Once he was certain that falling asleep wouldn't result in his death, Mark finally succumbed to the crushing weight of exhaustion that saturated his body. He stopped fighting it and drifted off, but it was far from a peaceful slumber. Both Mark and Thaddeus were the type of sleepers who tossed and turned restlessly—anyone who had ever seen them sleep could attest to that. Now, with injuries that flared with agony at the slightest movement, Mark's rest became a repetitive cycle of waking in pain, only to collapse back into a shallow, fitful sleep.
When he finally woke for the last time, his mind and body screamed in protest against the poor quality of his rest, but he resolved not to sleep again. His mana had finally replenished. "Alright, let's look for a healing manual in the library first," he thought. Most primary healing and regenerative spells fell under the elements of Light or Darkness. In this world, despite the typical isekai tropes, healing wasn't a divine blessing, and Darkness wasn't a forbidden art. While an affinity for Darkness might not earn one a prestigious reputation, its utility was undeniable; most spells for disinfection, antibiotics, and purging the body of impurities were rooted in the Dark element.
As long as one didn't dabble in the specific branches of Darkness like Necromancy or Curses without authorization, no one would object. If one wished to pursue those fields, they could simply register with the Empire to become a licensed Necromancer or Curse Master. Currently, having an affinity for both Light and Darkness was considered the most famous elemental pairing—the very reason Thaddeus had been so intrigued by them. "I'm getting distracted again," Mark muttered to himself.
Unfortunately, in simple terms, Light and Dark were the two elements Mark struggled with the most. Even Thaddeus, with his "Mimic Eyes," had never achieved significant results with them. His options were limited. There was, however, one rudimentary method—though it could hardly be called true healing. The concept was simple: use Mana Reinforcement Magic, but with high-level manipulation to staunch the blood flow and physically hold the edges of the severed tissues together, securing them in place like a biological bandage. After studying the theory of Mana Reinforcement, Mark decided to enter a meditative state and descend into his Inner World.
Stepping into the vibrant, luminous realm of the Inner World, only to be dragged back into the absolute darkness of the Safe Zone—this was a transition Mark still couldn't get used to. Just as he thought he had adapted to the blindness and the dark, the Inner World would tease him with false hope, mocking his reality. Because of this, he avoided entering it unless it was absolutely necessary.
But now, he had no choice. The Inner World had always been the superior place for mastering magic. The following days and weeks blurred into a monotonous routine: sleep, eat, and plunging into the Inner World through meditation.
As time passed, Mark's condition gradually improved, though there were setbacks that needlessly prolonged his recovery. Once he felt he had mastered Mana Reinforcement, he finally decided to test it on his wounds. To his horror, the healing gashes—which had long since stopped bleeding—burst open like torn stitches, blood pooling once again. Cursing his own stupidity, Mark resolved to stop playing doctor, especially when the patient was his own body.
That wasn't the end of it. The moment he started feeling slightly better, he attempted some "light exercise" to warm up. The result? He found himself lying in a pool of his own blood once more. In that moment of misery, the image of his mother, Martha Miller, flickered in his mind. Whenever he had been sick as a child and couldn't stay still, she would say, "My sweet boy, stay put until you are fully recovered." Martha would deliver these words with such a melodious tone and a beautiful, smiling face that Mark still didn't understand how he could sense a hidden threat behind them. But he wasn't the only one; even his father, Thomas—one of the most stubborn men alive—would immediately settle down the moment Martha spoke in that particular voice.
"Alright, Mom," Mark muttered in his mind. "I won't do anything stupid until I'm fully healed. Just... please stop haunting my thoughts with those threats."
He couldn't exactly stay completely still; after all, he had to worry about "household" supplies. As his stock of goblin meat dwindled, Mark began making short trips to the first floor to hunt. He targeted only solitary goblins, taking them out from a distance with Stone Bullet before storing the carcasses in his inventory and retreating immediately. Though these excursions were brief, they certainly didn't do his recovery any favors.
Mark lost track of how much time had passed until a fresh set of clothes appeared on his bed. Every three months, a new outfit tailored to his measurements would manifest—a built-in function of the Safe Zone. This meant that six months had already passed since his reincarnation. The set was the same as before: basic leather armor and those boots designed to compensate for the 2-centimeter difference in his left leg. He truly valued those boots. The previous leather armor had saved his life, though it was now well-deservedly "retired" due to its battered state.
The set also included a face scarf and a cloak. However, as Mark inspected the final item, his brow furrowed. "Is the System mocking me now?" he wondered. It was a pair of goggles. "What use could I possibly have for these?" Upon closer inspection, he realized the lenses were incredibly thick—definitely not meant for someone with sight. "Fine, at least they'll offer some eye protection," he muttered. With that, he donned his new gear.