After the hunters’ visit, Zeno’s cabin no longer felt like just a temporary shelter. It felt like a tight cage, the walls reeking of dampness and old leather. I woke to a low, persistent hum in my ears. It wasn’t the wind or the crackle of the hearth. It was my [Will to Live]. The skill was running in the background, trying to patch my damaged internals, but my body clearly didn’t have enough resources.

  I tried to sit up, and the world immediately seemed to tilt. Fat black spots floated across my vision. The ribs that Zeno had “stitched” with his magic yesterday protested with a dull, heavy pain. The old man’s healing had been effective, but it didn’t override the laws of biology — my tissues still needed to physically repair. Right now, I felt like an old, broken machine hastily patched with duct tape and forced to run at full capacity.

  “Biological wear — 35%. Temperature above normal. Critical glucose deficiency,” I ran the diagnostic in my head as habit. Before, I used to check server load reports this way. Now — my own state.

  Zeno was busy at the table, chopping some roots. His movements were precise, economical. He didn’t turn to look at me, but I could feel his gaze on my skin.

  — You’re awake, — he remarked without stopping. — I thought you might sleep until next spring. Yesterday, you raved so completely while I patched you up that you revealed more secrets than a fortune-teller at the fair.

  I froze, feeling a chill run through me.

  Damn… why did I even speak? My tongue is my enemy.

  My memory of yesterday’s return was fragmented: the taste of blood in my mouth, the sticky sweat, my own hoarse voice explaining something about a “skill” and “survival optimization” to the old man. In my half-fainted state, I had apparently tried to break down my ability into components, hoping Zeno could help me calibrate the flows. Idiot. Now he knows I’m not just a “strange gifted child,” but something far more complex — and potentially dangerous.

  — About the [Will to Live]? — I croaked, trying to swing my legs to the floor. My knees shook like jelly.

  — And about it too, — Zeno turned to me, arms crossed over his chest. The knife in his hand gleamed dully. — You call it a “skill.” Strange word. We call it a curse or a gift of the gods, but you… you speak of it like it’s part of a machine. “Activation,” “reaction,” “overload.” Do you understand that your body isn’t a piece of metal? If you keep “optimizing” your life this way, one day your heart will decide pumping blood isn’t energetically worth it — and you just won’t wake up.

  I silently accepted a bowl of some gray porridge from him. It smelled terrible, but I needed calories. Any calories.

  — It’s the only way to survive here, — I said after the first spoonful. — Hunters, wolves, trolls… Without this skill, I’d have died the first day.

  — Could be, — Zeno sat on a stool across from me. — But yesterday you almost fried your brain. You hid from the hunters, suppressing your aura, but you pushed the mana so hard your eye vessels burst. You’re playing with fire, kid.

  We spent the rest of the morning in silence. I ate, trying not to think about how much Zeno now trusted me. My internal calculations said full recovery would take another three days, but Zeno had other plans.

  — Enough lying around, — he said when I finished. — If your so-called skill is so clever, let’s teach it to work finer. Yesterday you acted like a hammer. Today, we’ll try a needle.

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  We went out to the cabin’s backyard. The air was damp, smelling of rotting leaves and rain. Zeno had me sit on a flat stone, stretching my arms in front.

  — Your problem is that you release all the pressure at once, — he explained, pacing. — You activate the skill, and it takes full control. You should be the admin, not the user. Understand?

  I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Admin”? The old man quickly caught my drift.

  — Try directing the mana into the fingertips. Just a tiny bit. Imagine it’s not a stream of water, but a fine spiderweb.

  I closed my eyes. The skill buzzed in my head as usual. I tried not to let it unfold at full power. It was like holding back a furious dog on a short leash. The mana wanted to surge forward, accelerate my heartbeat, sharpen my senses.

  Quiet… I commanded the system. Minimum threshold. One percent of power.

  I felt heat stir in my forearm. It crept slowly down to my hand. It demanded immense effort. My body, used to extreme spikes, resisted this delicacy. My muscles twitched lightly from tension. I could feel every cell screaming: Faster! Stronger! More efficient!

  — Even less, — Zeno’s voice sounded distant. — Don’t push. Just guide it.

  I focused on a single nerve ending in my index finger. It was incredibly difficult. Sweat poured over my brow, blurring my vision, but I stayed still. At some point, I decided I could manage it. I allowed the barrier inside to relax slightly…

  And then reality simply broke.

  It wasn’t a normal faint. One moment, I felt a cold wind on my cheek, and the next — everything was gone. Sounds, smells, rib pain — all erased.

  I was in an absolutely white room. No shadows, no light sources, no horizon. Just infinite, sterile nothingness. From an engineer’s perspective, it looked like a blank graphic domain before textures had loaded.

  System error? the thought flickered. Cognitive overload?

  At the edge of my virtual field of view, I noticed a figure. Humanoid, but lacking details — just a shape filled with soft, whitish light with a faint yellow tint. It didn’t move. It emitted neither threat nor warmth. Just a static object in the void. Yet its presence felt heavy, like an anchor keeping my mind from dissolving completely into the white noise.

  I tried to step forward. No legs. No arms. I was just a point of perception. The figure began to fade slowly, and with it the space was filled with “artifacts” — black cracks and sparks.

  — Too early, — resonated inside my head. Not a voice, more like a formed thought. — The system isn’t ready.

  Then — a sharp jerk, as if I were tethered and yanked back at tremendous speed.

  I opened my eyes and rolled onto my side, coughing violently. Dark, thick blood dripped from my nose onto the grass. My head felt like it was being hammered in.

  Zeno crouched beside me, holding my shoulder. His face was pale, and his hand trembled noticeably.

  — You… idiot, — he exhaled. — I told you not to push. You nearly crossed the Edge. One more second, and I’d be pulling an empty shell from your clothes.

  I wiped the blood with my hands, trying to still the shaking.

  — I… I saw a room. White void. There was someone there.

  Zeno froze. Slowly, he withdrew his hand and stood heavily.

  — It wasn’t a “someone.” More like your limit. Some call it the Hall of Mana, others — the threshold of death.

  I looked at my hands. They still trembled lightly. I didn’t like the melodrama in Zeno’s words. What I saw didn’t feel like a dying brain hallucination. It was too… structured. Too technical.

  — And why did I even tell you about this skill… — I muttered, covering my face.

  — So I wouldn’t let you kill yourself in the first month, — Zeno replied sharply. — Now crawl back inside. You’re done for today. Your “processor,” as you call it, needs a reboot.

  I struggled to rise, leaning on the staff he offered. I felt awful, but deep inside, a new sensation had settled. It was excitement. The thrill of an engineer who discovered hidden code in his program he hadn’t known existed.

  But Zeno was right — my current body couldn’t handle even the basic demands of the system.

  — Tomorrow… — I rasped, stepping over the cabin threshold. — Tomorrow we start making armor from troll plates.

  — First, learn to bring a spoon to your mouth without spilling, — the old man grumbled, closing the door.

  I collapsed onto the mattress without even taking off my boots. The white silhouette of that figure still hovered in my mind. I didn’t know who it was, but one thing was clear: this world operates on rules I have yet to crack. And if the price is broken ribs and a nosebleed… well, I’ve always worked overtime, even in my old life.