The trip to the next Gate was more adventurous than the previous ones. We got attacked three times during our nightly stops—once by a pack of roaming dogs unique to this world and twice by flying snakes. I took it as a chance to practice my reduced-mana lightning, but it didn’t go perfectly. My situational awareness took a nosedive if I focused too much on tightening the lightning arcs. Not completely gone, but noticeably dulled.

The result? Two painful snake bites.

After that, I scrapped the reduced-mana approach and went all out, burning through more mana than I’d planned. Disheartening. But I reminded myself that practice makes perfect—and this world seemed hell-bent on throwing training opportunities my way. At least Al was thrilled with all the venom sacks, and with all the snake meat from the occurrence, Rue finally stopped grumbling about, “No yummy, no levels snakes.”

We also came across two dungeons that the gang cleared without me. I didn’t join them, and they didn’t seem to mind. Those runs brought Mahya’s core count up to 88, and for the first time, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Twelve more cores didn’t sound too hard to gather, and I was more than ready to leave this depressing world behind.

I kept reminding myself that the next Gate would level up my Gate Traveler class. This world still had something to offer—just not enough to make me want to stick around any longer than necessary.

On the way, we flew over another city. It followed the same pattern as the others—high walls with a stark divide between the wealthy and the poor. But this one had a noticeable difference. Not far from it lay a ruined stretch that looked like it had once been a cluster of smaller towns, now reduced to rubble.

We spotted groups from the “live” city roaming the devastated areas. No monsters were below, so whether they were clearing dungeons or scavenging for resources was anyone’s guess.

“There’s hope for them yet,” Mahya remarked, looking down at the ruined towns below.

“Yeah, but they’re taking their time,” I said. “It’s been over thirty years since the integration. They should’ve been in much better shape by now. Don’t you think?”

“Yes and no,” Al said. “Yes, they need to start rebuilding their world—on that, I agree. But consider the world information we have read. Their entire society was structured around the nobility and the wealthy holding all the power, with the rest reduced to little more than serfs. In a system like that, it is entirely logical for the common people to wait for those in power to take charge of solving problems. It is not mere laziness; it is a deeply ingrained mindset.”

I had nothing to say to that.

Finally, after eleven days, we reached the next Gate.

Travelers Gate #523698752

Destination: Liliatas

Status: Integrated

Mana level: 27

Threat level: Low

The other side of the Gate led to a rise overlooking a lake with a deserted coliseum. It bore some resemblance to the world we had just left, but the feeling was entirely different. Here, there was tranquility—on the other side, devastation.

The coliseum’s worn and cracked stone tiers curved toward the water, their gaps filled with creeping moss and wildflowers. Vines draped over the crumbling walls, swaying slightly in the breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and lake water. The lake's still surface mirrored a dense line of evergreens on the far shore, rippling as fish occasionally broke through. Sunlight warmed the ancient stone, casting soft shadows where nature had quietly reclaimed the arena. It was peaceful and warm.

My red light was blinking.

Level up

+1 to all traits, +5 free points, +1 ability point

Class: Gate Traveler Level 6

Stat Points: 5

Ability Points: 224

Gates to the next level (0/23)

I swayed on my feet.

The world hit me all at once—an assault of too much. Every sound sharpened: the whisper of wind brushing through the trees roared like a hurricane, the distant creak of stone echoed like thunder, and even my breath was too loud as it wooshed in and out of my lungs. My ears rang under the assault as if the air had turned dense with sound and pressure.

The sunlight glaring off the lake stabbed at my eyes, each shimmer a blinding flash. The colors were overwhelmingly intense—greens too vivid, shadows too deep. The scent of moss, water, and stone mingled and thickened in my nose, overwhelming and choking me. I could taste the damp earth in the back of my throat.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it only partially helped. The world pressed in, every detail forcing itself into my awareness like a thousand hands shoving me from all sides. My pulse thudded too loudly in my ears, and I could feel the blood flow in my veins, the pumping of my heart louder than a gong. My chest tightened, and I stumbled forward. My boots crunching on gravel sounded like an avalanche and made me flinch.

A hand grabbed my shoulder. The fabric of my shirt ground against my skin like sandpaper, the pressure sharp and unbearable. The weight of the hand like a boulder. I flinched again and almost fell.

“What happened?” Mahya’s voice boomed—not like a simple question, but like the crack of a war drum, shaking the air. It rattled in my skull, crashing over me in waves.

“I don’t know,” I hissed through gritted teeth, wincing at the sheer volume of my own words. Each syllable echoed back at me like they’d been shouted into a canyon. “All my senses went haywire. Everything is too much.”

“Oh,” she roared. Each word pounded into me like a battering ram. “Cut off all your senses and return them gradually!”

I pressed my palms against my ears, but it did nothing to dull the thunder. The distant creak of stone sounded like it was about to collapse, the gentle breeze roared like a storm, and my breathing came in sharp, ragged gasps that pierced through it all.

“How?” I asked, feeling the word punch the air like a cannon blast.

“How what?” Her words crashed over me again, each syllable pounding into my temples.

“How to cut them?” I clenched my fists, the sensation of my nails digging into my palms far too sharp, like knives cutting me.

“With willpower,” she bellowed, her voice vibrating in my chest like a hammer striking metal.

It took me a while to figure it out, but finally, it worked. At first, nothing I tried made a difference. Clamping my hands over my ears only amplified the pounding inside my head, and the hand pressure was painful. Closing my eyes didn’t shut out the brightness—the light passed through my eyelids, burning red. Every breath scraped my throat raw, and every shift of fabric on my skin felt like coarse sandpaper rubbing me down to the bone. My heartbeat thundered like a war drum in my chest, deafening.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my thoughts away from the noise, away from the flood of sensations. Focus. Block it out. I pictured a black room—no light, no sound, no texture. Just a void. Empty. Quiet.

At first, the image flickered, unstable. The sensory barrage disrupted my concentration and tried to tear it apart. But I held on, forcing myself deeper into the imagined dark until the outside world faded partially. The roar dulled, the brightness dimmed, and the ache in my muscles softened.

Finally, the assault became bearable.

At first, it was almost darkness and quiet. I couldn't block everything a hundred percent, but it was enough. The imagined black room I’d created in my mind remained steady, holding back the flood of information from the outside world. I stayed there, suspended in the void, afraid to face the assault. But I knew I couldn’t stay there forever. Slowly, cautiously, I reached out to the world again, unlocking each sense one by one.

It was an educational experience.

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I discovered more senses than I ever knew existed. Beyond the usual sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch, I realized additional senses seemed linked to the primary ones but weren’t. They were distinct, each with its own sensory perception center.

Sight returned first.

The moment I opened my eyes, the colors hit me with a force that nearly knocked me back into the void. Every shade was richer and more intense, each color standing out independently. The greens of the trees weren’t just "green"—there were layers of olive, jade, and emerald, from light to dark, each with its own depth and vibrancy. The lake shimmered in blues and silvers, the ripples catching the sunlight in a way that felt almost solid, like I could reach out and grab them.

But it wasn’t just the colors. Depth shifted too. The space between me and the lake wasn’t just a distance I could measure—I could feel it. It had a presence. The trees on the far side weren’t flat shapes in the background; they had mass and solidity, and the spaces between them had as much weight. I blinked a few times, trying to process the way objects filled space and how they existed in relation to each other. Even the stones beneath my feet had weight in my mind’s eye, each one holding a distinct place in the world.

I took a shaky breath and moved on.

Sound came next. The rush of wind through the trees returned, but now it wasn’t just noise. I could hear layers—the high-pitched whistle of the wind, the mid-pitch rustle of leaves, the lower groan of branches shifting under their own weight, even the rhythmic thud of my heartbeat in my chest. Each sound had pitch, tone, volume, and rhythm, and I could clearly separate them all. A bird chirped in the distance, and I instinctively noted the changes in its song, how each chirp varied in tone and tempo.

I clenched my fists, feeling the tension in my hands, and shifted my focus to touch.

Touch wasn’t one thing anymore—it was a series of individual sensations firing simultaneously. The pressure of the ground under my boots was distinct from the friction between my clothes and my skin. I felt the heat of the sun on my face, and at the same time, I registered the cool breeze brushing against the back of my neck. I could feel my skin, noticing its slight oiliness and dampness. I didn't touch it, but I still felt it. Unsettling, to say the least.

Then came something more unsettling: the awareness of what was happening inside me.

I felt blood circulating through my veins—the subtle, rhythmic pulsing of life moving under my skin. Now, it was more measured. Not an assault, but a sense of motion. My attention shifted lower, picking up the hum of cellular activity, like a quiet vibration beneath everything else. There was a slight tingling at the surface of my skin, and it wasn’t just my nerves firing—it was something smaller, a biological awareness of bacterial life. How the hell did I feel bacteria? I still couldn't see it, so how could I feel it? Was it my imagination? No! I felt it!

I was so focused that I stumbled slightly from a wave of dizziness. My body’s motion forced its way into my awareness in a way it hadn’t been before. I could feel every joint, the exact position of each one, the tension in my muscles as they kept me upright. Even my balance wasn’t just a subconscious act anymore—I felt the pull of gravity, the way my weight distributed across my feet to keep me stable. My internal temperature registered too, a steady warmth at my core, and I noticed the contrast with the cooler air outside.

I took another breath, slower this time. My muscles were tense—too tense. I could feel the strain in each one, the way they contracted to keep me upright. I consciously relaxed them, and as I did, I noticed the subtle shift in the saline content of my cells. It was bizarre, feeling that level of detail, like my body was a machine and I suddenly had access to every internal mechanism.

The world shifted again.

Something was just on the edge of my awareness—a pull, like a compass needle pointing. I closed my eyes briefly and turned slowly on the spot, feeling the magnetic fields tug at me, faint but certain. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, which way was north. It wasn’t guesswork or familiarity with the terrain. It was solid knowledge, as sure as knowing my name.

I opened my eyes and looked around, the overwhelming awareness settling into something more manageable. But as I glanced at Mahya, another sense snapped into place—one I hadn’t expected.

I could feel her emotional state.

It wasn’t like reading her expression or picking up on her body language. It was deeper, more personal. I could sense her concern, the steady thrum of her focus on me, layered with worry. Her emotional tone brushed against me like a faint, subtle, but undeniable breeze. I sensed deeper emotions beneath—her core emotions, but she was so focused on me that it distorted everything else. The best way to describe it was a flow coming from her, carrying her emotions, which I interpreted.

I shifted my gaze to Al. His emotions carried a different texture, like finely tuned vibrations. He was less worried about me, so I could feel deeper. Pride wrapped tightly around a core of curiosity and determination, with impatience dancing at the edges. That was about me. But beneath all that, buried deep, was a faint ache of loneliness and insecurity he kept hidden behind his usual composure. It wasn’t obvious—Al never let anything slip—but now, standing there with his arms crossed, I could feel it as clearly as if he’d said it out loud.

Then there was Rue.

I turned toward him, and his emotions washed over me like a sudden wave, far less guarded than the others and reaching me on two channels. External and internal through our connection. His excitement buzzed like bees, wild and unrestrained. Curiosity. Loyalty. Hunger. Friendship. Love. Playfulness. His emotional state was simple, shifting between emotions faster than I could track. Protectiveness was directed toward me, mixed with a flicker of confusion—probably about why I’d been swaying on my feet like a drunk.

Rue’s ears perked up, and his tail wagged once. "John okay now?”

The words brushed against my mind, but now they came layered with his emotions. His relief felt like warm sunlight on my skin, genuine and comforting.

“I’m okay,” I murmured, still adjusting to the strange new awareness.

Rue sat, tilting his head to the side. "Good. But next time, you sit. Less fall." His tail thumped against the ground, radiating joy.

I glanced at Mahya and Al again; their emotions ebbed and flowed around me like background music I hadn’t noticed before. Each person’s emotional tone had its own rhythm and texture. I took a steadying breath, letting it all settle into place.

I blinked, trying to ground myself in the physical world, to find balance. The awareness of location and placement filled my mind like a map unfolding. I knew where I stood, the mass of the coliseum behind me, the vast space of the lake stretching out in front. I could feel the distance between myself and the trees on the far side, and I could sense the emptiness of the air between us, the way the space itself seemed to breathe.

It wasn’t just being in a location anymore. It was knowing it, as if the world itself had marked me on its map.

Looking out over the open expanse of the lake, I noticed faint swirls of color drifting through the air. At first, they seemed like trickles of mist, but as I focused, I saw them for what they were—mana. It moved lazily through the air, like smoke caught in a breeze, twisting and curling in patterns I’d never noticed before. I occasionally trained to see mana, but it was never like this. It was all around me, permeating everything.

I took a slow breath, and the mana shifted toward me, drawn in with the air. The moment it entered my body, I felt it pulse through my channels, a subtle hum under my skin, like a second heartbeat. But my mana was full. There was nowhere for it to settle, so it flowed right back out.

I blinked, watching as the mana that left me changed. The colors weren’t the same as when they entered—they were dimmer, more muted, with strange hints of new shades bleeding through, like whites that had accidentally gone through the wash with a red shirt. The swirling blues and greens now had a dusky purple tint, as though they’d been dyed in the laundry.

I smiled for a moment, a memory floated up— Sophie standing in front of the laundry basket, arms crossed, with a look that could peel paint. "Babe! Seriously? Again? What’s so hard to understand? A red shirt doesn’t belong in the white wash!"

Her voice echoed in my mind, so vivid it almost felt real. I could see the pink shades on the ruined laundry, the exasperation on her face, and the way she’d finally burst out laughing, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she’d married a man who still couldn’t grasp basic instructions on how to separate laundry.

Mahya brought her face closer to mine and examined me carefully. The blue streaks in her hair caught my eye. Now they stood out more vividly, like polished glass reflecting the sky. And they weren’t static. They pulsed softly, the color brightening and dimming in time with her breaths, like waves lapping at the shore. Inhale—the blue brightened, glowing faintly. Exhale — it faded, blending back into the darker strands.

Curious, I turned to Al.

He had the faintest hints of light blue streaks running through his hair, barely visible unless you knew to look for them. They weren’t pulsing yet, just thin threads of color waiting to grow stronger. I wondered if he even realized they were there.

Then I looked at Rue.

Nothing. His fur was the same white it had always been, no trace of mana streaks yet. He tilted his head at me, his big ears twitching slightly, his curiosity radiating through our bond and my awareness. The dance of colors all around me was overwhelming again. There were too many.

I staggered, catching myself before I tipped over. My heart pounded, but now even that felt clearer. The physical energy coursing through me wasn’t just adrenaline but a tangible force I could tap into directly. My whole body buzzed with potential.

I took another deep breath and sat down.

“What happened to me?” I asked, my voice still hoarse from gritting my teeth through the sensory onslaught. I wiped a hand across my face, feeling the lingering tension in my jaw.

Mahya crouched beside me, her hand resting on her knee as she studied me. “You probably crossed the first threshold,” she said, her voice sounding softer now—Thank Spirits.

“The what?”

“Check your Personal Information,” she said, tapping two fingers against her temple. “Your Perception reached a hundred.”

I did as she said, bringing up my screen with a flick of thought. Sure enough, Perception sat neatly at 100. But it still didn’t make sense.

“I have other stats above a hundred,” I said, shaking my head. “But it was never like that.” I waved vaguely at the air.

“Which ones?”

“Vitality, Intelligence, and Wisdom.”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she stood and dusted her hands off on her pants. “Yeah, those are less obvious. The most pronounced thresholds are Perception, Strength, and Agility. You’ll know exactly what I’m talking about when you reach them.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Did you reach them?”

“Only Agility. But I heard about the other thresholds from my parents. They’re not pleasant, but totally worth it.”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or terrified by that.