I did not fall through space.
Because space had not yet formed.
I did not pass through time.
Because time had not begun to flow.
What happened was only this:
my consciousness lost its anchor.
And when that anchor collapsed
meaning began to solidify.
There was pressure.
Not from outside,
but from within my own awareness,
as if something were trying to give me form.
I wanted to resist.
But resistance requires will,
and my will had not yet fully been born.
Then—
sensation.
Cold.
Not the cold that pierces the skin,
but the cold that defines existence.
I realized one thing:
I have a body.
The realization came slowly,
not as a dramatic awakening,
but as a logical error.
Since when did I have boundaries?
I opened my eyes.
Light did not greet me.
The sky was not magnificent.
There were no magic circles,
no divine voices.
Only murky green-gray colors,
thin mist hanging low,
and cold, damp earth against my back.
I was lying down.
Breathing.
Breathing
that alone felt strange.
Each breath
was not merely oxygen,
but something denser,
heavier,
as if the air itself possessed intent.
I slowly sat up.
This body… was not my old body.
Not because its shape was different,
but because of how it responded.
Every movement felt like a negotiation
between my will and the world.
When my feet touched the ground,
I felt it.
Not touch.
Not temperature.
But pressure of meaning.
This land… was alive.
Not alive like a creature,
but more like
a system aware of my existence.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time since awakening
I felt something flowing.
Not blood.
Not energy.
Resonance.
It was not entirely within my body,
nor entirely outside of it.
It existed in between.
"Mana."
The word was not taught.
It was not heard.
Yet the moment I realized it,
the word became true.
Mana is not power.
It is a medium.
In this world,
nothing moves because of cause,
but because of alignment.
Mana is the bridge
between will, body, and world.
I tried to pull it.
My first mistake.
My chest tightened.
Not pain
but rejection.
Not my body rejecting it,
but the world itself.
I coughed,
dropping to one knee.
At that moment, I understood:
Mana belongs to no one.
It is not owned.
It is not controlled.
It is permitted.
I steadied my breathing.
If this world operates through alignment,
then crude intent
only creates conflict.
I lowered my intent.
Not pulling.
Not forcing.
Just
acknowledging.
And then
I saw it.
Not with my eyes,
but with a deeper awareness.
Mana does not flow in straight lines.
It is layered.
The Structure of Mana in This World
Environmental Mana
The mana that envelops the world.
Not neutral.
Shaped by history, collective emotion, and major events.
Battlefields carry heavy mana.
Ancient forests possess slow but profound mana.
Body Mana (Mana Vessel)
Living bodies act as containers,
not sources.
The more aligned a body is with the world,
the more stable its mana flow becomes.
Consciousness Mana
The most dangerous layer.
Will, belief, trauma
all influence how mana responds.
Those with fractured wills
may possess wild or empty mana.
I realized something disturbing.
Within me
there was no clear mana flow.
Not zero.
Not empty.
But…
undefined.
As if this body
had not yet been decided
to be worthy of becoming a vessel.
I thought of WIA.
"Is this the world that still needs a story?"
There was no answer.
Yet the pressure around me slowly changed.
The mist moved.
Not pushed by wind
but stepping aside.
As if the world itself were…
observing me.
I stood up.
My legs trembled,
not from weakness,
but from unsynchronized resonance.
If humans in this world
are shaped by mana from birth
then I am an anomaly.
Someone without history in this world.
Without mana traces.
Without patterns.
And this world…
does not like me.
But it does not reject me either.
I took a deep breath.
If I wish to live
not return,
but continue
then I must learn one thing:
Not how to use mana.
But how to be acknowledged by it.
In the distance,
I heard a sound.
Footsteps.
Not beasts.
Not monsters.
Human.
And at that moment, I realized
this story
has finally, truly begun.