It had been ten days since I learned Naruto’s Fireball Jutsu.
By then, I already had a general sense of the abilities I possessed; even so, over the following ten days, I continued to practice, train, and experiment to pinpoint exactly what they were.
By this point, I had already traveled about 500 kilometers since arriving in this world, maintaining my usual routine: eating only when I felt hungry—which generally happened once every two or three days—and drinking with the same frequency.
Whenever possible, I tried to restock my food and water supplies at any suitable spots I came across.
The experiences I had during this time helped me better understand my apparent skills.
For example, my inventory capacity—which I initially thought was just a basic storage space—had increased, though not very noticeably.
I also discovered that I was able to extract, isolate, and store harmful substances that entered my body.
I figured this out when I accidentally touched a plant that released a paralyzing toxin; within a few seconds, my body isolated it thanks to this ability.
It was incredibly reassuring to know I had at least some defense against poisons.
The ability that allowed me to recreate the fireball—and which also gave me slightly better-than-average observational and analytical skills—had its own quirks.
First, I obviously couldn’t learn abilities that were far beyond my current power level.
Strangely, it also prevented me from mastering techniques native to the world of Tensura itself, even though that was clearly where I had ended up.
For now, I’ll refer to the energy here as “magicules.” I didn’t know exactly why this restriction existed, but it was a surprising discovery that certainly caught my attention.
Furthermore, I realized that before I could learn a fictional skill, I needed to know how to use the underlying element at a basic level.
For example, if I wanted to create lightning chains, I first had to be able to generate and control electricity in a rudimentary way.
Finally, the third ability I confirmed was my spiritual core.
Over the past few days, I came to realize that this core slightly increases both the quantity and quality of my magicules, while also boosting the speed at which I recover them—completely independent of the outside world.
This self-sustaining nature also meant my magicule reserves didn’t interact with the surrounding atmosphere.
It was a bit strange, but as long as it didn’t cause any problems, I wasn’t going to complain.
I also discovered that my reduced hunger and thirst were due to this core, as it helped my body manage its resources far more efficiently, lowering my overall biological needs.
Looking back on the requests I made right before reincarnating, these three abilities made perfect sense.
The storage ability was basically what I had asked for, albeit a much weaker, degraded version.
My spiritual core was the same: a significantly toned-down variant of my wish to never have to depend on anyone.
As for the ability I hoped would mirror Great Sage or Raphael, it turned out to be a function that merely let me use my knowledge of fiction as a reference, while granting me analytical skills slightly superior to a normal human’s—nothing world-shattering.
Curiously, my very first request—and the only one where I actually heard the Voice of the World, even if incompletely—seemed to yield no ability at all.
If I remember correctly, in that first request, I had asked to be different from others and not be bound by the rules, but so far, I hadn’t found any ability corresponding to that desire.
What struck me as truly bizarre, though, was that in the thirteen days I had spent in this forest, I hadn’t encountered a single magical creature beyond tiny mammals like rabbits.
Perhaps my missing ability had something to do with that, or maybe I was just incredibly lucky.
I really wouldn’t know what to do if I ran into an enemy on my level, let alone a stronger one.
Over the course of those ten days, through constant experimentation, I didn’t just map out my skills; I also developed new techniques beyond the fireball.
Taking advantage of my basic fire manipulation, I wanted to create a spell with high piercing power.
I ended up crafting throwable fire arrows, heavily inspired by the ones Makoto uses in Tsukimichi: Moonlit Fantasy.
Realizing that flexibility wasn’t my strong suit, and wanting to ensure my magic wasn’t limited to just fire, I set out to create small gusts of wind—a task that took me even longer than generating my first spark.
After three days of wrestling with the wind, I managed to replicate Ais Wallenstein’s Ariel from DanMachi in the form of a spell.
It granted me immense speed and battlefield mobility, which would undoubtedly prove invaluable.
Note: While Ariel is an innate spirit-affinity ability rather than a castable spell in the original work, this is Kael’s custom adaptation.
Think of it as a shroud of wind armor, similar to the Raikage’s Lightning Armor.
Aside from learning new spells, I kept up my physical conditioning and drained my magicule reserves at least twice every afternoon—which, thanks to my spiritual core, fully replenished in just over two hours of rest.
This steady grind slowly elevated my physical parameters.
My flexibility showed the most improvement, though it remained my glaring weakness.
This rapid growth brought an amusing thought to mind: I guess my resemblance to the Saiyans isn’t just cosmetic after all.
However, my most significant leap was in my magicule capacity and control: my total volume practically doubled.
Previously, magic was the weaker half of my arsenal, but now it stood on equal footing with my physical strength.
If my initial magicule pool could be rated as a ten, it was now easily a twenty or more.
All in all, it had been an incredibly productive period without any setbacks.
My plan remained the same: keep heading west and keep getting stronger.
I also wanted to focus on developing the analytical and observational aspects of my skills; I knew they held immense potential.
In this world, the truly powerful almost always possess an intellectual skill to manage and optimize their abilities.
After all, it was Great Sage, Raphael, and eventually Ciel who carried Rimuru through his entire journey.
After another exhausting day of training, I finally called it quits.
Just like every other night, I began scouting for a safe place to settle down.
While searching, a sudden rustling nearby caught my attention.
I immediately slipped behind a dense bush, holding my breath to stay silent.
I had no idea what was making those sounds, but it definitely wasn’t some small forest critter; it sounded massive, easily larger than me.
I could hear wet, heavy tearing and scratching noises, as if some beast were gnawing on a fresh carcass.
Without a second thought, I began to slowly back away, but the beast had already caught my scent.
Before it could close the distance, I caught a clear glimpse of what had found me.
It was a bear, but nothing like the ones from Earth.
This thing stood easily over two meters tall, covered in reddish-black fur with menacing bone spikes protruding from its spine and elbows.
Its curved claws were terrifyingly long.
Panic flared in my chest.
Should I run or fight?
I was completely drained from a full day of training, and my magicule reserves were hovering at a mere 50%.
As I wavered, the bear made the decision for me.
Abandoning the half-eaten carcass, it lunged toward me with raw aggression.
Fortunately, my guard was up, and since we were over thirty meters apart, its clumsy charge gave me plenty of time to react.
I sidestepped the beast cleanly, forcing myself to stay calm.
Okay, it’s strong, but its top speed isn’t anything crazy, I analyzed.
Before it could pivot for a second strike, an instinct flared deep inside me.
I let out a sharp, booming roar that visibly stunned the bear for a split second.
I recognized the sensation immediately—it was Coercion, an intrinsic skill of Ranga’s tempest wolf species.
Though my version was still weak, it bought me a moment.
The stun quickly wore off, and the bear lunged again.
Feeling a surge of confidence now that I had its timing down, I dodged the second strike with ease.
However, as the bear’s claw sailed past me, it connected with a massive tree behind us.
The trunk exploded into splinters as if struck by an anti-tank missile.
Cold sweat broke out on my neck.
If even one of those hits lands, I’m dead, I realized.
While the beast lacked speed and agility—a theory its lumbering movements fully supported—its destructive power was off the charts, and its durability was bound to be just as absurd.
Well, it looks like my lucky streak finally ran out today, I thought grimly.