“My injuries… they don’t hurt as much. Is it just my imagination?”

  Narchis wasn’t sure why, but the pain that had racked his body earlier seemed to have lessened.

  Before he could examine himself further, a guard entered the tent and silently set down a tray of food beside him. Without a word, the guard turned and left.

  What passed for food was questionable at best—something dark and stone-like, perhaps bread, and a single cup of water.

  Narchis stared at the blackened lump dubiously. “Is this even edible? My teeth aren’t made of steel.”

  He knocked the “bread” against the table—bang bang—solid as a rock.

  Sighing, he dipped the chunk into the water and let it soak before gnawing at it bit by bit, slowly forcing it down.

  After all the exertion he’d been through, he really was hungry.

  And in a place like this, where he didn’t know what would happen next, survival meant strength. And strength came from food.

  “How exactly did I end up here?”

  As he chewed, Narchis tried to recall.

  He remembered gaming—raging at incompetent teammates.

  “I dodged left, rolled right, popped my ult…”

  Then came the gray screen of defeat. Frustrated, he had thrown his mouse aside. If he hadn’t been at an internet café, he might have smashed the keyboard too.

  “And I didn’t see any weird text on the screen… There wasn’t a lightning strike, no meteor, no glitch. So the computer’s out.”

  The theory that he had been transported through his gaming rig was temporarily ruled out.

  “So what happened next?

  Since the match was basically lost, I went to get something to snack on.

  I remember the spicy sticks were gone. There were walnuts nearby—I even asked aloud who had bought them…”

  Slowly, the memory grew clearer.

  Yes. He had seen a walnut.

  It hadn’t struck him as anything unusual at the time. But now that he thought about it… that walnut had looked a bit strange.

  Unlike the normal woody-brown, this one had a faint green hue. Its surface patterns were odd too—twisted, intricate.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Then he had reached out to pick it up…

  A burst of green light had flashed. It had come from the walnut.

  He’d even suspected it was some kind of prank.

  Finally, Narchis understood.

  “Damn it… it was the walnut! This is all its fault! Where the hell did that thing come from—”

  In his frustration, he cursed aloud—forgetting that he still had a chunk of stone-bread in his mouth.

  The result: a jolt of pain shot through his jaw. His teeth nearly cracked.

  Grimacing, Narchis set the bread aside and sat silently, mind drifting back to the walnut.

  “If it was the walnut that brought me here… and I can control roots now… then maybe the walnut is still with me.”

  With that thought, he started patting down his body, searching.

  But nothing.

  He was still in his short-sleeved shirt and shorts—completely out of place in this world—and nothing on him could possibly conceal something walnut-sized.

  “If it’s not on me… could it have fused with me?

  I wonder if I can see inside myself… like internal vision?”

  He had nothing better to do, so he gave it a try.

  Closing his eyes, he focused as hard as he could on the idea of seeing within.

  Nothing happened.

  Minutes passed in silence. Still nothing.

  Just as he was about to give up, something buzzed in his head—whummm—and suddenly his vision was filled with green light.

  Even though his eyes were still shut, it felt like he was gazing into a world made of light.

  “There you are, you damn thing… Wait—have you sprouted?!”

  Floating in the center of that emerald sea was the very walnut that had brought him here.

  But now, it had changed.

  A thin crack split its surface, and from it, a tiny green shoot had emerged—bright, fresh, and alive.

  Narchis didn’t dare touch it.

  If it was tied to his powers, damaging it could be dangerous.

  Instead, he paced around it—his consciousness drifting in this mysterious space, studying every detail.

  “A seed… it must be. But what kind? Don’t tell me… is this the legendary World Tree?”

  He half-joked, half-wished, speaking into the void.

  The seed didn’t respond. Not a twitch, not a glow.

  He circled it over and over, so many times he could probably recite its surface patterns from memory—but still, it didn’t react.

  Finally, frustrated, Narchis gritted his teeth. “Fine, let’s see what you really are.”

  With that, he directed his consciousness straight at the seed and slammed into it.

  By sheer luck—or fate—he hit just the right way.

  The seed flared with a soft green glow.

  Narchis froze.

  Information exploded from it—waves of knowledge pouring directly into his mind.

  It was like the Scroll of Wisdom, but deeper. More instinctual.

  This knowledge didn’t just enter his brain—it became part of him.

  He understood how to use it. How to control it. As though he had known it all along.

  “So that’s your true purpose… Amazing.”

  He still didn’t understand how it had brought him to this world, especially since it didn’t seem to possess any spatial magic.

  But now, as he opened his eyes again, they flickered with quiet wonder.

  So much had happened in such a short span of time.

  Oddly, Narchis now felt a strange calm—like a storm had passed through him, cleansing everything inside.

  Even the memories of bloodshed on the battlefield no longer paralyzed him with fear. He could face them now, without flinching.

  The thing that had pulled him into this world, the mysterious seed disguised as a walnut, was no ordinary seed.

  It had no name. But it came with knowledge:

  He could control all plants of a lower level than his own.

  The seed’s potential was linked to his own power. But currently, he had no power to speak of.

  By the standards of the Scroll of Wisdom, he was merely an Apprentice—a beginner mage, barely more capable than a regular person.

  The next tier would be Iron-tier Mage, though he wasn’t even sure he qualified as a mage at all.

  The seed’s initial state granted him a simple power—the ability to manipulate ordinary plant life.

  It was that same emerald force within him that had caused the roots to surge from the earth and bind the charging Orc on the battlefield.

  Without it, Narchis was certain—he would’ve been caught and eaten alive.

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