If you're reading this, congratulations – you've stumbled upon the journal of a man who somehow found himself in a new reality after his death.

  Let’s start from the beginning. Consider this the "second season" of his story, in case you've been following his journey up until now. Would he be starting over from scratch in yet another reality? Well, not exactly. If he had to explain, he would say he created something like a 'Horcrux' – or better yet, a 'node' – in his old village. Yes, that's the short version. No need to get bogged down in details, but to be honest, he came out better than most. He didn’t die, at least not in the conventional sense. His body and its vital functions were simply... sealed by some mysterious force, courtesy of that artifact that tried to leave a permanent mark on his soul. Or, more precisely, on a part of it.

  Let’s just say that when that artifact tried to leave its mark, he had no choice but to make a quick exit. He did what anyone would do: ran straight into the safest corner of his soul, severed the connection with the artifact’s energy, and made a break for it.

  ...

  The first thing he felt was emptiness. Not the comforting kind, like sitting alone at home after a long day, but an abyss—bottomless, vast, and threatening to devour everything he was.

  Then came the pressure. Something tugged at his consciousness, like a thin thread connecting him to a distant presence. There was warmth, but also something deeper, almost suffocating. It felt like being buried alive... but not quite.

  “So, this is how it ends?” he thought, the memory of the artifact still vivid in his mind. He recalled its cruel glow, the sensation of something being ripped from within him.

  But he wasn’t dead. At least, not in the traditional sense.

  His consciousness steadied, and slowly, he began to feel the world around him. The heat of the soil, the dampness of roots, the gentle caress of the wind rustling leaves that were now... his. He was a tree.

  “This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.”

  He tried to move a branch and failed miserably. His sharp mind rebelled against the sluggishness of his new form. No legs to run, no hands to create, not even a face to express his frustration. All that remained was the imposing solidity of a trunk and the vast network of roots digging deep into the earth.

  Yet, there was something else. A faint hum, low and constant, pulsing at the edge of his awareness. It felt familiar, like an old piece of code he had written himself.

  “The system…”

  It all came rushing back. The project he had worked on in his previous life—a cutting-edge program for control and automation. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine it would integrate with... whatever this was.

  A mental interface began to form, hazy but functional, and messages blinked into existence like command prompts on a screen:

  [System: Reboot in progress...]

  [Syncing with current form...]

  [Loading basic functionalities.]

  “Basic functionalities? Please tell me that includes legs.”

  Instead, a list of options appeared: energy absorption, nutrient manipulation from the soil, perception expansion. Not quite what he had hoped for, but it was a start.

  He focused on the perception ability, and something shifted. The hum grew louder, resonating deep within his core. His awareness stretched outward, spilling out from his roots like ripples in a pond. The confinement of his form lessened. He could sense the soil, the tiny organisms burrowing through it, and the subtle flow of water far beneath. It was overwhelming at first—so many sensations crashing in at once.

  “Breathe,” he told himself. Then snorted internally. “Right. Trees don’t breathe.”

  As his awareness steadied, the hum evolved into something richer—an aura that emanated from his trunk, spreading through the ground and the air. It wasn’t just his perception expanding; it was him. The aura flowed like a living thing, weaving through the soil, claiming space as his own. He felt it reach the tips of the roots and push further, carving out a space that pulsed with his essence.

  His domain.

  The realization struck him like lightning. This wasn’t just an extension of his senses—it was an extension of himself. Within this area, he had control, limited but growing. He could feel the energy of the land bending to his will, slow and reluctant like a stubborn mule, but bending nonetheless.

  It was exhilarating and terrifying. The soil within his domain felt richer, teeming with more life. The wind around his branches carried faint whispers of energy. His roots drank from deeper wells, pulling nutrients in ways no ordinary tree could.

  “Am I terraforming now? Great. Maybe next I’ll sprout Wi-Fi.”

  The humor, as weak as it was, helped keep him grounded. Beneath the awe of his new abilities lay the gnawing discomfort of his new reality. He wasn’t human anymore, not fully. And while his domain granted him power, it also tethered him to this form—a constant reminder of what he had lost. The limitations of his tree-like existence felt heavy at times, and the weight of what he had been, of what he might never be again, settled in his mind like the deepening shadows at dusk.

  He had no legs, no arms, no body to call his own. Just branches that swayed in the wind, roots that burrowed deep beneath the earth, and the growing, uncomfortable awareness of his own consciousness expanding outwards.

  Days passed—or was it weeks? Time was a blur when you were stuck in one spot, and without a watch, it was hard to gauge. But every moment, every breath of wind that brushed his leaves, brought with it something new. Something strange, but not entirely unwelcome.

  At first, the simplest motions felt impossible. He struggled to shift his awareness from the familiar static hum of his being into the active manipulation of the energies around him. It was like trying to write code with no hands, typing blind. His aura—a strange, pulsing force that extended from him—wasn’t quite like the force of will he had used in his human life. It wasn’t a mind over matter thing. It was a deep, primal connection to the land, like the way a mountain’s rock didn’t need to think to stand tall against the wind.

  But the longer he stayed still, the more familiar it became. His consciousness felt sharper, more attuned to the rhythm of the soil beneath him. Slowly, he learned to direct his focus. The simplest things at first: feeling the subtle shifts in temperature as the sun rose and set, the tiny vibrations in the air as insects flew by, or the shifts in the soil as roots around him grew and spread.

  As the days dragged on, he began experimenting with more deliberate control. He extended his awareness outward, attempting to manipulate the energy of his environment—not just to observe, but to shape it. He couldn’t command the elements, not yet, but he could coax the smallest tremors from the earth, make the branches above him tremble in a soft breeze, or summon small flickers of light around his trunk, like fireflies.

  His domain—if it could be called that—was still relatively small. Maybe about nine meters in every direction. The land within that radius was his to command, to influence. But the control was fragile, fleeting. Unlike the solid foundation of his old programming skills, this new form was… malleable. Fluid. His domain expanded with effort, yes, but it was slow. Each inch gained was like a bead of sweat, a steady but grueling process. He could feel the boundaries, like an invisible wall pressing against him. The land outside his influence remained distant, like a world he could never fully touch.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Come on…” he muttered, pushing himself harder. “I should be able to do more than this.”

  But the earth didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, frustration bubbled up inside him. Why was everything so damn slow now?

  The wind teased through his branches, shaking the leaves, and it brought with it a familiar scent—the smell of his village, faint but distinct. He wasn’t sure how far away it was, but he knew it was close, maybe about 150 meters from where he stood. The village had become a distant part of his awareness, something he could only sense with the faintest traces of energy slipping through the cracks in his expanding domain.

  His domain.

  He almost laughed at how much it had changed in the last few days—or had it been weeks? Time was such an abstract concept now. He had no hands to check a clock, no legs to walk to a calendar. But in this strange new existence, time felt like an endless river flowing through his consciousness, its currents both maddeningly slow and impossibly fast.

  The sense of power that pulsed through him was like nothing he had ever felt before. At first, it had been an awkward, tentative thing. A flicker here, a ripple there. But now? Now, it was starting to settle. He could feel the energy around him with a kind of clarity that defied logic. His roots dug deeper, and with each inch of growth, his domain expanded, stretching outward like a slow but inevitable tide, claiming everything in its path.

  Within this domain, I can guide the stagnant energy directly into my core. The process was almost hypnotic. It was as if this energy, once dormant, had been lying in wait for him to finally notice it. And now, as it flowed through him, it was being purified. Refined. Like raw ore being smelted into something sharper, something more useful.

  What was once chaotic, polluted energy now hummed with a quiet precision as it merged with his own essence. It was... almost beautiful. In the past, Mat had always been a builder, a creator. The feeling of making something out of nothing had always thrilled him. Now, in this new life, he could feel that same thrill—but amplified, pure, and uncontainable.

  This wasn’t just about surviving anymore. It wasn’t about merely existing. This was about mastery.

  Mastery over the world around me, mastery over myself.

  The more he focused, the more he could feel the intricate threads of energy that connected everything. The wind that rustled through his leaves, the distant heartbeat of the creatures in the forest, the slow pull of the moon’s influence on the tides of the earth itself. It was all tied together, a grand web of forces that Mat could now tap into.

  He wasn’t just a passive observer anymore. The world around him wasn’t something to be watched from a distance. It was something to be manipulated, shaped with his will. Every breath of wind was now his to guide, every pulse of energy his to redirect. The more he focused, the clearer his senses became. He could feel the faint vibrations of distant life, the subtle currents in the air, the movements of creatures he had no physical eyes to see.

  This... this is incredible!

  With every expansion of his domain, it was like his perception grew tenfold. The energy of the world flowed into him, unhindered, abundant, and limitless. He could feel it like a constant hum beneath his consciousness—every pulse feeding into him, strengthening him. And with every piece of energy he absorbed, he refined it, shaping it into something far more potent than it had been before.

  But there was something deeper, something far more extraordinary about this process. It wasn’t just about power. It was about understanding. The more he delved into this aura, the more it began to reveal its secrets. It wasn’t a static field or some simple shield. It was alive. Dynamic. It was an extension of him—his will, his consciousness, his very presence in this world.

  It was growing with him.

  This was the part that fascinated him the most. The more he learned, the more the aura evolved, adapting to his growing understanding of it. It wasn’t just an extension of his physical form—it was an extension of his mind, his thoughts, his desires. Every time he willed it, the energy bent to his will, reshaping itself, growing stronger, more refined.

  But this was only the beginning. Mat’s pulse quickened with excitement. He could feel the possibilities unfurling before him. He could sense the way the energy would grow, how it would become something even more refined with each passing day. Each new stretch of his domain was like a step into uncharted territory—something both exhilarating and terrifying at once.

  And yet, despite the power, the vastness of what he could now control, there was something strangely... unsettling about it. The world felt too responsive. Like the very air around him was waiting for him to do something, to make the next move. It was as if the boundaries between him and the world were starting to blur in ways that he couldn’t fully comprehend.

  Still, he wasn’t foolish enough to think this was the end of it. This was just the beginning. His power was growing, yes, but he was far from mastering it. There was still so much to learn, so much to understand. And as his aura pulsed outward, he could feel a strange pull in the distance—a ripple of energy that wasn’t his own, something that stood in opposition to his growth.

  The village.

  That strange, distorted energy he had sensed before was still there. It lingered in the air like a smudge on an otherwise perfect canvas. He could feel it in the subtle shifts, the way the world around him felt off. The balance was changing. And though he could feel the beginnings of this change, it was still just out of reach—like trying to catch the last ray of sunlight before it slipped beneath the horizon.

  Mat’s aura pushed out again, testing the boundaries, expanding little by little. It wasn’t easy, but it was working. He could sense the village more clearly now. The people, the animals, the trees—it was all there, within his reach. But something was wrong.

  The energy in the village was distorted. Like someone had taken a hammer to the delicate fabric of reality itself. And Mat could feel the pull of it, the way it tugged at the very core of his being.

  His awareness flickered, and he honed in on it. There was something—or someone—there, at the heart of it all. And it was close.

  The soft breeze that passed through the leaves of the trees carried something new, something unusual. It wasn’t just a simple gust of wind; it was a tension, a presence expanding, seeping through every inch of my being. Eyes were unnecessary; my expanded perception already showed me more than I could fully understand.

  The feeling growing inside me wasn’t just an awareness of what was happening; it was an awareness of myself—my very essence—struggling to find its place in a world that no longer felt familiar. And then, like a distant snap, something moved at the edge of my awareness, a human-like shadow lurking, trying not to be seen. I felt that presence as if it were a twisted reflection of something I had already experienced, but never in this form.

  My roots, once extending with confidence, now felt taut, as if they sensed something beyond me—something that wasn’t entirely benign. Ah, the old familiar sensation of being watched... I couldn’t help but compare it to the old days when I felt more human than ever. Yet, there it was again, that strange familiarity in the distant fields, those familiar faces of Maris, with her tired eyes, Feran, his rigid blacksmith stance... Those faces were now nothing more than distorted fragments, echoing from a reality where I no longer belonged.

  I wasn’t just seeing a simple vision: it was a glimpse of intertwined memories, a reconstruction of something lost, twisted by a time that didn’t resemble anything I had experienced. The fields, the simple houses, the faces I once knew... They were ghosts now, shadows of something that had happened, but shouldn’t exist anymore. Those figures were far from the people I remembered—distorted, as though time had suggested a filter through which I now saw them.

  And then, the feeling grew—an almost physical pressure that seemed to push against my consciousness. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just the simple fact that I was seeing the past or seeing it differently. It was the energy, this energy I had been gathering over time, colliding with something that didn’t belong here. As if the very space around the village had been altered, distorted by something that was now manipulating this reality.

  “I can’t just stand here and wait,” I thought, trying to control the whirlwind of thoughts that didn’t quite fit. An unknown instinct told me that time was running out. My aura, still young and fragile, wasn’t enough to block what was coming. It was a presence, a being—a twisted reflection of what I once was? A mistake, somehow? Its aura was dense, heavy, full of an energy that didn’t match mine. Everything about it felt... wrong.

  Who was this shadow, this distortion moving through the village? My mind strained to find an explanation, but every attempt felt like an empty echo. I recognized what I saw, but at the same time, I didn’t understand it. It moved between the houses, as if feeding off the distortion it had caused in the energy I had created. My muscles—or what was left of them—tensed in response to its presence. Something was approaching, something that knew too much. Something that was probably watching me, too.

  And then, with a deep, uncomfortable sigh, I realized: I wasn’t just observing anymore. I was part of this, now. I had been marked by something greater, something darker. Like a thin line tearing from the inside out, the village—my old home—was no longer intact. Perhaps it never had been.

  Whatever it was, the tension within me wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t ready to face it, but I could no longer escape the truth. Everything I thought I knew, everything I believed to be real, was now at stake. And the questions piled up in my mind, one by one, as the shadows drew closer. Who was this being? And how could I, with my still-weak aura, confront it?