So Luméos is animatedly talking to Aranya in their secret spider language, but he won’t tell me how to cast magic spells. Rude. No wonder he doesn’t have any worshipers.

Then, waved his thoughts away with a weak smile.

Maybe he only knows jewelcrafting spells…sounds plausible.

He stared ahead, where a different kind of creature added diversity to their journey through the second quadrant.

These were called venom-spitting beetles, and brought a refreshingly interesting nuance. It didn’t last long.

These are even weaker than the webweaver spiders!

Alan feared of the growing…opposite of excitement. It felt like an unfilled void.

Gods and Spider ladies quickly forgotten, his thoughts turned to the tragic moment that rewrote his story. A doctor called it a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder and he didn’t deny it. Alan was well-aware of his condition. But understanding it intellectually and navigating the tumultuous emotions were two distinct challenges.

I will not go back, it will not happen.

While the Universal Council’s contact with Earth and the human integration brought chaos to lives of many, it brought order to Alan’s shattered psyche. Verdenterra provided a conduit to channel his emotions. The system offered a refuge from his haunting memories.

I need a real challenge soon before these spiders bore me to death.

The good news is that I'm at least racking up decent myst. The bad news is that I need far too much of it. And I suspect that's only going to worsen. Getting both my boons to x4 now feels like an eternity, especially when compared to how quickly I got them to x3. Luméos said that's to be expected. If that's the case, it might be more efficient to acquire new boons. My magic feels like it has plateaued.

He wanted to learn more about how to progress with the system, but Luméos wouldn’t spill any new information.

If only Alan could choose his boons from a list of options, like in RPGs; everything would be so much simpler. However, from what he'd gathered, the universe’s system operated on a semi-random basis: your actions determined the boons you received, but it was unpredictable which actions would lead to which boons.

He wanted to be a powerful wizard. Why not? He imagined himself casting fireballs. He'd hoped for a heal/cure spell and maybe something like a lightning bolt to strike multiple targets at once. Would having the highly flexible invisibility spell be too much to ask? Perhaps also teleportation for unmatched mobility? Such a set would create a balanced spell pool. However, Alan ended up with the sixth sense, Resonance Reveal. He loved it, but it was far from what he'd envisioned when he first became aware of mana's existence.

He changed his mind. Upon reflection, that had to be the most boring spell pool in history. He wanted something interesting, flashy, exotic, epic, and exciting — something complex, yet simplistically jaw-dropping.

Something thrilling.

Luméos hinted at an infinite ocean of boons, aptitudes, classes, and spells, but it required a certain level of crazy to delve into its depths. So, Alan decided to do just that.

It was the kind of motivation that he was looking for.

A puzzle to occupy his mind. A spark.

Someone whose spark had been glowing was Bobby who at some point gained a new boon called Mana Alchemy which made him sound more and more like the stereotypical alchemist. He was now able to infuse mana into liquids and objects. He hadn’t figured out how to use it yet, but he was starting to get invested in the idea since his favorite show involved an alchemist and his brother. Either way, seeing his partner specializing in such a unique art gave Alan hope—that he too could find a niche that was uniquely his own.

It was fun. But it was something that they couldn’t sleep on.

If Bobby had resolved to support him all the way to the tree of life, Alan needed to ensure he could get the job done.

He wasn’t there yet.

But he would, he swore on…his +1 mana regeneration ring.

Finally. Alan’s reverie snapped. Bobby had developed a love-hate relationship with Luméos, and it seemed like he’d started to grow on the god.

“I don’t understand why you can’t explain how you learned english,” Bobby said, giving the god a quizzical glance.

“Because there is nothing to explain,” Luméos replied with an air of superiority. “Once you’ve learned a thousand tongues or so, they are all the same. And your…english as you called it, is probably amongst the simplest communication conduits in the entire universe. Unless you count Zhyl'tarik blon'noa, of course.”

“Thank you. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

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Alan shook his head. He’d come to enjoy watching Bobby and Lumeo’s interactions. “I don’t think we’ll be able to learn a thousand languages, so I guess Archanidar is out of the question.”

In an attempt to avoid Duke and his group, Alan led the group toward Vitendrea in a slightly more diagonal path.

But it turned out to be more treacherous.

Shit, we should have just gone straight. They found themselves battling through dense underbrush, clambering through trees, and trying not to slip on moss-covered rocks.

He slipped anyway. More correctly, Bobby slipped and used Alan for support, which only served to make sure that they both landed on their butts.

Neither Luméos nor Aranya experienced such discomforts.

Yet, the group pressed forward and eventually found something…enticing.

Bobby was the first to notice the odd configuration of trees ahead. "Hey, Alan, check that out," he whispered, pointing to a series of intertwined tree trunks that formed a natural archway.

"It looks like one of those 'too good to be true' tunnels. Nice find, Bobby," Alan chuckled.

They turned to Luméos, who simply shrugged before relaying the information to Aranya.

She didn’t answer right away, so Alan headed toward the tunnel entrance. He peered in briefly before proceeding through.

Not ominous at all.

“Let’s go.”

"Another detour in this tiresome forest. Is this truly worth our time?" Luméos asked.

Aranya moved closer to Luméos and began to produce a series of clicks and hisses.

“Are you sure? Interesting,” said the god.

“What did she say?” Bobby asked Luméos with anticipation, but he remained nonchalant.

“Oh…you are expecting me to translate every single word? How utterly quaint.”

Despite ignoring him, Bobby's veins pulsed visibly on his temple.

Alan ignored all three of them and continued through the foliage underpass. The semi-circular tunnel was almost his height. He ducked slightly. But at least the ground underneath was smooth and easy to traverse.

The temperature dropped. The group emerged into a secluded glade. The large dome-like area was littered with crumbling pillars and faded murals that gave the impression that the space had once been a shrine. A towering archway marked the entry to another tunnel behind it. Faint runes glowed along the weathered stone.

Bobby let out a low whistle. “Wow. Are we gonna get lost in there? What happens if we don’t make it to the big tree in time? I mean, we can’t even see it from here anymore.”

“It’ll be fine. If we don’t find anything after a couple of minutes, we’ll just turn around.”

Aranya shared another series of clicks with Luméos, to which the god reacted keenly.

“Luméos, is there anything we should know? Please tell us.”

Luméos sighed theatrically, "She insists there's something of value ahead. Some shrine of significance, I believe? The indignities I suffer, translating for creatures with such base levels of comprehension."

“See…I knew you could do it,” Bobby said. “Come on, Highness, it aint hard playin' translator for us mere mortals."

Luméos scoffed, "Your amusement is not my concern. But this shrine may indeed be of interest. Let's not dawdle."

“Thank you,” Alan grinned faintly. “It's hidden. Deliberately so.”

Luméos added, “For its protection, no doubt. Or perhaps as a trivial test for those who might seek it. Either way, it has piqued my interest no less.”

“Actually, can you make out any of those symbols?”

"Descendants...chosen...destiny intertwined...and so on. Just cryptic mystical nonsense, really," the god dismissed with a wave.

“Sure. Only one way to find out,”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Bobby’s voice shook.

It was the feeling that Alan had been desperately waiting for. The shrine called out to him, which only made his friend’s fear-laden questions sound more like a push to give in to his curiosity. Alan wouldn’t deny motivation, and he wanted to experience everything the tutorial would offer.

On the other hand, it was highly irresponsible to give in to a mysterious force that compelled you to go to it.

Am I already crazy? He asked him as he took another step toward the shrine. I’m behaving like the typical cursed adventurer, and I don’t even care.

Alan had always been analytical. He saw now that he had been allowing his fear of depression to completely dictate his actions…which he realized meant denial.

The call wasn’t evil. Maybe.

Only he could hear it because he was simply following the instincts of his Resonance Reveal spell.

I’m already here, might as well take the last step.

As he entered its outer threshold, a thrum of energy resonated within him. The mana around this site was dense, untamed. His magic, Resonance Reveal, flickered involuntarily.

"Cease!" Luméos commanded, with an annoyed tone. He looked at Aranya, who was tapping her legs on the ground in a distinct pattern.

Alan looked between Luméos and Aranya. "What is it? What's she saying?"

"This monument, it seems, is none other than the Node of Creation, an antiquity of significant import."

Bobby chimed in, "The Node of what now?"

"The Node of Creation, my inquisitive friend. Guarded by the Arachnidars for, oh, longer than you could possibly fathom."

"And what does it do?"

Luméos offered a smirk, "Ah, therein lies the crux. Yet, as omniscient as I am, I am bound by the confines of my translator."

The spider-woman continued her rhythmic communication.

With a tone oozing superiority, Luméos said, "She indicates the power of the Node is... multifaceted, to put it simply. Treading with caution would be the judicious approach."

Bobby snorted, "Why's everything here gotta be so damn convoluted? Alan, might be better if we get out of here and get to the tree. There’s still two quadrants left."

“Give me ten minutes.”