Chapter 3 – The Art of Mediocrity

「Practice makes... mediocre?」

I've been stuck in this hellhole long enough to know one thing: I'm not getting any better at this. Every day, I bury my nose deeper into that damn species documentary book, learning about all the terrifying creatures that could potentially rip me apart at any given moment. And somehow, I've convinced myself that knowing about them makes me feel better. But it doesn't.

I shivered, the image of that saber-tooth monster flashing in my mind again. What the hell kind of world has creatures like that? And don't even get me started on the giant iguana prowling the courtyard. The thing eats bugs like they're candy, and I'm pretty sure it'd eat me too if it could.

"I mean, come on! An iguana monster? Who the hell writes this stuff?" I mumbled to myself, crossing my arms as I stared down at the courtyard below.

I was standing on the edge of what used to be a balcony—if you could even call it that anymore. It was little more than a jagged cliff now, the stone cracked and crumbling beneath my feet. Below me, the courtyard stretched out in ruins, overgrown with moss and vines, while the mountain fell away into the misty forest below.

In the middle of the courtyard, slinking between the old stone pillars, was the iguana monster. Its massive, scaly body glided over the stone with a grace that didn't match its size. From up here, I could see its long, forked tongue flicking in and out of its mouth as it darted between the pillars, snapping up insects with deadly precision.

I smirked, crossing my arms behind my back like some kind of smug supervillain. "When you ignore the fact that we're on a death trap of a mountain, surrounded by killer monsters, it almost looks... peaceful."

I watched in morbid fascination as the iguana's tongue shot out toward a giant spider monster that had spun a massive web between two lower pillars. This spider wasn't like the ones in my room—no, this one was huge. It was the size of a small house, its abdomen covered in jagged spikes that glistened in the fading light.

"That thing looks exactly like the temple spiders... except, you know, on steroids." A knot formed in my stomach. I could feel the tension between the two creatures, the air thick with impending violence.

The spider leaped out of the way just in time, dodging the iguana's tongue as it sliced through the web and slammed into the stone wall behind it with a deafening crack. Dust and bits of debris fell from the ceiling as the force of the impact left a dent in the stone.

"What the..." My eyes wide as I crouched down, pressing myself against the cliffs edge. My heart raced in my chest as I watched the two monsters circle each other.

The iguana retracted its tongue, its muscles tensing as it prepared for another attack. But the spider was fast. It darted between the pillars, weaving through the crumbling stone like it was nothing, its eight legs moving with deadly precision. From my vantage point, I could see its spiked legs clinking against the stone, leaving small scratches in their wake.

Then, with a sudden burst of speed, the spider lunged at the iguana from behind. Its fangs bared, dripping with venom, aimed straight for the monster's exposed flank.

The iguana, however, wasn't fooled.

With a swift, practiced motion, it spun around, its claws slashing through the air with terrifying accuracy. The razor-sharp talons met the spider's soft abdomen, slicing it open like paper. The spider let out a screech—an awful, high-pitched sound that echoed off the stone walls—as its body collapsed, twitching on the ground.

The iguana stood over its fallen prey, its head raised high as it let out a guttural roar of triumph. Its claws dug into the spider's lifeless body, and for a moment, everything seemed still.

"Damn..." I muttered under my breath. "That's gotta be the worst stomach ache known to... monster-kind? At least top ten."

But then—of course—things got worse.

The spider's abdomen with a wet, sickening pop, spewing out hundreds of smaller spiders, each the size of my hand. They poured out like a flood, skittering across the ground in every direction. Some of them swarmed the iguana, biting and crawling all over its massive body, while others darted toward the lower entrance of the temple, seeking an escape.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no..." I panicked, frozen in place as I watched the tiny spiders flood the courtyard.

But the iguana wasn't having any of it. With a snarl, it shot out its tongue again, blocking the entrance and sweeping the ground clean of spiders in one smooth motion. The remaining spiders that tried to climb onto the iguana's body were crushed as the monster rolled across the ground, flattening them with its weight.

The spiders that fled up the steep mountainside didn't fare any better. To my absolute horror, the iguana climbed after them, scaling the vertical rock face with ease. Its long tongue lashed out, snatching up the last of the spiders as it devoured them in one swift motion.

"Good to know," I whispered, slowly backing away from the edge of the cliff. My heart was pounding in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The last thing I needed was that thing deciding to climb up here and snack on me next.

I turned and made my way back toward the altar room, where I'd spent most of my time since arriving in this twisted world. The species documentary book lay open on the stone slab, its pages worn and dusty. But I was done reading about monsters for now.

Instead, I picked up another book—one with an elemental symbol on the cover. "Today," I declared to myself, "I'm going to learn magic."

As I sat down, the old white rat-monster from before scurried over to me, its tiny horned head poking up like it expected me to give it some kind of reward.

"What do you want?" I asked aloud, glaring at the rat. "Do you think I'm your leader now or something? Just so you know, I was this close to sacrificing you to the saber-tooth monster a month ago, right? Now shoo."

The rat gave me a look—a look I didn't think was possible for a horned rat to give. It looked... annoyed. But it limped away, its tail dragging behind it, leaving me to focus on the task at hand.

"Alright," I muttered, blowing the dust off the book and flipping it open to the first page. "Time to learn the arts of mysticism."

But as I skimmed through the pages, my excitement quickly faded.

"Come on..." I flipped through page after page of useless fables. "This is just a bunch of bullshit about how magic was used in the past! Where's the 'how to' part?! I don't care about your legends, I wanna know how!"

Frustration boiled over. With a snarl, I slammed the book shut and hurled it across the room. It clattered against the wall, knocking over the old skull that sat on the stone tablet. Both the book and the skull rolled to the floor with a loud thud.

But then, out of nowhere, the book fell open to a page I hadn't seen before.

I blinked, my frustration giving way to curiosity as I slowly stood up and walked over to where the book had landed. My eyes widened as I saw it—magic.

"It's not exactly a 'how to' basic tutorial," I squinted at the intricate symbols on the page. "But it's something."

The page was filled with diagrams—complex instructions showing how water magic could be summoned. Apparently, this spell was mostly used for summoning bathwater. "Hey, I'm not picky!" I laughed, holding the book up. "You heard that, skull-man? I win! I'm learning magic!"

For a moment, I stood there grinning like an idiot, holding the book up toward the ceiling like some kind of deranged prophet. But when no response came—when the room remained as silent and empty as ever—my smile faded.

Slowly, the embarrassment crept in.

"Why did I do that..." I muttered, lowering the book and glancing around the empty room, my face flushing red. "Ahh... I'm so dumb..."

Two hours later, I was standing in the mid-way point—the worn-out stone bath in the center of the room. I had been trying for hours to summon water magic, but every time I tried, my wrists started to ache like I'd been playing video games for twelve hours straight. My head throbbed, my body felt drained, and I was getting nowhere.

"Maybe I'm doing this wrong," I remarked to myself in realization, staring at the empty bath. "I've been thinking about this like your standard isekai magic, where you just imagine it and poof, it happens. But there's no black box here. No built-in magic system."

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly as I tried to clear my mind. "If magic's going to work, it needs rules... logic."

I imagined the molecular structure of water, visualizing it in my mind. "Magic assembles the bonds together," I whispered, feeling the air around me grow heavier, more humid.

"Now... input the command. Force the output."

I focused harder, picturing the process as clearly as I could. And then, slowly—almost imperceptibly at first—droplets of water began to condense in the air in front of me. They gathered into a small, shimmering sphere, no larger than a tennis ball.

It wasn't much. But it was real.

I watched as the water dropped into the stone bath below, leaving a small, wet splash mark on the surface.

I stared at the water, a slow grin spreading across my face. "Mark my words, Iguana," I declared, my voice low and filled with determination. "You're going to be my first target."

I glanced back out at the courtyard, where the iguana lay asleep atop the body of its fallen prey, unaware of the coming storm.