We floated quietly in the balloon, heading northwest, leaving the city behind. Below us, the land stretched out like a broken memory—familiar, yet completely off. The paved road we’d seen earlier appeared again, cutting through the wilderness like a scar from a time long gone. It was massive—way wider than any Earth road, probably the size of an eight-lane highway, maybe even ten. But it had definitely seen better days. Nature was creeping in, with grass and bushes pushing up through the cracks, slowly reclaiming what humans had once built. The asphalt was odd too. The road we saw before had a yellow-brown color, but this one leaned more toward mustard-yellow than brown. It reminded me of the yellow brick road from Elton John's song, except it wasn’t brick, just paved. I quietly hummed the tune under my breath.
Al stood silently beside me, his eyes fixed on the horizon, the usual thoughtful look on his face. Rue sat on my other side, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. His size made the basket feel cramped, even after the core expansion, but he didn’t seem to mind at all, just sitting there contentedly, occasionally shifting his weight. Mahya was behind us, focused on controlling the direction with her gadget, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration.
“How come you steer the boat with your mind, but control the balloon with the contraption?” I asked, glancing back at her. “Can’t you steer it with commands? You’re connected to the core.”
“I can,” she replied casually, “but I like to do it this way.”
I raised an eyebrow, but there wasn’t much to argue with. “Fair enough,” I said with a shrug, turning my attention back to the scenery below. Al hadn’t moved a muscle, still staring straight ahead like he was lost in thought, while Rue let out a quiet huff, resting his head on the rim of the basket as the wind gently tugged at his fur.
The road snaked along beneath us, disappearing into the distance. Trees lined both sides—not quite a forest, but enough to make it clear that nobody had been taking care of this place for a long time. Everything felt strangely quiet, the kind of quiet that puts you on edge. Every now and then, the wind carried a distant roar or the sound of something big crashing into something else, but most of the time, it was just us, the wind, and a whole lot of nothing.
I leaned over the edge of the basket, squinting at the road below. What really grabbed my attention were the vehicles. Scattered along the road were rusted-out hunks of metal, but they weren’t anything like the cars or trucks I knew back on Earth. Their shapes were weird, almost alien. Some vehicles resembled long and sleek tubes, probably built for speed, but now they were just rusted shells, barely maintaining their structural integrity. Others were bulkier, almost like tanks, with thick frames that gave the impression of being built for more than just getting from A to B.
One vehicle stood out—a massive beast of a thing, at least three times the size of any Earth truck. Whatever it was carrying had been long gone, but the vehicle remained—a rusted metal monster slowly sinking into the cracked pavement. Its huge, thick wheels had partially sunk into the ground, and vines were curling up around it, almost like nature was trying to pull it down for good.
“Look at that,” I said, pointing.
Al leaned over, his brows furrowed. “Impressive. If it is that big, it must have carried something of importance.” He tapped his fingers on the edge of the basket, deep in thought. “Whatever it was, it is long gone now.”
Mahya glanced over too. “Yeah, probably something pretty big or dangerous. They wouldn’t have built something like that for anything small.”
As we floated further, more vehicles appeared, all in worse shape than the last. Some vehicles were completely crushed, with their frames bent and twisted as if something huge had rolled right over them. Some others got torn to pieces, their parts scattered across the road like some giant got bored and tore them apart. I spotted movement in the distance—an entire pack of beasts prowling the edge of the trees. They moved with this unsettling grace, especially for creatures that big.
Rue perked up, his ears twitching as he glanced down at the scene below. He let out a derisive huff, then sent me a clear feeling through our bond—he wasn’t impressed. After that, he shifted slightly and settled his massive head on the rim of the basket, his eyes half-closed as if to say, Wake me when something interesting happens.
I gripped the edge of the basket a little tighter as one beast let out a deep, rumbling roar that echoed through the air. Even though we were floating high above in the balloon, I swear I could feel the vibration in my bones. For a brief moment, I got a clear look at them—massive, wolf-like creatures with extra-long muzzles and floppy ears. They were as big as Rue, but far shaggier, with matted fur that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Their tangled coats clung to their hulking bodies, making them seem even more wild and feral than they already were.
Their legs caught my eye immediately, though something about them seemed off. It took me a few minutes to pinpoint what it was, but then it hit me—the way they moved was all wrong for a wolf. When they ran, their joints didn’t bend like a typical canine’s would. Instead, their legs moved more like a horse’s, with long, powerful strides that pushed their bodies forward in a strange, almost galloping motion. It was unsettling to witness, like they were designed to be speedy and strong, but not in the way you’d imagine. Their muscular hind legs stretched out far behind them, propelling them forward with a grace that seemed out of place for such hulking, shaggy creatures. It gave them an almost predatory elegance, but one that felt alien, a reminder that these beasts were far from anything familiar.
“Let’s hope they don’t look up,” I muttered, feeling a chill crawl down my spine.
Rue bumped me gently with his head, a reassuring gesture, before settling back into his half-dosing posture, his head resting comfortably on the rim of the basket as if the massive creatures below didn’t bother him in the slightest.
The balloon drifted on, and soon the beasts disappeared into the cover of the trees, leaving behind a strange, heavy silence. As we continued, the destruction became more pronounced, like we were floating through the aftermath of a long-forgotten war. The road, which must have once been a shining symbol of progress, was now little more than a decaying monument to a world that no longer existed. Rusted metal hulks of vehicles littered the sides, and large chunks of concrete had crumbled away, leaving gaping holes in the pavement where the earth had swallowed it up. Time and nature seemed to have slowly eaten away the road itself, leaving nothing to hold it together.
Al leaned forward, studying the scene below. “Whatever happened here, it left nothing intact. The destruction is not random—it is too widespread.”
Mounds of dirt and debris completely buried some stretches, giving the impression that something massive had ripped through it, causing chaos. The surface had deep cracks running across it, splitting the asphalt in jagged lines, giving the appearance that the road had been torn apart from underneath. We passed over what used to be bridges or interchanges, now nothing more than piles of rubble that blocked any way forward. The metal beams, once sturdy and gleaming, were bent and twisted, some barely hanging on, others collapsed entirely into the abyss below.
Every so often, we’d see sections where entire lanes had caved in, leaving enormous pits that dropped straight down, like the earth had swallowed them whole. In other areas, plants had completely overrun the road, with roots and vines pushing through cracks and tangling around rusted guardrails, creating an almost impenetrable barrier. The destruction didn’t look random—it was everywhere, as though something, or many things, had deliberately torn the world apart. Now, silence remained, only interrupted by the occasional groan of rusted metal shifting in the wind, and the distant sounds of unseen battles between monsters.
We passed over an intersection where a bunch of vehicles had piled up. The remains of what looked like a huge bus lay on its side, windows shattered and the roof caved in. Around it were smaller vehicles, some crushed beyond recognition, others barely holding their shape. All of them had the same story—abandoned and left to rust.
A loud crash echoed from somewhere far off, snapping me out of my thoughts. Both Mahya and I turned toward the sound, just in time to see a massive beast break through the trees, roaring like it was out for blood. The thing was huge, easily twice the size of the pack we’d seen earlier. Its thick, armored hide glistened in the sunlight, and jagged horns jutted from its head. It charged forward, shaking the ground with every step, disappearing into the trees as quickly as it appeared.
A second roar followed, this one even deeper, angrier. Whatever the first beast had run into wasn’t backing down. The sounds of their battle carried through the air—roars, snarls, and the unmistakable crash of two huge bodies slamming into each other. I didn’t want to think about the carnage that was going down just beyond the trees.
“Let’s steer clear of that,” I said. “No point getting too close to that mess.”
Mahya didn’t argue; she knew as well as I did that while the balloon kept us safely out of reach, we wouldn’t stand a chance if one of those things took a swing at us. Without a word, she adjusted her gadget to steer us away from the battling titans below.
We floated over another stretch of road when something caught my eye—a massive tower, crumbling and half-collapsed, rising from the trees like the bones of a forgotten age. It was made of some kind of metal, though it was hard to tell what with all the rust. But one thing was obvious—this had been from the old world. Maybe a watchtower or some kind of transmission tower, though it looked way more advanced than anything I’d ever seen.
“That’s definitely pre-integration,” I said, pointing it out to Mahya.
She nodded. “Yeah, no doubt. Whatever kind of tech they had back then, it’s all just ruins now.”
Al studied the crumbling tower thoughtfully, his eyes scanning its rusted structure. “It has a lot of material,” he noted.
I shook my head. “We’ve got plenty from the junkyard already. I’m not going down there.”
He gave a small nod in agreement and shifted his gaze back to the horizon.
As we drifted past the tower, I spotted more signs of the past. Broken-down machinery littered the ground, half-buried in the dirt and overgrown with weeds. Some of it looked like it had been part of something bigger—maybe a factory or a power plant—but now it was just rubble.
The silence stretched on again, broken only by the occasional distant roar of a beast or the rustling of the wind through the trees. It felt like this world was stuck between the past and the present. The old world was gone, wiped out by mana, and now it was just a shadow of what once was, with monsters and nature reclaiming everything.
We floated higher, passing over another section of road. More rusted vehicles dotted the landscape, looking like relics of a forgotten era. And yet, there was something about them that still seemed out of place, like the tech had been far more advanced than anything we knew from Earth.
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The balloon drifted silently over a seizable area with rusted metal and crumbling structures that sprawled below us like the skeletal remains of a giant beast. Broken chimneys rose in clusters, their blackened tips piercing the sky. Massive, rusted machines lay scattered across the landscape, some half-sunk into the earth as if trying to hide from the years of neglect. Conveyor belts, long abandoned, stretched out like withered vines, their once smooth surfaces now twisted and bent. The ground was cracked and broken, with weeds and wild vines creeping through the fissures, slowly reclaiming the land.
It was a wasteland, a graveyard of industry, where nature had begun its slow conquest. But it wasn’t just nature that had taken over. The entire place was crawling with monsters, each one larger and more terrifying than the last. Massive creatures roamed between the crumbling walls and rusted frameworks, their bodies weaving in and out of the tangled mess of debris.
Some monsters had claimed sections of the ruins for themselves, lounging lazily on rusted platforms or lurking in the shadows of what once might have been factories. I saw one hulking beast, its skin a deep gray and its body covered in rough scales, sprawled out beneath the remains of a massive iron structure. Its tail twitched idly, sending small clouds of dust and debris into the air with each movement. Nearby, smaller creatures scavenged among the wreckage, darting in and out of the shadows like rats in the night, cautious of the bigger predators that stalked the complex.
In one corner, a massive horned creature had claimed what looked like an old loading dock. It sat there, watching over its territory with a quiet menace. I watched as another creature, smaller but just as dangerous-looking, approached. There was no warning before the larger monster lunged, claws outstretched. The smaller creature tried to dodge, but it was too slow. After a quick and brutal fight, the larger monster slammed its rival into a crumbling wall, the impact causing the structure to shudder and collapse in on itself, adding to the growing destruction.
“Brutal,” I muttered, gripping the edge of the basket.
Mahya adjusted the balloon slightly, steering us away from the skirmish. But the battles weren’t limited to just one area. Across the complex, monsters fought for control of whatever territory they could claim. Two towering beasts, each covered in thick, matted fur, clashed in what looked like the remains of an old parking lot. Their roars echoed across the ruins as they slammed into each other, claws tearing at flesh, fangs flashing in the sunlight. One creature shoved the other into a rusted structure, sending the already decaying metal groaning and collapsing under the weight of the impact. A cloud of dust and debris shot into the air as more of the complex crumbled under the violence of their battle.
“The remaining parts of this place will not last much longer,” Al said quietly, his eyes fixed on the destruction below.
He was right. Every clash, every battle seemed to tear the place apart even more. We passed over a section where what looked like the remains of an assembly line had once stood. The machines were broken and twisted, their once gleaming surfaces now dull and rusted. A pack of smaller, more agile creatures swarmed through the wreckage, chasing each other over the rusting conveyor belts and between the shattered windows of the nearby buildings. Every so often, one of them would collide with something, sending another piece of the structure crashing down.
Rue let out a low growl, his eyes tracking a particularly large creature as it barreled through a crumbling building, its massive frame sending chunks of concrete flying. It let out a roar that seemed to shake the very air around us, and then disappeared into the ruins, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
“Doesn’t look like anything here is ever going to get back to how it was,” I muttered, watching as another skirmish broke out in the distance, sending more debris tumbling to the ground.
We flew over a massive structure, its roof partially caved in. At one point, it might have been a factory or a processing plant, but now it was little more than a broken shell. Inside, we saw two creatures locked in a brutal fight, their snarls echoing up to us as they slammed each other into the rusting machinery. One creature, covered in thick, black fur, grabbed the other by the throat and hurled it into a stack of rusted metal beams. The beams collapsed with a deafening crash, sending sparks flying as they scraped against the ground.
As we drifted further, the scale of the destruction became even more apparent. Entire buildings had collapsed into themselves, with only twisted metal frames standing like the bones of some long-dead giant. Monsters roamed freely among the wreckage, prowling between the ruins. The air was thick with dust, filled with the distant sounds of battles—claws clashing against steel, teeth grinding into concrete.
“This is another cluster of dungeons,” Mahya said, her sharp eyes scanning the chaos below.
“Are you sure those are monsters and not beasts?” I asked, narrowing my gaze to get a better look at the creatures weaving through the wreckage.
“Yeah, I saw one of them dissipate,” she replied, her tone certain. “Definitely monsters.”
“Seems more hazardous than the city,” Al said as he studied the battlefield below.
“Probably had a higher mana level during the integration,” I said, glancing over at him. He gave me a questioning look, so I shrugged and added, “Find the article about dangers and opportunities in integration. It describes some of these things.”
Recognition flickered in his eyes. “I read it when the Gate I planned to use changed destination. Now I remember.”
Mahya’s expression grew calculating, a familiar look that made me wary.
I pointed a finger at her and said, “No matter what you’re thinking about—forget it. We’re not clearing this area. It’s way too dangerous.”
“The rewards will be better and the cores larger,” she countered, her voice laced with excitement.
“I don’t care. Just look down,” I said, gesturing at the chaos below. “All the monsters here are bigger and much more dangerous. If you want bigger cores, we can collect smaller ones and combine them. There’s no reason to put us at risk.”
“I concur,” Al chimed in, his gaze still fixed on the battlefield.
Mahya glanced down at the carnage, her expression softening from its calculating look. Though she didn’t look happy about it, she gave a small nod. “Fine.”
With that settled, we continued floating in silence, watching as the battles below raged on. Each fight added another layer of destruction to the already crumbling landscape. The entire complex seemed to be slowly tearing itself apart, piece by piece, and we were just witnesses to its final, violent collapse.
As the afternoon sun began its slow descent, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, we drifted over what was once a large agricultural area. Below us, fields stretched out in every direction, divided into neat, geometric plots, though the order and precision had long since given way to chaos. The crops were wild and overgrown, tall grasses and weeds choking the remnants of the once carefully tended farmland. Here and there, abandoned farmhouses stood in various states of disrepair, their roofs sagging and windows shattered, their paint peeled away by years of exposure. Barns leaned precariously, some completely collapsed, their wooden frames swallowed by the overgrowth.
Ranches, with their sprawling paddocks and long-forgotten fences, were now little more than overgrown stretches of land, where nature had reclaimed everything. The orchards were wild too, with untamed trees growing in tangled clusters, their branches heavy with overripe fruit no one had picked in decades. It was eerie, almost haunting—this place that had once been a hub of life and activity was now abandoned, left to decay under the weight of time.
As we flew above the area, we saw three large herds of cattle grazed lazily in the overgrown fields, their dark forms moving slowly through the tall grasses. They looked like the cattle we saw in the beef dungeon. They were massive, at least fifty percent larger than any breed I had known back home, their thick black fur almost making them look like oversized Angus. The long, shaggy coats rippled as they moved, their sheer size dwarfing everything else around them. Despite their impressive bulk, they seemed content, grazing peacefully as if this place was their domain now.
Mahya, standing behind us, adjusted the balloon’s course slightly as we made a slow, wide circle around the area. “Looks like a good place to spend the night.”
I looked down again, taking in the abandoned farms and open fields. The idea of landing here wasn’t the worst. It was quiet, and the herds seemed to keep to themselves, uninterested in anything other than grazing. The open expanse of farmland also meant we could see anything approaching from a distance.
“I agree,” I said after a moment. “It’s isolated enough, and we can land the balloon without worrying about any of the big monsters sneaking up on us.”
Al studied the area for a moment longer before nodding. “It is acceptable.”
Rue lifted his head and gave a soft rumble of approval, his eyes drifting over the fields as if assessing them himself.
Mahya adjusted the gadget, and the balloon descended slowly. The basket swayed gently in the wind as we floated down toward an open patch of overgrown farmland. As we got closer to the ground, the rustle of the wind through the wild grasses and the distant sounds of the cattle became clearer. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the fields. It wasn’t peaceful exactly—there was too much abandonment here for that—but it was calm.
The balloon touched down softly, the basket settling into the tall grass with a gentle thud. We stepped out, the surrounding air filled with the earthy scent of the wild fields.
We stood in the middle of a large farmyard, surrounded by the remnants of what had once been a bustling homestead. About a hundred meters ahead, a three-story wooden house loomed in the fading light, half of it collapsed in on itself, leaving only the skeletal remains of walls and rafters exposed to the elements. The remaining half of the house still stood stubbornly, though it looked fragile, as if one strong wind could finish what time had already started.
To the right, a large barn dominated the space, its weathered wood grayed with age. Despite the clear signs of abandonment, the barn was mostly intact, its roof still holding on and the structure standing firm, though patches of rot and holes in the walls hinted at its slow decline. Vines crawled up its sides, trying to claim it as part of the landscape.
Behind us, two more buildings stood. One was unmistakably a stable, or at least it had been, with its long, low design and the faint outlines of what must have once been stalls for livestock. The roof sagged under the weight of years, and the doors hung crookedly on rusted hinges, but you could still see the bones of what it used to be. The other building, however, was a mystery. Unlike the others, it was made of stone, its rough-hewn blocks standing out in stark contrast to the decaying wood around it. It had a large metal door, though the hinges were broken, leaving it slightly ajar. This was the only structure that still seemed nearly whole, about ninety percent intact, its stone walls weathered but sturdy.
The yard itself was overgrown, wild grasses and weeds pushing up through the dirt, reclaiming the space where people once worked and lived. It felt eerily quiet, like a place that had been forgotten for far too long. The remnants of what had once been a productive farm now stood as ruins, swallowed by time and nature.
Rue, ever curious, sniffed the air and padded over to the stone building, his nose twitching as he inspected the slightly open door. He gave it a nudge, but the door didn’t budge, the metal groaning faintly under the weight of his push. He let out a low rumble of dissatisfaction and circled back to me, his large form brushing against my leg.
“Do you smell anything or anybody?” I asked Rue, watching as his ears twitched, his nose working the air.
“No. Rue smell only old things.”
That was good enough for me. If Rue couldn’t detect anything unusual, we were likely in the clear. I took out the core, and with a quick command, I opened the house.
As I stirred the pot of stew, the savory scent mixing with the quiche baking in the oven, my thoughts drifted back to the fields and orchards we’d flown over earlier. Even with all the wild, tangled overgrowth, I’d spotted some strange fruits and veggies poking through the thick foliage—definitely nothing like what we had back on Earth. Some fruits looked like oversized pears with a purple tint, and others reminded me of avocados, but way bigger, like the size of a squash. There were also these clusters of spiny, bulbous plants that had to be some kind of root vegetable, and trees sagging under the weight of bright yellow, spiraled fruits. My curiosity was buzzing. I couldn’t wait to get a closer look and figure out what this world grew.
As I dished out the food, I casually brought it up. “Those fields looked... interesting. Maybe tomorrow we can see what kind of crops they grow.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too. Definitely some weird stuff down there,” Mahya said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “And while we’re at it, maybe we should collect some more beef.”
I blinked, surprised. “We’ve already got plenty from the dungeon. We emptied five storage rings, and we still have 29 rings full of meat, plus all the coolers in my storage. You think we need more?”
She leaned back, twirling the knife between her fingers. “We always eat more after a dungeon run.” She nodded toward Rue, sprawled on his beanbag, lazily flicking his tail. “He eats like a bottomless pit, and this place has plenty of resources. It’d be a waste not to stock up while we can.”
I glanced over at Rue, who let out a low grunt but didn’t bother lifting his head. Mahya wasn’t wrong. Given how things were, it made sense to gather more while we had the chance.
“Fair enough,” I said, already making a mental note to explore those odd crops in the morning.
And who knew what else this place had in store for us?