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"There’s a place between here and The Bramble called the Alsian Bog. It’s a hot spot because it has a rare and lucrative ingredient called zorathorn that allows elixirs to penetrate through muscle. Get as much as you can, and then we’ll make the elixir."

That sounded reasonable enough—but I felt uneasy about it.

"I see…" I said aloud, but I silently researched. Hey, Lithco, I said in my thoughts. Search the atlas for information on Alsian Bog.

I got a notification.

—---

Location: Alsian Bog

Description: Congratulations. You’ve finally established basic proficiency in a spell that only tier-three alchemists have access to. What’s your reward? An all-inclusive trip to a remarkably dangerous part of this forest! Unfriendly to all, the Alsian Bog is saturated with acidic fog that is more powerful than 20% sulfuric acid. For that reason, only acidophilic mosses, algae, ferns, and freakish beasts meander the area. And guess what? You’re none of those things. If you walk out there, your eyes will blister and pop. So, if you want to survive in this environment, gas masks are useless—unless you have a full hazmat suit. So I hope you’re confident in your domain—because you’re pretty much screwed without it.

—---

My eyes locked on Elana with fury.

"Hoh?" Elana mused. "Seems you’ve already done your homework. Did you invest in an atlas?"

"Elana," I said chillingly.

She paused, and her eyes narrowed. "While I approve of your tone, I do not approve of it being used against me."

"The air there makes your eyes blister!" I yelled.

"Hoh? I’ve yet to see you throw a tantrum over a quest thus far—and I’ve been watching you since the beginning. How peculiar."

"Blis~TER," I smacked. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"As if I would do such a thing. No, Mira. I’m not trying to kill you. Mortals make that trek every Harvest, and there’s rarely a year without someone striking it rich. So I’m not asking too much. So stop complaining and start preparing. It’ll take you some time. Paradesio hasn’t blessed you with domain talent."

My blood boiled, and I opened my mouth to yell at her. But before I could, she suddenly blinked out of existence, chair, parasol, attitude, and all, leaving me alone in the forest. I took a deep breath through my nose, face taut—lungs burning.

Oh, the things I’d say if Elana couldn’t hear me.

Lithco decided to be the cool parent by creating an unsolicited chatbox. It read: "She can’t hear you. Helps in situations like this. But she can see you. So make sure to look amicable when you insult her."

I chuckled, rubbing my nose before looking at Kline with a huge smile. "What’s that? Did you just say that our god’s a total bitch?"

Kline meowed loudly.

"I’m glad I’m not the only one." I giggled maniacally before taking deep breaths and calming down and turning my eyes to the sky. The skies were blue and sunny—no chance for rain. "How the hell are we even gonna do this…?" I whispered.

It stung hearing that I didn’t have talent in domains. It also left me nervous. I didn’t have talent, but I needed to walk into a toxic acidic cloud wearing one. That was horrifying.

I needed to practice—but how? One break could fill my lungs with acid. How could I ensure that my practice was airtight?

I thought about it deeply until I got a terrifying yet effective plan. I turned to Kline and grimaced. "You think you could dig us a hole?"

2.

Elana watched Mira and Kline dig a ten-foot hole that afternoon in fascination. Kline was breaking up the ground with Phantom Claws, and Mira was practicing her Separation and Levisphere to do the manual work. It was truly remarkable to see her efficiently practicing.

"Aren’t you a bit worried?" Kori said beside Elana. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, and she didn’t even notice. Once she did, she didn’t move it.

"Worried about what?" Elana asked.

"What you said to her. I get why you told ’er that she didn’t have talent. That makes sense. But telling her that people strike it rich every year? That’s a bit dangerous. Don’cha think?"

Mira was remarkably talented with domains—hauntingly so. It wasn’t something Yakana had to teach her with drugs and soul melding or with the help of high-level requests. She had an affinity for soul manipulation—and domains were made of soul force. That said, Mira wasn’t better than Black Harvesters. Domains were critical for protection—so most kids started learning them at age five to fifteen for compulsory education. Then, serious mages practiced them for decades or even centuries. Those were the people who challenged the Fourth Ring.

So, while Mira was unknowingly far beyond her peers in talent, it wouldn’t help her by the time the Harvest came. She needed to be pushed to the limit.

Kori understood that. But he was wondering why she told Mira that people succeeded every year when that was an egregious half-truth at best. One team usually succeeded—for every twelve that perished.

"Mira has the two things that kill most of the people who go there," Elana said. "She can identify poisons, and she has the soul force to maintain a domain. She also has mental shielding."

"Yeah… but she can’t even maintain a constant barrier right now. And you want her to keep one for hours?"

"Haven’t you paid attention?" Elana smirked at the screen.

Kori hadn’t—his attention was focused on hers. But when he saw Mira filling a ten-by-thirty-foot swimming pool with water magic, his entire tone switched.

"Did you tell ’er to do that?"

"No~pe. Girl did that all on her own."

Kori leaned back on the chair and chuckled. "That girl’s a psychopath…"

Mira had discovered the most brutal yet effective way the Families teach their kids to learn a domain—by practicing underwater.

3.

Kline and I spent our afternoon creating a swimming pool, bath, hot tub, training center combo outside the alchemy station by digging a hole and filling it with water. It took a long time, but it was satisfying.

Once I finished, I wiped my brow and turned to Kline.

He was missing.

"Little shit…" I whispered, looking around. He was nowhere to be found. I turned back to the pond. "For once I don’t blame ’em…" I winced but shrugged. "Well, it’s not gonna practice itself…"

I established a domain around my body and stepped into the pond, watching the water surround me like I was encased in a glass coffin. That’s exactly what it was. I couldn’t swim because I wasn’t surrounded by water. I noted that as I slowly sank to the bottom—

—and then panicked once I submerged.

I held my breath, unwilling to believe that I could breathe normally. Then I panicked further when the muddy waters blocked out the sun, encasing me in darkness. That panic turned to paranoia as I wondered how fast my breath would turn the oxygen in my domain into CO2.

The body consumes… half a liter… of oxygen a minute, I thought, trying to calm myself down—only making it worse. That’s a lot… but there’s a lot of oxygen around me. The atmosphere is 21% oxygen. And… fuck it. I’ll know!

I’d know when I ran out of oxygen—obviously.

I activated mental shielding to calm down—and it worked. The training prepared me for far worse than this. In a moment, my heart slowed, and my mind eased up. There was only one problem:

I lost focus, and the water crashed down around me on all sides. I thought I was going to die until I kicked off the wet ground and emerged from the water, gasping for breath and coughing out water.

Kline took the situation worse than I did. He magically returned, yowling and crying and pacing, wanting to save me from the water but unwilling to jump in.

"I’m okay," I said, pulling myself out. "Also… it works. So as much as I hate it, we’ll have to… Kline!"

Kline’s stress turned to terror, and he booked it—but not before I caught a hindquarter. It was surreal because he tried to run. He was mid-warp step, so half of his body had disappeared, leading me to panic and pull him out—sending him rocketing into the water.

He wasn’t happy.

Yet he got over it and started taking things seriously. Within the hour, I had him doggy paddling in a domain, and soon, we were underwater together.

We practiced like that for three days, playing with domain size to figure out how long we could stay submerged. I found that with a domain with a three-foot diameter and six-foot height, I could last longer than five hours underwater easily. Increasing that to five feet should last me a day—assuming I could concentrate.

Considering I wasn’t underwater, I felt confident I could handle it. It was time to leave.

The next morning, we stuffed the tent and as many preservation chambers into my backpack, put it on, and set out into the wilderness—prepared to challenge the toxic bog where our resources were located.

4.

The Alsian Bog was halfway between me and the gate, making it over a twelve-mile hike.

The first day was uneventful. Kline and I hiked for nine miles that day. During that trek, he killed a pack of super mole rats, and we cooked one at the camp. We ate it at dusk and then set out again, getting harassed by branch-jumping herbivores I couldn’t identify with my killer animals book.

After that, it was silent and uneventful—until we reached what Brindle called the Quoralia, but I called "The Greenhouse Barrier." It was a natural invisible barrier over a mana vein that acted as a greenhouse, capturing gasses and interacting with the sun differently.

The moment I walked through, hot water clung to my skin like sticky sweat. I immediately walked out of it. This was two miles from the bog. It seemed I’d have to use the domain far longer than I expected.

I couldn’t create a domain later. They were a snapshot of an environment. If you create a domain inside water, leaving the water would turn you into a fish tank. So, I had to capture the normal environment before entering.

Son of a bitch… I looked down. "You good?"

Kline meowed.

"Okay."

I drank some water and stretched my limbs and started my domain. I then took a deep breath and walked through the film, pushing toward the Alsian Bog.

Things weren’t nearly as bad as I expected inside.

I had been practicing a domain under heavy water pressure for five hours at a stretch—in a normal environment, it felt effortless. That was good news.

Still, it was unnerving.

There was a thin mist outside my domain that looked like a ghostly mirage, wrapping Jurrasic age ferns the size of boulders and micro flowers the size of my thumbs. Moss hung from trees like rope nets, and fallen trees sunk into the ground.

Everything felt backward—naturally artificial—fake abominations.

It was very cool, but I could tell by the plumes of steam escaping the ground like Yellowstone geysers that this location was inhabitable—and that I would die without my domain.

I looked at Kline nervously.

"Let me hold you," I said. I’d feel much safer if he was also protected in my domain. His magic was better, but my domain was far stronger than his by a mile.

Kline frowned as I knelt down but jumped into my arms anyway. We pressed on.

Things got even worse the closer we got in. Birds crashed through trees, and bugs came into play—swarming us like fireflies and mosquitos. I used a skin barrier to protect us, as the domain didn’t keep them out. They didn’t touch me, but it freaked me out, so I blasted all of them with a wide-net desiccation spell that dropped a hundred bugs in a waterfall as some flew away.

The ones on my back stayed.

Yet, it was only temporary. Five minutes later, the bugs left, proof that the eerie bog in front of us was lethal to most living creatures.

It was nasty. The air was thick with fumes I couldn’t smell but could only imagine would kill me, and the patches of water connecting the trees were thick with neon purple algae—that made it look like poison, highlighting under my radar.

That can’t be natural… I thought.

The trees weren’t much different. Webs of purple moss webbed from branch to branch in nets. It was bizarre.

Purple moss was the result of anthocyanin pigments, which protect the moss from stressful environments, intense sunlight, and UV radiation. That was strange—considering that I was walking around a bog with limited sunlight through the canopies that were warm instead of cold.

Kline shook, ears twitching, looking around in my arms.

I closed my eyes, using mental shielding to calm my mind before finally stepping forward—walking into the heated fog. The water moved out of the way of my feet as I moved through the water, sloshing through the spongy ground that quickly gave way.

Don’t lose focus… I thought. You got this, Mira. You’ve survived worse. You’ve—

Suddenly, a deep, guttural groan resounded deep within the forest. I looked up and saw a beast the size of a rhino stomping through the area, sloshing through the bog. Its jaws were wide and flat like a crocodile’s despite having a snout like a dog, making it look like a monster depicted in Egyptian hieroglyphics. Yet it wasn’t black or gold or the color of stone. Its white hide was sloshed with so much purple algae that it created a paper mache over the creature as it snorted.

I identified it.

—---

Name: Calark

Description: Stop moving, hold your breath, and pray. This isn’t your "albino elk" or "ambush bear." You have finally reached a beast you shouldn’t even think of fighting.