In the morning, we walked past the fields away from the road and the village. Mahya was right. With the constant stops, it would take us months to reach our destination. We progressed 15 to 20 kilometers the previous day, which was ridiculous.

When we were far enough away, we filled the balloon and took to the air. I didn’t ask the wind for a boost. The land below us was gorgeous, and we drifted slowly. Enjoying the view was nicer than rushing to the next stop. In every direction, rolling hills were so green they almost looked unreal, like someone had cranked up the saturation to eleven.

Fields of wildflowers scattered here and there added yellow, red, and purple touches, making the hills look like a giant quilt stitched by an artist with a penchant for bright colors. Small clusters of trees, their shadows stretching over the landscape, broke up the sea of grass. In the distance, tiny farmhouses perched on the hilltops, their winged red roofs standing out like flags against the green.

The soft hum of the breeze and the occasional chirp of birdsong rose faintly even from this height. It was peaceful—no rush, no noise, just the world in all its glory below us.

Yesterday, on foot, we passed one village and made it to the second just as night fell. Now, we drifted over two villages before noon. The world looked smaller from up here, almost like a toy landscape. The main road—or maybe the only road—snaked its way right and left around the hills like a serpent, twisting and curling to avoid the rises and dips of the land.

The people below, tiny like ants from this height, moved along it in clusters. Their motions were so small and synchronized that they looked like blood cells flowing through an artery. It was mesmerizing how they blended into a line that constantly shifted in color and density. One moment, the “artery” swelled with activity as carts, animals, and groups of people bunched up, and the next, it thinned to a near trickle with a few people on foot. It was all so organic, like the land itself was alive and breathing.

Even the colors seemed to move—muted browns of carts, splashes of blue or red from people's clothing, the glint of sunlight bouncing off metal here and there. The whole thing created an impression of life in motion, a constant forward push despite the winding path. Up here, we were detached from it all, observers of the rhythm of life below, drifting slowly and quietly in our little bubble of air and canvas.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the basket’s rim, my eyes on the patchwork of land below. Rue lay curled up beside me, snoozing. The moment was calm and peaceful

A sharp jolt shot through me, so sudden it almost knocked me off my feet. My Luck flared with a warning, stronger than before. I snapped upright, my eyes scanning the horizon as my heart raced. Nothing. Just endless sky and lazy clouds drifting by.

“Trouble heading our way,” I said, my voice cutting through the stillness. My fingers tightened on the rim of the basket.

“Even up here?” Mahya asked, her tone skeptical.

“Looks like it,” I said, scanning the horizon.

Al stood straighter and summoned his sword. “Where?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know yet. Just got a warning.”

Mahya took out two rifles and gave one to Al. “Put the sword away. It won’t be much help in the air.”

He nodded and accepted the rifle. I took out my crossbow.

“There,” Mahya said, pointing.

A dot appeared in the distance, flying toward us fast—too fast. It grew larger and larger until it became clear: it was a person. On a sword? What? How? I closed my eyes and shook my head, convinced I was seeing things. But when I opened them again—still a sword.

Before I could make sense of it, he was in range, and there was no grand declaration, no shouted name of whatever he did—just an attack. A flash of greenish-yellow lightning shot toward us, sudden and blinding. I barely had time to register it, let alone cast Protective Shield. The lightning hit, and pain exploded through me. Everyone cried out in pain, but Rue’s sharp yelp cut through the chaos, followed by a pitiful whine that made my stomach drop.

I cast Protective Shield just in time to block the next attack, but the effort drained 2,000 mana. 2,000? That strong? My head reeled. Some of the lightning arced past the shield and struck Mahya. She grunted in pain, her hand instinctively brushing the burn. My burns throbbed, the sensation off—different somehow—but there wasn’t time to figure out why. I had to protect the group first.

In the air, our options for movement were limited. Staying in the basket was a sitting duck situation. Without hesitation, I shot out of the basket and into the open sky. Magic crackled at my fingertips. I hurled lightning at the attacker. He jerked—stiffened—for the briefest moment but recovered almost instantly. His counterattack came fast, a bolt of greenish-yellow lightning tearing through the air toward me.

I twisted sharply to the side. The bolt grazed past me, close enough to singe my pants. My heart pounded. Adrenaline surged. I split my mind into three, diagnosing myself mid-flight. The lightning was poisonous. What the hell? How? Neutralizing Poison flushed the toxins from my system, and Healing Touch soothed the burn.

Even as I worked to fix myself, I weaved through the air, dodging his attacks. Bolts hissed past me, close enough to make my hair stand on end. I led him farther and farther from the balloon. I had to protect them.

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“The lightning is poisonous,” I warned the group telepathically.

I shot lightning at him again, but he dodged with precision. His control on the sword was as good as mine in the air. We danced a fast, deadly rhythm of attack and evasion. Every bolt I fired, he slipped past. Every bolt he fired, I barely avoided. He couldn’t hit me, but I couldn’t hit him either. Fire. Dodge. Dodge. Fire. Dodge.

Rue flew behind him. His Wind Blade sliced through the air. The attacker stiffened, whipping around sharply. A bolt of lightning shot toward Rue before he could react. Rue yelped, the sound sharp and pained. My stomach twisted.

I seized the opening, summoning red lightning and firing it straight at the attacker. He froze for a fraction of a second, smoke rising from his clothes. But to my frustration, he barely looked fazed. Rue struck again, the Wind Blade connecting, but the retaliation came instantly. Another bolt of lightning crackled through the air, hitting Rue. He whined in pain.

“Get out of here and take healing and poison potions. I got this,” I sent to him, my tone sharp and urgent.

“Rue protect John!” he shot back, stubborn as ever.

Frustration spiked. “Don’t argue with me!” I sent with more force. “Get out of here.”

Rue hesitated. Just a moment. Then he peeled off, reluctant but obedient. I needed him safe.

But while I argued, the attacker landed a hit on my arm. Pain exploded across my skin. It burned like a brand. My muscles screamed and spasmed. I gritted my teeth and cast Healing Touch and Neutralizing Poison. Dodge. Dodge. Red lightning.

I stole a glance at him, assessing. His clothes were shredded from Rue’s Wind Blades, but that was it. No blood. No scratches. It was like he was immune to damage. My frustration mounted.

Switching tactics, I fired lightning with one hand, aiming wide, while casting a Mana Dart with the other. The dart struck as he twisted to evade the lightning. His body stiffened, just for a moment. I immediately followed with red lightning. It hit, sending smoke curling from his already scorched clothes. He looked a little worse now—less pristine, less composed—but it still wasn’t enough. He shot me a murderous glare and unleashed the biggest lightning bolt yet. I dodged it by a hair’s breadth.

No matter what I threw at him, it wasn’t enough. Every attack felt like a drop in the ocean. I needed backup. Without another option, I led him back toward the balloon. Help was in order.

As we closed in, I sent a telepathic message to the group. “Help. I’ll protect you.”

Mahya and Al didn’t hesitate. They raised their rifles, firing in unison. Shots rang out. But they might as well have been throwing pebbles. No damage. Not even a reaction.

The attacker retaliated instantly. Another arc of crackling greenish-yellow lightning streaked toward them. My heart jumped into my throat. I surged forward fast enough to interpose myself between them and the bolt. Protective Shield. The lightning sizzled against the barrier, but it held. Barely. The mana cost bit deep into my reserves.

“Put your potion mask on when I tell you,” Al sent calmly. “And get him closer.”

Evading two more bolts, I maneuvered the attacker closer to the balloon.

“Now!” Al shouted in my mind.

I pulled on the mask just as green balls pelted the attacker. He froze mid-air, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, plummeting toward the ground.

I dove after him, grabbed the sword, and stored it. He hit the ground with a boom, and a cloud of earth clumps flew up. I flew down and diagnosed him. The son of a bitch was still alive. How? He fell from like 500 meters. No way I was leaving such a dangerous enemy at our back.

Covering my sword with a mana edge, I took his head off and relaxed. He had two pouches and rings on his fingers—my hard-earned loot.

The balloon touched down on the nearest flat stretch, and the group sprinted toward me. As they reached me, the balloon rose again, drifting upward, empty. Without hesitation, I flew up, grabbed it, and towed it back down.

“Let it go!” Mahya shouted from below. “I can control it from here.”

I released it, and the balloon descended smoothly, landing before deflating completely. Mahya moved quickly, folding it with practiced efficiency before storing it away. With that done, we turned and made our way back to the body.

“Any idea why he attacked us?” I asked.

“Yes,” Al said.

Mahya and I turned to him simultaneously, both of us waiting for him to elaborate. I raised an eyebrow. She crossed her arms, tilting her head.

“Look at the emblem on his robe,” Al finally said, gesturing toward the charred fabric with a slight nod.

I crouched beside the body, brushing away ash and debris to get a better look. The emblem—a spear with a blue line snaking around it—looked familiar.

Frowning, I reached into my Storage and pulled out one of the robes we’d taken from the group that attacked us. I held it up for comparison. It had the same symbol.

“Probably the head of that house,” Mahya said, her voice thoughtful as she leaned in for a closer look. “He was too strong to be anything else.”

I rubbed my face. “Fine, I give up. Let’s head back to the Gate. I prefer to fight in dungeons and not people. I feel like a mass murderer.”

They looked at me with a surprised expression but nodded after a moment.

“I suggest we go on foot,” Al said. “In the air, we have fewer options to protect ourselves.”

“You’re not storing the body?” Mahya asked me.

“No. Leave it. I’m not a mortician.”

We walked back to the road in silence, returning the way we came. I walked with my fists clenched and fumed quietly.

Those people were nuts. Couldn’t they talk things out? Why attack immediately and for the stupidest, flimsiest reasons? It wasn’t like I expected diplomacy, but a little common sense wouldn’t have killed them. I could understand the last guy. Sure, we’d decimated a big group from his house. That at least gave him a motive. But the others? No rhyme or reason to their actions. Nothing about it made any sense.

And what right—what nerve—did that original pipsqueak have to demand I hand over Rue? So that he could kill him and absorb his core? The memory of that smug entitlement made my blood boil all over again. Rue, who’d done nothing to him, was just another target in their barbaric, “might-makes-right” mentality.

I’d seen this mindset before. Zindor had it, Lumis too, to a smaller extent. Even Earth had it among the rich. But here? Here, it was cranked up to eleven. It wasn’t just an undercurrent but the entire foundation of how they seemed to live. Strength dictated everything—logic, fairness, even morality be damned. It wasn’t just frustrating. It was exhausting.

I exhaled sharply, kicking a loose pebble. The sound broke the quiet for a moment. This wasn’t a world that played fair. It was a world that thrived on chaos.

I still wanted to learn about Essence Weaving, but it wasn’t worth getting hurt or killed over. Not by a long shot. Remembering Rue’s pained yelps made me clench my teeth. Maybe this was my punishment for intending to “borrow” the knowledge without permission. It sounded stupid—ridiculous, even—but maybe?

I didn’t have an answer. None of it made sense. All I knew was that I’d had it up to here with this world. Its rules, its people, its absurdity—I was done. If I couldn’t find the information here, then so be it. Maybe I’d uncover it somewhere else, somewhere less intent on turning every minor thing into a battle to the death.