The lost (false) demigod

[a.n.: I know I'm late, but I haven't had time on my computer these days, I've been working non-stop, due to the loss of one of my jobs I have to do several other things around to earn the same amount as before, but isn't only bad news, instead of the usual 1000-word chapter I'm posting one of 2400, enjoy] 

[obs: I wrote it in a bit of a hurry and passed the text through chatGPT for grammar and sentence construction(no time to do it myself, its 2:21 in the morning now), tell me if you find anything wrong so I can fix it]

The first rays of sunlight broke through the skeletal branches, casting faint, golden streaks across the frozen forest. I stirred awake, my muscles stiff from the cold and the awkward position I'd spent the night in. My perch in the tree had kept me safe, but it was far from comfortable. The frost on the bark had seeped into my bones, and every movement sent sharp pangs through my body.

I stretched carefully, mindful of the branch beneath me. The memory of the wolves circling below was still fresh in my mind. Their glowing eyes, their hungry growls—they weren't just predators. They were a reminder that this world wasn't mine, and it wouldn't forgive weakness.

Swinging down from the tree, I landed softly in the snow, the serum's lingering effects making my movements more fluid than they'd ever been before. My breath misted in the crisp air as I scanned my surroundings. The forest was quiet now, but the silence felt heavy, watchful. I had survived the night, but the day promised new challenges.

The first order of business was survival: food, water, and warmth—again. The cold bit into my skin despite the layers of winter clothing I had. It wasn't enough. If I didn't find a way to stay warm, I wouldn't last another night.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, letting the serum-enhanced senses guide me. The faint rustle of leaves caught my attention, and I turned to see a cluster of shrubs partially buried in the snow. Kneeling, I brushed away the frost and found berries clinging stubbornly to the branches. They weren't much, but they were something. I popped one into my mouth cautiously, its tartness biting at my tongue. Eh, breakfast it is.

Next, water. The distant trickle of a stream reached my ears, faint but persistent. I followed the sound, weaving through the trees until I found a narrow brook cutting through the snow-covered landscape. It was the same one I'd found yesterday. Its surface was partially frozen, and cracks were everywhere, but the steady flow beneath the ice was clear. Using a shard of broken wood I'd picked up earlier, I chipped away at the ice until I could scoop some water into my cupped hands. The cold stung, but the relief of hydration was worth it.

Needing to collect my thoughts now that I had a bit of time, I began drawing a map in the snow. Using a sharp stick, I sketched the rough layout of the forest as I remembered it: the frozen brook, the towering pine where I'd spent the night, and the ruins of the portal. The act of mapping calmed my mind, allowing me to think more clearly about my next moves. As I marked potential dangers and resources, the forest seemed less like an endless, hostile expanse—not so scary anymore.

My thoughts turned to the tools Adam had entrusted to me: the trident and the staff. They both resonated deep within me, their presence unfamiliar but oddly comforting. If I was going to survive here, I needed to know what they could do.

I pulled the trident free, its metallic surface catching the light. The central eye—alive, unblinking—stared back at me. Plunging the trident's prongs into the frozen brook, I willed it to do something—anything. To my astonishment, the ice around it cracked and melted, steam rising as the water beneath was warmed.

"Well, that's useful," I muttered, pulling the trident free and watching the water flow freely again. Small hydrokinetic powers, it seemed.

Suddenly, I had a thought—one of Namor's main abilities in the game was summoning octopuses as minions. But how? I stared at the trident, and the living eye embedded in its center stared right back at me. Not exactly comforting. Still, I didn't have a better idea.

Without overthinking, I grabbed the eye and carefully began to separate it from the trident, just in case I was mistaken and didn't want to do anything irreversible. To my surprise, the eye came free easily and rested in my palm, pulsating faintly with an almost hypnotic rhythm.

"What now?" I muttered, unsure of my next move.

On instinct, I hurled the eye forward like a pokeball, watching as it soared through the air. For a moment, I thought I'd just made a terrible mistake. But as it hit the ground, the eye pulsed brightly, and the snow beneath it began to melt and swirl.

Before I could react, the eye expanded, stretching and morphing until a fully-formed octopus stood where it had landed. Its glistening black skin shimmered faintly under the dim light, its tentacles curling and unfurling as if testing its surroundings. The creature's glowing eyes locked onto mine, and I felt an immediate connection—a sense of recognition, almost as if it were waiting for instructions.

I blinked in awe. "That... actually worked?"

Before I could study the octopus further, a faint hum drew my attention back to the trident. To my astonishment, the eye had reappeared in its original place, embedded in the trident as if it had never left.

I gripped the trident tightly, my mind racing. If the eye could summon a creature like this once, how many times could it do so? And how strong could these minions become? The octopus shifted slightly in the snow, its tentacles curling as though ready to act.

"Well," I said with a small grin, "I guess you're on my side now."

As the octopus settled nearby, I turned my attention to the staff. Conjuring it into my hand, its familiar hum resonated faintly as the intricate carvings along its length began to glow softly. I held it out, remembering its capabilities from the game. With a tentative wave, a faint heat radiated from its surface, warming the air around me.

Encouraged by the warmth, I tightened my grip and focused, wondering what else it could do. The carvings glowed brighter as if responding to my intent, and the warmth intensified, spreading outward in soft waves. I could feel the power humming just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

Instinctively, I pointed the staff at a nearby tree and concentrated. A pulse of golden light shot from its tip, striking the trunk and leaving a burned hole, as though it had been shot. The recoil was light, almost nonexistent, and the energy seemed to replenish itself as quickly as it was expended.

"Not bad," I murmured, running my hand along the smooth, warm surface.

Curious, I decided to push further. I raised the staff, holding it steady as I poured more focus into it. This time, the golden glow intensified, and the staff began to hum with a deeper resonance. After a few seconds, I swung it forward, unleashing a rapid burst of three consecutive energy blasts. They streaked through the air, golden streaks piercing the cold, and struck the ground in quick succession, leaving small craters in the snow.

I couldn't help but grin. "So, you can charge up. Good to know."

But there was more to this staff than just destruction—I could feel it. The warmth wasn't just for offense; there was a gentler quality to the energy. Holding it closer to my chest, I focused on the aching stiffness in my legs from the endless running of yesterday. The carvings began to glow softly again, this time in a steadier, rhythmic pulse. The warmth flowed through me, soothing the soreness and easing my fatigue.

It wasn't instant, but I could feel the effects spreading, rejuvenating my muscles and calming my racing heart. The staff wasn't just a weapon—it was a lifeline.

I lowered it, my breath visible in the frosty air, and looked at the intricate carvings again, this time with newfound respect. "You're more than just a tool," I whispered. "You're my chance to survive."

I let the staff dissolve back into the ether, its hum fading away but leaving a comforting warmth lingering in my grip. Between the trident and the staff, I was beginning to feel like I might have a fighting chance in this strange, unforgiving world. Whatever came next, I'd be ready to meet it head-on.

That's when the exhaustion hit me. Hard.

I stumbled slightly, my knees buckling as a wave of fatigue swept over me. My muscles, once rejuvenated by the staff, now felt leaden, and my vision blurred at the edges. It wasn't just physical weariness—it was deeper, as if something vital had been drained from me.

The realization struck like a slap. The staff and the trident weren't just tools—they consumed energy. My energy. Cosmic energy. I hadn't noticed before because I hadn't used them at all, but now, after wielding both in quick succession, the drain was undeniable.

I swayed on my feet, clutching my stomach as a gnawing hunger surged to the forefront. My body craved fuel—anything to replenish what I'd lost. I'd need food. Fast.

"Great," I muttered through gritted teeth. "Cosmic power comes with a price."

The octopus shifted closer, its glowing eyes watching me intently as if sensing my struggle. For a moment, I entertained the idea of eating it. But just as the thought crossed my mind, the octopus glared at me—or so it seemed—and then dissolved into a puddle of water, slinking back into the snow. It was almost as if it knew what I was thinking. "Okay, message received," I muttered, trying to suppress a laugh.

I sighed and adjusted my grip on the trident, but after a moment, I decided against using it. The energy cost was just too high. Instead, I conjured the staff back into my hand, its warmth a small comfort. If I avoided healing powers and didn't waste shots, it would be the more practical choice. "Alright," I said, taking a shaky step forward. "Let's see if I can hunt down some small game before I keel over."

I moved carefully through the forest, keeping my steps light to avoid startling any nearby prey. The staff hummed faintly in my grip, its subtle warmth reassuring as I scanned the frosty underbrush for movement. Minutes passed, and I began to worry I wouldn't find anything, but then I spotted it—a hare, its fur blending almost seamlessly with the snow, nibbling on a patch of exposed grass.

I froze, holding my breath. Slowly, I raised the staff, careful not to make any sudden movements. The hare's ears twitched, and for a moment, it looked like it might bolt. My heart pounded as I focused, channeling just enough energy to send a precise, low-powered shot. A faint golden light gathered at the tip of the staff before streaking out with a soft hiss.

The shot hit its mark, and the hare fell instantly. Relief washed over me as I approached the small animal. It wasn't much, but it was enough to stave off the gnawing hunger for now. "Sorry not sorry, buddy," I muttered, kneeling down to retrieve my catch. Survival didn't leave much room for sentimentality.

I found a sheltered spot beneath a cluster of trees and set to work preparing the hare. I hesitated, then conjured the trident. "Namor would be pissed if he knew what I was about to do," I muttered, half-laughing at the absurdity. With the trident's sharp prongs, cleaning the hare was almost too easy, though it felt strange to use such a weapon for something so mundane. Gathering some dry branches and kindling from the area, I concentrated on the staff, coaxing a small flame from its tip to ignite the makeshift fire.

As the meat cooked, the rich, savory aroma filled the air, and my stomach growled in anticipation. I sat back, the warmth of the fire and the promise of food lifting my spirits. The forest no longer felt quite as hostile, and for the first time since arriving, I allowed myself a moment of hope.

The rest of the day, I worked to build a platform high in the towering pine. First, I searched for sturdy branches that could support my weight, carefully climbing to secure them in place. I didn't have any rope, so I relied on vines I'd found tangled in the undergrowth earlier. They weren't ideal, but they were surprisingly strong once I tied them tightly. It was slow, meticulous work, but the higher I went, the more secure I felt from any lurking predators. Each knot I tied felt like another layer of protection against the unforgiving wilderness.

Fire wouldn't be necessary anymore thanks to the staff's warmth, which allowed me to focus solely on crafting a safe, elevated space. As I worked, I found myself glancing down at the ground below, imagining how vulnerable I'd feel sleeping there. No, this platform was essential.

By nightfall, my makeshift bed was finally sturdy enough to hold me. I tested it with a few cautious shifts of my weight, relieved when it held firm. The platform wasn't luxurious by any stretch, but it was leagues ahead of my previous night's perch.

I collapsed onto my new bed, my breath visible in the cold night air. The branches creaked faintly beneath me, but they held strong. I leaned back, letting the tension drain from my body, and gazed up at the canopy above. Through the gaps in the branches, the stars glinted like shards of ice, their cold beauty a sharp contrast to the warmth emanating from within me.

The forest was quiet now, no distant growls or rustling to set my nerves on edge. It felt like the world had exhaled, leaving me in peace for the first time since I'd arrived. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new trials to test me. But for now, I'd earned this moment of solace, this fragile reprieve from the chaos. And I intended to savor it.