Half a year. In these six months, I’d slaughtered thirteen fire-spitting gray bears and countless wild rabbits.
The gallstone harvested from the seventh bear finally freed me from my savage, raw-meat-eating existence. Channeling mana into that stone conjured flames—but my mana pool was pitifully small. Forget heating; at first, roasting a single meal drained me completely.
After gaining fire-making ability, Mr. Self Appraisal unexpectedly shone, flooding me with vital intel. Most crucially, I could now *see* my mana levels through Self Appraisal. So igniting fire with a gallstone *was* magic. Truly an otherworld.
Initially, my base mana stood at 2 points. Ghoul Transformation boosted it to 53. Maintaining cooking-level flames for five minutes cost 1 point. But in Rampage Ghostification, I couldn’t control the flame intensity. Overexertion would burn through all mana—and hitting zero in that state meant blacking out. So using Ghoul Transformation for fire was scrapped immediately.
In human form, I’d mastered fire control. Even when mana depleted, I only felt mild fatigue—no unconsciousness. Better yet: switching *into* Rampage Ghostification, then back to human form had a one-in-three chance of refilling my human mana pool. (I’d calculated that probability after ten days of trial-and-error cooking.) I turned this into dual training: practicing Ghoul Transformation while passively regenerating mana. Within a month, I was a roast-meat veteran. Truly, the drive for comfort fuels human progress.
After countless mana-depletion cycles in human form, I noticed my total mana subtly increasing each time. Eventually, I could even light fires for warmth at night.
Over a year later, Dante and Yulia at Fort Posein explained it: the Void Expansion Principle. Roughly, each time you fully recover after mana depletion, your total capacity grows by 1-3%.
Dante called it "useless scholar nonsense cooked up to scam money." Typical Dante—the swordmaster genius with zero other talents, the same Dante Yulia and I teased daily.
But that growth rate was exponential. Even with tiny starting mana, compounding 1.01^365 yielded staggering numbers. Thanks to this mechanism, even a mana-starved ghoul hybrid like me could eventually wield magic freely.
How could he casually dismiss such a vital secret? The kingdom’s military mages—who’d spent decades discovering Void Expansion—would weep with rage.
Anyway, after six months of wilderness survival, my abilities had skyrocketed. Self Appraisal now displayed:
------------------------------------------------------------
Race: Ghoul Hybrid
Status: Rampage Cursed Goatling, Logic - White Spider Larva Infection
Skills: Great Ghoul Tongue, Self Appraisal, Rampage Ghostification, Hunting, Dark Magic Fire
Mana: 9/10
Titles: Corpse Eater Devourer, Rabbit Slayer
------------------------------------------------------------
Self Appraisal had added a mana bar. I had 9 points left out of a total 10. Yes—through relentless training, my base mana had reached ten points.
Later, I learned average humans had around 30. But for a magic-inept ghoul hybrid my age? Ten points was impressive. (Though no one’s ever tested other low-IQ ghouls’ mana.)
Self Appraisal also formalized my skills: "Hunting" for survival prowess, "Dark Magic Fire" for flame control. I’d mastered wilderness fundamentals.
I was now a self-sufficient three-year-old hunter. Rampage Ghostification felt second nature—I hadn’t lost control in two months. Whether facing bears or refilling mana, my sanity held firm.
With higher mana and rabbit-harvested horns, I could hunt rabbits *without* Ghoul Transformation. Time to graduate from bunnies? Maybe target deer—this area’s rabbits were nearly picked clean.
Fire-spitting bears remained hopeless, though. Every kill still required Rampage Ghostification.
Enough rambling. After half a year as the Rabbit Slayer—after nearly despairing in this seemingly human-less prehistoric world—I finally, *for the first time*, encountered humans.
Four humans were surrounding a Corpse Eater.
