Morning did not arrive as light but as awareness returning to a space that had not changed while he slept.

  Theo stood at the table longer than necessary, looking at the bottles he had prepared the day before, noticing how difference had begun replacing uncertainty in small, precise ways. The colors were not dramatic, not something another person might comment on, yet they carried a quiet hierarchy that felt real the longer he observed it. Some mixtures held weight even in stillness, the liquid inside resting with the faint suggestion of density, while others seemed content to exist as possibility rather than result.

  He tasted them slowly. Just a tiny bit.

  Not searching for confirmation, but allowing his body to respond in ways his thoughts still struggled to translate into language. The weakest settled quickly and left him almost unchanged, a gesture rather than an effect. The middle ones lingered longer, removing the dull friction that had settled into his forearms and shoulders over the past days. The strongest did what it had done before, not energizing him so much as returning space that exhaustion had quietly occupied.

  Theo set the flask down and exhaled.

  Variation mattered. Not only ingredients. Not only repetition. Something between ingredients, attention, and expectation shaped the result, and that realization felt heavier than any single success.

  He aligned the bottles again, wiped his hands, and stepped outside with the faint sense that his attention had already moved ahead of him.

  The garden held the same stillness, but stillness had started revealing traces instead of hiding them. Soil near the Ashmint patch remained slightly disturbed with the uneven softness of something that had paused rather than passed through. Leaves overlapped where gaps had been before, and when Theo crouched and let his hand hover above them, the scent that rose carried something rotten again that did not belong solely to time. The scent was fresher this time.

  “These things…?”

  He looked around, eyes narrow, shoulders tight, and cold sweat he hadn’t felt in days found its way to his back.

  Theo carefully followed the faint depressions toward the broken wall and stopped where they faded into ground that refused to hold shape. He remained there for a moment, gaze drifting toward the trees without expectation, aware that absence of movement did not mean absence of presence.

  “They looked,” he said quietly.

  The sentence felt accurate enough to leave unchallenged.

  He straightened slowly.

  The village! I need help... before these things do anything worse than watch...

  He had postponed it by focusing on what was immediate, what could be measured and repeated inside the house, but survival had always carried a social dimension he could not indefinitely replace with routine. Curiosity might have brought him there eventually. Urgency removed the option of waiting.

  Theo gathered three bottles, neither the strongest nor the weakest, and slipped them into his bag.

  On his way out, one bottle slipped out of his bag and lay in the grass in front of his door. He inspected it, but decided that all great discoveries started with mistakes, so his next experiment consisted of finding out what expanded sun exposure does to his potions.

  The path toward the village did not feel like departure. He was glad that the rough directions that Elara gave him worked. His self-drawn map expanded as he marked the way and other points of interest on his journey. And after about an hour, sound arrived.

  Not a single noise, but layers that overlapped without agreeing on rhythm. Wood striking resistance somewhere in the distance. Voices carried by movement rather than intention. The low complaint of an animal that had decided standing still was unreasonable. None of it demanded attention. All of it confirmed continuity beyond his own routine.

  Theo slowed.

  The ground did not change, yet his awareness widened in increments. The forest had taught him to narrow perception. The sound of people asked the opposite.

  The first rooftops appeared between trees that had grown without caring about straight lines.

  The village did not present itself as a destination. It emerged gradually, structures leaning into each other with the quiet cooperation of places shaped by repetition rather than design. Repairs were visible. Paths curved where movement had proven more reliable than intention. Smoke drifted, carrying the faint smell of bread that reached Theo before other details did.

  He noticed distance before faces.

  Distance between houses. Between people. Between himself and both. Everything felt just a bit off. People stood a bit too far from each other. The houses this tiny bit uncomfortably close to each other.

  The people all looked similar to Elara and Nenn. All slightly smaller than him, tail between their legs, and a strange, unnatural color in their eyes. No one stopped when he entered. Attention shifted in the small, unavoidable way presence created, eyes moving toward him not with suspicion strong enough to become confrontation, but with the quiet categorization that allowed communities to remain functional without welcoming everything immediately.

  Theo adjusted his posture without thinking.

  Purpose reduced questions.

  Nenn saw him first.

  She sat on a fence near a larger open space, legs swinging in a rhythm that suggested waiting with impatience.

  “You came, Mr. Theo!” she said as a smile formed on her face. Her tail wiggled quickly, like a dog who was waiting for his owner to return.

  Theo nodded. “Still here.”

  Her eyes moved to the bag. “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been working.”

  He pulled one bottle free. The glass caught light unevenly, the liquid inside holding color that meant more to him than it could to anyone else yet.

  “Not magic,” Theo said. “Just helpful. I haven’t thanked you properly for helping me.”

  Hey eyes brightened. “A present sounds like magic!" Nenn jumped from the fence and shouted behind her. "Mum, come, he's here!”

  Elara approached before the conversation could be resolved, flour dusting her hands in a way that suggested interruption. Her attention moved between Theo and the flask with the careful patience of someone accustomed to evaluating usefulness without discouraging effort.

  “You’ve been working,” she said.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Trying.”

  Theo handed her the bottle.

  She did not drink immediately. Instead, she held it to the light, turning it slightly as if consistency might reveal intention, then took a small sip and allowed the moment afterward to stretch long enough that Theo felt the weight of her consideration without needing explanation.

  “That looks good. It won’t knock me out, I hope?”

  Theo laughed honestly. “No, I hope it won’t. It’ll restore some energy. I’ve worked on dilution, and this one should do better.”

  “Tastes good. Feels good. It’s solid work as far as I can tell, young man.”

  He could feel his shoulders drop with friction. “Thanks, when you need more… I mean, if you… Well, I wanted to thank you for helping me. If you can find a use for it, I’ll bring you more.”

  Nenn pulled on her mother’s clothes. “See, I told you, mum!”

  Elara smiled softly at her daughter, then turned her smile to Theo.

  The conversation did not end so much as widen.

  A man nearby had been watching with the quiet patience of someone accustomed to small risks that occasionally became worthwhile. His horse shifted beside him, weight moving from one leg to another while it tried to balance bags and a crate tied to its back.

  “That yours?” the man asked.

  Theo hesitated only long enough to acknowledge that the answer mattered. “I made it.”

  The merchant stepped closer, attention moving over Theo’s clothes, his hands, the bag, assembling context the way people did when deciding whether effort translated into reliability.

  “Horse is tired,” the man said. “Not sick. Just done with the day.”

  Theo looked at the animal. It was like looking into a mirror depicting his past self. It had this weight in its eyes that Theo had felt just moments before collapsing near the river.

  He held out the second flask.

  “I have one more. I don’t know if it’s for animals, but you can have it.”

  The man accepted it with the careful neutrality reserved for things that might disappoint. He tipped a little into his palm and let the horse drink. Nothing changed immediately. The animal shifted once, then again, neck lifting slightly as if the day had become marginally less heavy.

  The merchant watched longer than the action required.

  “Hm,” he summarized.

  He rummaged through his pockets, pulled out a few coins, and put them into Theo’s hands before he pulled his horse’s reins and followed his path further into the village.

  The coins felt cold and heavy.

  “So, what do you need?” Elara asked.

  Theo paused. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you have coins, best to spend them in your situation, I think?” Her gesture became somewhat open, and her laugh felt like a warm breeze. “I trade food, but I have some tools if you need something. Or you can follow the road to find other merchants.”

  “Now that you mention... I need a hammer. The spoon was a bad substitute, I can tell you!”

  Elara looked at him, not sure whether he was joking or just socially awkward. She nodded once.

  A small hammer found its way into his hands, worn but balanced, the grip shaped by previous use. Theo added a small sack of coarse flour because the smell of bread drifting through the village had settled somewhere that felt good enough to justify.

  The exchange remained quiet. Functional. No one congratulated him. No one dismissed him.

  The absence of reaction carried its own form of acceptance.

  Only when the items were gathered did Theo ask the question that shifted the air.

  “Elara, I have met some things in the forest. Nenn’s size. Ears like leather, yellow eyes, and a strange scent. What are they?”

  “Oh, Mudkin?”

  Theo shrugged once, waiting for an explanation.

  “Yes, they live in the forests. Usually in tribes. Nasty things. They are no real danger if they are small in size. But they can get aggressive if they are provoked and ambush travelers or attack the traders on the road if they are confident."

  “Mudkin… What should I do if they are near my house?” Theo brought out a fake smile that blended fear with cluelessness.

  Elara looked at Theo from head to toe, then answered. “You should close your door well. They normally don’t leave the forest. But just to be sure, the adventurers rally up and thin out as many as possible once a year, should be time soon."

  Theo’s eyes widened. He could feel a tension somewhere in his chest that prevented him from breathing freely. “Thin out? Like… you kill them? I thought they are no danger?”

  Elara looked confused for a moment, then adjusted her tone as if she were speaking to Nenn. “Look, if there are… say two or three, everyone can deal with them. But if they reproduce – and they are way more eager than us – they soon are in their hundreds, and then it can get dangerous. So it’s best to keep them under control before it comes to real battles like in the past."

  “I…" Theo gulped. "Everyone?”

  “I know what you mean. Yes, it is tough work. But their children grow up eventually, and so it’s for the best to clean up regularly.”

  Swallowing became harder, and Theo had to put force into clearing his throat before he could resume. “I... I think, I get it…”

  For a moment, silence lingered between them. For Elara, it was Theo who had to process what he had heard. For Theo, it was an attempt to classify what he had heard.

  Movement resumed. Voices overlapped. Someone laughed somewhere behind him. Theo felt the faint shift inside himself. He was still unsure where it came from or what it meant, but something in his mind reminded him that he wasn’t home.

  He adjusted the strap of his bag and nodded once toward Elara.

  “I’ll come back,” he said dryly.

  “I'd be more than happy. And it seems, so may be others,” she replied with the same steady smile.

  Theo left without hurry.

  The sounds of the village followed him only a short distance before dissolving into the quieter honesty of wind moving through open space. The transition felt more noticeable this time, not because the world changed, but because he now carried comparison.

  Bread and smoke faded. Metal and voices softened. What remained was earth, old stone, and the steady rhythm of his own steps. Next time he would need to explore more of this village.

  He thought about her phrases.

  Theo did not press the thought further. Some questions grew sharper when forced.

  The ruins appeared first and he noticed his breathing again.

  Not loosened. Adjusted.

  When the house came into view, intact in the way it always was, relief arrived before understanding, followed immediately by the faint discomfort that came from realizing that this relief had become an expectation.

  Theo stepped inside and paused. The bottle that fell out of his bag probably rolled away. He looked around, but decided that it would reappear sooner or later.

  The house answered with its usual quiet sounds. Wood settling. A beam shifting above him like a slow exhale. The interior air held traces of crushed berries and dust warmed by light that had already begun fading.

  He set his things down carefully.

  The hammer on the table.

  The flour near the kitchen space.

  He stepped back.

  Nothing moved.

  And yet the act of placing felt different from yesterday, less like occupying space and more like contributing to it. Like coming back from ordinary shopping and bringing back a set of Warhammer miniatures that would eventually find a place in his showcase.

  Theo crossed toward the garden.

  He crouched without urgency, studying the disturbed soil not for explanation but for pattern. The marks suggested presence without haste. Care without precision. They hadn't destroyed anything yet.

  Theo let out a slow breath.

  “They watched. Again,” he confirmed. The words carrying less uncertainty now.

  The forest remained quiet.

  He did not search further.

  Instead, he returned inside, aware that understanding sometimes required allowing space rather than filling it. The hammer rested where he had placed it, the weight of it reassuring in the simple way tools often were.

  Theo picked it up and turned it once in his hand.

  He set the hammer down again and moved through the small routines that had begun defining his evenings. Cleaning surfaces, aligning bottles, and reading entries that assumed knowledge he did not yet possess. The house creaked once above him, not interrupting, only existing. It reminded him of closing the door and barricading his windows with furniture.

  Night approached gradually.

  Theo ate sparingly. He mixed some of the flour with water and was able to bake some sort of bread in his oven.

  There really was more than one house in the middle of ruins in this world.

  Theo closed his eyes with that thought resting not as concern but as awareness.

  Somewhere beyond the ruins, the village called them a pest.

  And somewhere closer, a bottle was taken without anyone breaking into his home or destroying his garden.

  by RMW

  In the Undercroft, you advance, or you die.

  faith in the flesh?

  What to expect:

  - Dungeon Delving

  - Tower Climbing

  - Steady Progression

  - Earned Power

  - No Harem

  - No LitRPG

  ---

  Update Schedule:

  - 12 Chapters Day 1

  - 3 Chapters Week - Monday-Wednesday-Friday

  Volume 2 Drafting - 19 Chapters Drafted