For the next three days, I served as Al’s pacifier. While he meticulously picked plants, I kept myself busy playing and singing. The first day, I stayed on the jet ski, but after a few hours, I floated above him. It was much more comfortable up there, with the cool breeze on my face and a better view of the surroundings.
After an hour or two in the air, I was utterly fed up with singing “The Sound of Silence,” “Sleeping Sun” by Nightwish, and “Wild Melodies.” Unfortunately, I didn’t have another quiet, calming song ready in my repertoire. Instead, I switched to the violin, which I hadn’t had the chance to play yet. I took out sheets of classical music, held the notes in front of me with Telekinesis, and started playing, humming the tune softly.
Naturally, with my hum, I activated Arcane Lullaby to calm all the mana beasts around us—and there were a lot of them. It felt like the entire swamp had gathered for a concert. Creatures of all shapes and sizes surrounded us, forming a thick circle, twenty or more deep. They swayed to the music as if in a trance.
The trees teemed with snakes, their bodies coiled around branches, watching with unblinking eyes. In the murky water, crocodile-fish lurked, their massive jaws just visible above the surface. Some of the larger insects settled nearby, their iridescent wings catching the light. Dozens of frogs, some even bigger than the ones we saw on the first day, croaked in rhythm with the melody. Among them were the snake-like creatures with antlers and glowing orbs, adding to the bizarre spectacle.
Every time Al finished picking a particular spot, I’d land back on the jet ski, and we’d drift off to the next location while I kept playing. As if following some ancient command, the creatures would part to the sides like Moses parting the sea. They’d swim, jump, and crawl after us to the new location, a bizarre procession of scales, fangs, and much stranger body parts. Once we stopped, they’d all settle in again, finding the perfect spot to continue their unusual concert experience.
It was like having the world’s weirdest, most loyal fan club, and all I could do was shake my head in disbelief. The music completely captivated the creatures—utterly mesmerizing them. At some point, I ran out of words, even in my thoughts. What could I possibly say? I was floating through a swamp, leading a parade of mana beasts with a violin in hand. The absurdity of it all was enough to leave me speechless, which, given the circumstances, was probably for the best.
That first day in the swamp, I noticed some creatures that had me doing a double take. At first, I thought they were just part of the vegetation—twisted, gnarled shapes blending right into the swamp’s tangled flora. But then, as we moved to a new spot, I saw them shift and relocate with the rest of the swamp’s bizarre audience.
Later that evening, I couldn’t resist bringing it up at the house over dinner. “Al, did you notice those things that looked like tree roots moving around today? I swear, I thought they were plants until they started following us.”
Al paused mid-bite, glancing up at me. “Are you talking about those creatures that resemble lizards? Yes, I saw them. While they may be strange, I don’t consider them the strangest.”
I set my fork down, raising an eyebrow. “Not the weirdest? Al, they look like they could sprout leaves at any moment. They’re freaky as hell.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I am uncertain, my friend. The snake-like creatures with antlers and glowing orbs? That is a whole new level of strange. It is as if they are extraterrestrial beings.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Come on, Al. The root lizards look like something out of a horror movie set in a haunted forest. They’re practically camouflaged nightmares.”
Al wasn’t backing down. “Consider this—snakes with antlers and glowing orbs? It’s akin to a nightmarish scenario just waiting to unfold. I wonder, what is the purpose of those orbs? It feels as if they are attempting to mesmerize me.”
We kept going, trading points like we were debating the most critical issue in the world, each of us firmly convinced that our pick was the weirdest creature in the swamp.
As we wrapped up, Mahya, who had been listening to us with growing exasperation, finally chimed in, shaking her head. “I’ll never understand boys,” she muttered, clearly baffled by our intense discussion.
I just shrugged, a smirk playing on my lips as I leaned back and mumbled, “My creature’s definitely weirder.”
On the first day of harvesting, Rue joined us. While Al picked plants and I sang, Rue’s eyes roamed the surroundings, his tongue lolling out as he drooled and exclaimed, “Yummy snakes! Lots and lots yummy snakes! Rue need yummy snakes!” I was nervous that he might do something to antagonize the snakes, but to my relief, he held back, though the drool didn’t stop.
I felt a pang of guilt for not indulging Rue’s craving. But the snakes were doing nothing but swaying to the music, utterly harmless in their rhythmic trance. Even though Rue wanted me to, I couldn’t bring myself to attack them.
On the second and third days, Rue stayed at home with Mahya. When I asked him why, he replied, “Rue not like John teasing with yummy snakes. When John collect yummy snakes, Rue come.”
As the days passed, I noticed my Arcane Lullaby ability leveling up, its effects growing stronger. By the third day, the entire “audience” of swamp creatures looked like they were about to fall asleep. Their eyes fluttered open and shut, but they continued swaying to the music as if in a deeper trance.
Spirits, this is so weird.
Even in my wildest dreams, even after my mana had awakened, I never imagined for a moment that I would float through the air in a creepy swamp, playing Adagio on a violin, and humming the tune, with an audience made up of the strangest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life—not in movies, not in fiction, nowhere.
Life is just weird sometimes.
When we returned that first evening, I couldn’t shake the nagging worry that had been on my mind all day. As soon as I stepped inside, I found Mahya tinkering with some of her tools at the living room table, and I didn’t waste any time.
“Mahya,” I began, doing my best to keep the worry out of my voice—if she picked up on it, I’d never hear the end of it—“Were there any attacks on the house while we were gone?”
She glanced up from her work. “Yeah, actually, a few different creatures did try their luck,” she said, her tone casual, as if she were talking about a light rain shower rather than potential threats. “But they all backed off the moment they hit the force field. The mana absorption did its job. No damage or actual concerns.”
I felt some tension in my shoulders ease, but there was still that gnawing doubt. “So, the shutters... Do you think we should keep them closed tomorrow?”
Mahya shook her head with a confident smile. “I don’t think that’s necessary. The force field’s strong enough on its own. In fact, I want you to leave the shutters open tomorrow—let’s see how it handles things without them.”
Her certainty was contagious, and I nodded along. “Alright, if you’re sure.”
The next evening, as soon as we returned, I went straight to her. Rue was curled up on his beanbag, looking content, so I figured things hadn’t gone too badly. “How did it go today?”
Mahya didn’t even look up from the gadget she was fiddling with. “Same as yesterday, mostly. A few creatures tried to breach the house, but the force field did its job. There was one stubborn snake, though—wouldn’t quit until I had to take it down myself.”
At the mention of the snake, Rue’s ears perked up, and he let out a joyful bark. “Rue got more yummy snake!” he announced, his tail wagging enthusiastically.
I couldn’t help but laugh, but I still needed to be sure. I asked telepathically, “Did Rue do anything to provoke that snake? You know how much he’s been eyeing them.”
She finally looked up, giving me a reassuring smile. “No, he didn’t do a thing. When the snake attacked, Rue was sound asleep on his beanbag. The force field took care of the initial hit, and I only stepped in when it got persistent.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “Thanks. I just wanted to be sure.”
Clearly proud of his snack, Rue rolled over on his back, his tongue lolling out as he sighed contentedly. “Yummy snake... Rue like yummy snake.”
Mahya chuckled, reaching down to give Rue a scratch behind the ears. “Looks like this made his day,” she said, her voice full of affection.
On the third day, we ventured so deep into the swamp that by the time we headed back, the sun was already beginning to set. It took us two hours to navigate our way home, with my peculiar procession of swamp creatures trailing us the entire way. The sight of them swimming, crawling, and slithering behind us had become almost routine, yet it still felt surreal—a bizarre parade that made me question the nature of reality every time I glanced back.
When we finally returned to the house, we were exhausted and ready for dinner. As we sat down to eat, the evening light casting long shadows across the table, I turned to Al, my fork hovering over my plate.
“Al,” I began, breaking the comfortable silence, “do you think you’ve gathered enough plants by now?”
Al paused, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Not quite,” he replied. “We have covered a significant amount of ground, but I still require more plants. The deeper we venture, the rarer the specimens become, and those are the ones I need.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Mahya, who had been quietly eating, looked up curiously. “Why do you need more plants? I mean, you’ve been collecting for three days.”
Al turned to her, his tone patient as he explained. “The plants in this swamp are incredibly unique. Their properties are unlike anything I’ve encountered elsewhere. The deeper we go, the more potent and rarer they become. These plants have the potential for powerful potions, salves, and other remedies that could be invaluable. I intend to make the most of this opportunity.”
Mahya nodded, taking in his explanation. “I see. That makes sense. If the plants are that important, you should keep gathering them.”
I chimed in, considering the situation. “It’s getting harder to make the trip out there every day, though. Maybe we should think about relocating the house deeper into the swamp? That way, we wouldn’t have to push further and further each day.”
Al nodded in agreement. “You are right. Moving the house closer to the areas I need to explore would save us time and energy. We could focus more on gathering the plants rather than just getting to them.”
Mahya looked between us and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said, spearing a piece of meat with my fork. “Tomorrow, we’ll look for a spot closer to where you need to be.”
Al nodded, his decision solidified. “Indeed. We shall make the move and take full advantage of what this swamp offers.”
As we settled into a comfortable silence, the fatigue of the day catching up with us, I couldn’t help but glance out the window at the darkening swamp. Moving deeper into that eerie, creature-filled wilderness was daunting, but I knew it was the right course of action.
With a sigh, I took another bite of dinner, mentally preparing myself for another day of exploration.
The next day, after I closed the house, we went back up in the balloon, ready to venture deeper into the swamp. With binoculars in hand, we began our search for a suitable spot, flying in the same zig-zag pattern as before, but this time, our path led us further inward. As we floated along, I deployed my mana sense, trying to pick up any useful signals from the environment below.
We’d been scanning for a while when Mahya, peering over the edge of the basket, turned to me and said, “Why don’t you fly ahead and look for a spot? You’re way more mobile than the balloon. We’ll keep scanning the area, maybe a kilometer or two ahead, while you go farther and scan deeper.”
I paused, surprised at how simple yet brilliant her idea was. “That’s a great idea,” I admitted, feeling sheepish that I hadn’t thought of it myself.
With a nod, I floated out of the basket, the cool air rushing past me as I soared forward. I estimated I’d flown about two kilometers when I started moving back and forth in a search pattern, scanning the terrain below for a good place to call home. From above, the landscape looked the same—a tangled network of trees, with occasional glimpses of water shimmering beneath the dense canopy.
During one of my passes, I felt a concentration of mana that was noticeably stronger than anywhere else. My senses tingled, and I immediately adjusted course, flying towards the source of the feeling. Hovering over the spot, I could sense the mana was much richer here. Unfortunately, the thick, tangled foliage below was like a barrier, making it impossible to descend further. Not surprising, though, considering there was a vent in that area.
I opened the Map and marked the location, then continued my search. About an hour later, and almost twenty kilometers deeper into the swamp, I finally found it—a perfect spot. Below me was a large island in the middle of the swamp, or rather, a flat-topped hill rising out of the water, forming an island that stretched several hundred meters across.
I hovered there for a moment, taking it all in. “Just perfect,” I murmured to myself, feeling a sense of accomplishment as I marked the spot on the Map. It was exactly what we were looking for.
I returned to the balloon, landing softly inside the basket. As soon as I was inside, I asked the wind for a little help—a gentle nudge in the right direction. Ever since I learned to fly, I’d noticed it was easier to “control” the wind. No need for a complex series of emotions and feelings to communicate what I wanted anymore. I simply sent out an intention for the balloon to head toward the specific spot I’d marked, and just like that, the wind picked up, blowing stronger in exactly the direction I needed.
Once we were directly over the location, I silently ordered the wind to stop, and it obeyed immediately. The surrounding air stilled. Not even the faintest breeze remained. It was as if the wind had vanished entirely.
Out of curiosity, I opened my profile, half-expecting to see some new ability or title, but there it was—just “Wind,” with no further details. For a moment, irritation flared up. “Really? Still just ‘Wind’?” I muttered to myself. But then I reminded myself, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have better control.”
As if in response, I felt a sense of approval—or maybe it was more like acknowledgment—from the same mysterious source that usually greeted me with either a rebuke or amusement.
So, you know how to communicate something other than smacking me on the head or laughing at me? I thought, half-jokingly.
Of course, there was no answer.
We brought the balloon down smoothly, emptied and folded it for Mahya to store, and I placed the core on the ground, preparing to open the house. But before I could even begin the process, a sharp sensation of danger flooded my senses. This time, it wasn’t coming from just one direction—it was all around us.
“Get ready,” I said, my voice tense.
“I felt it too,” Mahya and Al responded almost in unison, their voices steady.
They both drew their swords. Rue and I immediately rose into the air, ready for whatever was about to come our way. The calm before the storm had passed; now, we were all on high alert, prepared for whatever threat lurked in the dense swamp around us.
As soon as we rose, the swamp seemed to come alive with a sudden, violent surge. Without warning, massive snakes burst out of the water, launching themselves at us with terrifying speed.
Rue’s mental shout echoed in my mind, filled with urgency and hunger. “John no sing to make calm snakes! Rue needs yummy snakes!”
I barely had time to react before the first snake lunged at me. From my vantage point in the air, I shot a bolt of lightning at it, watching as the electricity arced through its body, stunning it mid-leap. The creature fell back into the water, twitching from the shock. The electricity rushed out of its body, hitting and stunning another three snakes. Below, Mahya and Al moved with practiced precision, their swords flashing in the dim light as they decapitated the stunned snakes with swift, brutal efficiency.
But the onslaught didn’t stop. More and more snakes erupted from the murky water, their scales glistening with the swamp’s wetness. I split my mind and fired off more lightning, one from each hand, each strike finding its mark, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming. Mahya and Al fought fiercely, their blades slicing through the air as they cut down snake after snake.
The walking stomach hovered near me, and mentally urged me on, his thoughts a mix of excitement and impatience. “More yummy snakes! Rue need more yummy snakes!”
The battle raged on, the swamp filling with the sounds of hissing snakes, clashing steel, and the crackle of electricity. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the snakes fell, their massive bodies littering the surrounding ground.
Just as I sensed a lull, a deep sense of danger washed over me. I spun in the air, searching for the source, and then I saw it. Emerging from the dense foliage was a creature far larger and more menacing than the snakes we had just faced. It was the antler snake thing with the orbs that Al argued was the freakiest. This one looked longer and wider than the ones we saw closer to the fringes. I couldn’t see all of its body, but what I saw was at least ten meters long and three wide.
I didn’t hesitate. I fired a bolt of lightning at the creature, expecting it to react like the snakes had. But instead, the orbs on its body glowed brighter, as if absorbing the electricity. The creature barely flinched, and the realization that my attack had done little to harm it sent a chill down my spine.
“Mahya! Al! Rue! Attack!” I shouted. All four of us charged at the creature, swords slashing at its thick scales, while Rue lunged forward, trying to sink his teeth into its tough hide. But the moment they made contact, a surge of electricity shot through them. Mahya and Al stiffened, their bodies locking up as the electric shock took hold. Rue yelped in surprise and pain, retreating quickly.
But the electricity coursing through the creature didn’t affect me. It passed through my body like a harmless current, leaving me untouched. I realized then that I might be the only one capable of taking it down.
“John! Al! Rue!” Mahya’s voice rang out, strained but commanding. “Grab it with telekinesis—together! Lift it into the air!”
I nodded, focusing my energy alongside theirs. We all reached out with our minds, latching onto the creature. It thrashed violently, and for a moment, it was a chaotic tug of war as we struggled to work together. But then, with a collective effort, we lifted it off the ground. The creature writhed, its massive form twisting in the air, but we held on, determined.
“Now!” I yelled, and with a synchronized push, we flipped the creature over and slammed its head into the ground with a sickening thud. Again and again, we smashed it down, the swamp quaking with each impact, until finally, the creature’s movements slowed and then stopped altogether. It was dead.
As the last echoes of the battle faded, the surrounding swamp grew quiet. Everything calmed down, the eerie stillness returning. I floated back down to the ground, panting. Al and Mahya didn’t look well, their faces pale, their movements sluggish. I quickly put a hand on each of them and cast Diagnose, and what I found made my stomach drop—the electric shock from the creature had burned some of their nerves.
“Hold still,” I said, and cast Healing Touch to repair the damage, soothing the burned nerves and restoring their strength. Gradually, the color returned to their faces, and they both let out relieved breaths.
“Thanks,” Mahya murmured, rubbing her arm where the electricity had coursed through her.
Al nodded in agreement, though he still looked a bit shaken. “That was... intense.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, glancing at the lifeless creature. “Let’s not do that again anytime soon.”
After making sure they were both okay, I instructed the house to open, and we began storing the snakes. The battle had been brutal, but we had come out on top. For now, at least, we could take a moment to breathe.
Since I was still focused on what had just happened, I didn’t think to provide the house with specific instructions on how to open. I just thought “open,” almost absentmindedly. Apparently, my connection to the core was stronger than I realized. With no deliberate direction from me—or even a conscious thought—the house opened in perfect harmony with the terrain conditions.
As I watched, the lower floor unfolded like it usually did, but what caught my attention was how the second and third floors adapted to the terrain. They opened up like stepped terraces, each level half on the floor below and half extending up the hill, following the natural elevation lines. The roof extended outward, forming an overhang that sheltered the entire house, including the lower floor, with two columns supporting it. The roof areas of the first and second terraces transformed into spacious balconies, complete with railings, offering a panoramic view of the swamp.
Curious, I examined the connection points closely. The house firmly anchored to the landscape as the floors and roofs of each level securely pushed inward into the hill. It was as if the house had intuitively understood the best way to blend with the environment, creating a structure that was not only functional but perfectly integrated with its surroundings.
I couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly everything had come together. The house had adapted with no input from me, responding to my unspoken desires and the challenges of the terrain with a precision that left me both impressed and a little awed.
Inside, we all collapsed on the couch, utterly exhausted. The fight had been intense, far more than any of us had expected. As I lay there, catching my breath, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much we’d been coasting lately. Ever since my training in the gorge, when Al and I realized just how effective telekinesis could be and I started using my lightning, most of our battles had been quick and easy. We had faced nothing this challenging since that first day at the gorge.
In short, the four of us had become a bunch of slackers—and the biggest slacker of all was the dog who only ever thought with his stomach. I glanced over at Rue, who was already half-asleep, probably dreaming of the next meal. At least, by my estimation, we had over fifty twenty-meter snakes in storage now. That should keep him quiet about “yummy snakes” for a while.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. We might have gotten spoiled, but at least we were still standing—and with plenty of spoils to show for it. All of us liked yummy snake meat—Just not as much as Rue.