"Mmmmh… why am I so sleepy?" I yawn, my body shifting slightly as I curl tighter around the warm, glowing orb. It's still so cozy… so safe. But something feels different. The warmth pulses. My fingers twitch. I don't want to move——but I can feel myself waking up.
Meanwhile, the creature stirs.
"Master's waking. Master's waking… must bring more!" it mutters, voice low and urgent.
It scrambles through the underbrush, a crude sash of leaves and vines slung across its thin frame. The makeshift pouch bulges with offerings—mushrooms, spiders, feathers, and the limp bodies of small birds. Mana-rich. Useful. Enough… for now.
The forest blurs past as it hurries back toward the cave, eager, desperate. The core was stirring. The light was changing.
And the Master was waking.
"Master's waking… must help Master… must make Master stronger!" it hisses, clutching the crude vine-and-leaf sash strapped across its chest. The pouch inside trembles with offerings—mushrooms pulsing with latent energy, twitching spiders, and the hushed weight of feathered corpses.
Every step drives it onward. The core's glow had flickered… had grown more insistent. It needed this—needed every drop of mana these gifts could provide—to rouse its sleeping master.
Branches snap beneath its feet as it charges back to the cave. There is no hesitation, no doubt—only the singular purpose echoing in its mind.
Bring the pouch to Master. Awaken the Master. Make the Master stronger.
It had been weeks since the creature first took shape—born in the dark by the will of its sleeping Master.
The core had not spoken. Had not moved. Had not opened its eyes.
But the creature understood. Somehow, it knew.
Anything with mana... anything that pulsed with life... must be brought to the Master. Only then would the Master stir. Only then would the Master wake.
And so it hunted. Tirelessly. Faithfully. Because the Master was sleeping——but not for much longer.
The creature stepped into the cave, breath ragged, limbs trembling with excitement.
Carefully, reverently, it placed the pouch before the core.
Mushrooms. Birds. Spiders. All of it—mana-filled, hard-earned—offered without hesitation.
The core absorbed it instantly, without sound or flash. Just... stillness.
Then, it happened.
The figure curled around the orb shifted. Fingers twitched. Eyelids fluttered.
And then—eyes opened.
Slowly, the Master sat up atop the orb, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Confused. Groggy. Awake.
The creature stared in silent wonder, then grinned—a sharp-toothed, lopsided thing of pure joy.
Master was awake.