Ark was massive—there was no other way to describe it. The planet had to be at least fifty percent larger than Earth, maybe more. After Erik showed me dozens of monsters—enough to make my head spin—he zoomed the table out, revealing an ocean stretching endlessly in every direction. When I asked about La-Roc’s size, the voice chimed in, informing us the island was approximately 1,800 spans across.

After some back-and-forth about reaches, wings, and paces, I finally pieced it together: a span was roughly half a kilometer. That made La-Roc around 800 to 900 kilometers end to end.

Holy shit. How far away was that mountain? And there was nothing for thousands of kilometers in any direction. La-Roc wasn’t just an island; it was the middle of nowhere—a tropical Hawaii surrounded by ocean as far as the eye could see.

To the west, across the Azure Span, was the Greatwood—a mega-continent so vast only a fraction had ever been mapped.

“Only a fraction?” I asked, staring at the table. “What’s out there?”

“Monsters,” Cass said, yawning as she stretched. “And plants the size of castles. It’s the kind of place where going for a picnic gets you eaten.”

To the east were the Central Isles, which might as well have been continents themselves. These massive landmasses dwarfed La-Roc in size and importance: the Sunspire Archipelago, the Emerald Reaches, and countless others. All tropical, teeming with life, they were the cultural and population heart of Ark.

Farther east lay the Ashenflow, another mega-continent. Unlike the lush Greatwood, it was a wasteland of fire and stone—deserts, badlands, and volcanoes. Erik and Cass didn’t know much about it, but like the Greatwood, it was overrun with monsters and mana beasts. Because, of course, this world needed a giant lava-continent.

Yet people still lived in both the Greatwood and Ashenflow. They braved the monsters, choosing danger over the tenuous, expensive life in the Central Isles. Nobility waged wars over territory and status, making it safer to gamble with mana beasts than other people.

“Technically, La-Roc and a few other island nations are part of the Emerald Reaches,” Erik explained. “We trade with them often, but it’s a very long trip.”

At Ark’s poles were the Glacier Wastes—vast, frozen tundras barely explored and sparsely inhabited. The map displayed them with a kind of artistic vagueness, like even the cartographers gave up halfway through.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. My brain felt like it was going to explode from the sheer volume of new information.

“I’m out of red coins,” I muttered, admitting defeat after hours of trying to retain what I’d learned. At least I had a better grasp of the basics. I could name regions, understood the scale of distances, and had a rough idea of what lay beyond La-Roc. One thing was clear: I wasn’t just a tourist anymore.

“We should get food in the Tower Courtyard,” Cass said, standing and stretching. “I think I fell asleep back there.”

Even Erik looked groggy as he got to his feet. “I still don’t understand half the questions you were asking. You were moving so fast. Is this how humans learn?”

I blinked, caught off guard. Cass yawned and shrugged, still cracking her knuckles.

“Sort of,” I said with a laugh. “We’ve got something similar on Earth—interactive maps—but nothing this detailed. Definitely not three-dimensional.”

“I’m too damn hungry to care,” Cass cut in, pulling the door open. A rich, earthy aroma wafted into the room, and I was out of my chair in a flash.

Bounding down the stairs two at a time, I followed the scent into the shop below. Cyrus was perched on a platform, carefully spooning a coarse brown powder into a mug. He poured steaming water over it, stirred in honey, and inhaled deeply.

My heart skipped a beat. Coffee? Could it really be?

I froze, watching him like a hawk. No… it wasn’t coffee. It was something better. My eyes zeroed in on the jar of coarse powder as realization hit me. Cocoa.

Without hesitation, I stomped over, slapping my blue coins onto the counter with dramatic flair.

“How much for the cocoa?” I demanded.

Cyrus visibly flinched, nearly choking on his sip. He sputtered, recovering with a cough.

“Ahem. It’s not for sale,” he said, but his tone wavered.

“Why not?” I let a sly grin creep across my face. There was no way I was backing down.

“Because it’s… it’s mine!” he said, clutching his mug defensively.

I leaned closer. “You liked my cinnamon buns and donuts, right?”

Cyrus hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “I… think every Vildar I know did, Breaker.”

“Good. Doreen asked me to make something unforgettable tonight. I’ll give you half of whatever I make—hell, I’ll let you try it first. She’ll never even know.”

Cyrus glanced at the jar, then back at me. His resolve was cracking.

“How unforgettable?” he asked finally.

I smiled, victory in sight. “Ever heard of a brownie?”

----------------------------------------

“That was... kind of awesome,” Cass said as we stepped out of the shop. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Vildar give sweets away.”

I hefted the jar of cocoa in my hand, feeling unreasonably pleased with myself. Almost die in the morning, make brownies at night—just normal stuff now, apparently. All I needed was a crash course in monster hunting, and I’d be set.

“When you taste what I promised to make him, you’ll understand,” I replied as the three of us started toward the tower.

“What does ‘ooey-gooey’ mean?” Erik asked, his tone so formal it sounded like he was reciting from a dictionary.

“You’ll find out tonight—if you can manage to get past Doreen,” I said with a wink. His groan was audible.

“She made me fix that door, you know,” he muttered, shaking his head.

I laughed, easily picturing it. “I know! I saw you working on the frame when Cass and I went for a run. She’s ruthless.”

Erik sighed deeply, the sound more resigned than annoyed. “Ruthless is putting it lightly. I didn’t expect her to go all-out.”

We walked in companionable silence for a moment. Cass, clearly driven by hunger, had already surged ahead, her pace more of a jog now.

Erik glanced after her before turning back to me. “Ben, you’ve really shown me why humans make such good allies. You’re still learning about our world, but you’ve already become a reliable force within it.” His voice softened, and he hesitated before continuing. “My sister, she…”

I cut him off gently, already anticipating where he was headed. “We’ll both pass the exams together, Erik,” I said with quiet conviction. “I might not be Felix, but I damn well know how to study for a test.”

He blinked at me, then nodded, his expression relaxing as if a weight had lifted. “Thank you.”

A hint of mischief replaced the seriousness in his face, and he sped up slightly. “If we hurry, I bet we can convince Cass to buy us lunch.”

I chuckled, matching his pace. For someone who looked like a stoic Viking statue, Erik had a surprising knack for playful moments. His care for Cass was obvious, and it warmed something in me—an appreciation for the strange, wonderful luck that had brought me to these people.

In an alien world that could have been infinitely worse, I realized, I’d found something unexpectedly good: a family of sorts. And as we headed up the road, I was extremely grateful for the simple glimpse of humanity in it all.

Sure enough, when we arrived at the bustling courtyard, Cass was already in front of an Aldertree vendor skewering chunks of meat and what looked suspiciously like pineapple. She’d already devoured half of one skewer and handed Erik and me one each without so much as a word—her mouth was too full for conversation.

We ate quietly as we ascended the lively stairs, the courtyard buzzing with activity behind us. The smoky, grilled flavor of the meat—maybe lamb or goat—paired with the sour tang of pineapple hit the spot after such a bizarre day. Seasoned or not, it was exactly what I needed. The hot island sun beat down on us, and I suddenly realized just how dehydrated I was.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Hey, Cass, where can we get some water?” I asked, barely managing the question with my mouth half full of food.

Before Cass could answer, Erik turned and handed me a large gourd bottle with a red strap. The thing had not been in his hands moments ago. “Here. You keep this one,” he said casually. “You should always carry water now that you have a mana sanctum.”

I froze mid-step. How the hell did I forget about the piece of magical jewelry stuck to my ear? Taking the bottle, I popped the leather stopper and took a swig, nearly choking as icy water spilled down my chin. The chill was a shock in the heat.

“Oh wow, that’s cold,” I said, holding it out. “Anyone else need some?”

Cass grabbed the bottle and took a quick drink before handing it back, wiping her mouth.

“Now,” I said, eyeing the bottle nervously, “how do I, uh… do the thing?”

“You store it by passing mana into the earring and placing the bottle inside,” Erik said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.

I frowned. Wasn’t I already passing it mana? The earring had been quietly siphoning off a bit of my energy all day, like keeping a pilot light burning. It wasn’t enough to notice unless I focused on it.

Taking a breath, I searched for the faint thread of mana tethered to the earring behind my ear. It flared warmly as I let more energy flow into it, the heat spreading across my ear like I was blushing. I closed my eyes, trying to focus.

Suddenly, I felt it—a presence, like I was standing in a dark room with a shelf directly in front of me. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. Tentatively, I imagined setting the gourd bottle onto that invisible shelf. The sensation was strange—like my thoughts had weight. I opened my eyes.

The gourd was gone. Not in my hands, not on the ground—just gone. And yet, I knew exactly where it was. I could still feel it, sitting on that invisible shelf, safely stored inside the gemstone on my earring.

That… was a lot to process. It’s on my ear. In a gemstone. Thinking about it made my head hurt, but there was no denying it worked. I had just put something into a pocket dimension attached to a piece of jewelry.

“Thank you, Nana,” I said, letting another pulse of mana send my jar of cocoa to the earring. A second pulse brought the gourd out for a sip before I stored it again. The cocoa jar appeared in my left hand, then back to the shelf, then in my right hand, and back again. I wondered if I could shove a whole fridge into the thing. How much could it hold?

Oh.

It didn’t take long to notice a pattern—taking items out required significantly more energy than putting them in. I’d estimate it was almost ten times as much. While the cost was small enough not to cause immediate issue, pulling out multiple items in quick succession could drain the tank fast.

“Of course, you’re already using it better than Erik,” Cass said with a grin, turning to her brother. “If he catches up to you—how embarrassing would that be?”

“You both will,” Erik replied stoically as we entered the citadel.

The Tower bustled with activity, its halls alive with the clamor of boots on stone, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional flash of energy as hunters practiced—or showed off. It was chaotic but purposeful, like every person here was part of some massive, unspoken machine.

I slipped the empty metal skewer into the earring—it seemed as good a place as any—and followed the others to the front desk. Gary greeted us with his usual mischievous grin.

“Long time no see, Gary. I need a job,” I said, leaning casually on the counter. His smile widened, brimming with more mischief than I was comfortable with.

“Well, Breaker. It’s about time!” he declared loudly, drawing cheers from a few hunters around us. I recognized some of them from Doreen’s that morning when I’d been given the title. Gary walked over to a wall covered in papers and maps, their colors arranged in a rough gradient of green, yellow, orange, and red.

“What do the colors mean?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

“They represent distance. Green is nearby, red is far—could even mean the Greatwood. Orange is a spirit realm, which, as I’m sure you know, are unpredictable.”

Gary returned with a green slip, dropping it on the counter with a flourish. I picked it up. It was about the size of a dollar bill, with handwritten words scrawled across it:

E—Lumifrax—Greenmarch—Riverbend Prefecture—1S50R

All things considered; it seemed vague. I remembered Erik mentioning a Lumifrax… some kind of frog? He’d said they were Class F—or maybe E? The other details didn’t make much sense yet, but I guessed the “1S50R” was the payout: one silver and fifty red coins. I still didn’t know how many reds made a silver, but it seemed like a lot.

Cass whistled as she read over my shoulder. “That’s a big payout. How many monsters?”

“Enough to class the job up, Initiate,” Gary said politely. “The Breaker may access simple Class E jobs before becoming a full Hunter.”

“Have fun with that one,” Cass said, slapping me on the back.

“You’re not coming?” I asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “You thought, ‘Hey, the guy who just found out magic is real should go track down giant frogs by himself’?”

Gary laughed from the counter as he shuffled through more papers.

“I need to find work, too,” Cass replied. “Until Chas gets back, I can’t hand in my job bills, and I’ve got too many open already. With Felix gone, I need to find a partner.”

I stared at her, then looked to Erik, who was rubbing his temples behind her.

“Cass…” I gestured at myself. “What have we been doing the last three days?”

Cass blinked at me, the realization dawning. “I’m fucking tired, alright? Riverbend is near our farm, so we’ll stay there tonight and head up to the prefecture in the morning.”

“Ah, very well then,” Gary said with an exaggerated flourish. “Is your armor at the Winters Estate?”

Cass nodded, and I raised my hand. “Oh, yeah—armor. Where can I get some of that?”

“First, I’ll need to authorize the job. Your passes, please?” Gary asked, extending his hand. We handed them over, and after a flurry of stamps on the bill and our passes, he seemed satisfied. “You’ll need to visit my brother Garren. I believe your Acolyte status entitles you to some picks from his stores, but he’ll explain the details.”

And with that, Erik took the lead, guiding us through the Tower. The maze of hallways eventually brought us to a set of enormous double doors, completely bypassing the Atrium. I hadn’t realized that was even possible. There were so many things I didn’t know about the Tower, but I’d learned better than to ask too many questions. The more I understood, the more confusing it seemed—and Cass had warned me that too much curiosity could make things weird in here.

“You’ll like Garren,” Cass said as we approached the doors. “He’s the normal one of the Garies.”

The doors swung open, revealing what could only be described as an armory on steroids. Vaulted ceilings loomed above shelves and racks organized in a way that felt halfway between a library and a blacksmith’s workshop. Each row seemed to house a different category of gear: weapons, armor, vials of glowing liquids, and even various bracers. Hunters bustled around, haggling, browsing, and occasionally testing items with glowing runes and flashes of energy. The static buzz of magic filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of metal and the low murmur of negotiations.

“Mister Crawford, nice to meet ya.”

All three of us jumped at the sudden voice. Turning, we saw Gary—or rather, Garren. He looked exactly like his brother at the front desk, except for the hunter’s vest and a truly impressive black mullet that gleamed in the light.

“Garren?” I asked, still caught off guard.

“Call me Gary,” he replied with a grin.

“That won’t get confusing at all,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m told you’ve got some armor for me.”

“Sure as fuck do!” he exclaimed, motioning for us to follow. At least he was direct.

We walked deeper into the armory, and I couldn’t help but glance around at the sheer variety of equipment. Weapons lined the walls—blades of all sizes—including large hulking swords that seemed way too big to be practical, spears, wicked recurve bows, hammers and maces in all shapes and colors. Sets of armor were displayed on mannequins, ranging from sleek leather to hulking plate like Erik’s, each piece marked with glyphs that glowed faintly in my mana sight. Along one wall, shelves were stacked with glowing orbs—mana cores and pearls of various sizes.

Gary—or Garren—stepped behind a counter in front of the mana cores. With a theatrical gesture, a flash of energy illuminated the space, leaving behind a striking set of black armor.

“This here’s an Acolyte armor set. Haven’t made one of these in a while!” Garren said with a sly grin, clearly proud of the ensemble.

The armor was striking in its simplicity. It was made of black leather that had a smooth, almost bark-like texture. The set consisted of heavy boots, strapped pants, a tunic reinforced at the shoulders, and gloves with slightly curved fingers that looked perfect for gripping. Subtle orange accents traced the edges of the pieces, adding a sharp contrast without being flashy. A functional belt completed the ensemble, along with a short half-cape that looked more decorative than practical—something a rider might use to keep the rain off their saddlebags.

I ran my hand over the material, marveling at its texture. It buzzed faintly with mana, feeling more like Kevlar or nylon than leather, yet it was unmistakably made from the hide of some creature. The craftsmanship was impressive—sleek, functional, and undeniably tough.

“Yep,” Garren said, watching my reaction. “Dendrobrux hide. Tough as bark, flexible as leather. You’re gonna look the part now. But remember, it’s on loan until you either pay for it or I decide you’ve earned it.”

I nodded, still impressed. This was a far cry from anything I’d worn before, and I couldn’t wait to see how it held up in action.

“It looks… badass,” I said, unable to suppress a grin.

Erik clapped me on the back with a hearty laugh. “It’s not plate armor, but that’s a solid set. Dendrobrux hide is closer to bark than leather.”

“Are you heading out for your job right away, or should I send it to Doreen’s?” Garren asked, leaning casually on the counter.

“Jobs in Riverbend,” Cass answered for me. “Have someone drop it at the Winters Estate. We’ll leave from there tomorrow.”

“Can’t I just wear it now?” I asked. Trying on the armor had moved to the top of my list.

“Armor messes with your mana regeneration, Breaker, best to only wear it when you’re going hunting.” Garren replied.

“Plus, its hotter than Gaia’s ass out there,” Cass added with a grin. “And putting on your armor for the first time is a big deal. Mother is going to want to have a feast.”

“Oh, I like feasts!” I replied.

Garren smiled. “Come back heavier than you left.”

“And with stories to share,” Cass added almost ritualistically.

I raised an eyebrow at her, but before I could ask, Garren waved us off, already turning to another customer.

I sighed heavily staring at the awesome armor as an Aldertree man packed it up in a large wooden case. As he went to take it away, I grinned as my hand brushed against the corner and it disappeared as I placed it in my earring.

That was surprisingly easy.

“Oh no, it takes so much mana to take out, I simply don’t have enough. I’ll have to carry it there myself, shoot, I’m still getting used to this earring,” I said with a mock apology.

Garren’s demeanor shifted his gaze turning less casual. “A Mana Sanctum? That’s a damned weird thing to have, Breaker. I believe one was misplaced two days ago.”

“Time to go,” Erik said, grabbing me by the arm rather abruptly and leading us out of the armory.

As we made our way back to the Tower’s entrance, the noise of the armory fading behind us, I spoke up. “Did Diana steal this earring? I’m kind of new here and I feel like that might have consequences.”

Erik glanced at me as we walked, his stoic demeanor on full display. “Everything Nana does is official. She always has the paperwork to back it up. I wouldn’t worry.”

“That’s scary,” I said thinking about how Diana played everyone to get me committed to Sylvarus and the Monster Hunters.

“Besides, you’ve got baking to do,” he said with a grin.

I laughed, shaking my head. “At least people appreciate my cooking.”

“Trust me, Doreen appreciates it the most,” Erik replied, his grin widening. “She just shows it by making our lives miserable.”