The train was both interesting and ridiculously expensive. Just getting to the next outpost set each of us back five mithril coins. Prices in this world were just... insane. I mean, who charges that much for public transport?

From the outside, the train looked like a string of silver beer cans, each about four meters long and two wide, linked by narrow bridges. But the moment we stepped inside our assigned "can," I stopped short. Then I remembered where we were and just sighed. Of course, it was another dungeon dimension. At this point, I was starting to expect it.

The interior was completely different. Spacious, polished, and clearly designed to make a lasting impression. What should’ve been a cramped metal capsule stretched into a roomy lounge, easily fifty meters long and thirty wide. Thick red carpets covered the floor, and cozy armchairs stood around low round tables like we were in some upscale hotel lobby. A long bar stretched along the left wall with very professional-looking bartenders. Servers in black and red uniforms moved between the tables, offering drinks like it was just another evening at a fancy resort.

One server approached us and stopped beside our table with a polite smile. “Would you care for something to drink?”

I held up a hand before anyone answered. “Can I cross over to the next car?” I asked, jerking my thumb toward the narrow bridge connecting our cabin to the next.

He blinked, caught off guard. “Is there a problem with this one?”

“No,” I said, shrugging. “Just curious.”

Mahia raised an eyebrow. “You want to delay ordering for that?”

I waved at her. “No, go ahead.”

Al glanced at me. “Why?”

I spread my hands and didn’t bother trying to explain. I was just curious, plain and simple. No real reason, just that itch to see what was on the other side.

The waiter gave a half-smile. “You may cross, but please be careful on the bridge.”

"Bring us a bottle of dry red wine. Local, if it’s decent," Mahya said.

Rue perked up from his spot on the floor. “Rue want beer. Big one.”

I added the beer to the order, and the waiter jotted that down with a nod and moved on.

I looked at Mahia. “Just so you know, I’m not getting drunk again.”

She didn’t even glance at me. “That’s why I ordered wine and not something stronger.”

“Fine,” I said and got up to investigate.

The bridge between compartments looked a lot narrower up close, barely a meter wide and maybe two meters long, and it was completely exposed. From the outside, the train had looked like a sleek chain of metal capsules cutting through the landscape like a silver arrow, but standing on that bridge was something else.

The moment I stepped onto it, wind slammed into my face, tugging at my clothes and hair. I grabbed the side rails and squinted ahead. That was when I really felt the speed. We were flying, literally and figuratively. Below, the carved stone channel blurred past, and for the first time, I noticed glowing runes lighting up along the track as we passed over them, pulsing with mana like synchronized fireflies.

Hmm. Interesting.

We’d walked this same stone channel when we first arrived. Then, it was smooth, empty, and dull. No runes were visible at all. Apparently, they only activated when the train passed. Mana efficiency or safety feature? Hard to say, but definitely fascinating.

I stepped into the next compartment and paused. It was almost an exact copy of the one I’d left. Same plush carpets, same lounge-style seating, same tables and lighting. But it didn’t feel the same. There was a shift—subtle, but unmistakable. A difference in the mana in the air. Not stronger or weaker. Just... different. Not in flavor, exactly. Flavor didn’t quite describe it. More like personality. Like walking into someone else's living room after spending an hour in your own.

That’s when it hit me. Of course, the cores felt different. A different dungeon core must power each compartment. And since every core has a dungeon master, it made sense that the mana would carry a bit of their... well, personality. It wasn’t something I could describe properly—there was no specific wording for it—but my mana sense was picking up on it loud and clear. I’d never really thought about how much of a person might rub off on a core, but this train was making it obvious.

Still, it raised a question: why not use just one core for the entire train? Did they have a surplus of dungeon cores lying around with nothing better to do? It seemed inefficient. Overcomplicated. Or maybe the compartments were too separate, so they needed individual cores to function. I didn’t have an answer. Just one more mystery to file away for later. That pile was getting tall again.

I headed back to our compartment and filled Mahia in on what I’d found: rune-lit channel, separate cores, the whole mana personality thing.

She nodded. “Fascinating,” she said, without looking up from her wine glass and sounding bored.

And that was that.

We spent the next two hours sipping wine while Rue snored softly at our feet. Mahia mentioned the next outpost wasn’t far, but considering we’d been speeding through the landscape for over two hours straight, I was starting to question what far even meant here.

I opened the world Map again. Four continents. We were on the biggest one. I found our previous outpost, then the one we were headed toward. Sure enough, they were practically neighbors—at least on the Map. But if a short trip took two and a half hours at this speed, then this world had to be massive.

After a few calculations and considerable guesswork, I arrived at a rough estimate that this world was approximately three times the size of Earth.

Now that was impressive.

The outpost we arrived at looked a lot like the one we’d just left. The last one had been number seven; this was number five. Both had the same architectural style, but this one had a completely different layout and feel from the one we left behind.

The buildings here were broader and sturdier, made of dark stone with teal-blue domes capping most of the rooftops. The design used a lot of stacked circular and polygonal layers, each one clearly serving a purpose, with walkways, balconies, windows, and entry points set at regular spots. And of course, there were those tall needle spires in the distance.e.

Arched doorways and columned halls were common. Trees along the open walkways provided some shade and a touch of greenery in the otherwise sandy environment. The color palette was darker, more grounded. Deep browns, matte golds, and oxidized copper greens.

The people here moved at a slower pace. Small groups gathered in courtyards, and I saw several shaded markets and sitting areas that looked like they were designed for daily use. And of course, tricycles and lizard riders.

There were still no signs or symbols to identify the buildings, but their structure gave some clues, with wide doors, ramps, and gathering areas. I could at least guess which ones were meant for the public. Whatever its purpose, this outpost felt more organized and lived-in.

We stood just outside the train station, the warm wind kicking up sand around our boots.

"Why did we come here and not to number six in the east?" I asked, squinting at the skyline.

"Three reasons," Mahya said, brushing a braid behind her ear. "First of all, there's a dungeon here that interests Al. Second, this outpost has a main branch of the Magitech Guild, not a tiny outpost branch like in Seven. And third, there's a working teleporter here that connects directly to the capital."

I turned to Al. "What dungeon?"

"Officially, it is called The Sanctuary of the Forest Lord. But most refer to it as the Alchemists' Paradise. I want to see why."

This time, we didn’t bother staying at a hotel in the main part of the city. Instead, we tracked down the local adventurers’ hub and went there straight from the train station. It wasn’t nearly as sprawling as the massive one I’d seen before, but it still had the same feel of a city inside a city. The difference was mostly scale. The streets were a little narrower, the crowds a little thinner, and the whole place maybe a third smaller. Tricycles still rattled past, and riding lizards were everywhere, their handlers steering them through the flow of people. Armor was on full display here too, though there seemed to be fewer of the more exotic sets.

We found an inn tucked between a row of shops that looked good enough. It wasn’t as fancy as the Plucky Spearman, but it had clean rooms, thick walls, and food that smelled hearty from the street. For our purposes, that was more than enough.

For the next two days, we all did our own thing.

Mahya disappeared in search of the Magitech Guild. Al headed off to register us for the dungeon. Rue, naturally, decided the inn was the best thing ever and made fast friends with the workers and half the guests. I overheard someone call him the “floofy prince” before he flopped onto his side and started begging for snacks. He didn’t deny it.

Me? I went sightseeing.

It took a bit of walking and a few wrong turns, but eventually I found the city’s main commercial center. I was expecting something like the endless mall in Outpost Seven. A long corridor that just kept going. This place was laid out differently.

Instead of one giant hallway, the mall was arranged like a necklace made of rings, each loop connected to the next, growing wider as it extended outward, every circle lined with shops and activity. At the center of each ring was a large, artificial pool filled with clear water. Floating on the surface were dozens of pedal boats shaped like fish, painted bright colors with oversized fins and blinking lights for eyes.

Kids rode the fish-shaped boats, some drifting in lazy loops, others zigzagging like they were racing for a prize. A few bumped into each other, but no one seemed to care. Laughter, squeals, and the occasional shout from boat to boat followed every splash. It wasn’t just kids either. Several adults were out there as well. Some paddled with far too much enthusiasm, like it counted as cardio, while others drifted along slowly, clearly enjoying the ride even without kids in tow.

The air smelled like fried dough and cinnamon. Around the pools, the shops were laid out in tidy, thematic rows. Dozens of tightly packed food stalls filled the first ring, each emitting its own unique blend of spice, heat, or sugar. I saw everything from deep-fried tubes stuffed with something purple, to dumplings floating in glowing broth, to skewers of things I didn’t recognize. Some of it looked incredible. Some of it looked like it might try to crawl off the plate.

The following rings were categorized. One was dedicated to clothing, mostly light fabrics and desert-ready gear, though I did see a couple of shops selling more formal wear with gold thread and polished mana stones sewn into the sleeves. Another ring focused on tools, both regular and magical. Then household enchantments, small automation charms, furniture, spell-assisted cooking gear. That sort of thing. The outermost rings were less busy, and judging by the prices, probably catered to professionals and bulk buyers.

Eventually, I found the magic section and did a few laps. Spell scrolls. Spell marbles. Mana-infused trinkets.

Most of the scrolls were the same I could buy from the system: Clean, Mend, Light, and the occasional niche thing like Dry Cloth or Repel Vermin. The marbles were more interesting. One was keyed to trigger a shield the moment its holder took a hit strong enough to break a mana barrier. Another combined water and ice spells—freezing only if the target was already wet. I even found one that delayed a lightning arc until the caster moved more than three meters from where it was launched, like some kind of mana landmine.

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There were enchanted accessories, too. Rings to boost mana regeneration, amulets that pulsed with low-tier shielding wards, and brooches embedded with single-use charms like Invisibility for Ten Minutes or Emergency Featherfall.

A few vendors had “rare” items behind reinforced glass, each displayed on black velvet beneath dramatic lighting. A dagger that disrupted illusions. A wand of True Spark—whatever that meant. A cloak that shimmered faintly and claimed to “resist scrying under non-ritual conditions.”

The only mildly interesting item I saw was a silver ring inlaid with soft blue opal. The tag read:

"Sleep Storage,

Absorbs sleep during naps or rest periods and releases stored energy during periods of fatigue.

Warning: Side effects may include dream confusion or brief disorientation.”

I stared at it for a solid minute. A nap battery. That was new.

I browsed for a while but didn’t buy anything. A few vendors looked disappointed when I walked away. One guy launched into a three-minute monologue about the “ancient sealing technique” used on his marbles, and when I didn’t bite, he glared at me like I’d insulted him.

Whatever. If I bought something every time someone frowned at me, I’d need to double my Storage.

At some point during my wandering in the city, five ugly guys tried to intimidate me and demanded money. They stepped out of an alley as I turned the corner. Dirty clothes, crooked teeth, and the kind of swagger that relied more on numbers than actual threat. One of them cracked his knuckles. Another smiled, as if he thought it made him look intimidating. It didn’t.

“Hand over whatever’s in your pockets,” the tallest one said, stepping closer. “And don’t be stupid about it.”

I sighed, glanced at the street behind me, then raised my hand just enough to be visible. A small arc of lightning danced across my palm, snapping and hissing with mana. No words. Just the sound of electricity and the smell of singed ozone.

They froze.

Then bolted.

I didn’t even have to move. One of them tripped over his own foot trying to get away.

They ran away even faster than Mahya in a dungeon.

On day three, we sat around a low stone table at the inn’s courtyard, picking at plates of flatbread, eggs, and something that looked like fried moss but actually tasted pretty good.

“I registered us for the dungeon,” Al said between bites, wiping his fingers on a napkin that was too fancy for this place.

Mahya didn’t look up from her cup. “I’m not coming.”

I paused mid-chew. “Seriously?”

She nodded once, still not meeting my eyes. “I’ve got work at the guild.”

“What kind of work?”

She finally looked up, expression blank. “Guild work.”

I waited, but that was apparently all I was going to get.

Al and I looked at each other and shrugged in unison.

The bureaucracy at the dungeon was just as bad as the last one and ate up most of the day. By the time we were finally done, I walked back to the hotel in silence, still shaking my head. I didn’t even have the energy to complain. Just mute, exhausted disbelief.

The following day, Al and I headed to the dungeon. Mahya still refused to come, and when Rue heard it was all plants and plant monsters, he decided to stay at the inn and focus on perfecting his mooching skills instead.

We entered the dungeon mid-morning, both of us in a decent mood and full of optimism.

The dungeon access wasn’t embedded in a giant tree this time. This one was much more... institutional. Built into the dungeon’s hub itself, the entrance sat at the end of a well-marked corridor with clean, polished stone walls and glowing mana-lights spaced evenly along the ceiling.

We followed the signs down two flights of stairs into a wide, circular chamber, easily thirty meters across. It was quiet, lit by a faint greenish mana glow that felt just unnatural enough to be unsettling. Five healing stations were spaced evenly around the room.

At the center stood the dungeon’s portal: a smooth, circular slab of grey stone, sunken slightly into the floor. A low platform was carved into the anchor stone on one side, with a simple staircase leading to the portal of doom.

Two guards flanked the platform, both in light armor etched with the guild crest. Off to the side, a clerk sat behind a narrow counter, surrounded by paper and a humming crystal reader. He didn’t look up when we approached.

I handed over our key token. The reader pulsed. The clerk grunted. “Clear. Step on the platform.”

We climbed the stairs. Al held his sword and shield, and I held my sword. The minute we crossed inside, the flavor text covered my vision.

🌿 THE SANCTUARY OF THE FOREST LORD 🌿

As spoken in rootscript, grown into memorywood, and passed from seed to sprout by the Eternal Bough.

Before cities rose and spires pierced the skies, there was forest. Endless, unbroken, sovereign. And at its heart, a guardian not born, but grown. The Forest Lord, old as seasons, patient as stone. He ruled not by force, but by presence. His law was balance. His voice was wind in the canopy.

When people came, they promised respect. They asked for sap, not blood. Leaves, not roots. But their knives were sharp, and their hunger deeper than their words. They harvested, cut, and collected. And the forest watched.

Now it remembers.

The Sanctuary is no longer passive. Its vines seek judgment. Its blooms blind. Its roots twist against those who walk with greed in their hearts. The Forest Lord does not roar. He does not chase. He waits. And he grows.

You will not be met by armies. You will not face fire or steel. You will face growth; tangled, knowing, and unrelenting.

Yet within this green trial lie unmatched rewards. Beneath every thorn, a cure. Within every sting, potential. For those who prove worthy, the forest yields secrets no man has earned—potions unbrewed, herbs unnamed, clarity untouched by spell or scroll.

Step lightly, O seeker. For here, strength means nothing. Only your roots will be tested.

🌱 Grow, or be reclaimed. 🌱

The first section wasn’t too bad. The air inside was warm and earthy, filled with the smell of damp soil and crushed herbs. Sunlight filtered in through thick canopies overhead, even though we were definitely underground. Dungeon logic. I was starting to question it less and less.

We’d barely made it a hundred meters in when the undergrowth came to life.

Thorn-covered bushes lunged toward us with surprising speed, their branches whipping us and their roots propelling them forward faster than expected.

“Charming,” I muttered, dodging left as one tried to slap my face off.

Al raised his shield and spun, cutting clean through a bramble. I jumped over a crawling root, drew both blades, and sliced into the vines trying to sneak up from behind. They twitched, recoiled, and then came back for more.

Al flicked his fingers and shot a Blazing Orb.

A fiery sphere launched from his hand and collided with the nearest bush. The impact didn’t kill it, but it did make it very, very unhappy. It screeched—because, of course, a bush could screech—and caught fire, thrashing until it collapsed into ash.

I cast Verdant Grasp just to see if the plants would respond to nature magic. They didn't. Instead, a particularly large bush took offense and tried to peel my shin like an apple.

After a bit of creative slicing and zapping, we cleared the area.

Al crouched near a cluster of flowers and started picking through them. “These are useful,” he said, already separating herbs into small packets. “Excellent potion ingredients.

“Great,” I said, flicking a thorn off my boot, and settling for a long wait.

The next section didn’t go as well.

The trees here were taller and broader, leaning in closer with a thick canopy overhead, blotting out the light until it felt like we’d stepped into a house built from trees. The air was heavy, humid, and cloyingly sweet. It smelled like rotting fruit mixed with overripe syrup and something faintly chemical. My skin itched just breathing it in.

The undergrowth exploded.

Vine-covered figures erupted from the moss in waves. Not bushes this time. These things stood upright, vaguely humanoid in form. Thick bark plated their bodies like natural armor, and their faces—if you could call them that—were half-knot, half-hollow, with holes where the eyes usually go. Roots wrapped around their feet like anchors. Their arms were long, tangled limbs ending in twisted thorns. And there were a lot of them. At least thirty. Maybe more.

I tried to pull the water from the plants nearest me. Nothing. The moisture shifted, danced around them, but they didn’t dry out or even seem to notice. Whatever magic bound them, it wasn’t normal plant life.

Al lunged forward and threw his shield. It sliced clean through the first creature, then clipped another before whipping back to his arm in a tight arc. Both pieces of the first one twitched... then knit back together, bark fusing with a hiss.

I cast Lightning. A sharp arc slammed into one of the creatures. It flinched—barely—and kept coming. Twin swords out, I dashed in low and cut across its legs. Thick black sap oozed out, smoking as it hit the ground. I had to jump away to avoid the acid.

Al raised both hands. Two Blazing Orbs

shot forward and exploded on impact, engulfing two of them in flames. They staggered, burning... then layers of bark that folded over the damage like natural armor smothered the flames. He cast another, then a third. Same result.

I fired off a Wind Blade, cleaving a vine in two. It dropped ... and grew back before it hit the ground. I had to dodge a clawed swing. It grazed my side anyway, broke my mana shield from that one hit, tearing fabric and drawing blood. I hissed, sidestepped, and lashed out with a horizontal slash, but the creature just absorbed it, bark splintering and regrowing in the same breath.

Al cast something, and a blast of freezing mist swirled into the group, coating bark and root in frost. For one second, they slowed, but then the frost shattered like glass, and the creatures surged forward, faster than before.

A thick branch slammed into Al’s side. He went flying, hit a tree, and didn’t get up right away.

I sprinted toward him, slicing through vines on the way, and cast Ranged Heal mid-run. He rolled upright and blocked another blow with his shield, but he was limping. His left leg wasn’t right.

I ducked just in time as a whip of thorns cracked overhead. It still clipped my shoulder. Blood soaked through the sleeve in seconds.

I tried Lightning. It blackened the bark but didn’t stop the thing charging me. I followed up with Red Lightning. The creature grounded it like before, but this time, a few small scorch marks appeared. Unfortunately, it immediately covered them with fresh bark, smothering the flames before they could spread.

Another Blazing Orb flew past me from Al’s side, lighting up the clearing for a moment like a furnace. Three creatures staggered. The others didn’t even break stride.

I threw up a Protective Shield, and the next strike bounced off it, but rattled my bones like I'd been hit with a log, and drained 3,000 mana from one hit.

“This is not working,” Al growled, appearing beside me, blood trickling down his temple.

“No kidding,” I said, casting Wind Blades in a wide arc, one after the other. It carved through several vines, and I followed it with more lightning, but the creatures were already closing in.

One of them rammed a root through Al’s thigh. He screamed, yanked it out, and slammed his shield into the creature’s face. I pulled him back, launching Blazing Orbs one after another while casting Healing Touch with my other hand.

We managed to gain some distance, and I cast two twisters. The twisters formed properly, swirling with force just like they always did, but they didn’t help much. The vine creatures had anchored themselves into the ground with thick, tangled roots that kept them firmly in place. Only two were lifted into the air, spinning wildly for a moment, but the others reached out and caught them mid-spin, dragging them back down like it was nothing. In response, the whole group surged forward, their speed suddenly increasing again, as if punishing us for trying.

At this point, Al gave up on the sword altogether. He kept the shield raised in one hand, blocking blow after blow, while casting spells with the other—Blazing Orbs, Wind Blades, Stone Darts—each one launched in quick succession, but none of them made a difference. I reached out to Fire, trying to push the flames harder, to make them burn hotter, stronger, but she had nothing to hold on to. The moment a Blazing Orb struck one of the creatures, flames erupted on contact, only for fresh bark to grow over the burn almost instantly, sealing it off like it had never been hit at all.

I tried to fly up, hoping to get a better angle and help Al from the air. Big mistake.

The trees had interwoven their branches into a dense, living net, and apparently decided I was a tennis ball. The moment I rose above shoulder height, branch after branch struck me in rapid succession, knocking me from one side of the canopy to the other like I’d triggered some kind of arboreal slap trap. I lost count after the fifth hit. By the sixth, I was falling fast, vision spinning.

I hit the ground hard. Everything hurt. Concussed and disoriented, I tried to push myself up, only to realize my legs weren’t responding. A glance down confirmed the worst. Both legs were broken. So were my arms. And judging by the pain in my chest, at least a few ribs had joined the party.

I gritted my teeth and split my mind into three.

One thread latched onto the wind, lifting me off the ground high enough to escape the crawling vine creatures, but not high enough to tempt the trees into a second round.

The other two threads focused on healing. I cast Healing Touch and Heal Bone in an alternating rhythm, focusing first on stabilizing the damage and then knitting the bones back together enough to stand.

It took longer than I liked. By the time I was in decent enough shape to move, Al was in bad shape. Really bad. His armor was in tatters, barely holding together, and blood covered too many parts of him. I couldn’t tell where one wound ended and another began. He was still fighting, barely, using his shield more as a wall than a weapon.

I flew to him as fast as I could, one hand outstretched to grab him, the other still casting Healing Touch on myself to stay functional. I dragged him back, his body half hovering, half scraping along the ground, while I cast one healing spell on him after another.

"We need to go,” I said.

He didn’t argue.

Al hurled his shield high—this time not aiming to hit, just to draw attention—and we turned and ran. Or, well, hovered more than ran. Vines whipped past us. One wrapped around my ankle, trying to drag me back. I cut it with a blind slash and kept going.

We dodged, sliced, burned, and bled on our way to the exit. The vine creatures and some of the walking trees followed us to the cleared section. Thankfully, not the whole group, but still a significant number.

Another Blazing Orb lit up behind us, slowing them for a second. I cast one, too. Anything to clear the path. Branches swung at our backs. Roots tore up the ground beneath our feet.

We broke through the last line of creatures and shot for the entrance.

I collapsed just outside the entrance, gasping for breath. Blood smeared my side and arm, and my legs felt like they’d been chewed on. Al dropped beside me, pale, in tatters, and a long gash running down his thigh.

“Well,” I wheezed, propping myself up just enough to see what part of Al was still attached. One hand kept casting healing spells over his shredded form, the other wiped sap and blood from my face. “I can see why alchemists like the place. Plenty of ingredients. Shame you have to almost die to get them.”

Al gave a dry, pained chuckle and winced as his shoulder cracked back into place. “I do not think Mahya could help in this situation. We might need stronger spells.”

I flopped onto my back, limbs aching, ribs grinding, and stared up at the mana-lit ceiling. “Or a flamethrower.”

Footsteps approached, slow and cautious. An attendant leaned over us, frowning. “Do you need healing?”

“No, I’m a Healer,” I said, not even looking at him.

He blinked. “But you’re a Wizard.”

“I’m a healing wizard.”

He made a noise that was somewhere between a huff and a snort, gave me a withering look, then shrugged and walked off without another word.

We stayed there a while, just lying on the floor, wheezing, and healing.

Well, there’s a first time for everything.