Flying through the astral expanse, I quickly leave my own sphere of influence, a quite literal sphere considering that all around my home is a thin white bubble.

Switching off my boots with my toes, I float outside the comfort of my home. Hah, it's so strange that my home is a rudimentary spaceship attached to a frozen planet of meat floating in the midst of a bubble.

I laugh, almost feeling as if I should rub my hands, like someone waiting in the driveway in the midst of the cold. But it is no use for me; I am encased in steel with the only real weakness being the bits around the back of the helm where I had to add a slit for my hair.

Either way, how am I going to get to that spirit of mystery? It’s not like I have a map, and while that shaman, Patient Bridge told me that the other spirit could guide me. He didn’t exactly say how.

And additionally, from what I remember from my dive into the shaman's memories, the spirit of curdled anger is very far away, so much so that the shaman had to essentially reach into another dimension to find her.

Or, thinking back to it more accurately, through something more than the third dimension. Hmm, how does that even work? Humanity and the rest of the intergalactic community have been trying to access useful dimensions for ages, and some random bloke can just yank someone through one.

Well, if he can, then certainly I could, and hmm, maybe I ca-

I am suddenly interrupted by a strange sight, as the spirit comes into view, their visage slowly coming into sight, as if they were going out from beneath a cover of the astral expanse. Looking almost exactly like the ant that just slid out of view.

But I am not taken aback by that fact, but rather by how different it is from my perspective compared to the shamans.

Rather than a little fairy, it looks more like someone stuffed a snake, a firework, and a centipede into a blender and set the poor creature that stumbled out of the blender on fire! Its body made out of the same stuff as blooms, in dull pinks, pulsing reds, and bleeding yellows, all as bright as a flashbang. Leading to quite the eyesore as the spirit hisses and spits as it spins in place as if an ouroboros was formed from the sparkling end of a firework.

Yet despite its new and surprising appearance, it retains that same grating voice as it shrieks, "GET OVER HERE, YOU DAZZLER," while gesturing with its spinning body for me to get closer.

Reluctantly, I approach, heading closer to the spirit, before I am quickly surprised as a tunnel of red magic snaps around us and we both get dragged forward as if we were standing atop a car along the highway.

Alarmed I cautiously examine the strange apparatus I find myself in. The magic looks as if someone had wrapped a film much like the one around my home around us and turned it into some form of strange, twisting tunnel, rocketing us to our destination. Hmm, I wonder if it's the same magic.

But seeing nothing that looks like it wouldn't kill me and slightly reassured that this isn't just a death trap, I look again at the tiny little snake, shining like a firework, as it rockets around in place.

"So what do you know about Patient Bridge?" I ask, trying to get the spirit to divulge a little bit about the man almost certain to screw me over.

The spirit turns to me, the violent reactions within its body heating up as it spits out, "YOU BETTER NOT BE TRYING TO COZY UP TO HIM, HE’S MINE, MINE!"

I quickly put my hands up, not about to get into an argument with someone I literally just met, but I can’t say anything before the spirit of curdled anger starts to screech again.

"I’LL FIGHT, I’LL FIGHT, STAY AWAY FROM MY HUMAN I FOUND HIM FIRST!" The spirit says with an ear-piercing screech that is clearly quite defensive.

Amused I reassure the spirit, "I’m not here to take yo man; I just need from him a spell and some knowledge, and then I can back off"

I’m not exactly going to stay allied to the man whose people’s history essentially paints them as the ultimate backstabber. I don’t blindly trust the information given; it's from a biased source, but frankly, I’m going to stay safe. Although I probably should figure out how to get some company while I figure out how to get out of here. Maybe I should talk to some spirits?

Whoopsy daisy, the spirit is still there! I look back at them as they slowly stop spinning and hissing with such intensity and, with a humph, turn away from me to look at their curving, twisting tunnel.

I sort of float awkwardly in my immensely protective armor as the conversation dwindles to nothing at all. The space between us as silent as the grave.

My eyes nearly glaze over in boredom as I stare at the red film that makes up this strange tunnel. And with nothing to do, all I can do is examine my environment.

Examining the strange, curving tunnel, I ponder what the hell it's made of, not that it has to be made of anything in particular. But it is a bit reminiscent of actually my domain. And frankly, if it were something like a domain, this technique would make sense. Considering that domains are techniques that essentially tweak the rules in their confines, a skilled user could probably tweak their way into transportation.

But why use a domain? Those usually either take a while to make or require a ton of emotions just tossed into the astral. And how did they change the domain or turn it into a tunnel. Frankly, if my theory is correct, this is a pretty impressive piece of magic.

But considering the impossibility of just asking for their technique, I should turn my mind to a more actionable question. Like, how is it moving us?

Are we just moving really fast, and not breaking into pieces because, well, there is nothing to break us into pieces, or is the spirit somehow compressing space?

Well, I have the tools to investigate. Taking off my helmet, I tap on the Sight/Analyze button and reexamine the strange film.

A burst of screens comes across my eyes, as overwhelming and painful as always, yet I resolutely grab a few bits before closing my eyes and turning off the enchantment.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Unknown film, measurements 1m long wrapped into a tube.

Unknown film, sideways.

Unknown film, domain of IGBNJOWHNJADA, contains properties of time.

What the fuck! We’re moving via timey-wimey shenanigans? How does that even work? Are we in slowed down time, are we moving faster by having m/s have a smaller second or something? Am I going to age ultra-fast, or is this going to take decades?

The implications of being able to screw with time are endless. But frankly, I can’t really do anything about it. So let’s turn to more relevant questions about the domain. Like how the hell it works.

Hmm, an interesting question is: what would happen if I were to poke out of the domain? Would my hand flop about like a dog poking its head out of a window. Would I pop the domain like a bubble? Or have my fingers been torn off by it moving at two separate speeds?

No, no, I shouldn’t do that. There's no air to flap my hands, popping the domain would piss off the spirit. And obviously, tearing my own hand off would be terrible.

…

I hear nothing but the random hisses of the volatile spirit leading the way. I do nothing. I see nothing but this damned film.

…

Mustering after dwelling in this cursed silence. I determine that, in the spirit of science, I must test this out! And this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I am bored out of my mind, no siree.

So with a slow, tentative reach, my gauntleted hands approach the film.

Only to be slapped away by the spirit with strength belying its tiny size. I look at the feisty little thing, miffed at its quite firm rebuke of my SCIENCE!

"OI DON’T TOUCH MY HOUSE LIKE THAT, DECKED OUT LIKE YOU ARE, YOUR ARMOR WILL SLURP IT UP TILL THERE’S NOTHING LEFT!" The spirit says

And frankly, that’s quite reasonable considering that if I touched it with how my armor is enchanted, it might eat it wholesale. But how the hell did she know what the enchantment did?

Uh, how did you know what my armor does? Can you read the runes?" I ask, my voice echoing how confused I am.

The spirit laughs like a scraping explosion before saying "NAH I CAN JUST FEEL IT, THE HUNGER, THE DEVOURING INHERENT TO IT. WHY WOULD I KNOW WHAT YOUR WORTHLESS BLATHERINGS SAY, WHAT USE DO I HAVE FOR LANGUAGE."

Hmm, interesting, although this does bring up something else that is quite strange—how in the hells am I talking to these people?

It took me fuckloads of time to just relearn English; how in the hell are both Patient Bridge and this spirit talking to me in a language that they have no right to understand.

So, spirit, how are you even speaking to me if you never bothered to learn a language?" I ask quizzingly.

The spirit faintly amused, and uncharacteristically quiet says "Shouldn’t you know it is part of your R̸̨̨̢̢̺̲̯̮̲̟̼̪̳͕̥̱̼͆͑̈́̎̕e̵̢̝̯̪̜̱̻̗̲͓̭͇̜̖̫͕̖͕͎̱̱̥͇͎͙̠̻̬̖̲͓̹̞͖̱̮͉͊̓̃̉̈̀́̋̀̓͋̋̅̂͠ͅͅA̴̢̨̦̝̦͖͓̰͈̮̾͒͛͒̃̿̍̏̃͌̇̇̋͌̍̍͆̄͛̈́̓͂͑̋̚͠͠ç̵̧̧͚͈͚͙̝̫̖͈͓͍̟̘͓̩͔̺̪̥̣͔̱̦̘͓̻̲͇̻̼̫̼͓̣̟̙͍̦̈́̃͊͊̈̾́͒̏͊̂̂̔̈́̔͗̾̍͒́͒̑̍͂͒̈̍̅̉́̈́̀́͋́̌̄̂̕̚͜͝͝ḥ̷̡̢̨̛̛̪̱̣̥̼̞̥͎̱̯̦̟̲̝̰͔͙̟̤̖̹̭̠̺͖̭͖̥̠͍̻̩̜͇͖͛̌͂̿͗́̅̈́̅͗͊̍́͂́̀̑͂͑͛̈̐̈́̆̽̓͛̒͋̈́̽͋̈͌̐̂̏͘͝͝͠͝, the innate gifts of the astral. For your perspective can’t be challenged if you cannot interact."

I am taken aback and even more confused than before, but when my mind has the time to process it, it makes a little bit of sense. That those who arrive at the astral plane get a gift package of magic.

Otherwise, how the hell have I not starved to death?

But it does make some extremely confusing things come to mind, like, is the astral designed? Why would tools specifically built for communication be just tossed out to everyone? And why did the last shaman starve to death if apparently the astral has a gift package?

Well, I think clasping my gauntleted hands together, if I want to get some information on that, I’m going to need to talk, and for that, I at the very least need to know their names. So while it might be as painful as usual to ask for someone's name mid-conversation, I have to go through with this.

Speeding along the apparent tunnel of time, I sheepishly rub my helmet with my gauntlets before just deciding to go ahead and ask, "So what’s your name? I didn’t catch one, and frankly, it is really awkward to just call you by what is essentially your description."

"My title is perfectly fine," the spirit says, oddly subdued, and with this, I realize that this is a no-go area.

So instead I ask, "What’s your favorite thing to do then?" hoping to start some small talk.

The spirit much more comfortable with this topic of conversation says, "OH, MY MOST BELOVED THING TO DO IS TO FIND THE SPIRIT OF PEACE THAT IS MY MOST DREADFUL NEIGHBOR AND MINORLY INCONVENIENCE THEM"

Confused I nod for the spirit to continue talking.

"YOU KNOW, TAKE AWAY THINGS WHEN THEY AREN’T LOOKING, REROUTE COMMUNICATIONS SO THAT THEY MUST REPEAT THEMSELVES WHEN SPEAKING, AND WHENEVER THEY ATTEMPT TO MOVE AWAY, I PLACE MY DOMAIN RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEIRS." The spirit shrieked with glee, looking for all the world as if they were rubbing their hands together like a cheap villain. Despite not having any.

I stand befuddled, truly puzzled, at why they would bother, before remembering what they are a spirit of. They embody that tiny bit of anger that stays forever like a dead coal still burning in the forest long after the fires are out.

It makes sense for it to do such tiny, petty things, and it’s not really hurting anyone who cares.

But the spirit doesn’t stop; it continues with "AND WITH MY TINY SLIGHTS I RUIN THE SPIRIT’S IDEAL OF PEACE, SLOWLY BUT SURELY DESTROYING THEIR BEING."

I am taken aback at the sudden turn toward ego death and am incredibly disturbed. But I can’t exactly express my moral qualms here.

But her words bring up something very interesting. Spirits have neighbors? Because if so, that means that there must be rudimentary communities, and frankly, I doubt that whatever the shaman comes back with will instantly solve my problems. So some spirits to help workshop solutions would be really helpful.

And above all else, I need some goddam company so I don't go completely and utterly insane, so with a faint tone of desperation, I ask the spirit, Uh, how do I introduce myself to some more spirits, get involved in the Astral PTA meetings, and all that?"

The spirit, looking confused, gestures around, saying, "You introduce yourself all the time; hell, you’re kind of well-known for constantly giving out your information. You even gave the entirety of your morals to a rock. You really should control yourself more."

I am momentarily confused before everything clicks into place, my scrying, my unpeeling. It’s not a simple taking of information; it’s an exchange!

And I’ve essentially been giving my number to all the spirits that I can see, and with my observatory, I can see them from pretty far away.

I facepalm, my iron gauntlets clattering against my helmet as I sink into despair and embarrassment. I was essentially handing everyone on the street my business card, sliding it underneath bathroom stalls, and throwing it all over the floor.

But as I despair at my own foolishness, the spirit zips in front of my face its snakelike form made out of hissing and spitting clouds, looking strangely sympathetic?

"HEY IF YOU REALLY, REALLY, WANT TO POP ONTO THE SCENE, YOU SHOULD DO A DEBUT, WHERE YOU INVITE A BUNCH OF SPIRITS WHO INVITE OTHER SPIRITS INTO YOUR DOMAIN, AND SHOW OFF IN FRONT OF EVERYONE," The spirit says their voice buzzing as she flits around in front of my face.

"I LOVED MY DEBUT I GOT TO BE SO SPARKLY AND SO CHARMINGLY VICOUS. MANY OF MY NETWORKING PARTNERS WERE MADE AT THAT DEBUT," the spirit says with obvious fondness, almost crooning as they think back.

I blink within the confines of my helmet, surprised at this sudden turn of events. But I’m not the type of person to let go of opportunities like a chump so I leap for the opening with full force.

"Thank you, that seems like a grand idea," I say in my very best attempt to be diplomatic. It would behoove me to not piss off my partner in crime. Considering we are about to sa-

The spirit unprompted then says, "WHEN YOU DO YOUR DEBUT, COUNT ME IN!"

Pleasantly surprised, I smile and say, "I would be glad to have you there."

We barreled through the tunnel of the domain of the spirit in a much more pleasant silence than before. And frankly, I’m glad for it, since it means I don’t have to ta-

"WHERE DO YOU GET ALL THE MATERIALS?" The spirit asks with all the implied shoulder nudging that implies a from one spirit to another vibe.

I don’t say anything in response but I don’t need to as the spirit continues with "I DON’T HAVE ANY WORSHIPERS SO NONE HAVE SACRIFICED ANY USEFUL ITEMS TO ME, IT MAKES ME BURN WITH ANGER! IT MUST BE SO NICE TO HAVE SUCH A ROBUST CULT."

I attempt to interrupt, raising a finger, but the spirit simply bulldozes over my words as they say, "AND UGHHHH, EVEN IF I COULD TRY TO INFLUENCE THOSE IN MY REACH ANY CULT WOULD PROBABLY BE STAMPED OUT IN THE CRADLE. THE AGE OF THE SHAMAN TRULY IS A BUMMER."

Seeing that any attempt at a more ordinary conversation would be firmly rebuked, I take it all in before saying, Well, I actually don’t have a cult."

The spirit says "REALLY" in an extremely strange tone before I continue.

"I instead have many types of enchantments that make infinite materials, and if you make it worth my while in favors, you can have some," I say, leaving the door open to more talks in the future.

"WOW, THAT’S REAL NEATO. WHEN WE’RE DONE WITH THIS, I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT, BUT WE’RE HERE." The spirit says before the red veil falls.

Revealing a gray cloud covering a stone structure that defies all reasonable ideas of 3D earth. But despite the new things I see, it is still very much familiar.

"WAIT! Isn't this the cloud that kept teleporting me around?"