Strongest Existence Becomes Teacher
Chapter 19: First Sleep in Nowhere

Chapter 19: First Sleep in Nowhere

The wind here felt different.

Ethan stepped into the newly-formed part of the island—terrain that hadn’t existed before his physical rebirth. The ground was uneven, rich with minerals, and the air shimmered subtly with ambient energy. It was almost like the land itself exhaled with purpose.

"Definitely new," he muttered, crouching near a strange, gleaming rock embedded in the hillside.

His eyes widened.

The surface gleamed with an impossibly dark hue—almost black, but with swirling deep blue lines pulsing through it like veins of lightning. He brushed it lightly.

"Adamantite," he breathed. "No... wait. Adamantium?"

He paused. "Eh, both work. Virtually indestructible either way."

He kept walking.

Another glint. A different shine. Silvery, almost weightless in presence.

"Mithril," he muttered, eyes lighting up. "Lightweight but strong... yep, perfect for enchanted robes or assassin gear."

Then more appeared. A burnished green-gold glow. Orichalcum. Then runic marks etched naturally into metal: Runesteel. Then others.

Darksteel, Starmetal, Etherium, Thunder Ore, Frostiron, Sunstone Alloy, Bloodcrystal, even the elusive Phantom Glass—it was all here.

"Oh. Ohhh this is amazing," Ethan grinned, spinning in place, taking in the various exposed veins of magical metal like a kid who just unlocked creative mode.

"I suspected the environment would begin responding to the ambient energy... but this?" He knocked his knuckles on a smooth surface of Etherium and winced at the faint ripple in space. "That’s practically cheating."

He knelt beside a jagged vein of Thunder Ore crackling quietly, muttering, "I can forge lightning swords. Or frost-infused gauntlets. Or armor that absorbs magic..."

He stood tall, eyes gleaming. "Fantasy crafting just became real."

But just as he stepped past a cluster of glowing stones, something else caught his eye.

A plant.

Growing alone near the base of an obsidian cluster, its leaves were translucent and softly glowing, its stem tinged with an inner light.

He blinked. "Wait—what? Plants too?"

He rushed over.

It shimmered slightly as he approached, and its edges seemed to hum with life energy.

"...Of course," he said, slowly crouching again. "The energy didn’t just change the land. It started cultivating flora too. Magical herbs, probably alchemical-grade."

He grinned. "Healing. Buffs. Poisons. Potions. Oh, I can definitely make things now."

His mind was already racing ahead.

Potions. Salves. Energy tonics. Elixirs. Maybe even scroll-making, if he figured out the enchantment matrix right.

He stood again.

"Computer," he called.

[Online.]

"Begin extraction of all ore deposits in this new sector. Priority: preserve purity and elemental traces. Categorize by type."

[Confirmed. Extraction protocol initialized.]

"And—also collect all flora that registers any energy affinity. Label them, cross-reference with known magical botany, and make me a greenhouse or lab—whatever fits."

[Processing... additional construction enqueued.]

He rubbed his hands together. "Time to build a forge."

[You do not currently possess active blacksmith training.]

"I know how forging works," Ethan rolled his eyes. "I’ve just never... actually done it."

A pause. Then a smirk.

"I mean... how hard can it be?"

He turned, one more thought surfacing.

"Oh—and when you’re done with that," he added, "queue up enchantment stations, heat regulation systems, artifact bonding chambers, and soul-threading equipment."

[Processing request. Note: this is going to be a lot.]

He waved it off. "Yeah, yeah. I’m going full fantasy nerd now."

He grinned at the glowing ore clusters surrounding him.

His world had evolved again.

Now it was time to evolve with it.

While the forge and alchemy setups buzzed away in construction mode, Ethan rolled his neck and walked back toward the martial hall.

"No point in just standing around. Let’s keep this momentum going."

The training chamber opened with a hiss, revealing the familiar polished floor and waiting combat space. The scent of scorched circuits and metal still lingered faintly from his last session.

"Computer," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Deploy ten martial bots. Use the latest models."

[Deploying.]

"And this time," he added, a grin spreading across his face, "upload tactical group synergy protocols. I want them to fight together—strategically, not just swarm me like idiots."

[Uploading formation algorithms. Initializing engagement.]

Ten humanoid bots stepped into the chamber—sleek, armed with reinforced joints and gleaming alloy plating. Their eyes lit up in synchronized pulses. Without warning, they moved—fast.

They didn’t charge blindly. They split into two groups, circling from both sides. One came low. The other came high. A third launched an aerial kick while two from behind prepped a pincer grab.

He blocked the first strike, ducked the second—but the third hit his ribs. Another clipped his leg.

"Tch—okay, this is teamwork," he muttered.

For a good minute, he was on the defensive—dodging, blocking, parrying, evading strikes with narrow misses. The synergy was relentless. One bot staggered him, another moved in to capitalize.

Then something in him shifted.

Fine.

If they wanted synergy—he’d give them pressure.

He exhaled. The calm, reactive posture of his defensive style melted away as he transitioned.

Into something sharper. Wilder. Ruthless.

Infernal Pulse Strikes.

A martial art of controlled bursts—short, devastating bursts of power from the core. Every strike was like a heartbeat weaponized. Pulsing energy. Brutal momentum. Like fighting with rhythmic shockwaves.

He stepped forward and unleashed it.

His fist snapped forward in a microburst—one bot flung back into a wall. A second came in—he twisted, elbow cracking through its chest. Third? He slammed his heel down in a pulse stomp that created a short kinetic burst and knocked it airborne.

Now they were on the defensive.

He spun through them—each pulse sending a jolt through his limbs, enhancing speed and power. He moved like a metronome of destruction.

Three more bots fell.

One grabbed him from behind—he twisted, redirected, launched it into two more. Sparks. Metal creaked. Circuits popped.

The last bot rushed forward in desperation.

He caught it mid-swing—both hands grabbing its arms—and tore it in two vertically, letting both halves clatter lifelessly to the floor.

He stood in the silence that followed, chest heaving, limbs tingling with exertion.

"...Okay," he panted. "That was a workout."

He flexed his fingers. A faint tremble.

Real fatigue.

It was oddly satisfying.

"Computer," he called, walking back toward the corridor, "prep food. Use some of the magical plants I found earlier—nothing extreme, just ones good for recovery and muscle regeneration."

[Affirmative. Infused meal preparation underway.]

"And... prep a bed. I’m sleeping tonight. For the first time in—well, eternity."

[Setting up resting suite.]

He arrived back at his sleek residence, peeling off his sweat-drenched training gear. The bathroom steamed with a waiting shower. He stepped in—and for a moment, just stood there.

Hot water.

It hit him like a spell.

Steam rolled over his face. Droplets soaked his hair. Muscles relaxed. He exhaled, eyes closed.

"This... this makes me feel human again."

After the longest shower of his life, he dried off and stepped out, feeling lighter, cleaner—real.

He walked into the dining area where a table was already set.

Steaming food, warm bread-like loaves, a high-protein grain dish, nutrient-rich sauces, and gently glowing herbal infusions from the magical plants. There was even a chilled drink faintly fizzing in a tall glass.

"Okay. Now this looks like a reward."

He dug in.

Every bite hit differently. Flavor. Warmth. Real texture. Chewing was weirdly nostalgic. The glowing herbs gave it a strange tang, but his body welcomed the rush of nutrients instantly.

He ate like he hadn’t in lifetimes—because, well, he hadn’t.

And when it was done, he didn’t even clean up.

He just walked toward the bedroom.

The lights dimmed on their own. A single, elegant bed awaited—soft, warm, impossibly inviting.

He slid in, sighing deeply. Every muscle relaxed. Every breath slowed.

"Computer," he said drowsily, eyes already half-lidded, "wake me when the forge, lab, and everything else finishes building."

[Understood.]

He turned to his side. _{f.r(e)e\webn.ovel.co\m}

"For the first time... I feel like I actually exist," he whispered, letting himself finally—finally—drift into sleep.

And with that, for the first time in nowhere, Ethan slept.