When we crossed the portal of the mana occurrence, we stepped onto a mountaintop, and my jaw practically hit the ground. “This is... huge,” I muttered, struggling to find words that did justice to the sight before me. Mahya had warned me it would be bigger, but I’d assumed she meant “dungeon bigger”—not this. She’d estimated a few square kilometers, but this stretched out for tens of kilometers, and it wasn’t just vast—it was breathtaking.
Below me, the world seemed to have forgotten what a flat horizon looked like. Jagged peaks rose from a sea of clouds, each crowned with green patches that clung defiantly to the steep rock faces. It was like nature had gone rogue with its paintbrush, dabbing life onto every available surface. The clouds moved sluggishly, wrapping around the mountains like a slow, deliberate dance, hiding the ground far below and leaving the scale of the drop entirely to my imagination.
Birds wheeled and dipped through the open sky, their calls faint but sharp enough to remind me this wasn’t some picture-perfect painting—it was real. The air felt purer than anything I’d breathed before, so clean and crisp it made me want to keep inhaling, even though the altitude had my chest burning.
And the sunlight—it was something else entirely. It poured over everything in a golden glow, making the waterfalls cascading down the cliffs sparkle like liquid diamonds. The water leaped from the rock in impossibly long streams, catching the light mid-fall and scattering rainbows against the cliffs. It was almost too perfect, like someone had gone overboard rendering it in high-definition graphics.
Above it all, the sun hung high, bigger and yellower than I’d ever seen on Earth, as though we’d stepped through one of the Gates and landed on another world entirely—not into something created by mana. I glanced over at Mahya, wondering if she felt the same way.
Further out, the peaks continued, stretching into the horizon, hazy and tinged blue like distant memories carved into the sky. They looked untouched, like they existed outside of time—eternal and untouchable. Standing there, I felt small. Not in a bad way, though—more like I’d stumbled into something so vast and beautiful that it refused to acknowledge my existence, and I was lucky to witness it.
I turned back to Al and Mahya, finally finding my voice. “I’m going to feel bad about collapsing this thing,” I admitted, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
Mahya shook her head, her gaze fixed on the landscape. “Don’t. It’ll progress to black and collapse on its own, releasing all the creatures.” Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something—sadness?—in her tone.
“So?” I said, motioning to the surrounding grandeur. “It’s not like there’s anything left for them to destroy near the portal. The city’s already one big ruin. But this—” I gestured widely at the scene before me. “This place is magical.”
Al stepped forward, his hand resting firmly on my shoulder. “If the occurrence progressed from white to dark orange in thirty years, it will require at least another thirty to reach black. The relatively low mana level of this world is, in this case, a significant advantage. We can remove a substantial number of the creatures and extract resources, potentially reducing it to light orange or even yellow. This could grant the occurrence several additional decades—perhaps even longer—before it becomes unstable.”
I committed every detail to memory—the way the clouds moved like slow rivers, the faint glint of more waterfalls in the distance, and the birds soared higher than I thought possible. This place deserved more than just survival—it deserved to last. But in a world governed by mana and survival, I wasn’t sure what I could offer beyond the fleeting admiration of someone just passing through. I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures. This place deserved to be recorded.
Mahya, Al, and Rue sat beside me, giving me all the time I needed to soak in the view. Their quiet presence was comforting, like they understood the weight of the moment without needing to fill the silence. After a few minutes, I broke the stillness with a question. “I can piece together the color progression from what you’ve said, but what actually happens when it hits black?”
Al straightened slightly and spoke in a measured tone. “The space fractures and collapses,” he began, his gaze steady. “Everything within the occurrence exits into the real world. I am not merely referring to the creatures. Everything will escape—the mountains will fall onto the city as enormous rock fragments, the water will flood the ruins, and the creatures will scatter into the surrounding areas.”
His voice carried a faint edge of concern as he continued, “While I agree that the ruined city itself and the deserted area around it may not suffer significant harm—perhaps even see some improvement—the creatures are an entirely different matter. They will almost certainly be stronger than the local monsters or beasts and grow even stronger by preying on them. Eventually, they will reach the cities, and by that point, they will be far beyond what this world’s level can manage. Even in Leylos, with its mana level of 50, we never allowed an occurrence to progress beyond orange—or red, if it contained particularly valuable resources.”
I nodded, his words heavy with implications. The thought of those towering mountains falling, the serene waters turning destructive, and creatures wreaking havoc on an already struggling world painted a grim picture. Even Rue, usually a restless ball of energy, stayed still, his ears pricked and alert as if he could sense the seriousness of Al’s explanation. Mahya’s silence spoke volumes too—her thoughtful expression mirrored my unease. This was more than a beautiful, untouchable place. It was a ticking time bomb.
Mahya stood up, brushing off her pants with a determined look. “I’ll find a way down,” she said, already scanning the rocky slope for a path.
I shook my head. “No need for that,” I said, waving her off. “We can just fly you down. No sense in risking a climb when we’ve got magic.”
She hesitated for a moment but nodded, and we all got ready. Al climbed onto my back, and Mahya hopped onto Rue, who gave a small huff, almost like he was protesting her weight—though we all knew he loved being the center of attention. With everyone settled, we launched into the air, the wind rushing past as we descended.
About halfway down, the peace shattered. Three large, aggressive birds screeched out of nowhere and dove straight for us, their talons glinting in the sunlight. “Incoming!” I yelled, twisting in midair to dodge one of the sharp-beaked attackers.
Without missing a beat, we all fired lightning bolts at the birds. It was the first time I’d seen Mahya and Al use the lightning they gained from the spell scrolls, and the difference was... striking. My lightning looked wild, almost chaotic—it split into jagged lines, crackling and branching unpredictably as it stretched outward, covering great distances in an instant. It had the feel of a storm barely controlled, raw and untamed.
Theirs was precise and focused. A single, razor-thin line of lightning shot straight at their targets, like a glowing energy spear flying in a perfect, unwavering line. It didn’t have the same wild power mine did, but there was something undeniably sharp and efficient about it. It was like comparing a thunderstorm to a laser—one was raw force, while the other was refined precision.
Mahya’s bolt hit one bird squarely, and it fell with a startled cry, spiraling downward before vanishing into the clouds below. Al’s strike followed close behind, piercing another bird with unnerving accuracy. The third bird hesitated, veering off at the last moment, and I let loose a blast of my lightning, the crackling energy branching out and arcing toward it. The bird barely had time to squawk before it, too, was gone.
We hovered for a moment, catching our breath as the adrenaline faded. “Well,” I said, glancing back at Al, “that was fun.”
Mahya smirked, patting Rue’s neck as the big dog wagged his tail, clearly pleased with himself. “Efficient, but messy,” she teased, nodding toward the faint arcs of electricity still crackling in the air around me.
“Messy gets the job done,” I shot back with a grin, adjusting Al’s grip on my shoulders before resuming our descent. Rue barked once, agreeing, and we continued downward, the brief interruption only adding to the adventure.
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The mountain we descended from was massive—easily half a kilometer high, if not more. With jagged cliffs and steep, rocky faces cutting into the sea of clouds, the sheer drop made it feel even taller. The wind whistled past us as we flew, carrying with it the faint calls of distant birds. Unfortunately, not all of them were distant.
Two more attacks came at us on the way down. The first group came at us in a chaotic blur of talons and feathers, but we were ready. Mahya, Al, and I made quick work of them, lightning bolts streaking through the air and leaving nothing but the smell of burnt feathers behind. Rue barked triumphantly as if he’d done all the work, though he’d mostly just ducked and flown steadily while Mahya fired.
By the time the second wave of birds came at us, I was starting to wonder if these things had a grudge. They dove at us with the same frenzied aggression, but the outcome was no different. Another flurry of lightning strikes, and they were gone, tumbling down into the mist below.
After the fifth bird Mahya shot down—a particularly large one with feathers that shimmered unnaturally in the sunlight—she let out an exasperated huff and took out a rifle. She gave me a pointed look. “You weren’t kidding when you said lightning requires a lot of mana,” she said, her tone dry but edged with genuine irritation.
I glanced over at her as we hovered mid-air for a moment. “Told you,” I said with a grin. “It’s not exactly a spell you can cast repeatedly unless you feel like passing out halfway through a fight.”
Mahya snorted, checking the rifle’s chamber with practiced ease before slinging it over her shoulder. “Well, I’m not about to run dry while we’re still up here. Lightning’s flashy, but this—” she patted the rifle, “—doesn’t need mana, just good aim.”
When we finally reached the bottom, we found ourselves surrounded by a dense forest, the kind that felt alive almost oppressively. The trees were massive, their trunks so wide I doubted I could wrap my arms around one even halfway. Their branches stretched high above us, weaving into a thick canopy that blocked most of the sunlight. What little light filtered through was faint and scattered, creating a patchwork of dim, shifting shadows on the forest floor. I silently prayed that Mahya wouldn’t decide she wanted all the trees. With the size of the place, it would take months.
With the lingering cloud cover above further dulling the sun’s reach, the lighting down here felt like perpetual twilight. It wasn’t quite dark enough to need a lantern, but it wasn’t far off either. The air carried a damp, earthy scent, thick with the smell of moss and decaying leaves, and the ground beneath our feet was soft, almost spongy, from layers of fallen foliage.
Rue sniffed the air, his ears flicking back and forth as if catching sounds too faint for the rest of us. Mahya glanced around, her rifle now resting casually in her hands but ready all the same. “Well,” she said, her voice low, “this is... cozy.”
“Cozy’s one word for it,” I replied, stepping carefully over a gnarled root that seemed determined to trip me. “Feels more like we walked into a fairy tale. The creepy kind, not the ones with singing animals.”
Al scanned the dim undergrowth. “It is fortunate we descended during the day,” he remarked. “I would not wish to navigate this place after nightfall.”
I nodded, feeling a shiver crawl up my spine despite the humid air. The forest had that strange, heavy silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant cry of some unseen bird. It was beautiful in a wild, untamed way but wasn’t exactly welcoming. “Let’s just hope we’re the biggest predators around,” I muttered, earning a quiet huff of agreement from Rue.
We moved cautiously through the dense undergrowth, the dim twilight-like light making every shadow feel like it might jump at us. Suddenly, Rue’s voice blasted into my mind like an overeager child. “Yummy snake!”
The three of us jolted, wincing in unison. I rubbed my temple, trying to recover from the mental shout. “Rue, volume control!” I hissed.
“There,” Mahya said, her voice tense as she pointed toward one of the towering trees.
It took me a moment to spot it. At first, I just saw bark and leaves, but then the snake came into focus—brown with mottled green blotches, blending so perfectly with the tree it could’ve been a branch. The only reason I finally located it was the bird sticking out of its mouth. Specifically, the back half of the red bird Mahya had downed earlier.
“I think it’s the one you shot,” I said, gesturing to the snake.
“Yeah, looks like it,” Mahya muttered, her expression sour. “It was the only red one.”
She raised her rifle and took a shot, the crack of the gun echoing briefly through the otherwise quiet forest. But... nothing happened. The snake didn’t even flinch. It kept swallowing slowly and methodically, like we weren’t even there.
“Alright, that’s creepy,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the thing. It wasn’t even trying to be threatening—just calmly finishing its meal while ignoring us entirely. “Let me try something.”
I raised my hand, electricity crackling at my fingertips, and sent a lightning bolt straight at it. This time, the snake stiffened, its body convulsing in rapid spasms before it finally fell from the tree, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Relieved, I stepped forward and tried to store it, expecting the usual ease of the magical process. Nothing happened. The snake didn’t vanish into Storage. Instead, it just lay there, motionless but unnervingly solid.
“This thing is still alive?” I muttered, staring at it in disbelief. Behind me, Mahya frowned, her grip tightening on her rifle.
Al stepped closer, peering at the snake with his usual analytical calm. “Fascinating,” he said, almost to himself. “It may possess an innate resistance to magical effects—or perhaps it is capable of regenerating quickly. We should be cautious.”
Of course, Rue had no such caution. He trotted up to the snake, wagging its tail. “Rue bite snake?” he asked hopefully, his telepathic voice lighter and less deafening this time.
“No, buddy, absolutely not,” I said, waving him away. The last thing we needed was for him to get poisoned—or worse—by some freakishly durable snake.
The snake twitched, its tail curling slightly as if trying to reanimate itself. “Oh, no, you don’t,” I muttered, raising my hand and firing another bolt of lightning straight at it. The crackle of energy lit up the dim forest, and the snake spasmed again. But nothing happened when I tried to store it. Still no dice.
I clenched my jaw, annoyance bubbling up. “Alright, fine. Let’s see how much it takes.” I zapped it again, this time with more force, but when I tried to store it once more, it still lay there, stubbornly refusing to vanish into my Storage.
“Let us assist,” Al said, stepping forward with a steady, deliberate motion. His lightning bolt shot from his fingers, precise and sharp, striking the snake directly. Mahya followed suit, lightning cutting through the air like a spear, hitting the creature dead-on. Still, the snake twitched, its resistance almost mocking us.
I huffed, channeling another bolt of my own. “Alright, buddy, this is getting ridiculous,” I grumbled, blasting it again. The snake convulsed violently this time, its tail smacking against the ground with a heavy thud.
“One more,” Al said calmly, as though we weren’t all now overkilling this ridiculously stubborn creature. He and Mahya each unleashed another strike, and I followed with one final surge of power. The snake finally went still, and when I reached out to store it again, it disappeared into my Storage.
I exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of my neck. “That was one durable snake,” I muttered, glancing at Mahya and Al.
Mahya let out a low whistle, lowering her rifle. “This was one tough snake.”
Al adjusted his coat, his expression as composed. “A fascinating specimen, to be certain. Perhaps its resilience stems from the mana saturation in this area.”
Rue wagged his tail, sniffing the spot where the snake had been. “More yummy snakes?” he asked, his tone bright and hopeful.
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “If there’s another one, it’s your turn to fight it.” Rue huffed and trotted a few steps ahead, clearly unimpressed with my logic.
Well, I had hoped my firm “absolutely not” would hold up, but, of course, the universe had other plans. We managed maybe a kilometer through the forest, during which we had to fry not one, not two, but seven more of those ridiculously durable, stubborn snakes.
To make matters worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it—they had the best camouflage I’d ever seen. These things blended so perfectly into the trees and ground that they might as well have been invisibility experts moonlighting as snakes.
Luckily for us, we had Rue—our very own “Yummy Snake” detector. He sniffed them out with perfect precision, barking “Snake!” or “Yummy!” every time one was within range. Between his excited alerts and our increasingly polished frying techniques, we made it through without too much trouble. Although, by the end, I couldn’t decide whether I was more impressed with the snakes or Rue’s unshakable enthusiasm for spotting them.
It was getting darker by the minute, and for the past hour, Mahya and I had to cast light balls just to see where we were stepping. The eerie twilight-like light had given way to near-total blackness, with the thick canopy overhead blotting out even the faintest glow from the sky.
“I think we should stop for now,” I said, glancing around at the dense forest. “I don’t feel like navigating this place in the dark.”
Al and Mahya both nodded in agreement, their weariness evident. Rue huffed, wagged his tail lazily, and plopped down for a quick rest.
The minute the door materialized, Rue’s tail shot straight up like an antenna, and he was suddenly on his feet. Before I could even step inside, he clamped his teeth onto the tail of my jacket and started tugging me toward the kitchen with surprising force. “Rue, what the—?”
“John cook yummy snake!” he shouted, his excitement radiating in waves. “No! John smoke yummy snake! John cook and smoke yummy snake!”
I stumbled into the kitchen, trying to pry his grip off my jacket. “Alright, alright! Let go, Rue! I’ll figure it out!”
“Now!” he insisted, his telepathic voice reaching new levels of urgency, his tail wagging so hard I thought it might knock something over.
Mahya leaned against the doorframe, trying (and failing) to stifle her laughter. “You better deliver. He looks like he’s ready to start cooking it himself if you don’t.”
I sighed, eyeing my Storage where the infamous “yummy snakes” were tucked away. Cooking—or smoking—those snakes was suddenly the top priority of the evening.