Alistair constantly felt for his lightning-filled gourd. He knew it was in his pocket and that it hadn’t fallen out, but he still obsessively checked. It still felt so unstable. He understood that the chance of it actually coming out was minuscule, but he was a worrier by nature. Like the card that Farsa Strongbite gave him or the Cabal marble, it wouldn’t fit in his inventory, though unlike those items, it didn’t appear to be soulbound. That meant that he could actually lose it, whereas those other things would always return to him.

Over the course of the next few hours, they trekked the Wasteland looking for storms. However, they came up empty. They only caught glimpses of Mana Storms on the horizon, yet when they tried getting closer, the storms also moved further away, almost as if they were avoiding them.

Considering that Alistair had uncovered that there was an elemental beast inside the storms that appeared to control them, it was a less crazy hypothesis than at first glance.

“What are those pure Mana beasts called, anyway?” Oliver asked.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Alistair said. “I forgot to inspect it.”

“Devonic Purebreeds,” Dev’rox offered up. “Ironic, since they’re impure mutts, at least compared to the greater ones. The ‘pure’ purebreeds are some of the most haughty beings in the multiverse.”

Oliver was used to the imp at this point, not hesitating at all at his sudden manifestation. “What do you know about the Devonic type?”

“They seek to purify all other types of Mana. Absorb, refine, destroy. You send one youth onto a planet without sufficient defenses, and in a few years’ time, it will be a mass of pure affinity Mana.”

“Well, we can’t let that happen,” Alistair said. “But also, that doesn’t seem to match this Wasteland in a one-to-one correspondence. This area hasn’t been turned to pure Mana—it’s lacking the vitality of Mana altogether.”

“I’m not sure about that one,” Dev’rox admitted. “Maybe they’re siphoning off the pure affinity Mana they’re making somewhere else.”

Besides the lack of Mana Storms, they also didn’t see any of the reptiles that were said to be going haywire at the disappearance of their king, Vritra. There were signs that they had once been there, with abandoned tunnels, cylindrical slithering indents, and pools of acid. But no living creatures. It was a complete ghost town.

Considering the Wasteland was the size of Montana, their options were limited. Oliver wanted to use Alistair’s speed to go all in chasing a storm down, whereas Alistair wanted to try going to the center. In the end, he convinced Oliver by reminding him he would have to stay on Alistair’s back the entire time.

Alistair’s logic was that the center always was the place to go. When in doubt, head straight for the center.

Even after accounting for Oliver’s slower speed, it still only took them a bit over two hours to make it there. That was the advantage of cultivation improving their bodies. As far as he understood, their planet would grow in time as well. Based on some reports on distances, it probably had already grown slightly. For now, their superior physiques would expedite travel immensely, though after seeing the solar system-sized worlds in his bloodline vision, Alistair knew convenient travel wasn’t a given.

Alistair checked back at his subregion map multiple times to keep them on course. He didn’t want any shenanigans like when they were going through the forest to Saturn’s château.

Speaking of Saturn, the count in his [Vanquishing the Devil Kings] Quest updated from 0/12 to 2/12. Like how the Devil Kings had a Quest that took a snapshot of the top 10 humans at a certain point in time, the humans would have to kill the Devil Kings from a certain point in time, likely the point at the beginning of the Quest.

If George raised any more Devil Princes to Devil Kings like he had done with Jakk, they wouldn’t count. Alistair wasn’t especially worried about that. At his strength, defeating future replacement Devil Kings would be like taking candy from a baby.

Still, the current ten Devil Kings left sounded daunting, but Alistair thought it was easier than it seemed. He had defeated Dragonus fair and square, so he could certainly take on almost all the others in a one-on-one fight. He really just had to be careful about George or Oracle.

While he let his mind wander, they arrived close to the position Alistair calculated to be the center of the Wasteland.

It was nothing like they expected. First of all, Alistair was hoping to see a concentration of Mana Storms, but it was black-and-white like everywhere else. But what they did see in the distance were two enormous mountains.

“I’m not going crazy, am I?” Oliver asked. “Those are mountains, right?”

Alistair squinted, finding it difficult to get a good look with the lack of color. “I think so.”

One of the mountains looked black, while the other was pure white. Alistair got the sense that there was something in the middle between them, hidden by their bulk. Most likely a valley.

As they grew closer to the peaks, their size became more clear. While he was not a perfect judge of height, mountains looked to be verging on the size of the largest on Earth, so close to eight thousand meters tall. After everything Alistair had seen, not overly impressive.

However, even if it wasn’t that impressive, in order to get to whatever they were guarding, they still had to the climb them.

The white peak was the closer one. It essentially looked like a normal mountain, except it was pure white. There were slight variations in color based on the shading of the snow and rocks. Being entirely barren of life, you could see cleanly from the bottom to the top. Snow piled up even at the bottom, showing just how cold it was.

They started climbing it right away. Both Alistair and Olive had never gone mountain climbing before, but with their attributes—not that difficult. However, even at their fast pace, the sheer size made it tedious. Alistair remembered reading that it would take climbers several weeks to ascend Mount Everest.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to wait weeks. They were going way faster than any normal human could. The troubles were the freezing temperatures and unsteady nature of the mountain. Multiple times, Alistair’s foothold crumbled underneath him. Only thanks to his lightning quick reflexes and extraordinary strength was he able to avoid falling.

Oliver might not have been able to avoid such a disaster, so he stayed behind Alistair, who acted as the lead climber. By shadowing his every action, Oliver dodged of any unsteady holds.

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The sun bore down on them stronger the higher they climbed, but never raised the temperature. Even though he remained focused on the ascent, Alistair couldn’t help but admire the untouched grandeur of the pearly peak. In the before, he might have been far too callous to dismiss mountaineering as a reckless hobby. He had never felt more one with nature than now, when he put one hand above the other in non-stop motion.

Ten hours in and it was growing cold. Not for him, who had the unfettered protection of Mammothskin Raiment,. Alistair thought by his lonesome he could have scaled it in thirty minutes, but he had to wait up for Oliver. The difference in their abilities was very discrete—at Alistair’s level of Agility and Strength he could almost run up the mountain face like a mountain goat while Oliver had much more difficulty, having to approach it more like a normal person. That slowed down their climb by over a factor of ten.

Alistair wasn’t willing to risk having another person on his back if they fell off. But there was also something odd about their climbing. It was for more difficult than it should have been. Even Alistair was huffing and puffing for air at the halfway mark. That shouldn’t have been possible with his ability to convert basic physiological processes to Mana consumption, but somehow it was happening.

“Can we take… a break?” Oliver stammered out, hanging on for dear life to the sheer cliff face. His fingertips were covered in frost, a result of the plummeting temperatures.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Alistair turned his back to the mountain, holding himself against a small ledge as he overlooked the Wasteland. Secretly, he had been hoping for a break himself, but he wasn’t going to ask for a rest first.

At their elevation, snow was piling up everywhere, making it that much more difficult to climb, on top of the mysterious fatigue. Alistair couldn’t imagine what goodies would lie on the other side of the mountainous wall. Surely, if it was this hard to scale, there had to be something good, right?

“Don’t look down,” Dev’rox said mischievously.

“Go to hell,” Alistair replied back, though he took the dare and had a gander. He regretted it instantly. For some reason, despite having fallen off flying komodo dragons and giant fireworms, standing on a cliff edge still gave him goosebumps.

“Don’t rub it in, you bastard,” Dev’rox said. “That’s why I’m trying to do.”

“What do you think is on the other side?” Oliver asked.

“No clue,” Alistair replied. “It better be good, though.”

“I’m thinking it’s an entire civilization of Mana Storms. All living together like a happy family.”

“Perfect, then we can slaughter all of them at once,” Alistair said. “No more happy family.”

“And I thought I was the one who was morbid,” Oliver said. “Okay, let’s get back to climbing.”

On the way up, Alistair had to hand Oliver his coat, since it was getting too cold for him. Alistair would brave the freezing temperatures shirtless, since he had stopped wearing undershirts out of laziness.

“The ladies must love that,” Dev’rox cooed, though Alistair ignored him. After another three hours, they had almost made it to the summit. This was in spite of choosing the shortest part of the white mountain to climb.

At last, the end was in sight. Alistair sped up, digging his fingertips into the voluminous amounts of snow as he dragged himself to the top. The fatigue had fully permeated his body. It wasn’t anything compared to some of the pains he had experienced in battle, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

Oliver sounded like a dying billy goat. Dev’rox helped him out, lazily floating to the small clearing at the summit. He looked down on the Necromancer, who was wheezing in exhaustion five meters below.

“What will you do for me if I swap places with you?” Dev’rox asked.

“This… isn’t… funny,” Oliver said. “C’mon, just do it.”

“Dev’rox,” Alistair warned, giving him a pointed look.

“Fine. You’re no fun.” Dev’rox snapped his fingers and swapped places with Oliver, who promptly collapsed into a pile of snow.

Alistair nudged Oliver, who was still face-planted in the snow. “You’re going to want to see this.”

Alistair couldn’t believe his eyes. As he stood on the mountaintop, taking in the view below, he almost wanted to himself in the head. It didn’t make any sense.

There was an enormous, luscious valley cradled between the two mountains. Verdant, colorful, and full of life, it was in stark contrast to the rest of the colorless Wasteland.

The valley was split in two by a beautiful, winding river, which flowed through the centerpiece of the valley—a sprawling and lively village. Terrace farms covered the inner slopes of the mountain, while smoke billowed from chimneys into the open air. It was an idyllic scene of some fairytale countryside that felt completely out of place.

“What the hell?” Oliver said, having gathered himself to his knees. “What is this?”

What is this indeed? Alistair thought. He could barely make out some human figures toiling on the farms, but he also would’ve sworn he could see reptilian silhouettes as well.

Not able to make out much more from their position, they started climbing down. The other side of the cliff was much less snowy and was full of grass just a hundred meters down from the peak.

So far, it didn’t seem like anyone noticed them. Alistair and Oliver were a stealthy duo, well-practiced at suppressing their auras. Alistair felt like his cloak was especially effective today, with essentially zero Mana emanating out of his skin. Too close to zero, in fact.

Alistair looked inward to Dev’rox for advice. But he didn’t need the imp’s opinion to realize what had happened. It wasn’t only his outward aura that had disappeared—it was everything. When he tried to access his Dao Nodes or his soulcore, it was like they had been sealed away. He had never felt anything like that before. Even when he had been inside of a proto-Domain, the suppression wasn’t anywhere near what it was now.

Oliver looked toward him with fearful recognition. The two of them scrambled back up the mountain, intent on escaping whatever death trap lay ahead of them in the false bucolic paradise below. But when they reached the summit, they found themselves unable to continue.

Alistair felt like a mortal again. His limbs were heavy, his body ached in strange ways that he hadn’t experienced for months. His diaphragm hurt and his lungs wailed and his heart struggled to pump oxygen to his greedy body. While it was a steep mountain, it was almost as if he was weaker than he was before the initiation. Perhaps the internal Mana that enriched his muscles and skeleton took over so much of his bodily functions that his true natural ability had decayed. Or maybe he was just being dramatic.

It was embarrassing to see that Oliver was easily keeping up with him as they hiked up the cliff face. They both were exhausted by the time they reached the top. Alistair wasn’t sure where the exact border was, but considering that Dev’rox had been able to use his Skill quite close to the summit, it had to be around where they crossed over.

They could regroup later on and figure out what was happening here. It wasn’t even their main priority—dealing with the Mana Storms was. And even—

Alistair felt back onto his bottom, yelping in pain as blood streamed down his nose. Based on the sickening crack concomitant with the pain, he had broken his nose. Blood dripped down onto the pure white snow.

His mind lost focus for a moment from the pain and shock, but Alistair wasn’t some sheltered college kid anymore. He recollected himself and realized what had happened. He had haphazardly jogged nose-first into an invisible wall. But the collision wasn’t what concerned him.

Oliver, seeing Alistair’s injury, walked up to the pathway they had crossed over not ten minutes before. He tentatively reached out a palm, only for it to be stopped midair. Oliver didn’t have much Strength to begin with, so without his cultivation boost, he was a scrawny teenager, but he tried pushing against the invisible barrier, anyway. To no avail.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this,” Oliver muttered. “There’s no way.”

Alistair joined him in investigating the mysterious barrier, pinching his nose at the same time.

“Dev’rox, do you know what’s going on?”

“I’m guessing the three of us stumbled into a Devonic Elision Field. Like the name suggests, it’s a technology built from the Beast Cores and ancestral material of mature Devonic Purebreeds. Using their innate purification methods, the field creates both a barrier that traps and absorbs all quintessence—Mana, Dao energy, nue—all of it. They even have them in the Asura Hell—that’s how widespread they are. Even you have seen something related in those power dampening handcuffs. I’m quite sure they also use Devonic Purebreed matter.”

“Great,” Alistair huffed out, giving up on physically pounding in the wall after his hands started hurting. At least his nosebleed had let up. “Any suggestions?”

“Well, to put it simply, you’re incredibly screwed unless those people down there are helpful. You have the body of a mortal now, meaning you’ll die in however long your biology can withstand a lack of water.”

“That’s just about what I thought,” Alistair said. “Oliver, I think we’re going to have to make contact.”