The Gate Traveler

For a week after we moved, I tagged along with Al on his picking operations, acting as his pacifier. Every day, I put on a concert for the swamp’s inhabitants. The haunting notes of my music, infused with the Arcane Lullaby, echoed through the misty air, blending with the natural sounds of the swamp. The restless creatures seemed to calm, their usual rustling fading away. Within the heart of the swamp, the resonance of the music reached deep, its magic extending to touch every corner. By the end of the week, my Arcane Lullaby had leveled up to 7, and my violin playing had reached level 3.

Floating a couple of meters above the ground, angled as if reclining on an invisible chair, I let the music flow through me, holding the music sheets with telekinesis, my voice humming in harmony to weave the magic into the melody. The surreal sensation of merging music with magic brought an odd sense of peace. The soft, muted sounds of the swamp mixed with the hum of the violin, creating a tranquil atmosphere that felt almost sacred. I’ve always loved music, even the classical pieces that others might find too formal, so this was the perfect opportunity to indulge one of my deepest passions while contributing to Al’s safety.

As the days passed, I noticed something peculiar—the attacks on the house stopped entirely. At first, I wondered if it was just because we had eliminated the snakes that claimed the hill as their territory. Their former domain now lay quiet, devoid of any creatures willing to challenge us. But there was something more to it, I realized. The swamp itself seemed to respond to my music as if it had been waiting for someone to speak its language. Perhaps the creatures had been listening, entertained, or soothed by the concerts. A wry thought crossed my mind—maybe they don’t want me to stop entertaining them?

Each day, we ventured farther from home, moving in an ever-widening circle around the hill. The deeper we went into the swamp, the more the landscape changed, with dense foliage and murky waters becoming familiar companions. We no longer needed to push directly into the depths; instead, we made our way around the hill in a methodical pattern, exploring every inch. Even so, after a week, the journey back took longer and longer, stretching to two hours as we moved farther afield. I hoped that Al had gathered enough plants, or at least that we would soon need to consider moving to another spot.

On the seventh day of harvesting, the swamp threw us a curveball. Out of nowhere, a thick fog rolled in, smothering the entire area in a matter of minutes. The air grew heavy, and visibility dropped to nearly nothing—I couldn’t see half a meter ahead. The swamp’s usual sounds faded into an eerie silence, swallowed by the dense mist. I couldn’t even see Al, though I felt him nearby. I flew by feeling through the fog until my hand found his shoulder. The mist clung to us, damp and unnerving, muffling every attempt to speak. I tried to shout over the fog’s oppressive presence, but the fog swallowed my voice whole. Telepathy was our only option. “We need to go back,” I sent the thought to him.

“How? I can’t see anything,” Al’s reply came back, tinged with concern.

“Store the jet ski, get on my back, and I’ll fly us home.”

“How do you intend to locate the house?”

“I always feel where Rue is. I’ll fly slowly to avoid running into trees, heading toward Rue.”

“I didn’t consider that. Very well.”

With Al on my back, I took to the air, flying low and slow to avoid the trees that loomed out of the fog. The journey was tense, the mist swirling around us like a living thing. Several times, dark shapes loomed out of the whiteness, forcing me to swerve to avoid crashing into the thick trunks. Each time, the fog parted just enough to show the obstacle before closing in again. It took us nearly three hours to reach the house—I didn’t dare fly any faster—but we made it back, the familiar outline of the porch a welcome sight in the gloom.

After settling Al on the porch, I stepped back into the mist, curiosity gnawing at me. There was something unnatural about this fog. It wasn’t just thick; it felt alive, pulsing with energy that tugged at my mana senses. I closed my eyes, letting my mana spread out, searching for the source of this strange phenomenon. The fog carried the faint essences of water and wind, a combination that should have felt familiar, but there was something more, something deeper that I couldn’t quite place. I had once reached oneness with water on Earth, but since then, I hadn’t reached that same connection. Now, standing in the heart of this magical fog, I let go of my thoughts and allowed myself to sink into the sensation.

The fog wasn’t just around me—it was an integral part of the swamp, a blend of elements that had merged in perfect harmony. I started by understanding its components: the cool, damp essence of water and the subtle, flowing currents of wind. As I attuned myself to these elements, I felt a deep sense of acceptance wash over me, a recognition of how they intertwined, neither overpowering the other, creating something entirely new and balanced.

Gradually, I connected with the fog on a deeper level. It wasn’t just about recognizing its presence—I allowed myself to sink into it, to feel the way the water and wind melded together, forming a unified whole. Drawing on my experience with wind control, I extended my influence, and the connection deepened. It wasn’t merely oneness I felt; it was something more profound, a true Unity with the fog.

As I focused, the boundary between myself and the fog blurred. I wasn’t just in the fog—I was the fog. Every shift in the air, every ripple of moisture, I could sense it all as if it were a part of me. With this newfound understanding, I moved with it, guiding its flow with a thought. I slowly moved my hands to the sides, and the fog parted, following the motion of my hands as if it were a curtain being drawn aside. The mist obediently split in two, revealing a clear path before me, as though the very air was bending to my will.

It wasn’t like my control over lightning, which had come from repeatedly feeling it course through my body and deeply understanding its nature. This was different—more organic, more innate.

I lifted my arms higher, palms facing upward, and the mist rose from the ground, swirling gracefully toward the treetops. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I lowered my hands, palms facing down, and the mist descended, settling back over the swamp like a curtain at the end of a performance.

I knew I wasn’t yet capable of creating fog on my own—not on this scale, at least. I might manage a small patch if I infused mana with the aspects of water and wind, but full control would take more time and practice. Still, something drew me deeper into the swamp, an instinctual pull that told me the fog was coming from a specific point. Closing my eyes again, I let my senses reach out, focusing on the faint traces of mana that seemed more concentrated in one direction. Not that the fog was thicker there, but the mana was denser, more substantial.

I flew toward that point, the fog parting before me as I moved. The journey took nearly three hours; the mist clinging to me as I navigated through the swamp’s labyrinth of trees and marshes. When I finally arrived, what I found was something I never expected to see. There, at the heart of the swamp, was the vent I had sensed earlier, the one I detected when searching for a place to place the house. From this vent, mist poured out like steam from a geyser, but it wasn’t just any mist—it was green and pulsing with mana.

I focused on the mist, feeling the rich currents of water and nature mana swirling within it, along with a faint touch of wind. It was as if the fog had gathered the wind as it spread out through the swamp. The mana was so dense that I felt a slight itch in my channels, a sign that the energy here was far more concentrated than I was used to. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just a reminder of the power that lay beneath the surface.

I extended my mana sense, scanning the area around the vent. The plants here were different, their mana signatures so strong that they felt almost like dungeon creations rather than natural growths. After watching Al collect plants for nearly two weeks, I felt confident enough to gather them myself. Using telekinesis, I carefully lifted the roots along with the surrounding mud, preserving their integrity as I stored them away. I worked methodically, expanding the circle around the vent with each pass, collecting as much as I could. Eventually, the itching in my channels faded, but the vent continued to release a steady flow of mana, enriching the surrounding area.

As the sky darkened, I knew it was time to head back. I took one last look at the vent, then turned and flew home, the fog parting before me like a curtain. About halfway back, I noticed the fog thinning, as if it were retreating to its source. The phenomenon intrigued me, but there would be time to explore it further in the future. And now I had Mist under my wizard abilities. As always by this point, only Mist, nothing beside it, but I was used to it.

When I returned, I showed Al the plants I had gathered. He inspected them, his curiosity piqued. “Where did you find these?” he asked, glancing up at me with interest.

I explained how I had tracked the fog to its source and discovered the vent. His expression shifted as he absorbed the information. “We should return there tomorrow.”

“They’re that good?”

“They are better than good. Exceptional is how I would describe them.”

“Okay.”

The next day, I took Al to the vent area. The journey by jet ski was slow, taking us nearly five hours, a far cry from the speed of flight. Once we arrived, I helped Al collect the plants using the same method I had the day before. He mentioned nothing about my technique, which I took as a sign that I was doing it right. After we had finished, I offered him a ride back to the house on my back—I wasn’t eager for another five-hour trek by jet ski, and neither was he.

That evening, as we sat together, Mahya suggested, “If you found such a good cluster of plants by locating that vent,” she said, “maybe it would be a good idea for you to fly over the swamp and see if there are more vents. There could be more good things there.”

Al’s face lit up, and I could tell he was already planning. “That’s a splendid idea,” he said, his enthusiasm clear. “I already have ideas for the plants we collected.”

I nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan.”

We continued our discussion, and Al’s excitement remained undiminished. “I’ve been contemplating a few different potions I could craft from the plants we gathered today,” he explained, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “One could be a potent healing draught, another might serve as a stamina enhancer, and if I blend the correct herbs, I believe I could even formulate a potion to enhance mana regeneration.” His mind was clearly engaged, filled with many possibilities.

Mahya listened intently, nodding as Al spoke. When he finished, she added, “Sounds like you’ve got some promising ideas there.” She then shifted the conversation slightly, sharing her own progress. “I’ve been making some headway on converting the first Jeep into Magitech. There’s still a lot of work to be done,” she admitted, “but I’m making steady progress.”

She paused, then added with a smirk, “Or at least, I’m steadily dismantling the Jeep—I haven’t quite reached the stage of starting the blueprint and rune work yet.”

The next day, I took to the air, flying above the trees, and started a back-and-forth search pattern, tuning in to my senses. It didn’t take long before I located the vent we already knew about, which was a pretty good sign that I was on the right track. The swamp was huge, and after a whole day of flying, I’d only covered about thirty percent of it. I could have flown faster, but I wasn’t sure if I’d still be able to sense the vents at higher speeds. Unfortunately, I found nothing new on that first day.

But on the second day, things started looking up. Not too long after I set out, I caught a faint pulse of mana—something different from the usual swamp vibes. I zeroed in on it, and there it was: another vent, hidden beneath the thick canopy, releasing its magic into the air. That I found it so quickly gave me a boost of confidence, so I picked up the pace, figuring I could sense the vents even while moving faster.

I kept scanning the swamp all day, covering more ground, and as evening approached, I felt another surge of mana coming from a different direction. I followed the trail and found a third vent.

Hovering above the swamp, a thought struck me. The location of the vents wasn’t random at all—they created the swamp. Looking at the Map, the swamp looked like a boat with a sail, and the vents lined up perfectly: the first one was in the “front” half of the boat, the second in the “back” half, and the third in the “sail.”

It made sense—the vents were the heart of the swamp, pumping out the magic that shaped the land, fed the plants, and maybe even influenced the creatures that lived there. The swamp wasn’t just some wild patch of land; it was a living, breathing ecosystem, and these vents were the lifeblood that kept it all going. Realizing that made me see the swamp in a whole new light—it wasn’t just a place we stumbled into; it was something much more intentional, something shaped by the magic deep within it.

I got home late that night, hovering above the swamp and thinking profound thoughts.

Happens even to the best of us.

“The problem with the vents I found is their distance,” I informed them in the morning. “There’s no way we can reach them with the jet skis.”

Mahya frowned, considering the issue. “So what do we do?”

“We’ll close up the house,” I suggested, “and I’ll fly both of you to the vents.”

“Can we land directly above the vents?” Al asked.

I shook my head. “No, the vegetation’s too dense there. But I’ll get us as close as possible, and from there, we can use the jet skis.”

“Good idea,” Mahya agreed.

Once we were all on the same page, I gave the core an order to close the house. Al and Mahya each wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I hugged their waists in return. As we lifted off, I couldn’t help but feel relieved Rue had learned to fly on his own—I definitely didn’t have enough hands for everyone.

When we arrived at the vent area, I found a spot open enough to safely get everyone off. Hovering above the water, I watched as they took out the jet skis, and then carefully lowered them onto the surface. Rue joined us, balancing confidently on his own jet ski. He had more than enough mana to keep flying, but I knew he just loved riding the jet ski.

They advanced toward the vent on the jet skis while I flew overhead, singing to calm the numerous creatures stirring in the swamp below. There were more of them than usual, but my song seemed to keep them at bay.

As we approached fifty meters from the vent, a swarm of leeches suddenly jumped out of the water and latched onto them with alarming speed.

Mahya jumped up into a nearby tree, and shouted, “They absorb mana.” frantically pulling the leeches off herself.

“Al, hang on!” I shouted, swooping down to grab him and lift him into the air.

Rue, thanks to his thick fur, was mostly unaffected—until a leech latched onto his nose. With a quick lick, he spat it out and mentally shouted, “Yikes!” making us all flinch.

The minute I was low enough, some leeches jumped on me, and I could feel them sucking the mana out of my body. The sensation was like the time I had to cast Exude Mana on myself to get rid of an awful curse in the UK.

I flew toward Mahya, who reached out and pulled Al into the safety of the tree. Once he was secure, I landed beside them, and we all worked together to remove the leeches that had latched onto him and me. The little parasites had drained a significant amount of mana, leaving us all feeling slightly weakened.

As we rested in the tree, trying to regenerate the lost mana, I noticed the leeches beginning to climb up the trunk, drawn to us like magnets.

“Not again,” Mahya muttered, her eyes narrowing.

“We need to move!” I urged. Without hesitation, Mahya jumped to another tree, and I took to the air once more, flying with Al over to join her. We repeated this maneuver twice more, but with each leap, the leeches seemed to follow, relentless in their pursuit.

I finally had enough. Hovering above the water, I gathered my energy, and with a sharp flick of my hand, I unleashed a bolt of lightning into the swamp. The electricity crackled and danced across the surface, and in an instant, the water below us boiled with energy. The bolt of lightning I unleashed into the swamp fried every leech in the water, causing their bodies to float lifelessly to the surface.

“We’re clear,” I called out, landing in a nearby tree where we could catch our breath. Al scanned the ground below.

“Nothing interesting down there except more leeches,” he announced.

“Let’s get out of here, then,” I decided. Wrapping an arm around each of them, I flew us back to where we had left the jet skis. Once we were safely back on them, we sped away, leaving the leech-infested waters behind.

When we reached an area with less dense foliage, I picked them up again, and we headed back to our hill. I flew with my profile open, monitoring my mana levels—the leeches had drained a lot out of me. Luckily, my regeneration was good, and the proximity to the vent helped, as we landed on the trees, I recovered most of the mana they had siphoned from me. Still, it was a very unpleasant experience. Those leeches were vicious.

When we got home, I asked them, “As I was flying back, something occurred to me. The leeches on the trees survived the lightning strike. Do you think they might be useful for something? Their ability to absorb mana is off the charts.”

Mahya and Al looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Don’t look at me like that. I really think the leeches’ ability to absorb mana is interesting.”

“Interesting, maybe,” Mahya replied, “but what exactly are you planning to do with them? Throw them at someone? And where would you keep them? You can’t put living things in Storage. No matter how hard you try, it won’t work. Are you going to fly around holding them in your hand?”

Fair point.

“You’re right. Forget it.”

After dealing with the leeches, I felt an overwhelming need for a long bath. My Clean spell was amazing, but sometimes only water can truly do the job. As I soaked in the bath, I found myself hoping with every fiber of my being that Al had gathered enough plants. I was getting thoroughly fed up with the swamp. It was great for my Arcane Lullaby, and the fog was intriguing—but I was still completely done with the swamp.