"Are you sure you're alright with walking?" Katie called from her seat in Kerrin's wagon.

  The Trailbinder creaked along the dirt road with all the urgency of a lazy afternoon. Katie and Cass rode with Kerrin while Red and I jogged alongside, my phantom brass armor hanging from my shoulders. The armor felt surprisingly light for something that could probably stop a cannonball—but I rarely bothered with the boots.

  My ability to stick my feet to surfaces was apparently a distinctly human trait. Through casual conversation over the past few weeks, I'd learned it lined up with stories of other barefoot humans who'd wandered through Ark over the years. Just another weird quirk that marked us as different from the locals.

  Shoving mana into my feet gave me adjustable traction that could theoretically stick me upside down to any surface that conducted enough energy. Spider-Man, eat your heart out. The downside? I'd earned a reputation for having perpetually filthy feet, despite owning a magical wash kit that could clean them instantly. Priorities, right?

  "Yep! Need to keep training, now more than ever." I was already getting winded, but pushed through it anyway. The burn felt good—reminded me I was still human underneath all the magical bullshit. "No idea when the tournament starts back up, and we haven't gone on any hunts since Sylvarus."

  "Yeah, but the ride to La-Roc is going to take hours on this thing," Katie pointed out, gesturing at Kerrin's steady but unhurried pace. The man drove like he was delivering fine china through a minefield. "If you and Cass sprinted, you could probably get there in half the time."

  "Fuck that," Cass said without even looking up from digging through her pack. "I could get there in like half an hour now."

  "Assuming you don't trip and break your ankle," I laughed.

  She scoffed and hurled an orange at me from her supplies with the accuracy of a major-league pitcher. "Shove it. I haven't tripped in weeks."

  Valor calculated the trajectory through my aura before my conscious mind even registered the incoming citrus projectile. I snatched it out of the air effortlessly, barely thinking about the motion. The automatic response was getting smoother—I was learning to move deliberately within my aura rather than letting it burn mana to force the motion.

  I grinned at Cass, about to peel the orange and make some witty comeback when my foot caught on a root that had grown through the road like nature's own trip wire.

  Face, meet dirt. Dirt, meet face.

  The wagon passengers—including Kerrin—erupted in laughter as they picked up speed, leaving me sprawled in a cloud of dust that tasted like failure and poor life choices. Red trotted over, snuffling curiously at both me and the orange that had somehow survived the crash landing better than my dignity.

  "Yeah..." I said, spitting grit and pushing myself upright. My mouth tasted like I'd been French-kissing potting soil. "I need to figure out how to have Valor warn me about hazards that aren't actively trying to kill me. If that's even possible."

  I dug my nail into the orange skin, the sharp citrus scent cutting through the taste of road dust. After tossing a piece to Red—who caught it mid-air with more grace than I'd just shown—I started jogging again. I'd have to burn some serious mana to catch up, but it wasn't like I didn't know the way back to La-Roc.

  "Wanna explore along the way, Red?"

  His tail started wagging immediately, and the look in his eyes—the one I could read even before feeling it pulse through our bond—was unmistakable.

  He trotted off into the trees, glancing back once to make sure I was following. Of course I was. Red had yet to lead me anywhere that wasn't either beautiful or exciting, usually both.

  Before long, we emerged onto rolling foothills that overlooked the vast canopy of the Greenmarch. The rainforest stretched to the horizon in an endless sea of green, broken only by the occasional glint of water threading through valleys like silver ribbons, and the massive stone aqueduct that framed it all. The humid air carried the rich scent of earth and growing things, the smell of a world that was very much alive.

  For a brief moment, I just stood there taking it all in. This was my life now. This impossible, beautiful, terrifying world where magic was real and I could stick to walls and my dog was probably smarter than most people I'd known back on Earth.

  The thought hit me with such pure, concentrated excitement that I couldn't help but grin. I looked down at Red, whose tongue was already lolling out, tail wagging so hard his entire back end was wiggling like a furry metronome. He was vibrating with barely contained energy.

  Pulling the orange leather ball from my soul-space, I held it up. "This ball?"

  Red dropped into a perfect sit, every muscle in his body coiled tight like a spring under compression. His ears perked forward, eyes locked on the ball with a laser focus usually reserved for snipers and people trying to thread needles. The wagging stopped completely—he'd entered what I was recognizing as his hunting mode.

  I stored my armor and wound up like a major league pitcher. Not nearly as hard as yesterday's throw, but still far enough that the ball disappeared over the crest of the next ridge like a small orange comet.

  I looked back to Red, and he was gone. Only torn-up grass marked where he'd been standing, like he'd exploded into motion the instant the ball left my hand. I felt him move through my aura, but damn—even with supernatural senses, the dog was fast.

  And that was how I spent the afternoon—playing fetch with my dog instead of training. Some things were more important than constant preparation for whatever fresh hell the universe planned to throw at me next.

  It was fast approaching evening when we walked through La-Roc's crumbling walls. The heart of the city had been mostly repaired since Malcolm's mother drove her cruise-ship-sized boat through it like a wrecking ball, but the exterior remained a patchwork of empty spires and derelict buildings that looked like broken teeth against the sky.

  Only the Sentarians who lived in the tunnels beneath the city bothered with these outer districts, so there wasn't much incentive to rebuild the abandoned structures. Why fix up a neighborhood when the only residents were insect people who preferred underground real estate, anyway?

  Though over the last month, quite a few new merchants and families had migrated here from the surrounding lands. Word spread that La-Roc was becoming a genuinely safe place to live in a world that was revealing itself as one giant monster habitat with scenic views.

  Towering over everything on what looked like a small mountain sat the Monster Hunters' Citadel—a massive stone and metal dome perched atop an underground tower that served as a gateway to the rest of the multiverse. According to Cass and Felix, the Monster Hunters had only been here for a year and a bit, but Elena Aldertree had already proven herself a force to be reckoned with. Both politically and physically. She'd single-handedly saved the city from a massive Carapax attack two months ago, and while there'd been plenty of property damage, casualties had been minimal.

  Unfortunately, the crabs had returned with reinforcements—specifically their friend the Brine Tyrant, a bus-sized softshell crab that put the entire city to sleep and tried to murder everyone in their dreams. Somehow, on my first night here, I'd killed it by essentially cooking it from the inside with lantern orbs. Taking out a monster way out of my league earned me the Breaker accolade, which apparently hadn't been handed out in around ten years.

  Good times. Really set the tone for my stay on this delightfully dangerous planet.

  Now I could probably face something like that Brine Tyrant casually. Hell, I'd basically one-shot a Class-D monster with Winchester in the tournament. The thought still felt surreal, like remembering a dream where you could fly.

  Right. Winchester.

  Once Malcolm turned up, I'd need to head down to Mo-Lei and figure out how to get an audience with Arryava.

  As Red and I made our way through the evening streets toward the Citadel, I couldn't help but smile at the surrounding people. My aura had developed this habit of flooding anyone it touched with a sense of safety—the bone-deep certainty that I'd step between them and any monster without hesitation. Because I would. I was basically a walking security blanket now, and that's what walking security blankets did.

  Many waved, recognizing me. Small kids would rush me in droves, their excited chatter echoing off the stone buildings.

  "Breaker Ben!" A young Floran called out, maybe a teenager judging by the slight green tint in his bark-like skin. "Is it true you're an Aspirant now?"

  I tapped the golden pin on my linen vest's lapel, part of the Monster Hunter uniform. The metal caught the last rays of sunlight filtering between buildings like a tiny beacon.

  "Damn right I am."

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Wow!" Another kid—Gaian this time—practically bounced on her toes with enthusiasm. "And you became a Seeker in two weeks!"

  Red immediately started snuffling the excited girl, tail wagging as the kid dissolved into giggles that could probably cure depression.

  "I had a lot more help than most people get," I said, watching their faces light up like Christmas morning. "Monster Hunters are stronger together."

  That sent them all scattering to play, pretending to be Monster Hunters in the way kids did—complete with dramatic sword fights using sticks and arguments over who got to be the hero. Two kids immediately started fighting over who got to portray me, which felt completely surreal. Six months ago I was a kitchen manager from Vancouver; now I was apparently action figure material.

  "Still think Paladins are lame,

  "You think everything's lame, TedDawn thinks I'm cool.

  That shut him up real quick.

  After ascending the ridiculous set of stairs leading up to the Citadel—seriously, this world seemed to have a fetish for stairs—Red and I jogged to the second floor to enter the Tower. The transition from outside air to the Tower's atmosphere was always jarring, like walking from a stuffy room into a crisp autumn morning.

  "Your friends are already in the Lobby," Gary announced from the large desk as we climbed the interior stairs. He was sporting killer mutton chops today and wearing an orange and blue silk robe that looked way too expensive.

  The moment we entered the Tower itself, the air shifted—thick with ambient mana that made my skin tingle like walking through an electrical field. Several alcoves lined the entryway, and I approached one, placing a red coin from my soul-space onto the activation panel. The metal was warm to the touch, humming with stored energy.

  "Lobby

  I confirmed, and the hallway began stretching, morphing until it faded into a walkway framed by enormous jungle trees. The transformation was smooth as silk, reality bending around us like we were walking through a living postcard.

  "Thanks Gary!" I called as I strolled forward—only to feel the world slip out from under me as we switched positions through a portal.

  My stomach flipped inside out. For a brief, nauseating moment I felt completely upside down, like being turned around in a washing machine, until gravity corrected itself and I ran straight into Malcolm with about as much grace as one would expect.

  We both went down in a tangle of limbs. Red sailed over us with slightly more dignity, rolling to his feet while Malcolm and I sorted out whose leg belonged to whom.

  "Fucking... Come on, Gary! I said thank you," I shook my fist at the sky like an old man yelling at clouds.

  Malcolm sat up, running his hand through his stupid pageboy haircut. The haircut wasn't actually stupid—it looked fine on him—but something about it just annoyed me on a fundamental level. "Ben! There you are." He gave me a genuine smile that almost made me forget how much his hair bothered me.

  I looked around to see Cass and a white-furred Albinus Vildar standing beside us. Thea was about a meter tall with fur that looked like it belonged in a luxury coat commercial, but her eyes held the glint of someone who enjoyed explosions far too much.

  "Thea!" I crouched down so I could look her in the eye. Apparently, Vildar saw this as a sign of respect, and few people actually bothered. Felt pretty normal to me—you didn't tower over friends during conversations.

  "Shit-baskets, Ben. Maybe you shouldn't piss off the tower spirit?" Thea poked me in the forehead with one tiny, clawed finger that felt like getting jabbed by a tiny but very sharp stick.

  "Oh please, he's just salty because I said his food was bland." I laughed—right before an entire pineapple exploded against the back of my head like it had been fired from a howitzer.

  The fruit burst through my aura before I could react, juice and pulp spraying everywhere in a tropical explosion. I barely had time to shove mana reinforcement into the impact zone, but it still knocked me forward out of my crouch. I caught myself against Thea, automatically noting how incredibly soft her fur was—like touching a cloud made of silk.

  Then she shoved me off with enough force to send me airborne. I crashed onto the marble walkway with a grunt that echoed off the jungle canopy above us.

  "Ow. Sorry, Thea!"

  Cass was petting Red and shooting me a look of pure disdain, like she'd just watched me fail a basic intelligence test. "Where the fuck did you go? One minute you're face-first in the dust, next you've vanished for the entire afternoon. Gaia's tits, did you get lost?"

  "Nah, Red took me on a detour. We had fun." I shot Thea a meaningful look while brushing pineapple chunks out of my hair. "I mean... we trained hard. Very productive use of time."

  "It's your fuckin' funeral when the duels start," Thea said, shaking her head. "There's no way you're stayin' in the Seeker bracket now."

  "Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm on it, trust me." I turned to Malcolm, who was still sitting on the ground looking bemused by the pineapple assault. "Did Cass fill you in on what we need?"

  "I think we have an idea," Thea said, her expression shifting to something more serious. "Gary, can you help us get to the lab?"

  "Sure thing, Sprocket Theadora," Gary said, appearing beside her in the casual way tower spirits did—like he'd always been there and you just hadn't noticed.

  A door materialized in thin air, opening to reveal a large alabaster room filled with tools and strange machines that hummed with barely contained energy. The whole setup looked like someone had crossed a medieval blacksmith's workshop with a science fiction laboratory and added just enough magic to make everything glow softly.

  Everyone stepped through, but as I approached the threshold, Gary shot me a warning look that could have stripped paint.

  "I'm sorry, Gary! I said I could help you season your—"

  Another warning blazed through my aura like an air-raid siren. I dove through the portal just as something smashed against the wall behind me with a loud crack that suggested Gary had graduated from fruit to more serious ammunition.

  I landed in a graceless heap on the lab floor, looking back at the now-closed portal. "A fucking coconut, Gary?! Really?"

  The damned spirit was touchier than a celebrity on Twitter. I'd simply suggested different ways to season the meat he magically created, because it really didn't taste that great. Apparently, constructive criticism wasn't appreciated.

  "Well, when you're done screwing around with Gary, we actually might have something for you." Malcolm grabbed what looked like a leather notebook from a nearby table, its pages thick with detailed sketches and diagrams.

  I stood dusting myself off and studying the immaculate designs for various techno-magic contraptions. Some even looked familiar, based on things I'd described from Earth. One of them looked suspiciously like a camera, complete with what appeared to be a flash mechanism. Another resembled a bicycle. Huh, did they not have bikes here?

  Eventually, Malcolm settled on something that looked like a collection of Bunsen burners arranged in a perfect circle, each one inscribed with intricate representations of runes.

  "They have similar things at Sylvarus, but I think I've managed to focus the flames so precisely that ours will run on blue mana coins instead of red," Malcolm explained, pointing to specific elements in his design with the enthusiasm of someone who genuinely loved solving problems.

  "Way cheaper to fire up," Thea added with a sly grin that suggested she'd been involved in the cost-cutting measures.

  "Okay, that's perfect." I nodded, studying the design more closely. The whole thing looked elegant in the way good engineering always did—complex enough to work, simple enough to understand. "Now, why the hell is Thea here?"

  "Oh, I'm fillin' in for Lanavelle during her suspension." Thea's grin turned predatory. "Until the tournament's decided, she's basically fucked and stuck at Sylvarus. Elena needs someone who knows what they're doin', and apparently that's me."

  Cass raised her hand like she was in third grade asking for a bathroom pass. "Uh, that's just a drawing and I don't see anything like it around here."

  Malcolm winced, his face doing that thing people's faces did when they had to deliver bad news. "Yeah, we'll need a day or two to actually build one."

  "Fuck!" Cass threw her hands in the air with the dramatic flair of someone whose patience had officially run out. “Smaller batch it is, then.”

  I thought for a second, weighing our options. "Why don't we grab a Hunt bill, Cass? It's been a while and we've got time to kill."

  She perked up immediately, like someone had just offered her free money and a sack of food. "Oh, now that's the first good idea you've had in a while."

  I shot her an incredulous look. "The first good idea? Really? What about—"

  "That reminds me." Malcolm reached into a drawer and pulled out a thin black wooden box with a golden latch that gleamed under the bright lights. The whole thing screamed ‘expensive and important’.

  Once he handed it over, I opened it to find a small passport-sized slate resting on a purple velvet pillow like a piece of jewelry. The device had the weight and feel of quality craftsmanship, smooth edges and a surface that seemed to shimmer with potential energy.

  "I already have one, and Cass doesn't have a mana sanctum, so we thought you should have it."

  "A Manascript?" I asked, lifting the device carefully. I'd seen them around, being used for various verification purposes, but I'd never thought I'd actually be able to use one. They seemed more like text-based devices than the smartphones I knew from Earth, but they were clearly extremely valuable—the kind of thing you didn't just give away.

  "I don't even know how to use one," I said, turning it over in my hands. The device felt warm, almost alive, and I could sense that familiar handshake sensation as it interfaced with my mana. It was like shaking hands with a computer that was trying to figure out if you were friend or foe.

  I let my energy flow into it, curious to see what would happen.

  "They're Arcadian techno-magic that the Oathbound provide," Malcolm explained with that teacher voice he got when discussing interesting technology. "They have decent range. Most people use them to communicate, but the Monster Hunters use them for bulletins and emergencies."

  White letters began appearing across the device's surface, crisp and precise like someone was typing in real time. I blinked, studying them closely. Most written letters on Ark looked lazy—characters that melted together like the scribes couldn't be bothered with proper penmanship. But this? This was perfect Times New Roman, or something damn close to it.

  The familiar font was weirdly comforting, like finding a piece of home in an alien world.

  "The writing takes some getting used to—" Malcolm started, but paused when he noticed me flicking through the text easily, reading it as naturally as if it were actually a smartphone.

  "Here." Malcolm placed his Manascript over mine.

  I felt a gentle buzz as the devices registered something like an address exchange, followed immediately by a flood of new text scrolling across my screen. Information populated in neat rows and columns—contact lists, message histories, and what looked like a broadcast feed.

  I felt a huge tug at my mana as letters scrolled across the screen.

  Initializing.

  Name: Ted

  Manascription Registered.

  “Holy shit, this is like one of your iPhone-things. There's all sorts of dormant concepts in here. Check this out..

  It was Ted. He was somehow connected to the device directly, interfacing with its systems in a way that felt completely foreign and slightly invasive. Like having someone rummage through your phone while you were still holding it.

  “Whoops! Sorry, kid!

  My mana took a nosedive—a sudden, violent drain that left me gasping like I'd just sprinted up a mountain. My legs nearly gave out as a strange dizziness crashed over me like a wave of vertigo mixed with the worst hangover I'd ever had. The moment I pulled my thumb off the device, I felt the Emberseed around my neck flare to life, pumping just enough energy back into my system to keep me upright.

  "What the fuck, Ted?

  Malcolm's Manascript started beeping gently with the polite insistence of a well-mannered alarm clock. He stared at me with one raised eyebrow, then placed his finger on the device. White words appeared, and he rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation that suggested this was exactly the kind of thing he'd expected from me.

  "Really?" he asked, turning the device so I could see the screen.

  Get a haircut, Malcolm.

  -Ted.

  Cass let out a loud snicker that echoed off the lab's stone walls.