Harlin's boat cut through the water with surprising speed for its age, the weathered hull responding to each wave like it had memorized the sea's patterns over decades of use. Adom sat near the stern, one hand on his pack, watching as the old sailor consulted a compass that had started behaving oddly over the last hour.
"Damn thing," Harlin muttered, tapping the glass face of the instrument. The needle spun lazily, paused pointing southwest, then continued its rotation. "That's how you know we're getting close."
Adom nodded. He'd been expecting this. "The mana interference."
"Exactly." Harlin put the useless compass away. "Don't need it anyway. I know these waters by feel."
They'd been traveling for nearly six hours. Adom had managed to sleep for five of them, his [Primordial Body] instantly shifting into recovery mode the moment he'd decided to rest.
Harlin throttled back the engine until they were barely moving forward. "This is as far as we go, boy."
Adom stood, stretching his limbs. His muscles felt perfect—no stiffness, no fatigue, just pure readiness. "You're sure we're halfway?"
"Sure as death and taxes." Harlin pointed toward the horizon where a hazy outline was just barely visible. "That's the edge of the Highlands. Another three, maybe four hours by boat, but my girl's not built for what comes next."
"What comes next?"
"The currents change. Water gets thick, like you're sailing through honey. Then come the random whirlpools. After that..." Harlin made a popping sound with his lips. "Floating rocks. Fog that burns your lungs. All manner of unpleasantness."
"Sounds charming."
"Doesn't it just." Harlin chuckled. "You sure about this, Ghost? No shame in turning back."
Adom checked his pack straps one final time. "I'm sure. I'll meet you back at this spot in five days. Say, midday?"
"I'll be here." Harlin tilted his head. "Though I admit I'm curious how you plan to—"
Adom began weaving the mana pattern for [Flight], a spell he'd cast so many thousands of times that it felt like signing his name. The air around him stirred, then condensed, creating invisible platforms beneath his feet.
"Oh," Harlin said, impressed despite himself. "That's handy."
Adom rose slowly, careful not to destabilize the boat. The wind picked up as he ascended, catching Harlin's worn hat and nearly sending it into the sea.
"Sorry about that," Adom called down.
Harlin secured his hat with one hand. "Just make sure you come back in one piece, boy. I don't want to explain to your fans why the Ghost went missing."
"Five days," Adom confirmed, now hovering twenty feet above the boat. "Midday."
At this height, he could feel it clearly—the mana density increasing the closer he got to the Highlands. The air felt thicker, almost syrupy against his skin, but in a way that made his spell work more efficiently rather than hindering it. Like trying to swim in a perfect-temperature pool after practicing in cold ocean water.
Below, Harlin's boat was already turning, heading back toward Northhaven. Ahead, the hazy outline of the Highlands grew slightly more distinct—a massive landmass that seemed to shimmer oddly at the edges, as if it couldn't quite decide where it ended and the sky began.
Adom took a breath, adjusted his trajectory slightly, and poured power into his spell.
Fwoosh!
The air split around him as he accelerated to a speed that would have made most flyers black out from the pressure. But his [Primordial Body] simply adapted, his vision remaining crystal clear despite the wind, his lungs extracting oxygen efficiently from the rushing air.
So convenient.
Less than an hour to reach the shore, Adom calculated. At this rate, he'd have plenty of daylight left to get oriented and begin his search.
As he flew, the water below began to change—patches of unusual color appeared, swirling patterns that didn't match the natural movement of waves. In some places, the sea bulged upward as if something massive was pushing from below. In others, it seemed to curve unnaturally, defying gravity in ways that water simply shouldn't.
The Giant Highlands were already making their presence known.
Adom adjusted his flight path slightly higher, not wanting to discover what happened when one of those strange water formations encountered a passing mage. He had a mission to complete, and it didn't involve being swallowed by a whirlpool.
The mana grew denser with every mile.
According to Biggins, he had managed to penetrate deep into the uncharted regions, far beyond where any human expedition had reached. There, he'd found evidence of a vast civilization—primitive by dragon standards but impressive for beings bound to the earth. Ruins of massive stone structures, castles with doorways thirty feet high, ceremonial circles where the remnants of magical workings still lingered in the stones.
"But I went looking for answers about dragons, not giants," Biggins had admitted. "Didn't pay much attention to the runes and such. Perhaps I should have, in retrospect. Fate has a funny way of making you regret the things you don't study, especially when you have millennia to dwell on your oversights."
He had, however, remembered enough landmarks to give Adom a fighting chance of finding the most substantial ruins.
Adom paused at the edge of the forest, considering what lay ahead. The safe zone ended about half a mile in, marked by a final warning sign that looked like it had been torn down and replaced multiple times. Beyond that, the mana density would increase exponentially with each mile.
He reached into his storage ring and withdrew two metallic objects that glinted in the sunlight. Wam and Bam, his battle gauntlets, slid onto his hands with the satisfying click of perfectly fitted equipment.
Master Kern and her apprentice Fili had outdone themselves with the latest upgrades. The new runes etched along the knuckles channeled mana with twenty percent greater efficiency than the previous design. More importantly, they'd been specifically reinforced to withstand consecutive Thunder Shrimp punches without damage—at least five per gauntlet before needing repairs.
"Five each," Adom murmured, flexing his fingers inside the metal casing. "That's pretty impressive."
Most equipment couldn't handle the strain of even one, which was why previous versions of the gauntlets had needed constant repairs.
Adom was curious if his [Primordial Body] could actually perform the technique without gauntlets now, but he wasn't quite ready to test that theory.
With the gauntlets securely in place, Adom closed his eyes and centered himself. Inhale. Exhale. The familiar tension in his core built rapidly—a sensation like a spring coiling tighter and tighter.
"This doesn't make sense," he said aloud, more to break the oppressive silence than anything else.
He continued onward, more alert now, scanning not just for threats but for any sign of animal life. The floating corpses became more numerous in some areas, clustered in what almost looked like deliberate arrangements. In one clearing, five bodies formed a perfect pentagon, each equidistant from the others.
He had to stop and bury them as well, then resumed his journey.
[Mana Pool: 1002/2007], it kept increasing.
The absolute stillness of the forest was beginning to feel oppressive. Even the air seemed reluctant to move, hanging heavy and unmoving around him. His own breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the silence.
"Come on, Biggins," Adom muttered. "You said there'd be monsters. Where are they?"
As if in answer, a faint sound finally broke the silence—a soft rustling from somewhere ahead, so subtle he almost missed it.
Adom paused, every sense on high alert.
“Where are the monsters,” he said — in that dumb voice people use when they’re quoting themselves being an idiot.
Now there were noises.
So. That worked.
*****
At the same time...
The boat bumped against the rickety dock just as night was falling, the last streaks of orange disappearing behind the silhouette of the Giant Highlands. The fisherman—who had introduced himself as Willem during the journey—secured the vessel with practiced efficiency.
"Well," he said, straightening up, "welcome to the ass-end of nowhere."
Sam stepped onto the dock first, followed by Eren with Zuni's carrier. The others disembarked in silence, each taking in the looming darkness of the unfamiliar shore.
"Not many boats can make this crossing," Willem continued, gesturing to his vessel. "Special hull reinforcements, mana dampeners, the works. Cost me a fortune, but the tourist traffic pays for it. During season, anyway." He gave them a pointed look.
"And this isn't season," Naia observed, carefully testing the stability of the dock with her foot.
"No, ma'am, it is not." Willem scratched his beard. "Which is why I want to be very clear—stay in the safe zone. It's marked with blue lanterns. Beyond that, the mana density gets nasty. Even specialized compasses stop working, people get disoriented, sometimes they don't come back."
"How fascinating," Karion said, not sounding particularly concerned.
"Two days, then?" Mia asked.
"That's what we discussed on the way over," Willem confirmed. "I'll be back at noon."
Damus, who had been utterly silent during the entire journey, suddenly spoke. "Harbinsky said Adom was returning in five days."
All eyes turned to Sam, who shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't recall saying anything like that," he muttered.
Damus stared at him with flat, unblinking eyes. "Five days," he repeated.
Willem looked between them. "I can come back in five days if that's what you need. But are you all prepared for that long? I didn't see much baggage except on Red and his friend there."
Damus held up his hand, displaying a storage ring. "Survival kit. Enough for a month."
"Huh." Willem nodded. "Practical."
"I'm prepared as well," Naia added, touching her own ring.
"Same," Karion said.
Gus simply nodded, Luna mimicking the motion.
Willem looked them over once more, then shrugged. "Your funeral. Just don't get me in trouble. Like I said, it's not tourist season, and I'm doing you a favor."
"We appreciate it," Mia said.
"Five days," Sam said reluctantly. "Noon."
Willem climbed back into his boat. "Remember—blue lanterns. Stay inside their perimeter. Beyond that..." He made a slicing motion across his throat.
They watched as he maneuvered away from the dock, his boat soon becoming just a dark shape against the darkening sea.
"Well," Karion said brightly, turning to face the island, "here we are."
The air felt different—heavier, almost pressurized against their skin. Sam took an experimental breath and found it oddly satisfying, like drinking water when you didn't realize you were thirsty.
"The mana density is incredible," Mia murmured, holding up her hand as if she could physically feel it between her fingers.
"It's denser than any dungeon I've been in," Gus noted quietly, watching Luna shift through a series of unusual colors.
"Actually," Sam said, unable to resist the opportunity to explain, "it's approximately four times denser than a Level S dungeon in the safe zone. But in the deeper areas, records suggest it behaves like an SS or even SSS environment. The density increases exponentially the further west you go."
"Which is why most expeditions fail," Naia added. "The human mind isn't designed to process such concentrations."
"Mages go mad first," Karion said cheerfully. "Our sensitivity to mana becomes a liability."
"How encouraging," Eren muttered.
They followed the path from the dock, guided by the blue lanterns Willem had mentioned. The tourist area looked abandoned—a gift shop with shuttered windows, a small restaurant clearly closed for the season, a few informational placards that were too faded to read in the dim light.
Damus suddenly stopped walking and turned to face Sam directly.
"The deeper zones," he said flatly. "Don't tell me that's where he went."
Everyone turned to stare at Sam, who felt his resolve crumbling under the collective weight of their expectation. Naia's eyebrow arched slightly. Mia crossed her arms. Karion looked positively gleeful at the prospect of danger.
"I—" Sam began, but was interrupted by an indignant squeaking from Zuni's carrier.
"Oh," Sam said, grateful for the distraction. "I forgot." He turned to Eren. "Zuni hates being in a cage. Actually, he hates the concept of cages in general. It offends him philosophically."