In the morning, we made our way to the teleporter. I was genuinely excited; this was going to be my first time teleporting, and I had no idea what to expect. The building was situated quite far out into the desert, likely to avoid interference or, perhaps, for safety reasons, or both. I didn’t really know, and no one bothered to explain it to me.

To get there, we hopped onto one of the local tricycle cabs. These things were everywhere: compact electric tricycles with an attached trailer that seated six people comfortably, while still leaving room for luggage. Rue fit, barely, curling into the luggage section like a massive loaf with legs.

The real mystery was how this tiny vehicle managed to haul all that weight at breakneck speed. I’d seen one pull a massive container full of sand, so I already knew logic wasn’t invited to this party. But still. Fifty kilometers an hour on what looked like a souped-up delivery bike from Earth? It made absolutely no sense. Whatever rules governed physics here, they clearly hadn’t read the manual.

Mahya sat next to me, squinting at the trike’s frame like she was mentally disassembling it on the spot. Her eyebrows kept twitching, always a sign she was plotting. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was already trying to figure out how to get her hands on one. Unfortunately for her, and me too, we hadn’t seen any for sale. Not a single one. Well, we saw parts for sale, but not a complete working unit.

The trailer had some kind of wind-shield around it. I couldn’t see it, exactly, but I could feel it—air moving in a constant, controlled flow just beyond the surface. It wasn't a full-blown wind shield like on the carriages we rode to the crab vacation, more like a thin layer of moving air, just enough to protect us from the sand. I tried reaching out to it, just in case, but got nothing back. No presence. Just the sense of motion holding the sand at bay.

Still, it worked. The air wrapped around the trailer like a second skin, deflecting the constant stream of blowing sand and keeping it out of our faces. It was practical. And a clear reminder that I really needed to work on my wind affinity.

I’d seen Rue exhale with force strong enough to knock enemies off their feet. Pure wind channeled through breath. And here was a similar concept, turned into a constant protective field. I needed to figure out how to shape wind like that, not just blast it. I pulled out my notebook, flipped past some sketches and half-formed ideas, and scribbled down a reminder: Work on wind manipulation. Ask Rue about the breath trick. Figure out a shield version. Then I underlined it. Twice.

The teleporter building stood at the edge of the desert. It had the same sandy color as everything else, probably built by the sand wizard or someone like him. The walls were made of sandstone, shaped as if someone had stacked domes and towers on top of each other until they either grew tired or ran out of material. The result was a tall, complicated structure with its highest spire rising above everything else and visible from every corner of the outpost.

I scanned the outer walls with my mana sense. As expected, the base material was sand, no surprise there, but it was mixed with that same strange potion blend I’d seen before. The one the wizard who taught me refused to talk about, probably out of spite. Either way, it was clear that the building had been constructed in the same manner. Might even be the work of the same paranoid idiot.

I turned to Al as we stood near the base of the building, the heat radiating off the stone in waves. “Did you figure out the potion they’re using for buildings?”

He folded his arms, eyes scanning the walls. “Yes. It is a potion designed to harden the sand into stone and enhance mana conductivity. Unfortunately, I was unable to procure a recipe, and thus far, I have not found anything in the books.”

“Bummer,” I said, squinting up at the spire.

Al gave a slow nod and let out a resigned sigh. “Indeed.”

Inside, it looked like the bureaucratic hubs of dungeons. Same style, same counters with little signs hanging above them, but with one major difference. Behind each counter stood a circular platform, about twelve to fifteen meters across, ringed by eight evenly spaced arches. Each arch rose around three meters tall, made of the same dark metal as the platform, but engraved with runes and swirls of magic script that glowed, making it impossible to actually see the runes or the script.

The platform itself pulsed with light. Embedded around its edge were mana crystals, each one etched with intricate runes and glowing in shades of blue and white. The entire structure radiated mana so strongly that the air felt charged, like standing in the middle of a lightning storm. I got goosebumps instantly. My arms itched, my scalp prickled, and I couldn’t stop fidgeting, like my whole body was reacting to the overload.

“You have ants in your pants or something?” Mahya asked, glancing sideways at me.

I scratched my forearm and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “No. Too much mana in the air. It’s uncomfortable.”

She and Al gave me a look. Not the good kind. The kind locals usually give Travelers when they say something weird but technically not wrong.

“What?” I asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” Mahya said, a little too quickly, then turned her attention back to the arches.

Al shook his head with a quiet sigh, folding his hands behind his back.

Thankfully, the counter for the capital was the one right at the front. No need to walk any deeper into that mana soup. I still felt itchy all over, like I'd rolled around in static, and couldn't stop rubbing my arms.

We approached the counter. The official behind the desk wore deep blue, flowing clothes and looked as if she had been sitting there for hours, her expression blank as her fingers tapped the edge of a glowing slate. She glanced up when we stepped forward.

“Three passengers and one animal,” she said flatly. “That’ll be twenty-five mithril.”

My brain stalled. “Twenty-five?”

She didn’t even blink. “Five per person. Ten for the animal.”

“Familiar,” I said, but she was already looking past me, clearly done with the conversation.

Mahya was the first to pull out the money, her expression unreadable. Al followed, carefully counting the coins. I took my time, jaw tight, scraping my teeth in irritation as I handed over my share, which was triple thanks to my furry companion. The prices in this world were way too crazy for my taste.

When we stepped onto the platform, the itching grew worse. It took real effort to stay still, my whole body twitching as if it had a mind of its own. Every muscle felt restless, jerking in little ticks that refused to stop, no matter how hard I clenched or stretched. My eyes jumped in sharp, uncontrollable twitches, and my arms and legs throbbed to some strange rhythm, like synapses firing out of sync. Sweat prickled along my back, making my shirt cling, but moving only made it worse. This wasn’t the usual tightness or pressure I had felt before. This was something else entirely. It felt like a million ants were crawling just under my skin, swarming through every channel, buzzing, wriggling, and biting at once.

I glanced at Al and Mahya. They looked completely unbothered, standing calmly like they were waiting for a bus. Rue, on the other hand, kept shifting his weight and flicking his ears, tail thumping the floor in agitated little bursts. At least I wasn’t the only one ready to crawl out of my skin.

The mana level kept rising, thicker and heavier with each second, and then it hit all at once. My knees nearly buckled as a wave of raw energy crashed into my channels. This time, it wasn’t just itching; it was a full-blown overload that made my channels creek and groan. My vision swam, and the static inside me flared so sharply I almost blacked out.

Less than a second later, it was over.

We were standing somewhere else. The platform beneath us was identical in shape, with the same runes and magic script etched into the stone, but the building around us was much larger. The teleportation had been almost instant, hardly enough time to register the shift before we were already there.

I swayed on my feet, trying to shake off the lingering overload, but didn’t get the chance to really focus on it. Something else pulled my attention, something I’d felt the moment the platform activated. It was familiar. Not a mana flavor, not exactly. But I knew it. The sensation had brushed against my awareness for the briefest moment, then vanished. I knew it, and knew it well, but couldn't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it was space affinity? I didn’t have it, but whatever it was, I recognized it. I stood there, trying hard to feel it again, searching for any trace. But it was gone.

We left the building and stepped out onto a hill overlooking the city and the wide river below. My mouth hung open, eyes wide. It was wow. Just wow. No other word fit.

The architectural style was clearly related to the desert outposts, but here it had been taken to eleven. Everything was grander and intricate, more alive. Dozens of domes and towers filled the skyline, each one decorated with detailed carvings, glowing crystal inlays, and a lot of gold. But it was the water that stole my breath.

Rivers and canals cut through the city like they were part of its design from the very beginning, not something added later. Water flowed freely across rooftops and down the sides of buildings, forming controlled waterfalls that spilled into glowing aqueducts. Some cascades even poured directly from enormous fountains built into the towers themselves.

I counted at least six massive waterfalls plunging from different heights into crystal-clear channels below, none of them overflowing or spilling out of place. The design was so precise it didn’t feel controlled; it felt conducted, as if the city itself were orchestrating the water. Everything moved in harmony. Small glowing lights swam upstream, and when I focused on them, I realized they were fish. For a moment, I tried to decide if it was just the reflection or if the fish themselves were glowing. Yes, it was the fish. Elegant bridges arched over the waterways, carved in graceful curves with lights at small intervals, some built for foot traffic, others wide enough for carts, riders, and, of course, the obligatory tricycles.

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At certain points, broad stone staircases descended straight into the river, as if the buildings themselves could step down for a swim. Floating platforms and docks lined the edges, where small boats were tied to mooring posts, bobbing gently in the current. This wasn’t just a city with water; it was a city of water, designed from the ground up to live with it rather than around it. Every detail felt intentional. Fluid. It took my breath away.

It was beautiful. Breathtaking, even. A city of elegance and control, not just over stone and metal, but over one of the wildest elements in existence.

image [https://i.imgur.com/oScYWkD.jpeg]

Mahya asked some people, and instead of a hotel or an inn, she found us a house to rent. Turned out that some of the buildings along the river were available for short stays—mostly for nobles, merchants, and, apparently, us.

The place she chose was on the east side of the bridge. From the outside, it appeared to be a small mansion, constructed of soft cream and pale gray stone, with carved balconies and colorful glass panels that glowed gently at night. A private pool had been set into the edge of the river, sectioned off by enchanted glass. The water inside was so clear it looked like a sheet of blue crystal, filtered until it sparkled. You could dive straight in from the back patio. Rue did.

Inside, the house looked like something out of a noble’s vacation dream. Polished wood floors, velvet-upholstered chairs, handwoven rugs, and tall windows filled the space with natural light. The colored glass panels shifted that light into an intricate tapestry of reds, greens, and blues that somehow blended into something even more pleasant than sunlight on its own. A large stone hearth dominated the sitting room, unlit for now, which I was glad about. It wasn’t as hot as the desert, but it was definitely summer. Hidden enchantments I couldn’t see but could feel kept the temperature inside at a perfect level. Light crystals floated just beneath the ceiling beams, their brightness adjusted through a runed panel on the wall. On closer inspection, I noticed they were held by metal wires so thin they looked like strands of hair.

There were five bedrooms in total, each with a slightly different theme. The bedroom Mahya chose was done in warm sunstone and cream, all soft golden light and polished stone. Al chose the one with dark blue silk curtains and obsidian accents lining the walls. Rue picked the room with green velvet and forest paintings on every surface, announcing proudly, “Rue is adventurer too.”

I took a room decorated in soft yellow and cream, with about a hundred light blue pillows stacked in every possible arrangement. All the rooms had massive beds, more pillows than anyone could reasonably use, and private bathing rooms with stone tubs etched in runes. The tubs filled themselves when you channeled mana into them, water already steaming and scented with something floral.

It was, without a doubt, the most luxurious place we’d ever stayed in. And the price? Naturally, it matched. Thirty mithril per person, per day. My inner squirrel still winced, but I was slowly getting used to the way pricing worked in this world. And truth be told, I had the money, and nowhere good to spend it. Well, this place was good for that. So I did.

Over the next week, we explored the city, sometimes together and at other times on our own.

Mahya spent most of her time at the Magitech Guild, trying to use her recent projects as a way in with the Dungeon Architects’ Guild. No luck there. She impressed a few people in her own guild, but the dungeon folks weren’t interested, at least not yet. “Give it time,” she said more than once, sketching out some new schematic on a napkin during lunch.

Al, of course, made his rounds through the local alchemy shops. He also paid a visit to the Mage Guild in hopes of picking up some new spells. He came back annoyed and tight-lipped. According to him, they didn’t have a single spell he couldn’t already buy through the Guidance. “What is the point of a Mage Guild that offers nothing new?” he grumbled, dropping into a chair and muttering about overpriced herbs.

Rue and I wandered the city streets at an easy pace, taking in the sights. The architecture flowed in curves, domes, and carved arches at every turn, while the scents of food pulled us along like hounds on a trail. One stall sold skewers of spiced river fish grilled over coals and glazed with a citrus reduction sharp enough to make my tongue tingle. The vendor handed it over wrapped in a thick leaf that smelled faintly of mint. Another stall offered glowing dumplings—literally glowing—stuffed with a mix of mushrooms, some sweet, some earthy, all blended with a tangy blue cheese. Rue licked his chops and stared until the vendor laughed and threw him one for free.

We kept going, drifting past the high terraces and river-view balconies and into the older parts of the city. The gold trim and polished crystal faded away, replaced by more modest, lived-in charm. The buildings were still beautiful, just in a different way. Softly colored stone in rose, sand, and peach replaced the gleaming facades. Instead of polished murals and etched glass, we saw hand-painted tiles, worn stone steps, tiny flower boxes overflowing with lush greenery, and intricate wooden shutters carved with swirling floral patterns.

The streets here were narrower, shaded by archways draped in flowering vines. Small bridges crossed over shallow canals, and cats—real ones, normal size—dozed in the sun on stoops and window ledges. Street musicians played gentle melodies on reed flutes and on a strange stringed instrument shaped like a triangle, with all the strings starting at the narrow tip and secured at the wide base. It had a unique sound. Because the strings were so close together at the tip, they all vibrated slightly when one was strummed, resulting in a rich, layered sound. A fascinating instrument. Everything here felt slower, less enchanted perhaps, but more human. Rue padded beside me, tail wagging gently, his nose twitching at every new scent.

We stopped at a bakery that used a stone oven right on the street. The scent of warm, spiced bread and honeyed nuts was intoxicating. I bought a small roll packed with dried fruit and dusted in cinnamon sugar, and we sat on the edge of a fountain to eat. The water trickled behind us, and Rue dipped his front paws into the basin with a soft sigh.

We stumbled into a plaza where three bards were performing under the shade of a tree lined with floating lanterns. One played a double-necked lute, the second had the same triangular stringed instrument, and the third was a singer whose voice shifted registers mid-verse without pause, as if three different people possessed her. I didn’t perform this time. Just sat on the steps with Rue and listened. They were amazing. Their songs were layered, clever, and raw with emotion. Some made the crowd laugh, some made people cry. I hadn’t planned to stay long, but I ended up watching until dusk.

On day seven, Mahya announced she had tickets for “something cool.” Turned out it was a circus.

Not a rickety tent with juggling clowns and sad animals kind of circus. This was something else entirely. The venue was massive, set in a domed amphitheater carved out of white stone and shimmering crystal, with floating light crystals circling above it like lazy fireflies. Inside, the crowd buzzed with energy. We weren’t even seated yet, and I could already feel the air humming with anticipation.

The performers didn’t just do tricks. They flew—literally—through enchanted rings suspended in midair, their bodies twisting with precision that bordered on inhuman, even with high stats. One acrobat ran up a vertical pole and launched herself across the entire arena, landing on a thin ribbon that floated without support. Another group of performers did choreographed flips while balancing flames on their fingertips, turning somersaults as the fire changed color mid-air.

A pair of performers, one man and one woman, rose into the air with wings of living fire unfurling behind them. They didn’t just fly, they danced. A band of six musicians played, and the dancers moved with the rhythm, spiraling through the air in impossible swirls, trailing flames that wove into glowing ribbons. With a synchronized sweep of their arms, the fire burst outward and reshaped itself, transforming into full scenes: mountains, forests, a blazing sunset over the ocean, all made entirely from flame. It was storytelling with fire.

Then another performer stepped forward. This one was a wizard. Yes, I identified him the moment I saw the wand, thank you very much. He didn’t dance, he painted. Flames erupted from his wand, shaping themselves into detailed, moving images. A herd of galloping animals thundered through the air above us, each hoofbeat pulsing with light and sound. Flowers bloomed midair, delicate petals curling open before drifting away. Butterflies the size of plates fluttered in formation to the music, weaving between the rows of spectators. And then, with a sharp snap of his wrist, a massive bird, something between a phoenix and a dragon, burst into existence. It circled high above the arena, wings trailing sparks, and let out a roar that made the air hum in my chest. I needed to learn to use a wand if that was the result.

The next group of performers were acrobats, though that word didn’t really do them justice. They burst onto the stage in a blur of movement, eight in total, dressed in close-fitting suits that shimmered. One vaulted high and landed upside down on a narrow pole, balancing on one hand. Another sprinted straight up a vertical wall, flipped backward, and landed on the first performer’s feet without the slightest wobble. Then it got ridiculous.

They launched each other like living arrows, twisting and flipping through the air at speeds that should have snapped bones. One flew in a perfect arc over the entire arena, flipping twelve times before sticking a silent landing on a thin platform that was spinning. Another pair performed synchronized mid-air spirals, each holding a glowing baton they tossed back and forth during their flips, never once looking or missing a catch.

Their coordination was inhuman. No hesitations, no missteps, not even when three of them leapt into the air at the same time, passed each other mid-flight with less than three centimeters between them, and landed in each other’s starting positions. Their Strength, Agility, and Perception had to be sky high. Normal people didn’t move like that. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure normal mana users could.

One of them backflipped so high he disappeared into the upper dome, then came crashing back down through an illusion that made the sky look like it was shattering. He landed in a crouch, arms spread wide, a satisfied grin on his face as the crowd went wild. Rue barked so loudly I jumped. Mahya just stared, wide-eyed, whispering, “That’s impossible,” under her breath. With her acrobatic class and insane jumps, that was what impressed me most about their performance. It was like Da Vinci praising another painter.

Even the clowns were something else. They were obviously clowns, though they didn’t wear the traditional painted faces I knew from Earth. Instead, they dressed in colorful clothes covered in bells that tinkled in different tones. Magic was definitely involved, because the bells were far too small to be heard clearly in such a massive space. Their act wasn’t simple slapstick either. They conjured complex illusions that chased them across the stage, trying to eat them. A dense jungle appeared, complete with huge cats prowling through the trees and almost biting their butts. Then a glistening snowfield took over, where massive white mammoth-like beasts lumbered after them and tried to stomp them. An underwater world followed, glowing jellyfish drifting right above our heads. When the jellyfish turned and gave chase, the clowns responded with exaggerated panic, flailing and sprinting in a wild, over-the-top escape routine that had the entire crowd howling with laughter.

And the animals… most were some kind of feline or scaled creature. A trio of sleek, spotted cats the size of horses leapt through rings of fire. Even that simple act came with a twist. The cats flicked their tails to ignite the hoops. I couldn’t tell if they were actually casting the spell or if some hidden mage was doing the work, but either way, the effect was impressive. One creature, maybe a lizard, was as big as an ox. It had a frill of red and blue feathers and could roll into a massive ball that bounced from platform to platform faster than the eye could follow. A living pinball the size of a car. Then there was a lean, six-legged panther with a coat that shifted colors depending on how the spotlight hit it. It prowled across the tightrope like taking a stroll through the jungle before leaping onto a spinning platform high above, roaring.

Rue stared the whole time, wide-eyed and glued to the edge of his seat. Mahya clapped so hard I thought she’d bruise her palms. Even Al gave a quiet, “Impressive.”

By the time we left, this world felt a little more magical.

Yeah, I really liked high mana worlds.