Velarion’s golden eyes glimmered as they settled on my still form, its antlers faintly shimmering with astral energy. It let out a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a chuckle.

“Why are you clutching that stick? You look ridiculous,” he said, his goat like voice carrying a trace of amusement.

“I thought bringing a weapon was smart. Separating parts of my energy pool lowers my total, but the spear should’ve traveled with me. Clothes made it through, so why not this?”

The stag’s ears flicked, his tone turning sharp and smug.

“Clothes. Yes. Because you’ve spent most of your life wearing them. They’ve left an imprint on your soul.” His voice lowered as if I should’ve known better.

“When you picture yourself, you’re wearing clothes, but you don’t walk around brandishing a spear every moment of your waking life, do you?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, frowning. He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t exactly wander around holding a weapon.

“So, if I start carrying a spear everywhere, it’ll eventually come with me?” I asked. “And what if a warrior—like a fully kitted one—manages to ascend? Does all their gear travel with them?”

The stag tilted his head slightly, a thoughtful pause stretching before he answered. “In theory, yes. But humans are rather... stubborn. Changing your perception of yourself is no simple feat. I’ve seen ascendants hauling weapons, armor, even bizarre contraptions with them. Why do you think some of your ancient civilizations buried their dead with treasures? There’s more to it than you might think.”

That made sense in a strange way, though the thought of carrying a knife—or a gun—everywhere just to make it “soulbound” didn’t exactly appeal to me. It seemed like more hassle than it was worth, but still, it was something to think about.

I sighed and adjusted my position, the faint hum of astral energy in the air making my skin tingle.

“Okay, got it. But I have a few questions.”

Velarion rolled his eyes—or at least gave the impression of it.

“Of course you do,” he said dryly. “But be quick about it. You’re here to get stronger, not to pester me with your endless curiosity.”

I ignored the jab. “Alright, so… I’ve read about people visiting the astral. Some even said they met beings here. What’s the deal with that?”

The stag tilted his head, adopting his familiar lecturing tone. “It’s a mixture of things. Societal impressions play a part. Most humans can sense the astral to some degree, though they rarely interact with it directly. Then there are those beings who like to wander lower realms for their own reasons.”

“Wander lower realms?” I asked.

“Yes,” Velarion continued, his tone sharp. “Some come down to spread love and harmony between realms—what you humans might call hippies. They’re mostly harmless, though incredibly irritating with their incessant optimism.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Hippies. Right.”

“And then there are the others,” Velarion added, his tone growing colder. “Beings who seek validation. They flaunt their superiority, parading their power in front of those they consider lesser. Some of your myths and religions likely stem from encounters with such creatures.”

The stag’s bias was palpable, but I decided not to press him on it. It seemed personal.

“Interesting,” I said instead, my mind racing with the implications. The astral wasn’t just a battleground or a training ground—it was a crossroads, a place where realms overlapped.

“One more question,” I said, holding up a hand.

Velarion let out a long-suffering sigh, his antlers shimmering faintly as if reflecting his irritation. “Go on.”

“What should I do about my skill points? I’ve only spent one so far.”

“Save them,” Velarion said without hesitation. “Advancing skills is easy at this stage, even without points. You’ll need them later when the gaps widen.”

That made sense, though it didn’t make me feel any better about holding onto them. I was itching to get stronger, but I nodded. “Got it.”

“Enough questions.” The stag’s horns flicked upward, and a shimmering tear split the air in front of me. The edges of the portal glowed faintly, casting strange shadows across the astral plane.

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

I hesitated, staring at the jagged rift. “So… what’s through there?”

Velarion nudged me forward with one of his massive horns. “A world unanchored. You’ll see soon enough.”

Before I could ask anything else, the stag snorted, and I stumbled through the portal, the air bending around me like liquid glass.

I stumbled, and my feet hit solid ground with a dull thud.

The same eerie sensation crept over me, though it was less pronounced this time—something about this world felt off. Like the rules of reality had been twisted, but not as severely as in the previous one.

The sky stretched above us, fractured and broken in ways that seemed unnatural. The fissures weren't as large or as numerous, but the blue was streaked with a sickly pinkish hue, like some kind of faded bruise on the horizon.

We arrived at the edge of a sprawling city, or what used to be one. At first glance, it looked vast and impressive, but as I took a second look, it was clear: the crumbling ruins of skyscrapers were slowly being overtaken by nature.

I glanced at Velarion. “Where are we?”

His golden eyes shimmered for a moment, and he exhaled with a slight snort. “Hmm, this world is or was called Lucantra. This city is Irisvale.”

He flicked his ears, voice laced with annoyance. “Poetic, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

His nonchalant attitude grated against my nerves, but I said nothing.

I hesitated before asking, “You didn’t know before bringing us here?”

Velarion gave a short huff, dismissive. “I just looked for an energy level matching yours. After traveling through countless unanchored worlds, they all start to blend together.”

I frowned. “What happened to this world?”

“Same thing that happens to all planets,” it replied. “It became unanchored. Maybe two centuries ago.”

“That’s not very recent,” I muttered.

The stag snorted. “We operate on different timescales.”

I exhaled, frustration bubbling. “So, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Same thing you did before. Get stronger. You’ll get a system quest soon. Just make sure you finish it this time.”

My supposed mentor was being a complete asshole, but I didn’t dignify it with a comment.

“Okay, see you in eight hours?”

“I won’t be watching over you for now,” Velarion said, his voice distant. “I have more important matters to tend to.”

I blinked. “What the hell…”

Before I could react, he vanished, leaving only a ripple in the air where he had been.

The bastard pulled a Batman vanishing trick on me.

I stood there, trying to shake off the frustration, then began walking toward the ruined city. The crumbling road stretched ahead, flanked by broken walls and the skeletal remains of tall buildings. Nature had started to reclaim the land, vines creeping over once-grand structures.

Velarion was definitely messing with me—it was the classic mentor technique. Yeah, that’s what was happening.

I arrived at what remained of Irisvale’s city center. From the looks of it, this place had seen its share of battles, but most of the damage was due to time. The atmosphere was an eerie mix of modern and medieval. Wide roads littered with debris and rusting, oddly shaped carriages lined the streets. The buildings, though immense, lacked the utilitarian feel of modern architecture. Instead, they were decorated with marble arches and statues, each one depicting scenes from ancient battles or serene landscapes. Many of the windows were shattered, and most of the buildings stretched up several stories.

There were light poles, too—though most leaned at precarious angles. No wires.

With my leather jacket and spear in hand, I was oddly well dressed for an apocalyptic setting.

As I continued, I noticed something strange—most of the doors were shorter than I was used to, barely five feet tall. The vines covering everything had an odd, sickly hue, making the place seem even more forsaken. And there were bluish stains on the ground. Bloodstains, I guessed, but there were no bodies, no skeletons—nothing to explain the gore.

I activated astral sight here and then avoiding monsters for the time being and

I stayed close to the center of the road, wary of being snatched from an alley.

As I cautiously explored the eerie cityscape, my ears caught a distant noise. A commotion, faint but unmistakable.

I ducked behind a broken carriage, peering carefully toward the source of the noise.

Four humanoid creatures were circling something small. At first, I couldn’t make out what it was.

The creatures were squat, their grayish skin mottled with sores and wounds that seemed to leak something dark and viscous. They were covered in tattered clothing, leaving nothing to the imagination,bits of fabric hanging from their bodies like shredded rags. The stench of death was unbearable, seeping through the air with each movement they made.

Corrupted Tharran (lev 32)

The Tharrans had once been the dominant species of Lucantra, a civilization known for its love of architecture and building. Their cities had been a testament to their skill—towering spires and intricate stonework that blended functionality with beauty. Now, these creatures were nothing but twisted remnants of what they once were.

The sight of them made my stomach churn. Killing them, even in this corrupted state, felt wrong. At least with the wolves, I had a rationale—they were just wild creatures, and it was kill or be killed. But these… they had been sentient. They had lives. Families. Cities. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

I started to pull away, I decided to ask Velarion to take me to another world,this is too much , but then I saw what they were circling: a small creature, about the size of a cat.

The thing looked like a mix between a rabbit and a pug. Its floppy eyes and flattened nose were a familiar sight, and its once-beautiful fur was now marred with the same corruption I’d seen on the Tharrans.

Corrupted Luppit (lev 30)

Luppits, once beloved companions to the Tharrans, were small, sociable creatures. With soft fur, expressive faces, and an uncanny ability to mimic emotions, they had often been seen hopping playfully through the grand plazas of Irisvale.

The Luppit darted between the corrupted Tharrans, but it wasn’t quick enough. They caught it, and with chilling efficiency, tore into the poor creature. The high-pitched screams echoed through the silence, its tiny body being torn limb from limb.

I started backing up, heart racing, but just as I turned to slip away, I heard the unmistakable crunch of gravel beneath heavy feet.

They had noticed me.