"Hoo! Hoo!"
I clutched the wall like it was the only real thing in the world—cold, unyielding, real—and I couldn't stop breathing like a man who'd just outrun the end of everything.
My chest kept bucking.
My throat was dry.
And my heart was—
Just.
Too much.
Still too much.
That black thing on my face... it didn't flinch. Like it belonged there. Like it had been there before I noticed it.
Black fog... no, mist, yes, mist. Living, pulsing. Moving on my skin. My neck. Crawling like smoke that knew it had legs.
"...This is... Enigma?"
I had to ask it out loud.
Even if I was alone.
Even if it sounded crazy.
Because I needed a reason.
I needed one.
It was the only thing I could come up with—Enigma.
The word made something in my memory buzz.
Vague. Spotty. Like trying to piece together a ripped page from a science fantasy pulp magazine.
Enigma.
Living things. Real ones. Out there.
But not normal—never normal. They could be animals, yeah, sometimes. Or plants. Or something weirder. Like fog. Or gas. Or paint that refused to dry.
Abstract.
And always, always wild.
They didn't like cities, supposedly. Just wandered around in forests or desolate places.
Which made me wonder—what the hell was one doing here?
Or in me?
I pressed a finger to the fog on my cheek. It didn't bite. It didn't burn. Just slithered over my finger like—
Ugh.
Like a snake. Or jelly. Or some kind of tame slime that liked me.
I didn't like that I liked it.
I tried to push it back in—
And it listened?
It slid off me like it had manners.
Gone. Just like that.
Okay... so I could control it?
Then why the hell had it come out earlier without asking?
Maybe unstable.
Maybe something triggered it.
Or maybe it had been there longer than I thought and just now decided to wave hello.
I didn't know.
The hole in my abdomen still ached.
That... had to be its doing, right?
I mean, what else could it be?
A backlash? A mysterious tantrum?
Felt like it.
I washed my hands for the fifth time. Especially the one that touched the mist. Even though it didn't hurt. Even though it felt kind of... soft, almost familiar.
Still. Soap. Scrub. Rinse.
Repeat.
Back in my room—
Not much to choose from. Worn clothes. Dusty wardrobe.
I picked something that didn't smell like old bread and slipped into it, feeling like a guest in my own skin.
Sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my hands.
Let's see what this freak show's really about.
I focused on my right hand. Not too hard. Just... invited it.
The mist came back like a well-trained dog. It slithered over my knuckles, along the bones, like it was testing me.
Like it wanted to be seen.
"It... can't leave the skin," I muttered. That much was clear.
I tried to push it out further. Like... a tendril. A projection. A mini fog-arm or something cool.
Nope.
It just clung to me. Obedient, but not very creative.
Still... weirdly comforting.
"Okay. Cool. Creepy. What else do you do?"
I didn't expect a reply.
But I got one.
Words. Inside my head.
Two of them.
"Crystalline Hardening."
"Enhanced Regeneration."
...Wait, what?
What the hell?
I blinked.
I stared at my palm like it had spoken in tongues.
That wasn't normal.
That was... the opposite of normal.
Was it this Enigma?
No.
They weren't supposed to talk.
They didn't have consciousness. That was in the books. Or... the mental fragments I vaguely remembered reading once at a bus stop?
I don't know.
But this... this was something else.
Still, I wasn't gonna look a talking black mist in the mouth.
I asked again.
Softly.
"What's the name of the Enigma inside me?"
Golden Black Rebis.
The words flashed so clearly it made my teeth ache.
I sat up straighter. My heart did something unpleasant.
That was... oddly specific.
I grinned, for real this time.
Am I going insane? Or...
...Is this my cheat?
"Okay. What's my current rank?"
0
I didn't even have to say it out loud anymore. Just thought it. The answers kept coming.
So I wasn't just hosting a random piece of supernatural spam—I was also a bonafide Beyonder now.
Kind of.
In this world, "rank" started at 0. You worked your way up by feeding your Enigma some alchemy soup—a.k.a. Elixir recipes tailored to their evolution.
No Elixir = no power.
No power = dead.
So I asked the obvious thing next.
"What's the potion formula to promote Golden Black Rebis from Rank 0 to Rank 1?"
The answer?
Not one line.
Not even two.
It poured into my head in sets.
"Mercury 100ml."
"Sulfur powder 10g."
" 10ml."
"Nugget claws solution 20ml."
Then—
"Static Matter Black Gold."
"Black Gold Manipulation."
Followed by another set—
"Distilled water 150ml."
"Heavy mist liquefied liquid 20ml."
"Bezoar medicine stone powder 15.5g."
"Forest tree frog venom 5ml."
"Sciatic nerve fiber of forest tree frog 2g."
And finally—
"Shadow Mist Manipulation."
"Rest."
That was it. That was everything.
And it was glorious.
I almost screamed.
Instead, I laughed. Soft and shaky. But honest.
I'd hit the jackpot. No—
I'd become the jackpot.
Because anyone with a Enigma would kill for that kind of info.
See, most Elixir recipes?
Guarded like treasure.
Secret. Obscure. Costly.
Messed it up, and you'd go nuts. Or die foaming at the mouth. Or worse. Way worse.
So yeah. I was lucky. No—blessed.
This wasn't just a step ahead. This was several leagues past what most people ever got.
Churches. Ancient families. Secret orders.
They hoarded this kind of stuff.
Me?
I just had to ask.
And boom. Instant knowledge drop.
I looked at my fingers again. Let the mist flow. Let it swirl.
It felt... intoxicating.
I had power now. Real power.
I didn't know where it came from.
Didn't care.
Wasting time thinking about it wouldn't change the fact that I had it. So why bother?
But then...
Another thought.
Curious. Dangerous.
"What's the formula for the Thorn Tree Demon to go from Rank 0 to Rank 1?"
A common wild Enigma.
Answer?
Boom.
"100 ml of distilled water."
"20 grams of thorn tree demon root powder."
"30 grams of black-bellied spider silk."
"20 ml of round spearhead pit viper venom."
"Poisonous Barb."
I couldn't stop grinning.
That meant—yes. Not just mine.
Any Enigma.
Any formula. Just by asking.
I could become a guide. A living encyclopedia.
Hell, I could open a shop.
"Need a potion formula? Got a headache? Wanna level up? Come see Feron Mornez—Enigma Mentor Extraordinaire."
100 Donelie per session. No refunds. No risks. Just results.
I could monetize this.
Later, though.
Right now? I was still too low. Still rank 0.
And out there?
They'd eat me alive.
So I kept testing.
Different angles.
Different Enigmas.
Different questions.
I learned a few things.
One:
I could only see formulas for Rank 0 to Rank 1. Anything beyond? Blank. Nada. Dead space.
Which probably meant my own rank limited what I could access.
Fair enough.
Two:
It only answered Enigma -related stuff.
Tried asking fun things like "What's the Enigma of the Church of Saltmother Veriditas?" or "Why did I end up in this world?" or "Will I ever get a girlfriend?"
...Yeah. Nothing.
Figures.
Still.
What I had? Was enough.
More than enough.
And for the first time since waking up in this weird place—
I didn't feel afraid.
Not entirely.
I had leverage.
I had knowledge.
And, god help me—
I had purpose.