We spent the next five to seven weeks in the valley, though it was hard to say exactly how much time had passed. Without keeping track on a calendar, the days blurred together, flowing into one another until they became an indistinct stretch of time. Bottom line—it had been a while. The rain started coming more often, and instead of brief showers lasting an hour or two, it would pour for two or three days straight. At first, we hunkered down indoors during the “wet” days, but after we finished the second jet ski, we figured we might as well make the most of it. We were getting drenched from the lake anyway, so a little rain didn’t make much of a difference.
Rue, of course, expressed his dissatisfaction with his jet ski taking three full days to charge. He gave me those big, pleading eyes and twitching ears until I caved and charged it for him. It took 8,500 mana to fill it up, and I silently thanked the regeneration in Lumis. Four hours later, and I was full again, after I drained my mana into his jet ski.
On the “dry” days, we headed down to the gorge, continuing to push our way through. I was still the group’s elevator, and they made sure to tease me about it every chance they got. But the fights were getting easier with each passing day, a mix of growing familiarity and continuous training. The only thing that really surprised me—twice, in fact—were the damn birds. One time, a bird swooped down and scratched my head, leaving deep gouges. The second time, one of them bit my shoulder. After that, I figured out how to adjust my mana sense from a full sphere to a dome. It wasn’t as wide—maybe seven or eight meters—but it stopped us from getting ambushed from above. It beat trying to maintain a twenty-meter sphere that took way too much effort.
From then on, whenever a bird entered my range, I had a simple, effective method: cast Exude Mana on it, knock it out of the sky, and break its neck with my foot. Quick and efficient.
Al cornered me one afternoon, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. “I need an alchemist’s lab.”
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s talk about what you need.”
After what felt like an eternity of listening to his detailed explanation, filled with terms that made my head spin, I finally had enough of a plan. I stood in the center of the house, shaking my head slightly as I addressed the core. “I need a large room,” I said, imagining the space Al had described—big enough for all his glassware, burners, and whatever strange gadgets he’d collected. The house responded instantly, the walls shifting and expanding, creating a new pocket dimension perfectly suited to Al’s needs. I’ve been in enough labs in my time to know the basics, but this alchemical stuff? I just nodded along whenever he started spouting theories about mana-infused plants and transmutations.
Once the room materialized, we spent a few hours setting up the work surfaces, cabinets, and equipment. Al had already organized his tools with a precision that made me wonder if he’d been dreaming about this lab for weeks. Every bottle, flask, and strange contraption had its place. I just followed along, moving things where he wanted them without asking too many questions. I’d learned by now that asking would only lead to another lecture, and I wasn’t in the mood for more alchemy talk.
As we finished up, I stepped outside the lab and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. Quietly, I leaned toward the wall and whispered to the house. “Seal this room completely,” I said, my voice low. “Air tight.”
The house responded immediately, executing the request without hesitation. Sure, they’d repeatedly assured me that no matter what fumes Al might produce in there, the house would be unaffected. But I wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t care if they thought I was being an idiot—I had no intention of getting high from hallucinogenic mushrooms, heroin, or whatever else Al experimented with.
“Better safe than sorry,” I muttered, giving the lab one last glance. They could call me paranoid all they wanted, but I wasn’t about to risk getting knocked out by whatever concoction Al was brewing up in there.
The days grew colder and colder, and even with my increased constitution, I needed a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket. The water in the lake also got progressively colder until we had to give up using the jet ski. Al reluctantly accepted that we would have to wait until spring to visit the swamp. Visiting a wet swamp clearly wasn’t a good idea with the plummeting temperatures.
To compensate, he started conducting all sorts of experiments with plants he collected in the gorge, the mushroom valley, our valley, and various seeds he bought on Earth and I had in Storage, attempting to graft something interesting. I was nice and gave him one bag of coffee seeds. I had seven crates—still, coffee.
Al started reading some of the alchemy books Lis had given me, and his usual intensity shifted into something more... relentless. He devoured the knowledge, and it wasn’t long before he came to me with a new request. “I require a much larger greenhouse,” he said, his tone steady, controlled, but with that glint in his eye that told me he’d been planning this for days. “At least three times the size of the current one. And there must be sections with varying mana levels, as well as a dark arboretum.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide my confusion. “A dark... arboretum?”
“Yes,” he nodded, his expression calm, hands clasped behind his back. “It is essential. There are certain species I have encountered that thrive in darkness, yet require specific mana concentrations to flourish. Standard daylight conditions will simply not suffice.”
I could already feel the headache forming. “Right,” I said slowly, “and why do you need different mana levels?”
That was the spark he needed. Al shifted slightly, standing taller, as if about to deliver a lecture. “It is not merely about the plant absorbing mana, you see. The interaction between mana and flora is a delicate process. Certain plants require specific mana gradients to unlock their full potential. This process, much like a transmutation, enables the plant to yield ingredients of far greater potency. For instance, a nightshade variety—if exposed to varying levels of mana—could produce both highly toxic and medicinal compounds simultaneously.”
I stared at him, struggling to keep up. Mana gradients, transmutation, toxic and medicinal compounds all in the same plant? My brain tried to process his words, but it was like listening to someone explain quantum physics in a language I didn’t speak. I gave a slow nod, trying to look like I was following.
“And as for the arboretum,” he continued, pacing gracefully as if the topic required a certain reverence, “without direct sunlight, certain magical compounds within these plants will activate only under specific mana flows. This creates an entirely new subset of alchemical ingredients, many of which cannot be replicated by mere sunlight exposure.”
At this point, I was nodding just to stay awake. His voice, though elegant, was becoming a soothing drone in my ears, and I found myself thinking about how many times I’d have to adjust the greenhouse before it would actually function the way he wanted. I blinked, fighting off the creeping wave of drowsiness. Then something in his explanation snagged my attention.
“Poisons are crucial,” he said, pausing for effect. “Many of the most beneficial potions are derived from poisonous substances. In alchemy, two negatives can, when carefully balanced, yield a positive result.”
Poisons? That was something I could grasp. “Like how venom’s used to treat diseases on Earth?” I asked, suddenly more alert.
Al turned, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Precisely. The application of poison in controlled amounts allows for the creation of potent cures. It is all about balance.”
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Finally, something familiar. My mind drifted to the large stock of poisons from the burrowers and scorpy-wolves back in Tuonela. “I’ve got two types of poisons. Want them?”
Al smiled, straightening up even more. “That would be most useful for my experiments. With those resources, I could accomplish far more.”
I handed over the entire stash of poisons without a second thought. For the next three days, Al repeatedly thanked me, his gratitude expressed in calm, measured tones each time we crossed paths. Every “thank you” seemed more deliberate than the last, as though he truly couldn’t overstate his appreciation. As for the greenhouse and lab, I kept my distance. With all the talk of poisons and dark arboretums, I wasn’t exactly eager to be around whatever experiments he had brewing in there.
I was still trying to learn how to fly, but with little success. While hovering awkwardly two meters off the ground, I attempted to find a way to propel my body forward. I concentrated, willing myself to glide through the air, but nothing happened. Frustrated, I switched tactics. Maybe if I mimicked swimming motions, I’d get somewhere.
With that thought, I started doing breaststrokes mid-air, pushing my arms forward in what I thought was a reasonable attempt at flight. Still, nothing. The only thing I succeeded in was looking ridiculous.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mahya watching. Her expression shifted from curiosity to sheer amusement, and before I knew it, she was on the ground, clutching her stomach, laughing uncontrollably. She rolled side to side on the grass, kicking her legs in the air, gasping for breath between fits of laughter.
I paused mid-stroke, arms still outstretched, and gave her a flat look. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
But clearly, Mahya did. She couldn’t even respond, just continued to laugh so hard that tears streamed down her face.
With friends like this, who needs enemies?
The breakthrough caught me completely off guard. It was so absurdly simple that for two straight days, I found myself facepalming and shaking my head in disbelief. Every time I thought about it, I felt that familiar wave of bewilderment wash over me. How had I missed something so obvious? I’d catch myself muttering, “Seriously?” before facepalming again, as if each time would somehow make it all make sense.
I was in the air again, trying for what felt like the hundredth time to convince the wind to move me forward. Of course, she didn’t cooperate, her joy clear in the soft whispers of the breeze around me. Great, I thought, she’s having fun at my expense. While floating there, something on the shore across the lake caught my eye. A shimmering, glimmering spot that begged for investigation. I focused on it, wanting to reach it.
Without warning, my body shot forward, jerking ahead like a slingshot released. Panic surged as the ground below rushed toward me at an alarming speed.
No, no, no, I don’t want to hit the ground!
I stopped—abruptly, like hitting an invisible wall. My body lurched, jerking so hard it felt like my insides had momentarily kept going. I hovered awkwardly, midair, my heart still racing, struggling to catch up with what just happened. Completely dumbfounded, I hung there, suspended in midair.
What just happened?
Still in the air, I replayed everything in my mind, trying to figure out how I’d managed to fly—if that’s what you could even call it. Alright, what did I do? Tried to convince the wind to push me... she laughed. I got annoyed, and then—boom, I flew.
Hmm. What was I thinking at the moment?
I wanted to reach that shimmering spot on the beach.
The second I thought it, my body hurtled toward the ground again, like gravity had yanked me down by the collar. I slammed into the earth, my whole body jolting on impact, leaving me dazed for a good minute.
When I finally sat up, blinking away the stars in my vision, I noticed something odd. The ground around me was coated in a thin layer of frost, glittering as the sunlight hit it.
It can’t be that simple. It just can’t!
I rose into the air again, my eyes fixed on the house in the distance. Home, I thought, I want to go home. The moment that thought entered my mind, my body shot forward, rocketing toward the house like I had no control over it. This time, I didn’t have the chance to react. No quick, “I don’t want to hit the house” came to mind. The realization hit me too late—just as I slammed into it at full speed.
At the last possible second, instinct took over, and I jerked my head sideways, trying to avoid a direct collision. Instead of smacking the top of my head, I crashed into the wall with the side of my head and shoulder, the impact sending shockwaves through my body. The next thing I knew, I was rolling uncontrollably down the slanted roof, the world spinning around me.
I hit the ground hard, the grass doing little to cushion the fall. I lay there, completely dazed and disoriented, staring up at the sky as everything slowly stopped spinning. My shoulder throbbed, and I could feel the side of my face beginning to swell. Well, that could’ve gone worse, I thought, blinking away the stars still dancing in my vision.
Mahya’s face appeared above me, her eyes wide with concern. She said something, but it didn’t register.
“Whah?” I managed to mumble, blinking up at Mahya through the haze clouding my mind.
She repeated her question, her eyes narrowing with concern, but my brain was still struggling to catch up. “What?” I said again, the words coming out slowly as I tried to focus.
Mahya sighed, shaking her head, then took out a small vial. Without a word, she handed it to me, and I drank it in one go. Instantly, my body jolted to life. My heart rate spiked, muscles tensed as if gearing up for a fight, and sweat prickled on my skin, but at least my head cleared.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice sharp and more than a little annoyed.
“I crashed into the house,” I admitted with a wince, the memory of impact flashing in my head.
She crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised. “I saw that. Why did you crash into it, and how did you even manage to do it?”
“I, uh… figured out how to fly,” I said, glancing away awkwardly. “But I haven’t quite mastered all the kinks yet.”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked me over. “You’ve got a concussion. Your eyes look funny. You’d better heal yourself before you end up worse.”
I cast Healing Touch on myself, feeling the familiar warmth spread through me. My head cleared completely, and I let out a relieved breath as I felt a click—my shoulder snapping back into place with a soft thud of realignment.
Ouch!
“Did I imagine it, or did you give me one of Al’s drug potions?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.
Mahya laughed, shaking her head. “No. I gave you a potion, but not a drug potion.”
“I thought those were the only ones he had right now,” I said, suspicious.
“Maybe,” she shrugged, “but this wasn’t from him. Remember, Lis gave us health potions before he left?”
Right.
I nodded, feeling sheepish for not remembering sooner.
“So,” she pressed, her tone shifting back to serious, “what exactly happened?”
I rubbed my head, still wincing from the crash. “I figured out how to move myself... kind of. But I still need to learn how to do it right, without bumping into things.”
“How?”
“Well,” I began, thinking back to all my failed attempts. “Before this, I kept trying to will myself to move, or I’d have this vague intention to go somewhere, but it wasn’t focused. I wasn’t actually thinking about where I wanted to go. I was just fixated on the idea of moving—just, you know, movement in general.”
I paused, remembering how many times I’d hovered aimlessly, willing myself forward without an actual destination in mind. “The problem was that I was using empty intent. I had the thought, but there was no substance behind it, no real goal. But magic doesn’t respond to that. It needs something concrete. Lis always said, ‘Magic follows intent,’ but I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I didn’t give it enough thought. I didn’t consider the implications.”
Mahya listened carefully, her head tilting slightly as I explained.
“It’s not enough to just have intent,” I continued, feeling the pieces finally click into place. “You need real intent. It’s the difference between saying ‘I want to move’ and saying ‘I want to get to that specific spot.’ The first is just... empty, directionless. The second has actual intent, real substance behind it. It’s that desire to reach a specific place that gives the magic direction, makes it follow through. Without that, it’s like trying to steer a ship with no destination. You’ll drift, but you won’t get anywhere.”
“So it’s about giving the magic a purpose?” Mahya asked, still looking slightly bewildered.
“Exactly,” I said, nodding. “Empty intent is just a wish. Real intent is what makes it happen. You have to want to go somewhere, not just want to move. That’s the difference that gives it power.”
“Huh!” Mahya said, blinking at me, dumbfounded.
“My thought exactly.”
We continued to sit on the grass, both lost in thought. I stared off into the distance, still trying to process what I had just realized. It was so absurdly simple, so straightforward, that my mind refused to accept it. How could it be that easy? I facepalmed, shaking my head in sheer disbelief. This can’t be right, I thought, still grappling with the idea. I couldn’t wrap my head around it—how could something this obvious have escaped me for so long? I sighed, feeling that wave of bewilderment wash over me again. I just couldn’t bring myself to accept that it was really that simple.