full moon hanging high above the lattice of leaves and sprawling limbs. Its pale light filtered through the gaps, casting soft patterns of silver across the forest floor below. For a moment, he forgot his hunger and exhaustion, his gaze fixed on the moon. It was beautiful, in a way that felt distant and untouchable, like something out of a dream. The light softened the forest’s edges, making it feel less hostile, less overwhelming, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he felt a flicker of calm. But the calm didn’t last. His thoughts drifted back to the day, to the moments when he’d found the creek. The mana had been there, faint but noticeable, clustering in soft blue hues that stood out against the greens and browns of the forest. And then there was the creature. He flexed his fingers, feeling the dull ache in his injured arm. The mana had rippled before it attacked, a subtle shift that made his body tense up. He hadn’t seen it coming, not at first, but the ripple had been enough to warn him, enough to make him react in time. It wasn’t perfect—he’d still been hurt—but it had saved him from something worse. That much he was sure of. He needed to get better at this new sense.

  But how? He looked around, trying to catch and feel all the details the mana revealed to him. The brown of the tree trunk beneath him stood out faintly, with the green of the leaves and moss clinging to the branches, and small black dots shimmering dimly in the dark? Hmm... Ahh forget it, whatever it was, it wasn’t worth the trouble. Occasionally, a silver glimmer of moonlight filtered through the gaps—soft, fleeting, serene. He tried again, focusing harder, but nothing changed. The same scattered, dotted lights filled his vision, frustratingly incomplete. His gaze drifted toward the creek below, where the faint blue dots he’d seen earlier were now dim and fading. He squinted, trying to see if there was more to the blue, but it stayed the same—just faint, scattered specks. Disappointed, he let out a quiet sigh and turned his eyes upstream. That’s when he spotted it: a faint ripple, subtle but distinct, breaking the stillness of the mana.

  The boy’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the faint ripple upstream. It was subtle, barely noticeable against the stillness of the mana around it, but it was there. His curiosity stirred, pushing aside his frustration. The ripple remained steady, faint but distinct, drawing his attention like a thread pulling him forward. He maneuvered through the branches, each step bringing him closer. The moonlight filtered through the leaves above, casting shifting patterns of silver across the forest floor and the creek below. His injured arm throbbed with each movement, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. As he neared the source of the ripple, he froze, his breath catching in his throat. There, in the water, was a creature unlike anything he’d seen before. It stood still in the shallow creek, doing something. The boy squinted, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of its movements. The creature’s mana rippled faintly, but unlike the erratic pulses he’d felt from the squirrel-like thing earlier, this ripple was controlled, steady, almost deliberate. It didn’t disturb the water around it, the surface remaining calm and undisturbed despite the creature’s presence. The wolf-like thing lowered its head slightly, its glowing eyes scanning the water. Its ears twitched, and its body remained perfectly still, save for the faint rise and fall of its chest. The boy watched as it moved slowly, one paw stepping forward with practiced precision, barely making a sound as it shifted its weight. Its mana ripples adjusted with each step, flowing outward in soft, measured waves, as if it were using them to sense something beneath the surface.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Then it struck.

  The creature’s head darted forward, its jaws snapping shut with a sharp splash. When it pulled back, a fish wriggled in its snout, its silver scales glinting faintly in the moonlight. The wolf-like thing held the fish firmly, its glowing eyes scanning the area one last time before it turned and padded away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. The boy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His mind replayed what he had seen—the way the creature’s mana rippled faintly, steady and controlled. The way its glowing eyes seemed to sense what lay beneath the water’s surface. He could do that too, couldn’t he? He was sure of it. That glowing eyes thing—it was just the creature moving mana to its eyes, right? He could do that as well. He focused, trying to gather the scattered dots of mana inside his body and direct them to his eyes. The mana moved easily, much more so than when he had first tried to manipulate it back on the grass field. His excitement grew as he felt the energy shift, but then his eyes began to burn. At first, he thought it might be a good sign, proof that it was working. But the sensation quickly grew sharper and his mind suddenly felt as though it had been doused with cold water. Right. He shouldn’t push too far. If his body was telling him it hurt, it was probably best to listen. His excitement had gotten the better of his judgment. The burning in his eyes lingered faintly, but his thoughts were sharp and clear now. Something had gone wrong. It should not have hurt like that. The creature had done it so easily so why couldn’t he?

  He frowned, his fingers brushing against the rough bark of the branch as he thought it through. Maybe it was the purpose. The creature had been using its mana for something specific—sensing the water, finding the fish. But he hadn’t done that. He’d just moved the mana to his eyes without any clear intent. Was that the problem? Did mana need a purpose to work properly?

  Or maybe it was the amount. He thought back to the grass field, to the time he’d moved a single dot of mana and how it had stirred a light wind. If just one dot could do that, then moving multiple dots to his eyes might have been too much. His eyes weren’t meant to handle that kind of energy, and they’d burned because they were overloaded.

  Then there was the control. The creature’s mana had rippled steadily, calm and even, a stream flowing smoothly. His own attempt had been nothing like that. He had grabbed a bunch of mana and hurled it toward his eyes, careless and unsteady. Maybe that was the problem—it wasn’t just about moving mana; it was about guiding it carefully, keeping it steady and controlled.

  But there was something else, wasn’t there? His brow furrowed as he considered a fourth possibility. Maybe it was his mental image. He didn’t really know what he was doing—he was just imagining the mana moving to his eyes. What if his image of it was wrong? What if he wasn’t picturing it the way it was supposed to work? He shook his head, dismissing the thought. The creature had been a beast. It wouldn’t have needed a perfect mental image to make its mana work. That couldn’t be it.

  Then again, maybe it was the type of mana he was using. The creature’s glowing eyes had been strange, shimmering with multiple hues. His own mana had been a single, scattered color. Could the type of mana matter? He frowned again, but then discarded the idea. The creature’s eyes had glowed with multiple colors, not just one, and it hadn’t seemed to struggle. If the type of mana mattered, it wouldn’t have been able to use so many at once.

  His gaze dropped to the creek below as he thought back to the creature’s eyes. That’s when it clicked. The glow hadn’t come from its entire eye—it had been focused in its iris. A circle. His brow furrowed as he considered it. Maybe that was the key. Maybe it wasn’t just about moving mana to his eyes—it was about how he moved it. The creature’s mana had rippled steadily, and its iris had glowed in a perfect ring. Could it be that he needed to move the mana in a pattern? A circle, like the creature’s iris?

  The boy let out a slow breath, his thoughts settling on the idea. Purpose, amount, control, and now the pattern. He didn’t know how to fix all of that, not yet, but at least he had a place to start.