"Alright, it's too early to be thinking about all that."
The excitement faded, and Ryan felt a little sheepish for getting ahead of himself. Yes, the abilities had come through without error — which strongly suggested the secondary ingredients played a much smaller role than he'd initially feared. But saying they had no effect? He didn't believe that for a second.
What exactly they did, and what going wrong with them might cause — that wasn't something he could work out on his own. He'd need to ask someone. Fortunately, the candidate wasn't a problem he had to solve right now. So the dread was still only halfway gone — but that didn't mean he couldn't relax.
Right — one thing to note: unlike Featherfall, using Full-Force Strike appears to immediately interrupt Shadow Concealment, even with minimal motion. He filed that away quietly. The first time he'd thrown the stone, he hadn't broken concealment.
Turning over the feel of the abilities in his mind, he recalled the sensation of that intangible something being consumed. He pulled a blade of grass, activated Full-Force Strike, and flicked it away. The grass didn't survive the force — it shredded into scraps the instant it left his fingers.
Still not at the level of those legendary martial artists who channel energy through the air, he thought dryly.
But the identical sensation confirmed it wasn't his imagination. That intangible thing was almost certainly the spiritual energy Full-Force Strike required. In truth, Shadow Concealment and Featherfall — the other two that needed active use — also listed spiritual energy as a cost in the "manual." But Ryan hadn't noticed it with those. Only Full-Force Strike had made him aware of what seemed to be the equivalent of an MP bar.
He had zero interest in testing his maximum, though. This wasn't necessarily a game, and draining the bar might not be consequence-free. What if the big idiot's poorly-handled potion came back to bite him exactly when the bar ran out? He might be big, but he wasn't stupid. His three-word rule right now: don't be reckless. Until he found the loophole, stick to what was safe. If his life weren't potentially on the line, he wouldn't even bother looking.
So what do I actually do now?
Once he'd registered the MP bar's existence, Ryan dropped any thought of further ability testing. Life came first. The only reason he hadn't already set off was that it was the middle of the night — no one to find. The big idiot's memories, for all their gaps, did include a few people who were likely Extraordinaries. He had candidates. Just not the right timing.
There was nothing to do but wait. So Ryan turned back to the room, intent on collapsing into bed.
In the dark, he could see clearly that the bed was on the thin side.
He gave up the idea of a proper sprawl and settled for lying down normally. It was about as firm as a university dorm mattress — wide enough, at least. He wasn't picky about comfort; when conditions were good, he was happy to enjoy them, and when they weren't, he didn't let it bother him. He closed his eyes and prepared to rest. It had been a thoroughly eventful night.
But apparently he'd overestimated his own calm — he was tired, but sleep wouldn't come.
My life looks safe for now. But I still can't figure out why I transmigrated. Even a web novel wouldn't dare write this.
He ran back through the details of that day: unremarkable commute home, perfectly ordinary snack purchase. The only thing different from any other day was passing a street stall and spotting a stone that caught his eye — something about all the etchings on it made him inexplicably like it. He bought it on a whim.
In hindsight, a little suspicious. But he'd only touched it for a moment before setting it aside. And he'd transmigrated while lying in bed — hours after buying it. Had it taken that long to charge up? Or was the stone completely unrelated, and he'd just hit an astronomically low probability? Or had some divine entity conscripted him for reasons unknown?
And if there was a purpose — what purpose? He was an ordinary office worker. Even to a being powerful enough to transmigrate people at will, he'd barely qualify as cannon fodder. They hadn't even given him a system. What use could he possibly be? Or maybe the outcome wasn't the point — maybe only the act of transmigrating itself mattered?
He lay there thinking for a long time and came up with nothing. So eventually he decided to let it go.
If it wasn't someone's deliberate doing, letting go changed nothing. If it was, then letting go was even more the right call. Whatever had pulled this off operated at a level beyond even this world's supernatural system — something close to divine, no matter the Sequence. He was a person who didn't even know the name of his Sequence 8 potion. He had no realistic chance of breaking free of something like that. Better to relax, lie back, and take things as they came. He might not be able to change a thing — but at least he'd be more comfortable.
I wonder what things are like on the other side right now.
He rolled over.
Had the big idiot transmigrated there in his place — a life-swap? Or had he simply vanished? Died on the spot? Gone into a coma?
He hoped it wasn't the first. The big idiot was a liability. He hoped it wasn't the last either — then he'd be the liability.
Either way, the people on the other side were going to be devastated. He wondered if they'd call him ungrateful. His mother had a habit of saying things like "I spent nearly twenty years raising you, and I'm counting on you to take care of me in my old age." Well — that hope had gone down in flames now.
Though Ryan had never understood where that fear of hers came from. He'd never done anything particularly outrageous. His grades were decent, not remarkable. After graduation, he hadn't leeched off them or asked them for money. He'd deliberately chosen a city far away to work in and didn't go back except for the Lunar New Year — but he had his reasons, and he'd never said he wasn't coming back at all. And her worry had started back in middle or high school, long before any of that. Their relationship had always been cool at best, and yes, there had been arguments during high school. But none of that had anything to do with whether he was responsible. If it really came down to it, she could take him to court — it wasn't like he'd flee the country over it. He genuinely couldn't figure out what she'd been so afraid of.
But even if they did call him ungrateful — it wouldn't really hurt. He hadn't asked to transmigrate. That wasn't on him.
Still, after rolling over again, Ryan decided to make an effort. Even setting aside any sense of responsibility — for the sake of the games he hadn't finished playing — he ought to at least try. Not lie completely flat.
Given the chasm between what he could currently do and the fact of his transmigration, though, he'd start there: with that as his goal. Dreams were worth having. As for the effort, he'd figure out the direction first.
Everything else — he'd leave to fate.
And so, for the first time, this young man who had always drifted with the current and harbored no particular ambitions found himself with a goal — distant, but real. Something he actually wanted to work toward.
He drifted into his first dream in this foreign world, as the darkness before dawn deepened around him.
Author's Note (this chapter):He still couldn't figure out why he'd transmigrated. Even a web novel wouldn't dare write this.
· Hunan Author, are you complimenting yourself?