Everyone Has A System But Me!

Some of the others were already heading into the woods beyond the clearing, walking with purpose and obvious confidence in their scavenging and hunting skills. Meanwhile, Thea and I stood there like two kids who'd forgotten their permission slips for a field trip.

Back home, I didn't know much about the woods beyond what I'd seen in movies. Had I ever been dropped into a forest and told to survive, it probably would've ended with me eating something toxic and hallucinating colors until I met an unfortunate end.

And this wasn't even Home—for all I knew, this planet could have plants that screamed when you picked them and squirrels the size of bears. Sure, the trees looked like trees, and the grass was… grass-ish, but I hadn't seen a single animal since arriving.

We probably looked pitiful—Thea kneeling on the forest floor in defeat and me standing awkwardly beside her, shifting from foot to foot like a guilty toddler.

"You two!"

The no-longer-angelic instructor's voice cut through the air like a whip. Honestly, I should probably start calling him Commander instead.

I froze, my spine snapping straight as I tried—and failed—to catch my breath. Beside me, Thea shot up like a spring, standing rigidly.

"Yes, sir!" she said with all the enthusiasm of someone about to be sentenced.

"Come here."

We exchanged a brief look that said, Oh no, before shuffling forward like two kids called into the principal's office.

The instructor's glare bore into us, his face carved from stone, his eyes gleaming with barely restrained annoyance.

"You two—do you not know anything about the plants and animals here?"

Thea hesitated, her lips twitching as if trying to form an answer. Seeing her nervous made me feel even worse, so I stepped up.

"No."

It came out so shaky it was practically a squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again, straightening my back.

"Ahem. No, sir. I am confident in saying I know absolutely nothing about gathering any plants that are safe to eat."

For a long moment, the instructor just… stared at me.

He rubbed his temples, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Why me?" before pulling a small book from somewhere within his oversized coat.

"Take this."

I accepted the book with both hands, bowing slightly like it was some sacred artifact.

"Thank you, sir!"

With a sharp nod, he turned and stomped off, leaving Thea and me standing there holding what I could only assume was our lifeline to not starving to death.

The silence between us was broken by Thea holding out her hand.

"Book."

I handed it over immediately, grinning. "Yes, of course, Grandmaster. Grace me with your knowledge and literacy."

"Could you quit that already?" she said, though she was laughing as she flipped open the book. "You sure know a lot of words for someone who can't read."

"I told you, I can read!" I huffed. "Just… not whatever swirly hieroglyphics is written here."

"Right, right." She smirked before squinting at the book's title. "Herbal Remedies for Health and Comfort Food: A Collection of Plants in the Western Continent."

I blinked. "That entire thing is the title? What is this, a light novel?"

Thea frowned. "Light novel?"

"Never mind. Cultural reference. Moving on—are we going to find anything edible in there, or am I about to start chewing on bark out of sheer desperation?"

She skimmed through the pages as we started walking into the woods. The leaves crunched softly beneath our boots, and every distant rustle made me flinch slightly.

"I mean, we should find something," she said, her finger tracing a page filled with rough sketches of plants. "Why else would the commander give it to us?"

"That's the spirit. Confidence! Leadership!" I said with mock enthusiasm, spreading my arms. "And if all else fails, I'm sure one of these trees looks somewhat appetizing."

Thea snorted but kept walking, the book clutched tightly in her hands.

"I mean, actually," Thea said thoughtfully, tapping the book with her finger, "one of the trees around here should have some soft plant threads under the bark if you really want to try it."

I made a face. "And… anything else? Roots, berries, food that doesn't taste like recycled lumber?"

"Well—there are some roots that grow from a small shrub that looks like this." She pointed to one of the illustrations in the book. "But we'd have to be careful because there's a poisonous plant that looks almost identical."

I squinted at the two sketches. To me, they looked like the same plant cosplaying as itself.

"So…" I said slowly, "you can tell the difference, right?"

Thea flashed me a confident smile. Then… she turned the page.

"How about berries instead? They're rare but easy to identify, and they grow low in the brush, so most people miss them."

My smile twitched.

"Berries it is. Anything else we should keep an eye out for?"

"Hmm…" Thea scanned the page, her finger tracing across the illustrations. "Looks like there are also some edible herbs. Basically grasses you can eat."

"Oh, so… nettles. Delicious," I said flatly.

She snorted but kept walking, her eyes still glued to the book.

It took about an hour of chatting, stumbling over roots, and scanning the ground before Thea stopped in her tracks.

"Look!" she said, pointing ahead.

There it was—a small shrub tucked beneath some overhanging branches, dotted with bright red berries. They glistened in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy.

Like tiny, edible rubies.

"Oh sweet nectar of the gods," I whispered reverently.

We crouched beside the bush, and I carefully plucked each delicate berry, splitting them evenly into two small handfuls.

"Fifty-fifty?" I asked.

Thea nodded quickly, already eyeing her share with an intensity that bordered on reverence.

When I bit into one, my eyes nearly rolled back into my head. They tasted like cherry tomatoes fused with the tart sweetness of raspberries. Juicy, sharp, and perfect.

"Amazing," I said around a mouthful.

Thea nodded vigorously, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk hoarding treasure. Her chestnut hair fell across her eyes, and for a second, I couldn't help but think—

Cute.

We sat there savoring every last berry until our handfuls were empty. I let out a satisfied sigh and leaned back against a tree.

"So," I said casually, "about cultivation?"

Thea glanced up at me, her cheeks still faintly pink from eating. "Yeah?"

"Isn't there something about taking the world's energy as nutrients?"

She froze mid-chew and stared at me, her shoulders trembling slightly.

"Don't make me laugh while I'm eating," she said, her voice strained.

But it was too late. Her shoulders shook, her cheeks puffed, and then she burst out laughing, nearly choking on the memory of the berries.

"How—" she gasped between snorts, "do you think we're plants? Just soaking up energy from the sun or something?"

Wait—they know about photosynthesis? Huh. Probably just common knowledge about plants. Not important.

"Okay, okay, you can stop now!" I said, waving my hands. "But seriously—is there really nothing like that? You're sure?"

She wiped tears from her eyes, her laughter finally fading into soft chuckles.

"Not that I know of," she said, her voice still trembling with leftover giggles.

Well, she didn't roll her eyes. Progress.

Thea sighed. "Honestly, I don't know much past what's in the cultivation book. It ends with core formation, and it only really instructs you on sensing and moving energy to increase your stats."

She paused, her expression thoughtful. "But… I do have some ideas of my own. Stuff that isn't in the book."

I perked up at that. "Oh? Do tell, Grandmaster Thea."

She ignored the jab, her stormy gray eyes lighting up with excitement as she continued. "I've thought about temporary storage—like focusing energy in your hands or feet to use it more readily in battle."

Something clicked in my brain. My eyes widened, and I snapped my fingers. "That! That's what I wanted to talk about!"

She tilted her head, clearly intrigued. "What?"

"What if we could store energy not just in a single core, but… all over? Like—what if, instead of just circulating energy, we could refine it into tiny reservoirs across our whole body? Like micro-cores, or checkpoints, permanently increasing our stats rather than just temporarily boosting them through circulation," recalling the step name from novels in my mind, "Real Body Refining."

Thea froze, her expression shifting from curiosity to something sharper, something brighter. Her lips parted slightly as if she was trying to process what I'd just said.

"That's… actually brilliant," she said softly, her voice almost reverent. "It's like creating little anchors throughout your body. Not only would it increase your baseline strength, but you'd have easier access to stored energy during combat."

"Yes! Exactly!" I said, the words spilling out of me in excitement. "Think about it—if your core is like a deep well of water, then these reservoirs would be like smaller basins or channels spread throughout your body. You wouldn't have to pull everything from one spot; it would already be where you need it."

Her stormy gray eyes widened slightly, her focus sharpening even more. "That's… that's perfect. Like creating streams branching off from a river. Instead of trying to pull water all the way from the source every time, it's already there. Accessible, ready."

"Right?!" I grinned, my hands gesturing wildly. "And those streams—or checkpoints, or whatever we want to call them—they wouldn't just make energy easier to use in combat. They'd also reinforce the body itself, permanently increasing its capacity to handle more energy. Like… like carving pathways into stone so the flow becomes natural over time."

Thea nodded vigorously, her chestnut hair falling into her face as she leaned forward, her excitement mirroring mine. "And if one stream—or, reservoir—runs dry, the others could redirect their flow. It could make controlling energy smoother overall."

"Yes!"

We both fell silent for a moment, staring at each other like we'd just unlocked some hidden truth about the universe.

"Well," I said after a long beat, grinning wide, "there's nothing to do but try it, right?"

Thea grinned back, her confidence infectious. "Yeah. But we should start small. Target one area first—see if it even works."

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "We're in the middle of endurance training. What if we start with the skin? It's the largest organ, covers the whole body, and—it just seems practical, right? Like layering armor, but with energy."

She smiled with excitement. "Let's do it then."

Just as I was about to sit down, a thought hit me like a brick.

"Wait. Is it safe here? We're in the middle of the woods, after all."

Thea paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "There shouldn't be any dangerous animals around here. Besides, we're not going to take too long."

Her tone was confident, but… shouldn't isn't exactly the most comforting word in this context.

Still, she was the Grandmaster here. I trusted her judgment.

I sat down next to her, crossing my legs on the uneven forest floor. It was surprisingly easier to clear my mind here—the rustling leaves, the distant calls of birds, the faint hum of energy in the air.

I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the stillness.

The stream of energy within me flickered to life—a faint ember growing into a steady current. I focused on moving it downward, directing it to my feet. The sensation was subtle at first, like warm water trickling through tiny cracks.

Focus.

I willed the energy to condense, to form a point of concentration in the skin of my left foot. It resisted me at first, slipping through like trying to cup water in my hands.

Compress it. Hold it steady.

Slowly, I felt it: a tiny nodule of warmth embedded in the core of my foot, but it didn't reach the skin. From there, faint threads of energy began spreading outward like fine cracks on glass. They didn't venture far—just a shallow network of tiny energy pathways feeding back into the node.

It wasn't what I'd imagined as a core, but it was something—a beginning.

But there was something… off. The threads felt fragile, like they could snap if I pushed too hard. And the energy was… leaking. Trickling back into my central flow no matter how hard I tried to hold it in place.

I gritted my teeth, focusing harder. Was this because my body wasn't used to holding energy in such a specific way? Did I need to train this tiny network, reinforce it like a muscle?

Do we need to train this channel? Like how we absorbed the world's energy?

The process felt unstable, unrefined—like building a dam out of twigs and hoping it held back a river.

The faint warmth in my foot started to sting. Just slightly, like tiny pinpricks needling my skin.

I risked a glance at Thea. She was still focused, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. A faint shimmer of light danced along her arms, almost like the energy within her was visible beneath her skin.

She's doing it.

No, not just doing it. She was thriving in it. Her control over her energy was leagues beyond mine. Where my energy felt like a frantic scribble, hers moved like an elegant painting, flowing with precision.

But then… something shifted.

A ripple ran through the forest air—a pulse coming from Thea, faint but wrong. Like the pressure before a storm.

My chest tightened.

"Thea," I whispered sharply. "Something feels… off."

She didn't respond, her focus locked into herself.

I thought back to how the small branches felt like they would snap if I tried adding more energy and my heart sped up.

"Thea! Stop!" I shook her violently.

"What," she responded with a bit of frustration.

"Where did you store your energy," I scanned her body, and saw her right hand, red like a cooked lobster. "Thea, you got carried away I think."

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice trembling slightly.

We sat in silence for a moment, the forest feeling both peaceful and unnerving at the same time.

I broke the silence first. "It worked… sort of. I managed to concentrate the energy, but it felt unstable. Like it didn't want to stay put."

Thea nodded thoughtfully. "I felt something similar. My network held, but it wasn't… permanent. The energy wants to return to the main flow."

I tapped my fingers against my thigh, thinking. "Maybe it's not just about placing the energy. Maybe it's about binding it. Like tying knots to hold it in place."

Thea's eyes lit up with recognition. "Yes! Or weaving it into the existing structure—like stitching fabric together, maybe we can start closer to the main flow at our center, then spread out from there."

"Exactly!"

We stared at each other, excitement mixing with the lingering unease from whatever had happened earlier.

"So… what now?" I asked.

Thea leaned back against the tree behind her, her face thoughtful. "We refine it. Test it. Carefully. Whatever happened just now—it might happen again if we push too hard, or too fast."

"No, I meant about food. I'm still hungry."

"Why don't you cultivate and eat that," she responded sarcastically.

"Helpful."

"Your master is always here to help," she said, not yet dropping her sarcasm.

We were about to continue our banter when a rustling sound cut through the morning stillness.

Both Thea and I froze.

Something shifted in the underbrush behind us—a heavy presence, slow and deliberate. My skin prickled with cold anticipation, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run.

When I turned around, I nearly screeched like a banshee.

Standing in the clearing was a creature unlike anything I'd ever seen. Its sleek black carapace armor glistened faintly in the pale sunlight, segmented like overlapping plates across its hulking form. Six powerful limbs, each ending in hooked claws, braced against the ground as if ready to pounce.

Its head was flat and triangular, jaws hanging slightly open to reveal rows of jagged, needle-like teeth that seemed almost too numerous to fit in its mouth.

But the worst part? Its eyes—pale, glowing orbs that shimmered with an unnatural light as they locked onto us.

"Thea…" I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What is that?"

She didn't answer. Her stormy gray eyes were locked on the creature, her body tense, her breathing shallow. She looked scared—but poised. Ready to fight.

My mind raced. We had no weapons, no tools. What were we supposed to do—punch it to death?

"Thea, we should—"

"Peter," she interrupted, her voice low and firm, "I'll draw its focus. Circle around and hit it from behind. Be quick. This thing moves—"

The creature lunged.

A blur of black and silver shot forward, claws tearing into the ground where Thea had been standing a split second earlier. She dove sideways, rolling to her feet with a sharp breath.

I stumbled backward, nearly tripping over my own feet. Focus, Peter!

Thea was keeping its attention, darting in and out with quick, controlled movements. Her attacks were faint, her energy focused into short bursts of speed. But she couldn't hold out forever.

I crouched low and began circling the beast, trying to keep my breathing steady.

Energy. Circulate.

To my surprise, there was still a faint ember of energy in my left foot—the remnants of our earlier experiment.

It would have to be enough.

With a sharp inhale, I lunged.

I slammed into the creature's side, wrapping my arms around its midsection and throwing my weight into it. The impact was jarring, the carapace cold and unyielding beneath my grip.

The creature screeched—a chittering, ear-piercing noise that rattled in my skull.

"Thea!" I yelled. "Now!"

Thea didn't hesitate. She leaped forward, her fists slamming down on the creature's head and neck with brutal precision. Each strike was accompanied by a faint shimmer of energy flowing down her arms.

But the creature was strong.

Its back legs kicked out, claws scraping against my arm and forcing me to release my grip. It twisted violently and wriggled free, letting out a shriek as it bolted into the underbrush.

Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by our ragged breathing.

I collapsed onto the ground, clutching my arm where its claw had grazed me. Thea stumbled back, her chest heaving.

"You okay?" I managed between gasps.

"Yeah," she said weakly, her voice trembling slightly. "But… we really need weapons. Maybe next time it'll be our meal."

She let out a soft, breathless laugh.

I managed a weak chuckle in response, pushing myself upright. "Agreed. But honestly, a meal made from world energy is sounding pretty good right now. As long as we eat it in safety."

Thea smirked, standing up and brushing the dirt from her clothes. "You know what? That sounds delicious."

We exchanged a glance—equal parts relief, exhaustion, and shared understanding.

Without another word, we turned and began walking back toward the clearing where the commander was.

The forest behind us was quiet again, but I couldn't shake the feeling that those pale, glowing eyes were still watching us from somewhere deep in the shadows.