He slowly moved towards another building, one that was bigger than the one he had resided in for the past... however long that was. Who knows. He was making sure he didn't step on any vines, and so he walked slower. He also decided to stick closer to the buildings; walking out in the middle of the street didn't sound like the best idea. The short walk of 100 meters to the building felt like an hour, but the street here was empty. He realized he was probably on the outskirts of the city, and the closer he moved to the throne palace, the stronger and more numerous the foes he would encounter. His scholarly interest peaked, and he wanted to explore the walls of the town to see the details of the destruction and also to try to leave this weird pocket dimension. But he would need to be stronger for that, and so he was ready to make a critical decision now.
He slowly entered the larger house. His focus was on maximum setting now, and his eyes were searching for potential threats. But it looked like nothing was here so far. He slowly walked through the great hall, and there at the end was something that piqued his interest. It was a painting. When he came close, he could see a gold plate with letters scribbled on it.
[The king of men]
[May glory be with him]
[Save us from Fear]
The context of the writing wasn't the thing that surprised him. What did, was how he could read what was said here. He was in some long-destroyed ancient city, possibly from some other world. He shouldn't be able to understand the language they spoke here or the runes they used to write. But he did. It was almost as if that language was embedded into reality and therefore was known to all.
A young man with bright, flaming eyes and short brown hair, crowned with a black royal ornament, was now looking at him from the painting. He felt power coming from the image—incredible power at that. But there was nothing he could do now. Perhaps after he somehow awoke some magical power, he would be able to interact with that picture. Leaving the painting behind, he ascended the stairs into the library. Nearly all of the books were destroyed, leaving only a few behind. He searched for a while; he wanted to find some instructions on how to use magic. There was a cooking book—that was incredibly helpful, thanks. He finally found something that said:
[ The primordial ...... environment ]
It was unfortunately damaged, so he couldn't see the whole name, but there was a fire symbol on the spine, so he figured it could be magic.
'It's funny how the symbol for fire is similar everywhere; it's almost as if fire looks the same everywhere.'
He opened the book and read the portions that weren't damaged:
[ Shaping is a common tool for every young mover, the ... traced to the ancient people of Rum Alma where they ... Invoking the name or incantations in a common language to shape and bend reality to one's will. It is .... to start with longer incantations that fit the mover's ... the more circles and knots you have, the easier it is. ]
"So there is some magic after all. It has to do with the voice. To invoke names and incantations... so probably something like calling fire to summon fire. Makes sense. I think it should say: the more circles and knots you have, the easier it should be."
He was now looking at the dark crystal the monster wolf had left behind. It had one circle around it, and on that circle were two knots. It was sealed, then. He needed to somehow absorb this to gain access to the shaping skill. He sat down and focused on the crystal. After a while, he started to feel it—the fading knowledge letting itself be invited in. It was a battle of besting one's will against something inside that crystal. And so, he let himself be thrown into it.