Genshin Impact: Glutinous Path To Godhood

The storm had raged after what felt like an eternity, its howling winds battering the Whispering Woods and shaking the fragile tents of any adventurers daring to linger nearby. When the tempest finally subsided, Haruka Yasugano returned to his makeshift camp by the small pond, dragging what remained of his salvaged supplies. The air was damp and carried the faint scent of overturned earth, mingled with the acrid tang of burnt wood.

Carefully, he set up the tattered tent he'd scavenged, its patched fabric offering meager protection from the elements. He cleaned the hanging pot he'd discovered earlier, painstakingly scouring away layers of rust, and collected firewood from the surrounding area. With flint in hand, Haruka struck sparks until a small flame sputtered to life, its glow illuminating the pond's rippling surface.

The Hilichurls—the humanoid creatures that roamed the forest—had mostly followed the Abyss Mage southward, leaving only a handful of camps scattered nearby. For now, the northern part of the woods was relatively safe.

Haruka's stomach growled, interrupting his thoughts. The fish he'd caught earlier had begun to rot, so he tossed it into a shallow grave and set about catching a fresh one. The pond's waters were teeming with life, and it wasn't long before he managed to spear another black-backed bass.

Adding mushrooms, celery, and lotus root to the pot, Haruka soon found himself savoring a simple yet satisfying fish soup. The bitterness of the lotus root had been tempered by the boiling process, leaving behind a delicate sweetness. The mushrooms were tender, and the fish—despite the lack of seasoning—was fresh and flavorful.

He leaned back, licking the last remnants of soup from the pot, and let out a sigh of contentment. "No industrial pollution," he murmured with a wry smile. "Guess that's one perk of being stuck here."

---

The next morning, Haruka awoke with renewed energy. His body, already stronger than it had been days ago, seemed to hum with latent power.

He began with a simple run around the pond, the rhythmic pounding of his bare feet on the ground syncing with his steady breaths. The feeling of evolution—that strange, exhilarating sensation—returned as he pushed his limits.

By the time he finished twenty laps, sweat poured down his face, and his muscles burned with exertion. Yet there was a lightness to his movements, a newfound precision that made each step feel purposeful.

Dropping to the ground, he started on push-ups. One hundred. Then another hundred. Each movement was deliberate, his form impeccable. He felt every fiber of muscle stretch and contract, his body transforming under the strain.

---

By midday, Haruka was ravenous. His enhanced physique demanded fuel, and the meager supplies he'd gathered were rapidly dwindling. He cooked another pot of fish soup, this time adding sweet flowers and mint for a hint of flavor. As he ate, he couldn't help but marvel at the stark contrast between the food he once took for granted and the raw, unpolished meals he now cherished.

"Is this the price of power?" he mused, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

But there was no time to linger on the thought. He resumed his training, incorporating exercises from his past—military-style drills and combat techniques he'd only practiced half-heartedly in another life. Here, they became lifelines.

By the end of the third day, Haruka stood at the edge of the pond, his body a testament to his relentless efforts. He was lean, strong, and quick, but the glint in his eyes revealed the true transformation: determination.

---

The pond's resources were nearly exhausted, and Haruka's gaze turned to the surrounding forest. His sharp eyes scanned the animal trails for signs of prey. A wild boar would be ideal—enough meat to sustain him for days—but the Hilichurls often hunted in these woods too.

Digging a shallow pit near the boar trails, Haruka set a trap, camouflaging it with leaves and branches. Armed with a sharpened wooden spear, he waited in the shadows, his senses attuned to every sound.

Dusk fell, and the forest came alive with movement. The sound of rustling leaves reached his ears, followed by guttural grunts. Three Hilichurls emerged from the underbrush, their crude weapons clutched tightly as they pursued a small wild boar.

Haruka's grip on his spear tightened. These weren't mindless monsters. The Hilichurls, remnants of a long-forgotten civilization, were intelligent in their own way. But in this world, survival came first.

Steadying his breath, Haruka leapt from his hiding spot, spear aimed at the nearest Hilichurl. The weapon struck true, piercing its mask and dropping it instantly.

The other two whirled around, snarling in anger.

---

The first Hilichurl charged, its club raised high. Haruka ducked, his movements fluid, and delivered a swift kick to its side. The creature stumbled but recovered quickly, swinging its weapon in a wide arc.

Haruka parried with a stick he'd scavenged earlier, the clash of wood echoing through the forest. His muscles strained as he forced the Hilichurl back, his training paying off in the form of precise, calculated strikes.

The second Hilichurl joined the fray, its crude spear jabbing toward Haruka's torso. He twisted, avoiding the blow by mere inches, and retaliated with a powerful punch that cracked its mask.

Adrenaline coursed through him as he fought, his body moving on instinct. Each swing, each dodge, each strike felt like an extension of his will. Yet the Hilichurls were no easy opponents; their coordination and brute strength forced him to stay on his toes.

Finally, with a final, ferocious blow, Haruka knocked the last Hilichurl to the ground. He stood over their lifeless bodies, chest heaving, the aftermath of the battle sinking in.

---

Dragging the wild boar and the Hilichurls' spoils back to his camp, Haruka couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest. "If they notice these three are missing, they'll come looking," he muttered, glancing at the forest's darkened edges.

The thought of facing a stronger foe—a Hilichurl berserker or, worse, an Abyss Mage—sent a chill down his spine. This wasn't a game where injuries healed with a potion or a meal. Here, every mistake could be his last.

For now, though, Haruka focused on preparing his spoils. The boar's meat would sustain him for days, and the Hilichurls' crude weapons could be repurposed.

As he worked, his thoughts drifted to the challenges ahead. If he was to survive in Teyvat—a world filled with dangers at every turn—he would need more than strength. He would need cunning, preparation, and allies.

But first, he had to live through the night.

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