TravelingDreamer
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B7—Chapter 6: When a Gate Throws a Curveball
🕑 Added 2025-08-21 15:39:51 +0000 UTCMahya and Al wanted another couple of days before we moved to the next Gate. She had some idea about how to open up the parts of the Magitech cleaning robot, but after two days, it led nowhere, and she walked around with storm clouds over her head, growling at everyone. She glared at me about the noise my mixer was making and barked at Rue when his tail brushed against her leg. Since the dungeons were closed and the monsters cleared, there was no good outlet for her mood. At one point, she even decided to test herself against the enormous bears in Tatob, and it took me and Al over an hour to talk her out of it. Just in case, he increased the concentration of the calming potion.
Al needed the time to replenish his supply of health and mana potions they used during the clear. Unfortunately, none of the dungeons this time had the carnivorous plants of the trap flower and creeping vine variety he needed for the alcohol enhancement potion, which only pissed Mahya off more. Her moods were a real “pleasure.” Al was also annoyed by this fact, at least as much as he was actually able to get annoyed past the stick lodged up his butt.
Rue was in the worst mood of all. After five intensive washes with every type of soap and shampoo I owned, he still shimmered in red and blue, the colors blending into a strange purple that sparkled in the sun like a walking disco ball.
“It matches your eyes,” Mahya offered, trying to cheer him up.
He stepped on her foot. Hard. Then stalked off, growling.
That damn glitter got everywhere, and the Clean spell refused to treat it as dirt. No matter how many times I cast Clean, Purify, or even Cleanse on the living room and kitchen, glitter still got into everything. We eventually accepted that if we sat on the couch or beanbags, our butts would sparkle. I even swapped out my couch for one we dragged out of the Lord of Lightning’s last chamber, but it made no difference. We still ended up with shiny behinds. When my omelets came out all festive and glittery, it took everything I had not to strangle her. I did growl at her for good measure, though. It wasn’t fair that only she got to growl at everybody. Strangely enough, that improved her mood immensely.
On the third day after the glitter attack, another hailstorm hit, but this one lasted only a single day. Our next Gate was two to three days away, and we kept our fingers crossed that another storm wouldn’t catch us on the way. Either way, Mahya already had plenty of practice storing the balloon while airborne, and we had the swords and Rue’s Skyrush. With all that in mind, we chose to take the risk rather than wait out the winter. One significant advantage of being in the center of the continent was the warmer weather and less frequent storms.
It took us about four weeks to visit the next five Gates, with some hailstorms and cleared dungeons on the way, but none of them were interesting. Not the Gates, and not the dungeons. Two were low mana and didn’t even have Marita’s crazy colors to make up for the boredom, so we just crossed them and moved on. One led to a medium-mana world, but it was in the middle of an enormous desert, with the nearest settlement weeks away, even by balloon. The other two were no-mana worlds without a tech level. One opened into a mountainous region with no towns or cities nearby, while the other was located near a capital. Despite the unpleasant feeling of being in a no-mana world, we did take a quick peek, but left fast.
The capital was relatively small, more like a medium-sized town. All the houses were wooden with thatched roofs, many of them blackened by smoke, and some plots stood empty with only burnt remains. Narrow dirt streets wound between them, thick with mud, refuse, and animals wandering freely, leaving their mess wherever they pleased. People wore rough wool or linen clothes, and looked and smelled as if the concepts of bath and laundry were only theoretical in this world. The stench of rot, dung, and unwashed bodies was so strong that all of us had tears in our eyes, and Rue kept sneezing and whining. In one street, a woman leaned out from a second-story window and emptied a chamber pot into the street. We had to use our agility to dodge the stink bomb. In my opinion, Invisibility was no excuse to attack us with filth. A few streets farther, we reached a small square with a platform where five men dangled from ropes. That was the last straw, piled on top of the awful stench. We flew back to the Gate and moved on.
The next Gate was unexpected.
Traveler’s Gate #568319950
Destination: Earth/Gaia/Terra
Status: Integrated
Mana level: Unstable
Threat level: Varies
I searched for my notebook and compared it to the information I copied from the first Gate I ever crossed.
Traveler’s Gate #468217258
Destination: Earth/Gaia/Terra
Status: Unintegrated
Mana level: 3
Technology level: Low
Threat level: Humans—moderate. Other beings—very high
By that time, Mahya and Al had also checked the Gate, and now they stood nearby, watching me with questioning expressions. Mahya crossed her arms, silent but expectant, while Al tapped on his leg, eyes fixed on me.
I was torn. On one hand, I wanted to take a peek and see what the situation was like. On the other hand, I knew that if it looked grim, I would beat myself up over it. After a few minutes of swinging between one choice and the other, I finally said, “Let’s take a look and check the situation, but that’s it. We’re not staying.”
“Even if they require help?” Al asked.
I nodded.
He tilted his head, studying me. “Are you certain you will be able to walk away?” he pressed.
I searched my feelings and sighed. He was right. “Let’s play it by ear. If the Gate is near a populated area and the people are in bad shape, we’ll help them. But we’re not traveling Earth again.”
Al gave me a strange look I couldn’t decipher.
“You think I’m a bastard?” I asked.
“No,” he replied evenly. “I think you are lying to yourself.”
I shook my head and slumped against the Gate anchor. “Let’s just skip it.”
“You will regret it if you do,” Al said evenly.
Mahya kicked his leg.
He whirled on her, eyes narrowing. “Do not attack me. If you do, I shall cease making you the potion or any other potion.”
She raised her hands in surrender, lips pressed tight, but didn’t say anything.
Al turned back to me, his expression expectant. “So?”
After another minute of thinking it over, I gave a slight nod. “Let’s check it out and see.”
The Gate opened at Muogamarra Nature Reserve, just north of Sydney. I flew up and looked toward the city. It was still standing.
When I landed, Mahya asked, “Are we going to the city?”
“Yeah. Let’s fly around a bit and see how they’re doing, then decide what to do next.”
On the way in, we passed three portals of doom, with monsters wandering nearby.
“We should clear them and take the cores,” Mahya said telepathically.
“No,” I sent back. “They belong to the locals.”
“John is correct. It would not be proper to strip them of their resources,” Al said.
Mahya clicked her tongue but didn’t argue further. We stayed invisible and kept flying toward the city.
Sydney looked different. I had never visited it myself, so I couldn’t judge from personal experience, but I had seen enough pictures and movies to spot the differences. Thankfully, it looked scarred but alive. The outer suburbs were in ruins, with wide stretches of collapsed houses and cracked streets. The concrete highway we flew over was split apart, and whole neighborhoods were overgrown with weeds and trees. Closer to the center, the shorter buildings still stood, though many were damaged and blackened, while the taller ones were nothing but hollow frames. Some monuments I recognized were in ruins. The Opera House had sections caved in and black scorch marks across its roof. The Harbour Bridge was broken in the middle, part of it dangling above the water, still held in place by metal bars. Along the coastline, entire blocks had fallen into the sea.
Inside the city, people filled the streets. Many moved with heads swiveling, fingers resting on sword hilts or rifle triggers as if an attack could come at any moment. Others carried spears or bows, and a good number wore armor of leather or steel. The markets were busy, with stalls lined along the streets and people trading food, tools, and scraps of metal or wood. Children ran between the adults while workers carried loads or dismantled wreckage for salvage. Despite the destruction in the outer areas, the inner districts looked organized, with people working steadily to keep things running. All the roads and streets leading into the city proper were blocked with overturned cars, and groups were hauling items out of buildings and piling them into supermarket carts.
Here and there, I saw magic use. A man lit a cooking fire with a spark from his hand. Another used water magic to fill buckets at a well. In the market, a woman shaped clay with a faint glow around her fingers, while a boy pushed a string of carts forward with bursts of wind. In a five-story parking building that had survived intact, every floor was filled with dirt and planted with rows of crops. People walked between them, tending the plants and casting spells.
All in all, it didn’t look that bad. Yes, there were scars, but they had emerged relatively unscathed. I didn’t know how many people had lived in Sydney in the past, but by my estimate, the current population was over three million.
“Are we landing or going back?” Mahya asked me.
“Back, but not crossing the Gate. Let’s find a place I can open the house without people running into it.”
I opened my house on a small forested island in the middle of the river, covered in dense trees and shrubs, with steep rocky sides that dropped into the water. There were no signs of people, no monsters, and no portals of doom.
“What’s the plan now?” Mahya asked. “Are we staying?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I just want to help them a bit.”
“How?” Al asked.
I thought for a few moments, rubbing my chin. “We have the books on simple, everyday runes and weapon runes. I want to translate them with explanations on how to use them.” I turned to Al. “Maybe you can spare some relatively simple or medium potion recipes? Also, Mahya, maybe some information about basic Magitech and woodworking?”
Al nodded immediately.
Mahya hummed under her breath, then gave a small nod.
“I can also give them a few sets of the building and fabric-handling spells from Lumis,” I added.
“We can hand out some of the single-use scrolls. We don’t need so many,” Mahya said.
“Yeah, good idea. Anything else?” I asked, glancing between them.
“Medical knowledge?” Al suggested.
I shook my head. “No. My knowledge is from Earth, so I can’t really add anything new.”
Mahya gave me the look. “Seriously? How about the knowledge of how to become a healer after the integration?”
I shrugged. “Based on the article about integration, they should have healing classes already. But if you think it might help, sure.”
That’s how we spent two weeks—translating and collecting other miscellaneous items. We didn’t see the point in giving them things we had bought on Earth, especially since, after the extended selling projects in the cultivator’s world and in Tatob, we were left mostly with items we could actually use. We did allocate more than half of the food we had in Storage, mainly from the Occurrence and the fields of Zindor. There was A LOT of food. Way too much. We also added some things from dungeons, like the flasks of endless cold water, the silver-tipped staff I got from Lumis, the last of the weapons from the trap dungeon, the simple Magitech blueprints from the best dungeon in the whole universe, and a few other odds and ends.
On our tenth day on Earth, a mana wave passed us. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what had happened. The mana in the air grew thicker, my breath caught, and my mana channels first felt like they were stretching, then creaking, until they became painful. I started to worry they might tear, but the pressure eased, and I was able to take a deep breath.
Once I understood what had happened, I immediately flew to the city to see how they were managing the situation. They were doing a good job. Groups stood on the overturned car barricades, shooting monsters with rifles, arrows, and magic. Mostly fire and ice. The monsters looked and moved like half-size black kangaroos that fired shards of stone. I circled the city twice, but the defenders seemed to be handling things without too much trouble, so I didn’t get involved. They needed the levels. The stone shards injured some people, but the groups had healers, most of them between levels 8 and 12. That was good news, and it significantly lowered my worry.
I didn’t know if the fact that the wave came only ten days after we arrived meant the integration was nearing its end, or if it was simply part of the regular wave schedule, and I had no idea where to find the answer.
When the monster wave ended, I flew back home. On the way, I spotted a new Portal of Doom in one of the northern suburbs. I didn’t mention it to Mahya, not wanting to trigger her dungeon core squirrel. Back at home, I continued translating a book about the various uses of dungeon materials.
My Storage now had two sections: one for giving and one for keeping. The give side was bigger than the keep, and that made me happy. Sure, it was nice to help people, but the main reason was knowing how much space I would free up once I made the delivery.
Once everything was ready, I flew to Sydney, landed in an alley away from prying eyes, turned visible, and went looking for the local government. The first three people I asked looked at me with suspicion and kept walking, but then I came across an elderly American lady sitting on a chair outside a building.
The moment she heard my accent, her lined face lit up. “You also got stuck here?” She leaned forward, squinting at me.
I sighed. “Yeah.”
She gave a sharp nod. “My husband and I got stuck when we came down for a trip from Dakota. Sydney, of all places.” She sniffed and folded her arms. Her lips pressed together before she added, quieter, “God bless his soul.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. Can you tell me where the local government is?”
She flicked her hand as if brushing the question away. “Oh, the council. They sit in the old Parliament House. Used to be the mayor and some senators, with some former police and army people thrown in, and now there are all those guilds in the mix. Idiots. Think they’re important with all those names.”
“What guilds?” I asked.
“Adventurers Guild and the Hunters Guild.” Her mouth pulled tight. “Full of foreigners. Japs, Chinks, whatever they call themselves now. Couldn’t agree on anything, so they made two guilds doing the exact same thing.” She spat on the ground.
I nodded politely. “And the other guilds?”
She gave a loud sniff. “Crafters, Healers, the Mages Guild, and then there’s that Druids Guild.” Her eyes rolled upward. “Stupid name. None of them are druids; they’re just farmers. Can’t even grow a proper crop half the time.”
“I did see them casting spells,” I said.
Her frown deepened. “Well, yes, they can do a bit of magic, but the name’s still stupid.” She struck her cane against the ground. “Farmers playing dress-up, nothing more.”
I shifted my weight forward. “So the council is in Parliament House, with all those guild representatives?”
She nodded and leaned closer. “Got three kids back home and seven grandkids, you know? I pray my daughter saved my cat. Sweet thing, that cat. Better company than half the people here.” She jabbed a finger at me. “Not like these folks. Useless.”
I set a hand on her shoulder. “Right. Thank you for the directions.” Since she had helped me, I cast a couple of Healing Touch and Fortify Life Force as payment.
But she wasn’t finished. “I’m on a pension, you know. They ought to provide for me instead of demanding I work. I did my share already. Raised kids, worked the farm, kept a house. What more do they want?” Her cane struck the ground again.
I stepped back, nodding, but her voice followed me as I turned. “Young folks don’t respect their elders. With all these guilds and councils, you’d think someone would look after an old lady. But no, it’s always do this, do that. No gratitude, none.”
By the time she was still complaining behind me, I had already slipped into the crowd.
It took me a while to find the Parliament House. From the outside, it looked mostly intact, though one corner of the roof had collapsed, and several windows were patched with mismatched boards. Cracks ran through parts of the stone, and vines crept up the left side of the building. Inside, the vast hall bustled with people moving in every direction, papers in their hands, voices raised in hurried discussions. Most of them looked too busy to notice me, and the ones who did gave me quick, suspicious glances before going back to their business.
I approached the first desk I saw, where a man in a patched suit sat behind a stack of folders. “I need to speak with whoever’s in charge,” I said.
He barely looked up. “That’d be the council, mate. They’re busy. Take a number.”
“I don’t have time for a number. I have something important to give them.”
He frowned, but waved me along toward another desk. At the next station, a woman shook her head before I even opened my mouth. “Council won’t see just anyone. What’re you after?”
“I said it’s important. For the city.”
She narrowed her eyes, then jerked her chin toward a side hall. “Go see the guard. If he knocks you back, that’s your problem.”
I followed her directions and ended up facing a guard in battered army fatigues, rifle slung over his shoulder. He raised the barrel slightly when I got too close. “State your business.”
“I need to speak with the council. I have something to give them that could help.”
“You all say that,” he muttered. After a long pause, he jerked the gun toward the corridor. “Fine. One of the reps’ll see you. Don’t waste his time.”
He led me through a pair of tall doors into a smaller chamber. A middle-aged man sat at a table covered in folders and loose sheets. He glanced up, tired eyes narrowing as he set his mug of tea aside. “Right. What d’you want, and why’re you barging in on my people while they’re workin’?” His fingers drummed against the papers in front of him.
“I have some things I wanted to give to the city to help,” I said.
His brows pulled together. “Why? What’s in it for you, mate?” He leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest.
“Nothing. I just want to help.”
He gave a short, disbelieving snort. “Yeah? What kind of things then?”
“Food, spells, magical items, and information.”
“Where’d you get ’em?” he asked, his eyes narrowing again.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He slapped the table lightly with his palm. “Then just hand ’em over.”
“No. I prefer to give them with a few council people present. Also, I need a much bigger space.”
He tilted his head, squinting at me as if deciding whether to throw me out or humour me. His boot tapped against the floor. It took some time to convince him, but in the end, he gave me an address to go to that evening. It was in the industrial part of the city, out in Smithfield, and it took me a while to find it. Not many street signs had survived the integration.
Maybe they used them as weapons?
A group of six people waited for me, and this time they introduced themselves. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a clipped accent spoke first. “Graham Connors, Adventurers Guild.” He gave a sharp nod, his hand resting on the hilt of a short sword at his hip.
Next was a wiry woman in patched fatigues, her hair pulled tight under a faded cap. “Sergeant Helen Marks, former army. I represent the security forces.” Her eyes lingered on me as if she was still trying to work out whether I was a threat.
An older man in a worn but carefully pressed old-style suit adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Professor Alan Reed, Mages Guild.”
A middle-aged woman with dirt under her fingernails gave me a firm nod. “Marjorie Walsh, Druids Guild.”
A heavyset man with a broad chest and a stained apron. He smelled faintly of smoke and hot metal. “Darren O’Leary, Crafters Guild.” His tone was flat, businesslike, his arms crossed over his chest.
Last came the same person I had spoken to in Parliament House. “Senator Malcolm Kerrigan.”
I introduced myself as Mark Harris, just in case, and had already changed my profile name and visible status to Merchant beforehand. Then I began taking things out of my Storage. First came the food. Their eyes widened as crates and sacks piled up on the floor. They leaned forward, mouths slightly open, not one of them saying a word.
Next were the magical items. Weapons clattered as I laid them down one by one. Spells, scrolls, and books followed, each with a short explanation of what they contained. By the time I was finished, the five of them were swaying on their feet, their faces pale with shock and their eyes glazed.
“Where’d you get all this lot?” the senator asked me again.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, turning to leave.
The adventurer snapped out of it and hurried after me. For a moment, I thought he was about to attack, but instead, he put his big hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Cheers, Doc Rue.”
I froze.
He gave me a pat on the back and kept his voice low. “Don’t stress. I won’t say a word. Just wanted to thank you for the warning. Saved a lot of lives.” He glanced back at the warehouse piled with supplies. “And for all this, too.”
I gave him a slight nod and picked up my pace to get the hell out of there.
Comments
Angela Roberts
Totally busted! But, he needed to know he helped. That will help his feelings of guilt.
TravelingDreamer
No, just logic. White hair, purple eyes, American, has unexplained things …
Zarek21
Another gate traveler perhaps? Or maybe he has some skip that lets him see hidden info….
TravelingDreamer
In this case, it was more a "busted" situation.
Danielle Warvel
John does NOT handle gratitude well, the sweet cinnamon roll.
