The next day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, we finally reached my destination. Ro expertly dropped anchor with practiced ease. I could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he secured the boat.
Jul and Rin quickly joined in, helping me take down my tent. Rin flashed me a grin, his hands deftly working at the nails, while Jul gave a nod of encouragement. I felt a surge of appreciation for their assistance.
Once I stored the tent, I turned to them, a smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks for everything, guys,” I said, shaking their hands firmly.
Their surprise was apparent—eyes widening slightly as they looked at me. I reached into my pouch and handed each of them a silver coin. “Just a small token of my thanks,” I added, my voice filled with genuine gratitude.
Jul’s eyes softened, and a smile spread across his face as he took the coin. Rin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he quickly matched Jul’s smile, his expression turning into one of appreciation.
They nodded, their smiles reflecting their gratitude. The moment felt warm and sincere, marking the end of our journey together.
Standing on the riverbank, I watched the boys skillfully maneuver the boat with their oars. To my astonishment, the boat executed a perfect U-turn, defying my expectations. I waved a last farewell, and they waved back before we turned our backs to the river and continued on our way.
After a leisurely two-hour stroll, we arrived at a charming grassy area—ideal for setting up camp. I quickly set up the glamping tent and got a fire going. We settled in, relishing the wide-open space and the freedom to move around—something we’d sorely missed while cooped up on the boat.
I opened the Map and zoomed out. It looked like we were right on top of the Gate. Zooming in revealed a few mountains we’d need to cross to reach it. I checked my Luck; the direction still pointed toward the Gate, and the “take your time” feeling was still gone, though there was no pressing urgency. So, I decided to camp in the clearing for a few days, cook some meals, and reacquaint myself with solid ground.
It seemed I jinxed myself with the decision to stay. That night, the rain started and didn’t let up for almost five days. It wasn’t a torrential downpour, just a steady, persistent rain. I was relieved I’d set up the glamping tent and put the bamboo flooring. Otherwise, we would have been wading through mud.
We spent most of those days in the tent. Stretch mostly napped or sought affection while I immersed myself in mana exploration. I felt the mana in the air, the plants, the rain, and the ground. At one point, I sank my consciousness into the earth and inspected it—the mana and the very substance of the ground. I learned to use less and less mana while probing until I could send out a tendril of 50 mana and use it like a delicate probe.
I didn’t attempt to create spells, influence anything, or alter my mana’s flavor. Through exploration, I simply learned. Each element had a distinct mana “flavor.” The ground felt “solid,” “sturdy,” “enduring,” and “strong.” The air was “light,” “traveling,” or “moving.” Plants exuded “life,” “growth,” and “nourishment.” The rain was the most surprising. After experimenting with purifying river water, I noticed rain contained more mana than anything else. As it got absorbed into the ground, it spread and enriched everything. It offered a fresh, exciting perspective on nature’s cycles. I was so engrossed that the five days flew by in the blink of an eye.
Once the rain stopped, the ground was still too soggy to move on. I stayed a few more days to let it dry out. I lit a fire, cooked various dishes from my Storage, and made three lasagnas. After the third one, I figured I’d try my hand at baking something else, so I tackled an apple pie. The first attempt was a disaster—burnt on the outside and raw in the middle. I tried to control the heat better and used my mana practice to help. I covered my next pie in coals and encased it in a mana bubble to manage the heat. It wasn’t easy. I threw out six ruined pies, but made significant progress with my mana control and mana bubble skills.
Checking my Wizard class abilities, I saw that my Mana Sensing had advanced to [Junior] and my Mana Manipulation to [Apprentice]. Junior sounded lower than Apprentice, but I guessed the system might work differently. Despite the advancement, I still hadn’t made an edible apple pie.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
After two days of pie failures, the ground finally looked dry enough to walk on without sinking. We set out, enjoying the peacefulness of nature. I particularly appreciated the freedom of movement after the cramped conditions on the boat.
In the evening, I tried a new pie recipe, this time using peaches instead of apples. The second attempt was edible, but not much else.
The following day, we kept walking, and around midday, I felt the Gate’s presence like a guiding beacon. Scanning the area, I spotted a mountaintop about two hours away that seemed to be the source. On Earth, I’d noticed the distance I could sense the Gate increased with my progress in the Gate Traveler class. But since I hadn’t advanced it on Shimoor, the longer distance surprised me.
We reached the mountain and began the climb. It wasn’t overly steep, but it wasn’t exactly easy either. When we reached the top, the scene looked oddly familiar—two round, flat boulders that resembled tree stumps made of stone. I turned around and took in the view. It was the same spot I’d visited before. I even compared it to the photos I’d taken earlier in Shimoor. It was unmistakably the same place.
I approached the gate and read the inscription:
Travelers Gate #468217258
Destination: Earth/Gaia/Terra
Status: Unintegrated
Mana level: 4
Technology level: Low
Threat level: Humans–moderate. Other beings–very high.
The mana level had increased, but this was my first Gate.
I said to Stretch, “Wait here for me, buddy. I want to check something, be back in a minute.”
I cast Invisibility on myself to avoid startling any hikers and stepped through the Gate. On Earth, it was the beginning or end of winter, with a light dusting of snow covering everything. I activated my Luck and sensed a direction to the west, but it felt off—as if I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Returning through the Gate, I found a distressed Stretch pawing anxiously at the ground. I hugged him and reassured him, “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you, and always come back for you.” The sense of relief he projected nearly knocked me off my feet.
I wanted to test something else that worried me, so I told Stretch, “This time, follow me through the Gate,” and stepped through again. Despite waiting a few minutes, Stretch didn’t appear. I went back and found him still anxious but slightly calmer. Something was wrong.
Determined not to leave him behind and unwilling to settle in Shimoor, I pondered a solution. I came up with an idea. I told Stretch, “Stay close to me and walk with me through the Gate. Don’t stray, and don’t worry about the mana; it won’t hurt you.” I enveloped him in a mana bubble, ensuring it had no distinct flavor, so it was just my mana.
“Walk as close as you can to me,” I instructed, crossing over again. As I passed through the force field, I felt my mana bubble vanish. It didn’t collapse or dissipate; it simply disappeared. I rushed back to check on Stretch. He was fine, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I sat there, thinking of possible solutions, but nothing came to mind. I considered putting him in my Storage, but since the ability description didn’t specify whether I could store living beings, I feared it might harm him.
Activating my Luck again, it pointed straight at the Gate with no sense of wrongness. I told Stretch, “I think a Traveler might come through soon who could have answers. Maybe they’ll know how to bring you with me.”
As it was getting late, we climbed back down, had dinner, and I played my guitar for a while.
The following day, I woke up with a new idea. Maybe “sleeping on it” wasn’t just an expression. My belongings crossed over with me when I moved through the Gate, so perhaps the solution was to have Stretch be part of what I carry.
We climbed up again. I lifted Stretch onto my shoulder in a fireman’s carry and walked through the Gate with him.
YES!! Thank you, Jesus, God, Guiding Spirits, or whatever force was listening!!
I felt like dancing right there in the snow, but Stretch was whining—he wasn’t a fan of snow. I never understood why; his fur was thick and fluffy, so he should have been okay with it, but he seemed to despise it.
Crossing back to Shimoor with Stretch over my shoulder worked as before. I was thrilled and couldn’t contain my joy. I yelled at the top of my lungs, “YEAH!!” Pumping my fists in the air and wiggling my butt.
Stretch gave me a disapproving side-eye.
“Don’t look at me like that; I’m not crazy, just ecstatic I can take you with me. I’m celebrating.”
Stretch seemed to catch on to the celebrating idea, howling loudly and wagging his tail enthusiastically.
“Yes, buddy. That’s the spirit.”
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We stayed near the Gate, waiting. Each morning, I climbed up to continue my mana practice by the Gate. Stretch either joined me or explored nearby, returning in the evening. Despite my ongoing struggle with baking, my pies showed slight improvement, and my mastery over the mana bubble improved even further, although it still couldn’t compare to having a proper oven.
I was hoping the Traveler would show up soon. Waiting for months on end didn’t sound appealing.