A Spiritual Beast resembling a stork with a peacock's plumage circled above the Lamplight island cluster; its gold, silver, and red feathers made it stand out against the blue skies of this early afternoon. From its position so high above the Sea, it would've noticed a dark blue watercraft speeding away from Bizarro suddenly cut acceleration before whipping around to face again. Assuming its eyesight was more predator than prey, it could see two occupants on the craft, one dressed in black, the other in some kind of white coat. The one in black stood in front and held something like a rope, while the other stood behind and absently fidgeted with the glittering chains restraining him.

[...only 10% of a Core Cultivator's Prana energy is kept within Foundations; the rest is stored in the Class Core…]

Heavens forbid, but if the Beast had any knowledge of Mortal concepts such as incarceration or the law, then it would easily assume what was playing out below. Either a criminal had been caught, or a criminal had made a catch. Further, if the creature knew how the Enchantment on the manacles essentially rendered a Class Core into an inert paperweight, it could be sure of one thing. Regardless of who was what, even a bird with a law degree could tell the chained figure was fucked.

The bird would've been dead wrong on nearly every imagined assumption, and Morgan could only hope his enemies would fall for the con as easily.

[...speaking a Skill's name is seemingly necessary to trigger…]

Putting back on his sunglasses, the Scientist reeled in his wandering imagination and looked away from the mysterious Spiritual Beast tragically far outside the Bestiary's identification range. Instead, he watched the so-called 'stallion' build up the speed needed to pull the chariot and its four occupants up onto the emerald swamp. After all, it wasn't like he had anything better to do in the meantime.

[...after a Skill fails due to… the allotted energy is forcibly dumped from the Foundation for some…]

When the Satyr called the watercraft a chariot, an image of the front ⅓ of a wagon pulled by a horse popped into mind. That turned out to be a fairly accurate description, as the aqua-colored Olympia vessel was literally a greco-roman-style chariot built out of extremely buoyant wood farmed from select islands. Now remove the wheels and replace the equine element with an Artifact known as a Stallion Drive.

A Drive looked to be a half-meter wide gyroscope encased inside a hollow glass orb that itself was fixed to the front of the chariot with metal rods. The ends of chain-link reins passed through holes on opposite sides of the glass case and attached to each axle peg of the spinning gyroscope. It-

[Are you even listening to me?] Ego demanded loudly, speaking directly into his mind as their avatar wasn't manifested.

[Unfortunately.] Morgan projected without looking away from the Drive, its rotor spinning up faster and faster with each passing moment. [I was trying to tune you out, but your persistence was strong enough to punch through a couple of times. Which is impressive, by the way. Hmm. To be clear, your persistence is what's impressive. You lost points off the summary for forgetting about the mix of Mana and Qi the Assassin tried using for that last Skill.]

[I didn't forget. We don't know if Gregory was going to use one or two Skills before you punched him in the throat. So that finding is inconclusive at best.] They sniffed irritably. [I have a question. Why ask me to repeat something you already know when we could be reviewing the plan?]

[That is because there is no gain in reviewing a plan that is essentially 'do X if Y' because it's basically just winging it with a few set guidelines. On the other hand, there is a clear benefit to making sure we both memorize important data that might not be recorded for hours or days.] Morgan considered if he should expand more and decided it might be for the best if he did. [Also, you've been dangerously distracted and touchy ever since our uninvited visitors dropped by. So I figured you'd be less stressed memorizing lessons learned instead of brooding over whatever it is you're not telling me.]

Ego grew silent at the sudden accusation, and without an avatar to observe, there was no way to tell what they were thinking. Morgan expected more pushback from them, perhaps a snappy comeback about how strange it was for him, of all people, to warn about being distracted. Even still, if the two were entering the grizzly's den, then now would be the time to address any potential issues.

Now, as in right now, since the rotor's acceleration was beginning to plateau.

[Morgan, do you remember this morning when I said I had a good feeling about us traveling South?] They paused and waited for him to nod before continuing. [Well, at the time, what I said wasn't wrong, but I've come to realize I misinterpreted some elements of what I was feeling. First is that the feeling wasn't inherently good or bad exactly. Having had more time to brood on it, the feeling is closer to… suspense in the broad sense of the word. Imagine looking outside your house window and seeing clouds gathering, lightning flashing, and the wind whipping around anything that isn't bolted down. You know you're in for a show, but whether it'll be an adventure or a tragedy has yet to be decided.]

The Professor couldn't tell if the Spirit's analogy was just that or a subtle reference to the Storm. That mysterious entity had already come for them all once, and the Monk was the only one who felt its presence. However, if he was only overthinking things, bringing up the possible connection might do more harm than good. Morgan decided to test the waters first.]

[Hmm. I did notice that these Cultivators came from the South, but I didn't think much of it. Do you think these people are connected with whatever disturbance is brewing in the South?]

[Oh, I'm not worried about any particular cardinal direction at the moment because the disturbance isn't in the South anymore; it's on the island right in front of us. But we should shelve that conversation for now. Gregory is trying to get your attention. Remember, if he asks, I'm not here.]

Damn. The amount of shelved topics and posted conversations was getting to the point where he needed to start keeping track.

"You seem to have something to say to me." The Professor said aloud and turned his head a fraction of a degree, putting the Assassin in direct line of sight. "Is there a problem?"

Looking at Satyr's face was one hell of a trip to the uncanny valley. If the lower body was pure goat and the upper human, then the face was an almost unsettling fusion of both extremes. The protruding squarish chin, puffed-up upper lip, hollow cheeks, broad nose bridge, and flared nostrils all combined to create the illusion of a muzzle. Higher up, the bulging brow ridges and high cheekbones surrounded his green eyes, their pupils horizontal rectangles.

Were Gregory's looks common for his species, or did he lean more towards one direction or the other? If the phone wasn't dead, Morgan might've snapped a picture for future comparisons.

"Problem?" The Assassin blinked in surprise, his voice a tad melodic and no longer unnaturally deep now that they were all breathing unaltered air. "Forgive my rudeness, Lord Professor, but there isn't an-"

"Do me a favor and drop that Lord part completely." Morgan interrupted, wanting to kill that idea right off the bat. "Professor will do just fine; in fact, calling me prisoner will do if you think the others might become suspicious otherwise."

"Whatever you say, Professor. My apologies for any -uh- perceived disrespect." Nervously slamming a fist into an open palm, the Satyr made to bow before thinking better of making such big movements. "As I was saying, there isn't a problem, but this Drive is an older model, and operating at top speeds will make it buck real hard at the start…" He licked his lips and couldn't resist a fearful look down. "Could you tell your- I mean to say, warn the Princess in advance. I would hate it if my services to your group were cut short because of a… miscommunication."

"Agreed. Turn around, and I will let you know when we can leave."

Nodding his horned head, Gregory retook hold of the reins as Morgan crouched and began fiddling with the thug's clothes.

Under a thin black cape and cowl that was Assassin standard, Gregory's outfit consisted of gray patchworked pants and a matching open-long-sleeve shirt. Fraying white cloth strips wrapped around the forearms, shins, and waist kept the loose clothing secured without restricting movement. Though the outfit lacked footwear, Morgan was confident that was due to having hooves in place of soft, vulnerable feet.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Pulling back the cape, he immediately saw what he was looking for poking out from under the shirt, a familiar black and white snout. Lowering himself even further and ignoring the throbbing pain radiating from his chest, the Professor tugged the shirt high enough to see each other eye to eye.

"How are you doing, girl?"

"Meh", Momo barked unhappily. She shifted slightly to get a better hold on the Assassin's back, which made Gregory shutter, which in turn caused Momo to tighten her tail in warning.

"Ack! For-givness!" Gasped the thug, his hands reaching for his cowl covered throat. "Forgiveness, my Lady! I wasn't expecting you to move is all. I swear!"

"Mmm." She grunted but must've relaxed her tail as Gregory stopped struggling.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Morgan chuckled and scratched the scales between her eyes as he whispered her revised orders. "My jailer says we're in for a bumpy ride, and we can't afford a miscommunication, so until I tell you otherwise, only choke him out when I or Ego say it's ok."

It broke his heart to see the disappointment in her reptilian expression at the thought of being unable to threaten the Satyr with every stumble. But Momo was a team player and gave Morgan a grunt in acceptance.

[Not that I don't trust your knowledge of physiology.] Ego piped up. [But are you sure cutting off air for that long will be enough to get the job done? He isn't a human, after all.]

[You make a fantastic point.] The Scientist agreed as he meticulously placed the clothing in a way that could hide the Beast. [Plus, considering the biological improvements gifted by Aether, we should err on the side of caution and double the count to a minute or more.]

Ego went silent for several seconds, during which Morgan finished concealing one of their hidden aces. Just as he was about to give the Assassin the go ahead, they spoke up.

[A minute, huh? Just so we're clear, you understand what I mean by 'getting the job done,' right?] The Monk said in a casual tone that scarcely concealed a razor-sharp edge. [After all, if Gregory were to mistakenly die due to carelessness, that would be a tragedy that must be atoned for. A tragedy that I would make sure we never forgot… If you know what I mean.]

Crap.

[Another good point. Perhaps it would be best if you played it by ear once he goes limp.] He projected hastily before triggering Perception of the Stone Sage and saying aloud, "She understands the situation now. Time to go."

"Yes Professor." He acknowledged with relief, sounding like a man whose execution was blessedly postponed. "Now, please, hold on tightly."

Hidden behind the black lens of his shades, black and red eyes watched the follower of the Diamond Tantra closely.

It still unnerved the Scientist at how empty the Satyr's Eternal Foundations were compared to every other being he'd observed thus far, especially with Momo right there to compare. When Momo's Qi surged through the Body, his only trickled. Gregory's Mind band was a thin fog, whereas Momo's was a cloud. Her shroud Essence was a blaze, while his sputtering Soul looked like the fading embers of a campfire. Even Morgan's pre-infused Foundations looked in better shape, but that was only true until the Class Core was taken into consideration.

Located just behind the navel sat a golf ball-sized sphere so packed with swirling Prana energy that the Bloodline could only display it as a solid ball of white light. Twin tornados of blue Mana no thicker than a pencil escaped from the Core and made a beeline for the Stallion Drive's empty silhouette.

With immense regret, Morgan forced Perception to close before Mana reached the Artifact. While the Aether infused in his Essence had massively improved the Bloddline's efficiency, observing complex Enchantments like his ring or the Drive was still far too dangerous. Although looking at seemingly simple Enchantments, such as the one on Morgan's new Herb Case, didn't require burning so much Soul.

Not being able to watch the mystical mechanics of the Artifact at work was disappointing, but at least the physical show was entertaining. Just as the invisible Mana would have entered the harnessed gyroscope, the entire chariot rocketed forward. From floating aimlessly to suddenly matching any speed boat from Earth, the kick of rapid acceleration would have thrown Morgan overboard if not for his iron grip on the handrails lining the chariot's interior.

Despite the front of the chariot only coming up to mid-chest and lacking any windshield, the air whipping around them didn't so much as ruffle a hair on their heads. The Professor was reminded of when Lysander placed him in a protective bubble during their agonizingly boring journey to meet Eris. But unlike back then, no forcefield shielded him from the cutting wind. Instead, it was more like the chariot was in the slipstream of the Stallion Dive. While Morgan appreciated not having to worry about keeping his glasses from flying away, being in the Artifact's wake did nothing to quiet the wind screaming all around them.

Ahead, the Island was getting closer by tens of meters every passing second, their trajectory taking them to a large patch of vertical unobstructed emerald water.

"Professor, start crouching as low as you can!" Warned the Assassin, whose knees were already bent enough so that his eyes barely peeked over the vessel's front. "We're jumping in 1, 2,-"

*Whoom!*

Before the count of three, Morgan felt his knees slamming onto the floor as the chariot hopped into the air as if they hit an invisible ramp. Their rising momentum took them over the thin beach lining the island, right through double waterfalls, temporarily having them pass through the dense air zone before punching through the swamp ceiling. The moment they were through, Gregory pulled hard the reins, and after skipping over the toxic water a few times, the chariot began slowing down. Morgan checked his clothes and Gregory's back, finding both dry to the touch.

[You know what?] Asked the Spirit, their tone a little shaky from the ride. [From up here, Bizarro actually looks like a natural swamp.]

Indeed, all around them, the tops of trees resembled large shrubs growing out of the murky waters, and floating patches of buoy plants made a convincing replacement for reeds and lily pads. However, the illusion was quickly broken when one noticed the lack of a shore. Still, he gave the Spirit a grunt in agreement.

However, the Professor didn't pay the environment any further attention, for as soon as the chariot rose above the swamp, he had spotted the foe. Or at least, he could make out the larger vessel. From a distance, the larger vessel resembled a boat barrage with a cabin placed in the back center. If he squinted, Morgan could make out two gray figures aboard, both standing on the cabin's roof. But it seemed neither was looking in their direction.

[Morgan looked down at the water surrounding the boat. Something is going on there.]

He did so, and only then did he notice unnatural churning ripples on what should have been a mirrored emerald surface. Dozens of metallic green objects circled the boat, bobbing in and out of the emerald swamp like shark fins surrounding a bloated whale carcass.

No, he realized, not fins; those were wings.

"Oh, perfect. The Stymphalian are harassing the boat," the Satyr grumbled like an employee trying to shift blame onto others. "It's nothing to worry about. The Boss was probably waiting to handle them until I came back. They can't do anything to the boat but could nick us if we're not careful. Move your foot there, Professor, and take a step back. I am going to signal them that we've arrived."

Looking down, Morgan saw his right boot half on top of a metallic ring embedded into the floor. Interested, he did as told and watched the wood within the ring pull back like the shutter of a camera to reveal a small pipe pointing upwards. Unseen, he heard a mechanical click from where his jailer stood.

*Fwoom*

Something whizzed out of the tube, straight into the air, and ascended over a hundred meters before exploding in a yellow burst of sparks.

*Bang!*

"A flare gun built in the boat." The Scientist recognized aloud, looking to Satyr for answers. "Now, is that feature standard or-"

A flash of white bright enough to illuminate one side of the Assassin's face for a fraction of a second. Then again and again.

Morgan snapped his attention towards the origins of the flash, his left hand reflexively covering his right pinky, and was startled to find himself looking at the figures again. Only then did he see the thundercloud. This cloud was incredibly smaller than what mundane physics would allow, no bigger than a motorcycle, and hovered above the taller figure's head. The miniature cloud cracked with half-obscured lighting, the frequency and intensity building up.

No… Were they about to-

*CRACK!* Thunder's crisp clap boomed outwards, rattling his eardrums.

Numbly, the Professor watched as a lightning bolt slammed into the largest gathering of innocent Spirit Beasts, creatures working together to drive off the unknown threat invading their territory. A geyser of green steam exploded from where the bolt landed, followed by a dozen or more bodies rising to the surface. From the corner of his eye, Morgan thought he saw something below the water's surface move away from the boat, but he couldn't be sure. He refused to look away from the still-boiling section of pointless death.

[...Why?] The Monk gasped, their voice sounding on the edge of tears. [They could have just moved the-] But they couldn't finish the sentence.

What few metallic feathers floated above the surface shone brilliantly in the sunlight. Morgan had never seen them in direct light before and found their splendor breathtaking. A fact that only fanned the flames of wrath building within, a heat so intense he could almost feel it burning at the back of his throat.

As Gregory began moving the chariot towards the senseless slaughter, the Professor clenched his chained right hand into a fist.