The drive from Albuquerque to Santa Fe was just over an hour, so Al took the wheel. He had bought the driving skill, but the roads on Earth still stressed him out. He had no problem in the desert on the motorcycle.

On the way, I said to both of them, “The horses I’ve healed got me thinking. We need to find a horse ranch and learn to ride until we get the skill.”

Mahya replied, “I hate riding animals. They’re smelly and opinionated, and besides, they hurt my butt.”

Al and I laughed, and she continued, “We have the motorcycles and the ATV, and we’ll have the Jeeps at some point. I don’t see any reason to ride opinionated stubborn animals.”

“Yeah, but all that stuff isn’t Magitech yet, so it won’t work in a magical world. Besides, maybe with the riding skill, it’ll solve the pain in the ass problem.”

She didn’t look pleased, but finally nodded and said, “Okay, if you insist.”

I searched online and found Platinum Performance Horses. We changed our route and drove there.

Al gripped the steering wheel, eyes scanning the road, now and then muttering about the erratic drivers. The road continued off the highway and onto a winding country road. The scenery shifted from urban sprawl to open fields and rolling hills. Mahya kept glancing at the Map, verifying our route.

“Turn left up ahead,” she instructed, her tone a mix of resignation and mild annoyance.

We pulled up to the ranch, a sprawling expanse of green pastures and well-kept stables. Al parked the car, and we stepped out, stretching our legs. Rue hopped out after us, tail wagging excitedly. A cool breeze swept through the ranch, carrying the earthy scent of hay mixed with that unmistakable horse musk. My boots crunched against the gravel, the soft rustling of trees blending with the distant thud of hooves from the stables. Green pastures stretched out before us, dotted with horses grazing lazily under the sun. Rue darted around in excited circles, his tail wagging so hard it looked like it might launch him into the air.

A friendly ranch hand met us at the entrance, showing us around and introducing us to the basics of horseback riding. Al, who knew how to ride from childhood, immediately showed off his skills. He confidently guided his horse through various exercises, demonstrating his natural ease in the saddle.

Mahya tugged at the saddle for what felt like the hundredth time, muttering complaints under her breath. She fumbled with the reins, glancing at the horse with an irritated scowl, as if expecting it to sympathize. The horse didn’t seem impressed, flicking its tail lazily while Mahya shifted awkwardly in the saddle, trying to find some level of comfort.

“This thing is a torture device. I can’t believe you talked me into it,” she grumbled, shooting daggers my way.

I couldn’t help but laugh—she looked as out of place as a fish trying to climb a tree.

Rue watched the horses with wide eyes, occasionally barking but mostly keeping a respectful distance. He tried to talk with them a few times and finally declared, “Horses stupid!”

I found a certain rhythm in the practice and improved steadily. By the second day, we improved. Al’s confidence and skills were impressive, and he often gave pointers, showing off his abilities with a playful grin. Mahya still grumbled but admitted the horses were growing on her. I focused on perfecting my form, feeling more attuned to the horse’s movements.

By the end of the second day, both of us earned the riding skill. Al, of course, had it from before. It wasn’t just about mastering the mechanics, but understanding and communicating with the animals. Rue seemed to approve, trotting alongside us as we practiced. As we packed up to leave, I felt a sense of accomplishment. We were one step closer to being prepared for whatever our magical adventures would throw at us.

When we got to Santa Fe, we did our regular round of shops. We bought a lot of things again. I picked up some more coffee, Mahya bought stones, metals and tools instead of alcohol, and Al discovered essential oils, buying them by the crate along with more herbs.

I researched what Santa Fe specializes in and discovered it had a reputation for Southwestern jewelry, particularly pieces featuring turquoise and silver, Native American pottery, chili products, and arts and crafts. Armed with that knowledge, we descended upon the stores like a swarm of locusts, intent on securing the city’s best pieces.

We entered the first jewelry store, and the dazzling array of turquoise and silver immediately caught our eyes. Mahya’s fingers danced over a stunning necklace with intricate inlays, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. Al, equally entranced, picked up several bold bracelets and rings, the sparkle of the metal and stones reflecting his delight. The rest we just bought by pointing at the shelves. Carefully wrapping each piece, the salespeople filled the otherwise quiet store with the delicate jingle of silver and turquoise bracelets clinking together, along with the soft crinkle of tissue paper and snap of tape. The faint scent of polished wood and leather cases hung in the air, while the display counters now stood bare, their once sparkling treasures securely packed in our bags. Three stunned salespeople stared at us, wide-eyed and speechless, their jaws practically on the floor as we walked out.

Next, we wandered into a shop filled with Native American pottery. Beautifully crafted vases, bowls, and figurines lined the shelves, each piece a testament to the skill of its maker. I couldn’t resist a large, hand-painted pot adorned with traditional patterns that, after paying, I discreetly stored on a shelf in my house. Mahya selected several smaller pieces, each a work of art in its own right—the rest we bought again by just pointing and adding to the selection. The cashier’s eyes widened as we paid for our selections, the sum quickly adding up.

The spicy aroma of chilies led us to our next destination, a market specializing in chili products. Al’s eyes lit up as he sampled various chili powders and sauces, the heat bringing a smile to his face. He selected crates of dried chilies and exotic spices, envisioning their uses in his future concoctions. I, of course, bought crates and crates of various chili products. They could learn to live with spicy food if they had designated me as the cook. Very spicy food. Very, very spicy food. “Muwahahaha!”

Our last stop was an art gallery showcasing local crafts. Vibrant paintings and intricate textiles hang on the walls, each telling a story. A large tapestry depicting a desert scene, the colors and textures drawing her in, captivated Mahya. Al chose several more miniature artworks that captured the essence of the Southwest, while I found a hand-carved wooden sculpture that spoke to me with its detailed craftsmanship—the rest we just bought for selling.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Between those four stops, we succeeded in spending all the cash loot from Albuquerque.

Once again, I had to accompany Al on a round of drug dealers, eleven in total this time. At least my nerves were getting better and better after every successful heist without incidents. In the last place, I simply leaned against a tree and waited—I didn’t even look around.

Yay me!

His stash of drugs grew. Mahya’s collection of weapons and bullets grew. And our group’s piggy bank grew by twenty percent over what we spent in the city. I just facepalmed and shook my head in resignation—no matter how much we threw at these shops, the money just kept piling up, like it had a mind of its own, determined to outgrow everything else.

Mahya drove to Trinidad, and I opened the Archive. First, I scrolled to the original message I sent to Lyura. I hadn’t checked what happened with that message for a long time, but there was nothing new. I had to scroll through dozens of pages to get to it. In the meantime, the Archive had filled with a lot of new junk. The responses to Lis’s posts grew more and more, and there were also new responses to various posts.

I wrote a new message:

Tr. JR

“Clueless, Hungry, Versailles, Television.”

Hi Lyura, this is John.

I haven’t given up on you yet. Lis left for the dragon realm, and we picked up another Traveler named Al on the way. Right now, Al, Mahya, and I are doing some last-minute shopping on Earth on our way to Canada to cross a Gate to a world called Lumis. Here is the location of three Gates that lead to that world:

· Alaska, Anchorage, Chugach State Park, Lumis, mana 32

· Canada, Great Bear Lake, Lumis, mana 32, only floatplane

· Canada, Mount Rundle, Lumis, mana 32

It would thrill me if you joined us at some point. You don’t have to feel embarrassed by us. We care about you and would love to travel with you. But even if not, send a message, so I know you’re okay.

Lis’s original message had over thirty pages of all kinds of comments from Travelers, but he didn’t reply to any of them. Seeing this made me laugh. Poor Lis, I could imagine his face as he tried to think of how to answer everyone.

The more recent message from him was also full of comments. It was not like the older one, only seventeen pages, but it went on and on.

Tr. QM

Is it possible to get a Gate chain?

Tr. BBN

What he said.

Tr. NN

I’m curious about the dragon’s diet. Do they eat mana-infused food?

Tr. LH

Has anyone noticed that the dragons have different scales based on their magic type?

Tr. ZV

How do you deal with a dragon that doesn’t want to negotiate?

Tr. BBN

What he said.

Tr. KG

Can someone explain the difference between dragon fire and regular fire magic?

Tr. MB

Does anyone have a Gate chain to the dragon realm?

That asshole isn’t answering.

Tr. TY

Are there any safe zones in the dragon realm where one can rest?

Tr. PK

Is it true that dragon blood can enhance magical abilities?

Tr. MNo

Are you crazy? Do you want to harvest blood from a dragon? It will eat you in one bite.

Tr. BBN

What he said.

Tr. PK

Don’t get all worked up. Just asking.

Tr. MV

I’ve heard rumors about dragon hoards. Can anyone confirm if they exist?

Tr. HG

What kind of magical artifacts exist in the dragon realm?

Tr. KL

Are there any known weaknesses of dragons that travelers should know?

Tr. XS

Has anyone ridden a dragon? If so, how?

Tr. GH

Can you ask the dragons if they have any tips for controlling chaotic mana?

Tr. KB

Is there a dragon-friendly potion for mana regeneration?

Tr. TJ

Are dragons susceptible to any specific types of magic?

Tr. RF

Can you ask the dragons about their knowledge of ancient ruins?

Tr. VE

Does dragon scale armor provide any unique benefits?

Tr. MNo

Are you crazy? Do you want to harvest scales from a dragon? It will eat you in one bite.

Tr. BBN

What he said.

Tr. QL

How do dragons perceive time compared to humans?

Tr. NP

Can you ask the dragons if they know any spells for interdimensional travel?

Tr. JJP

I want to know that, too.

Tr. DY

What are the dragons’ thoughts on human magic?

Tr. QA

Do dragons have any allies among other magical creatures?

Tr. LK

No, dumbass, they are at the top of the pile. They don’t need allies.

Tr. YS

What’s the dragon’s favorite type of offering from travelers?

Tr. ML

See the entry below from the same Traveler. They love books.

At this point, I stopped reading. It just continued endlessly. I laughed and shook my head.

“What are you laughing about?” Mahya asked, glancing over from the driver’s seat.

“All the comments on Lis’s posts,” I replied, still grinning.

“Yeah, I saw those. It’s crazy,” she said, her tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Poor Lis. I can imagine his face,” I said, picturing Lis overwhelmed by the sheer volume of messages.

The four of us laughed, even Rue, who barked happily from the backseat and stuck his head out of the window again.

I sent a new message to Lis and told him everything that had happened recently.

I told him how amazing our boat was and how much I admired Mahya for this project. Described the Rat Island and how we stripped it bare. Shared stories about our cruise in the Pacific Ocean, the Unity I created with the wind, and how the boat left me behind. Recounted the house parked on the ocean and the hot-air balloon in the air. Told him about San Francisco and my show, the flight in the hot-air balloon, and how the wind and I became friends. Complained about Sonak and explained what an idiot he was. Described how I got the Bard Class and used it during the rescue to send a massive mana wave into the base to save the Traveler. I also mentioned the parade the following day, the crazy robbery I did, Mahya’s fascination with rifles and guns, and how Al dragged me to rob drug dealers.

While writing all this, I relived each moment in my mind. I smiled as I remembered the adventures, laughed at the absurdity of some situations, and shook my head in resignation at the more frustrating memories. It was in those moments that I realized I was having fun. Life was simply incredible.