Money Mancer; I bought my way to godhood

"Hahaha... I'm f*cked."

He lowered his head, his gaze falling to the bluish-green grass beneath him, already resigning himself to his fate.

He was a practical guy. No use screaming, no need for bravado.

Yet it was clear he had given up too quickly.

His demise was imminent—and in his perspective, certain.

His dominant leg was petrified—starting from the foot, the stony layer now creeping up to his knee.

Each inch costing him chunks of stamina.

Goosebumps blanketed his skin, not just from the freezing air brushing his wet body but from the gnawing fear crawling up his spine.

He was going to die.

"F*ck that genie..." His lips trembled, voice shaky with fury and regret. "I thought I could at least live this new life." He closed his eyes, resigning himself to fate.

He was far too drained to run, even though the forest was just behind him.

What would a few minutes of solace prove when death was inevitable?

And what proof of safety did the forest even hold—a greater mystery than his current predicament?

His sense of self-preservation was rotting away.

He wasn't aware of his actions, slowly losing grip on himself.

His hopelessness and fear multiplied by the creeping stone skin—not to mention the lingering trauma from the eye frogs—all messing with his mind.

One could have blamed the butler, yet he didn't.

To him, Winston surely hadn't known what was in store.

An obvious misjudgment from any angle.

His frustration was reserved entirely for the genie—and his own foolish past self who had signed away his soul for a fresh start.

His judgment, questionable.

Screeeee!!

A shrill cry echoed from above.

The giant avian creature circled overhead, its massive form casting a vast shadow over the field.

Its colossal size could easily rival that of a commercial plane.

Its feathers, metallic bluish-green, mirroring the grass field below.

Dragon-like slit pupils darted around in search of prey.

It peered down.

Richard didn't even flinch.

He didn't notice its gaze—already surrendered to fate. Like a drunkard giving in as he begins to fall—why resist the ground, his destination?

The creature saw him—frail, unarmed, insignificant.

Not even worth the energy it would take to swoop down.

A feeble creature like that wouldn't even fill the gap in its teeth.

It had only been drawn to the area after sensing fear—and something else.

Richard oozed more than fear.

He reeked of madness and something rancid—the rot from overexposure to mana in the air.

One of the reasons for his rapidly deteriorating mental and physical state.

Unbeknownst to him, his internal organs were rotting away under the sheer pressure of mana saturation.

Stage VI Mana Poisoning—a state where mana fries the internal organs of an unawakened, slowly but surely.

Far worse than the Stage III episode that had nearly killed him.

Stage III occurred through long-term mana accumulation—its saturation causing collapse, or at worst, coma.

Both stages were deadly.

Richard, in such a state, didn't look appetizing to the creature.

Something it wouldn't even pick up on a bad day.

So, it ignored him—flying off in search of more deserving prey.

Richard stayed still, heart pounding, mumbling unintelligible words, awaiting his death.

Yet...

Minutes ticked by.

The whistling of the wind was the only thing he could hear—and even that barely, muffled by his raging thoughts.

After what felt like hours to him, his long-awaited death did not arrive.

"Why am I still alive?" He slowly raised his head.

The beast was nowhere in sight.

"Did I survive?"

He tried to stand—but his legs betrayed him, and he collapsed again.

His body was near empty—his stamina nearly depleted.

Still, a weak grin crept onto his face.

"I must have some good karma left..."

He sat there, hunched, breathing heavily.

The petrification had reached above knee.

At this rate, he might die from total stamina drain before the petrification could even reach his heart.

"I can't die here..."

His eyes scanned the terrain—desperate for food. Something. Anything.

That bird hadn't attacked him. That had to mean something.

Maybe he was meant to live—at least, that's what he chose to believe.

Hope began relieving the madness he'd felt moments ago, his consciousness slowly reclaiming territory over his mind.

With what little energy he had left, he dragged himself forward—crawling.

...

"Found it."

Fruits—scattered across the field. Likely from the massive tree looming at the center, a tree so tall its branches were lost in the clouds.

Its trunk was as wide as a mountain, bronze bark shimmering brilliantly under the sun.

Its fruits were enormous—each as large as himself.

Apple? Orange? Something else entirely?

This paradise was already strange. He didn't have time to think about what it was.

Luckily, the fruit lay just a few meters ahead—within reach.

He rushed weakly toward it, crawling like a wounded crab, using both arms and his left leg.

"I hope it's edible..." he thought, eyes locked on the purple fruit that bore an uncanny resemblance to a peach—except for its rough orange-like surface and a sunken top, like an apple.

He couldn't care less what it was.

As long as it gave him strength.

He bit into it—teeth sinking into flesh that felt cool like mint, sweet and sharp, an energy flooding through his veins.

He could feel it—the fruit revitalizing his stamina, calming the ache in his muscles.

"I definitely have good karma..." He laughed, breathless, biting again.

Screeeee!!

The sound returned—sharper. Angrier.

The air itself tightened, reverberating with killing intent.

Yet Richard, lost in bliss, heard nothing.

Above him, the shadow returned—darker than before.

The great bird flapped its wings with fury, parting the grass like waves, descending rapidly—its gaze burning into him.

This time, it hadn't come to ignore him.

This time, it had purpose.

It had felt it.

Someone was eating its fruit.

It was a territorial creature—so possessive that not even insects were allowed near its tree.

The clearing devoid of fuana proof.

Yet this creature dared to touch of its harvest

With terrifying speed, it turned back, sensing something had violated its domain.

And now, it saw him.

The same feeble creature it had spared—biting into one of its fruits.

Richard froze.

His entire body grew cold.

Heavy.

Something was behind him.

Looming. Threatening.

"Did it come back?" he whispered, too afraid to turn.

Then a voice—hoarse, ethereal, and enraged—echoed directly into his mind.

"You pitiful thing... I spared you for trespassing, and yet you now steal what isn't yours?"

"I—"

Before he could process anything, a sharp pain ripped through his back—talons piercing flesh.

The bird had grabbed him.

Lifted him.

Blood dripped from his mouth as the wind howled around him.

"My good karma's run out..." he laughed bitterly, even now.

Then he was flung—thrown across the clearing like a ragdoll.