Lightning felt powerful, but was it really the most efficient way to deal with the creatures? He could almost feel the pulsing of his core inside him, a faint rhythm that had become more distinct as his magic perception grew sharper. Maybe he could refine it, push it further? Nah, not yet. Better to experiment with the laws a little more, gather experience, test his limits before meddling with the foundation itself. He left the office and wandered toward the kitchen.

  As he walked in he noticed a small beverage fridge in the corner, humming faintly. David’s gaze lingered on it, and an idea bloomed.

  “I need a cold one… Wait, cold, that could work” he murmured.

  He opened the fridge, swept the cans and bottles aside, and pressed his hand into the chilly air. A sensation stirred at the edges of his perception—a new thread, different from fire or lightning—but it was elusive. Not enough.

  “Ah, what the hell, nobody is watching”. David bent down and shoved his head inside. The icy air wrapped around his face, seeping into his skin, flooding into his awareness.

  A sharp shiver raced down his spine, followed by the unmistakable flicker of recognition from the system.

  New Attribute Learned: [Minor Law of Ice]

  David pulled his head back out. “Well… that worked.”

  His ears were still burning red from the chill when another idea sparked in his mind. If one silly stunt with a fridge could grant him a new law, what would happen if he pushed further? There was only one way to find out.

  He marched back to the kitchen, where he found what he was looking for. He opened the heavy steel door of the industrial walk-in freezer. A wave of cold air billowed out, biting at his skin. David checked if the door could be opened from inside (he didn't want to waste an iteration on such a trifle) and stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. Frost crusted the walls, and his breath turned to fog immediately.

  Strangely, it wasn’t as unbearable as it should’ve been. Maybe the [Minor Law of Ice] was softening the sting, or perhaps his growing levels gave him a buffer. Either way, the cold felt more like a challenge than a threat.

  “Alright… let’s do it,” he whispered, rubbing his hands together.

  He raised a palm and began to focus, pulling at the law of ice within him. A shard of ice gathered, then he pushed it away. It shattered harmlessly against a stack of frozen boxes. Again and again, he conjured them—some sharp, some brittle—until the freezer floor was littered with splinters and the shelves dripped with thawing juices from ruined goods.

  Time slipped away. His hands ached with numbness, but he pressed on, forcing the energy to flow, shaping it again and again. After some time, the cold no longer felt external—it was within him, coursing through his veins. The system’s recognition came like a hammer strike, getting him out of his daze.

  New Attribute Acquired: [Major Law of Ice]

  He looked at his smartphone, it was only half an hour, it took him twice as much to develop his first major law. “So that’s the trick… immersion. The deeper I dive into the element, the faster I develop.”

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  After recharging his mana, David stepped outside, eager to put his new law to the test—and maybe stumble onto another. He moved past the office perimeter, scanning the shadows for movement.

  A low growl answered his call. One of the monster dogs padded into view. David raised his hand and willed the ice forward. A spear of frozen death erupted and shot across the distance. It struck with a loud crunch. The beast dropped instantly, pinned to the cracked asphalt by a massive icicle.

  He exhaled slowly, watching the mist of his breath swirl. “Power is about the same as lightning… Same mana drain, too. Hm.”

  But lightning and ice weren’t the same—not in how they could be used. Ice wasn’t just about hurling projectiles. What if he turned the whole parking lot into a skating rink? The mutts would slip and stumble like clowns. Or conjure up a blizzard, white-out their senses. Hell, he could even make himself some ice cream if he felt fancy.

  David smirked. “Yeah… definitely a useful law. Just need to get creative.”

  Now, what law next? He looked down, well, there was always plenty of earth. He crouched, pressing his palm to the lawn he was standing in. He closed his eyes and tried to feel the law. The earth wasn’t empty; there was power there. Yet… something was off.

  The ground pulsed faintly with laws—there was no shortage of them. But unlike ice, fire, or lightning, these weren’t singular or sharp. They tangled together, a knot of threads pulling in different directions, resisting his mana perception.

  The harder he listened, the clearer it became. The soil wasn’t one thing—it was countless things pressed into one. Fragments of stone, veins of clay, traces of metal, each carrying whispers of different laws. They overlapped and conflicted, drowning each other out. No single note rose above the rest, and that chaos blocked his grasp.

  Frustration pricked at him, but David clenched his jaw and pressed harder, refusing to give up. He pushed his perception deeper, magnifying his senses until the soil under his hand was no longer solid but a sea of tiny particles. Each particle shimmered faintly, many of them resonating with their own flavor of law. Earth wasn’t just earth—it was a battlefield of clashing principles.

  “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

  David pressed his mana perception harder, narrowing his focus. And then he froze. Something moved beneath the soil—not just dirt, but life. Worms. Actual worms twisting faintly in the dirt.

  His brows furrowed. That was… strange. He hadn’t seen a single bird since the dome appeared. No squirrels, no rabbits, no dogs. If all the pets had survived, the city would’ve been filled with their howls and scratches. Yet here, wriggling in the dirt, were worms. Still alive.

  “Why them?” he whispered, more to himself than anyone. “Why keep worms of all things?”

  Maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe the system left them because they were part of the ecosystem. Which begged another question—if worms were here, did that mean in the woods there’d be beavers gnawing at logs? He glanced around. Texas. No forests in sight. Okay… coyotes, then? Coyotes made more sense out here. His lips twitched into a crooked grin. What if he caught one—could he tame it? And if he did, would it gain levels alongside him?

  He shook his head, snorting. “Focus, idiot. Earth laws, not coyotes.”

  Brushing the grass and dirt from his clothes, David rose and glanced around. A strip of concrete ran alongside the lawn, bordered by cracked asphalt. Neither felt right—both were mixtures, muddled and impure. He needed something simpler, cleaner. Not this processed blend of countless elements.

  A geological museum would’ve been perfect. Or maybe some sort of a mine, some raw mineral formation to tune his senses on. But here? Nothing of the sort came to mind.

  Then he remembered the construction site near the main building. They’d dug deep, gouging out a pit for a future foundation. Exposed soil, layers untouched by pavement or polish. That might work.

  He set off on foot. It wasn’t far—just a short walk.