[World 17 Basic Dynamic Guide]

  The book began to scribble golden letters that soon turned black. I placed my index finger on the line and followed it. It felt warm and comforting.

  [Greetings, young man. I am here to answer your questions and assist with basic knowledge to improve your chances of survival during your first days.]

  “Holy shit! That’s fucking amaz—”

  “How do I open the menu?!” Nelson cut my reaction short and went straight to what mattered to him.

  [For that, young man, you’ll need steam or mist. It can only be seen under such conditions.]

  “Damn it! We have no pan to boil water,” Nelson groaned.

  Meanwhile, I began to feel as if I were walking up a steep hill. I had to take a deep breath.

  ‘What the fuck!’

  [It is because I am depleting your mana to function. Other symptoms will include lightheadedness, hyperventilation, and pseudo-hypoxia.]

  ‘Goddamn, each word makes my lungs burn even more.’

  [I apologize. The effects should lessen as you get used to spending mana and resting properly.]

  This book was too considerate. I doubted it had been made by divine wage-cuck Hexamalius.

  [I was made by Lytos, God of Literature and Wisdom.]

  ‘Shit, it even reacts to my thoughts! Get out of my head!’

  [Apologies. It is part of my “dynamic teaching” enchantment. I will try to respond to your questions within the limits of my knowledge. Ask away.]

  Every word made me feel as if I were halfway through a marathon, but I still asked—I needed information.

  “How do I—”

  I didn’t even finish my words before it understood what I wanted to ask.

  [As your mana pool limits my usage, I will keep my wording short: the “Stabilize” skill will stop bleeding and remove mild poison. It is activated by chanting, ‘Ever merciful Luminaria, aid this withering lamb.’]

  I shoved the book toward Nelson.

  “Nelson, touch the book—I’m choking here.”

  My wheezing was met with an amused smirk.

  “So nostalgic~ Frank the wheezing ball is back!”

  Nelson basked in the old memories of forcing me to jog when I was a landwhale.

  “Share the bill, manlet.”

  “Ha! Still need a push in the back, fatty?”

  He put his hand on the book, and I felt the burden lessen.

  [The basic healing skill has no chant, and without a proper catalyst, it will consume mana at higher rates.]

  Nelson’s support kept the burden from rising too high.

  “Oh, this feels like I’m working out. Nice!”

  [Finally, your only available skill from the Tank skill tree is ‘Taunt.’ You can use it by infusing mana into your words, forcing your enemies into melee combat.]

  I couldn’t keep up with the mana drain and fell to my knees.

  “I feel pumped up!” Nelson commented as he began taking deeper breaths.

  [That’s it for now. Improve your mana pool and come ask me more questions. Stay strong.]

  The book turned itself off. Nelson handed it back to me, and I placed it in Helena’s bag.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  I stretched out on the grass, thanking the Supreme Father for the forest’s high-quality air.

  “How come I’m not dying like you, Frank?”

  I held out my hand, signaling him to wait while I caught my breath.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Who the fuck knows. But holy shit—”

  “—my lungs are burning. I bet I’m at—”

  “—VO2 max.”

  “Your body specs are shit, unlike mine, which was crafted by the Gods.”

  “You made it yourself!”

  Nelson only smirked.

  “Fine, future god.”

  He hopped a bit, warming up and cracking his neck.

  “I’ll see if I can get some eggs from the bird’s nest. I can’t eat the same protein as you.”

  Nelson threw a glance at the corpses. I glanced too; the discarded liver looked way too tasty to my mana-exhausted body.

  ‘Time to… harvest the girl’s. When I can move.’

  I ended up taking a nap. It was quite refreshing, but it didn’t last long—Nelson’s cries woke me up.

  “DOOOOCTOOOR! MEDIIIIC!”

  He had wrapped the shirt she’d been wearing around his hand.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “Mistakes were made! Stop questioning me and help me with the bleeding!”

  I shook my head as I checked Nelson’s cut. Whatever this idiot did, he’d sliced open the back of his hand—and a couple of veins.

  “Fine, fine… How was the chant again? Ever merc—”

  At that very moment, time froze. My brain started hyper-analyzing the outcome of my heresy.

  ‘My gut tells me calling Luminaria’s name would make my lovely and wholesome goddess rip my spine out… no thanks!’

  Nelson was bleeding heavily, so I had to act.

  ‘Help me out, Gremlin Goddess!’

  “Ever-watchful Helena, aid this hopeless fool.”

  “Wait, why are you calling upon that g—!”

  A small pressure built in my heart. A heartbeat later, unbearable pain surged with each pulse, racing up into my hands.

  “Did I fuck up—AAAAAAAA!”

  Red lightning shot from my palms and engulfed Nelson’s wound, sealing the bleeding. He screamed as he yanked back his hand, fanned it, and jumped in circles from the pain.

  “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIIIIIS!?”

  “Healing,” I muttered, clutching my chest and getting angry at a certain death goddess.

  “Ain’t healing supposed to soothe? Why do I wanna rip my own hand off to stop the pain?!”

  “Silence, blasphemer. Don’t reject Lady Helena’s blessing.”

  I said it even though I was the one wishing to do exactly that.

  “Damnit! I’d rather chug the HP potion!” Nelson snapped, eyeing Helena’s bag.

  “And when we run out?!”

  “I’ll just avoid getting hit!”

  “Yeah, sure—you’ll go full AGI, strength-obsessed bitch.”

  Nelson tried to calm down as the pain dissipated.

  “Let me continue.”

  He stretched his hand out again, eyes teary.

  “Fine… but if you meme-chant again—”

  “I won’t. Calm down.”

  I stared at his hand. What now?

  “How do you even mana?” Nelson asked.

  “No idea. Let me think a bit.”

  I hovered my hands over the wound, like the Christians in my country did while “healing.” I began to tense every muscle, making my body vibrate, then locked myself into a half-squat and screeched—

  “AaaaaaaAAa!”

  Nothing fucking happened.

  “Damnit!”

  “Stop failing! Heal me—hurry!”

  “I’ll touch the wound directly,” I told Nelson. He immediately looked ready to bolt.

  “No fucking way, it’s gonna hurt!”

  “Worry not, mein Freund! I can’t make it worse—zero-damage tank, remember?”

  My words calmed Nelson enough for him to expose his hand, though he still looked suspicious and ready to sprint. I held it firmly and examined the wound closely; I could see the tendo—

  “This feels very gay.”

  “I’ll let you die if you get your dick ripped.”

  I ignored Nelson and kept focusing on the wound. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and—

  “Are you gonna speak in tongues?” Nelson giggled.

  “Silence. I must concentrate.”

  I recalled the feeling of the book sucking my mana.

  My hands grew warmer, and my breathing turned rough.

  “Oh! I feel my hand warming up—the wound itches,” Nelson murmured.

  I was heading in the right direction.

  I kept at it until I was wheezing again, but I managed to keep projecting—healing vibes?—onto Nelson’s wound.

  “This mana system sucks,” I muttered.

  Nelson examined his hand. The wound was still there—maybe a tenth healed—with ugly scarring to top it off.

  “Your healing sucks too.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. I’m just happy to learn it’s doable.”

  I stared at my index and middle fingers, trying to push all the warmth into them. My heart pounded so hard my hand began to wobble with every thump.

  “Frank?” Nelson asked, watching me tremble and wheeze, soaked in sweat.

  “Don’t shit yourself trying too hard.”

  I began to see the “invisible worms”—a sure sign my blood pressure was going rogue. Then I heard my idiotic companion speak, excited.

  “Oh, Frank, you summoned a green fire blowtorch!” His eyes sparkled.

  A small flame flickered into life, barely visible. I broke into a smile.

  ‘Thank you, based Supreme Father.’

  I brought it close to my face. ‘Oh—pine tree.’

  “Hey, Nelson, smell my fingers.” I pointed them toward him.

  “No.” He scowled in disgust. “Just hea—weld my cut.”

  He was giddy, seeing non-painful magic for the first time. He presented his hand eagerly, already forgetting the earlier agony.

  “Ah, yes—before I pass out.” Mental fog and exhaustion began to engulf me.

  I used my [Autism Focus Lv. 1] and welded Nelson’s wound.

  I ignored everything—the wobbling, the sweat in my eyes, the burning heat. I was jogging toward a finish line, refusing to stop no matter how much I wanted to puke or collapse.

  I lost awareness of everything but the closing wound, each millimeter bringing joy and a sense of victory.

  As soon as I was satisfied with the result, I fucking died.