The rhythmic, constant clatter of the massive wooden carriage wheels against the heavily packed dirt road provided a steady, almost hypnotic soundtrack to our departure. We had finally left the serene, ancient walls of the Town of the First Hero far behind us, and we continued traveling deep into the sprawling, untamed wilderness of the open continent. The morning air filtering through the open glass windows of the luxurious cabin was incredibly crisp, carrying the sharp, refreshing scent of pine needles, damp earth, and distant rain clouds. Inside the velvet-lined carriage, the atmosphere was a comfortable mix of quiet contemplation and lingering drowsiness from the long, peaceful week of rest we had just experienced. Aria was leaning against the heavy wooden door, staring intently out the window as the dense, emerald-green trees blurred past us in a continuous, painted streak of color. The twins, Elfrich and Elfhine, were tangled together in a complicated, chaotic sleeping heap on one of the incredibly plush velvet couches, completely undisturbed by the occasional bumps in the road. Elphyete sat closely beside me, her shoulder resting lightly and comfortably against mine. She was quietly reading a small, leather-bound book she had purchased from a festival merchant, the soft morning light catching the silver strands of her hair. I leaned my head back against the incredibly soft backrest, letting the gentle, swaying motion of the massive, magically-pulled vehicle rock me into a state of deep, meditative relaxation. The sheer, imposing size of the carriage, functioning almost like a highly mobile, heavily armored fortress, made the journey incredibly comfortable, but we all knew that the road ahead was still unimaginably long and highly unpredictable. We spent the entire morning watching the scenery slowly shift from flat, grassy plains to heavily forested hills, putting miles and miles of distance between us and our last safe haven.
As the sun reached its absolute zenith in the sky, beating down with a warm, intense, golden light that filtered heavily through the thick canopy of leaves overhead, Ma'am Cherha finally pulled back firmly on the heavy leather reins. The four massive, magically-enhanced horses slowed to a graceful, coordinated halt, their incredibly heavy hooves stomping loudly against the dry dirt. Ma'am Cherha called back into the cabin, announcing that it was time to rest the beasts and stretch our own cramped legs. We all filed out of the carriage one by one, breathing in the fresh, sun-warmed forest air and stretching our stiff muscles. We found a small, picturesque, grassy clearing just a few yards off the main dirt road, surrounded by towering oak trees that provided a perfect, dappled shade from the intense midday heat. Ma'am Cherha, acting with her usual extreme, military-grade efficiency, began unpacking our heavy supply crates.
At lunch, we ate food that we had specifically purchased in massive bulk from the various festival merchants before leaving the town. We spread a large, thick woolen blanket across the soft grass, and Ma'am Cherha arranged the meal. There were thick, heavily spiced slices of cured meats that smelled strongly of garlic and pepper, massive, heavy wheels of sharp, aged yellow cheese, several long loaves of freshly baked crusty bread that somehow still retained a hint of the oven's warmth, and large leather canteens filled to the brim with incredibly cool, sweet water drawn straight from the town's legendary rivers. We all sat down in a loose, comfortable circle on the grass, eagerly grabbing our wooden plates and digging heavily into our rations. The sheer physical toll of constant travel, even when sitting inside a highly comfortable magical carriage, always managed to build up a massive, demanding appetite in all of us.
Everyone was eating peacefully, enjoying the quiet, serene sounds of the ancient forest—the cheerful chirping of unseen birds high in the branches and the soft rustling of dry leaves dancing in the gentle afternoon wind. Everyone, that is, except for Lucian. Despite having been a massive contributing factor in winning the town-wide eating contest just days prior, his raw, biological appetite was as terrifying, demanding, and bottomless as ever. He had already completely demolished his own substantial, heavily piled portion of the meal in record time, leaving absolutely nothing but a few tiny, stray breadcrumbs scattered across his empty wooden plate. His eyes, wide, slightly manic, and completely devoid of any form of civilized restraint, began to dart frantically around the peaceful circle, desperately looking for any unguarded leftovers or discarded scraps. His hungry gaze eventually traveled past the rest of the class and landed heavily on a very specific, highly dangerous target.
Sir Vael, who had casually floated down from his usual, highly comfortable napping spot on the flat wooden roof of the carriage, was sitting slightly apart from the rest of us. He was sitting perfectly cross-legged against the thick, mossy trunk of a massive oak tree. In his hands, he held a beautifully plated serving of incredibly premium, highly expensive roasted fowl—something he had undoubtedly kept hidden away in his own personal, infinite spatial storage ring rather than sharing with the rest of the group. The bird was cooked to absolute perfection, its skin a glistening, crispy golden-brown, radiating an unbelievably savory aroma that completely overpowered the smell of our basic cured meats and cheese. While everyone else was focused on eating their own simple food, Lucian made the absolute worst, most mathematically foolish decision anyone could possibly make in that given situation. Driven entirely by sheer, unadulterated gluttony and a complete lack of self-preservation instincts, Lucian decided to get Sir Vael's food.
It happened in an absolute flash of motion. Lucian, utilizing the impressive, explosive physical speed that made him such a highly formidable close-quarters fighter, suddenly lunged forward from his spot on the grass. He launched his entire body across the picnic blanket, his right hand shooting out like a coiled spring. His fingers were completely outstretched, hooked into a grasping claw, aiming directly and flawlessly for the perfectly roasted bird resting peacefully on Sir Vael's lap. The entire class gasped collectively, the sound echoing sharply in the quiet clearing. We all completely froze mid-bite. Aria dropped her slice of bread onto the dirt; Tokine's silver pocket watch slipped slightly in her grasp, her eyes widening in pure shock. We all knew, as an undeniable fact of nature, that messing with Sir Vael's sleep was a terrible, highly dangerous idea, but actively messing with his premium, high-quality food was a guaranteed, undeniable death sentence.
However, Sir Vael didn't even flinch. He didn't move his hands to protect his expensive plate. He didn't activate a magical shield. He didn't even look remotely surprised by the sudden, aggressive ambush. As Lucian's grasping fingers closed the distance, stopping mere inches away from the crispy, golden skin of the roasted fowl, Sir Vael just smirked. It was a tiny, incredibly dangerous, almost imperceptible upward curve of his lips. It wasn't a smile of joy; it was a smirk that radiated an aura of absolute, terrifying, god-like amusement, signaling that he had anticipated this exact scenario and already planned an incredibly cruel response.
Without ever breaking his lazy, half-lidded eye contact with the lunging, desperate student, Sir Vael casually raised his right hand. He snapped his fingers.
The sharp, crisp click of his fingers echoed unnaturally loud through the quiet forest clearing, sounding less like a physical noise and more like a massive crack in the very fabric of reality. Instantly, a massive, swirling, highly concentrated vortex of pure, blinding magical energy erupted directly into existence mere millimeters in front of Lucian's face. Before Lucian's brain could even register what was happening, the absolute weight of the magic took effect. He instantly got fed by an infinite amount of food.
It wasn't just a physical plate being shoved into his mouth; it was a conceptual, highly aggressive magical manifestation of pure culinary mass being forced directly into his biological system. Thousands of spectral, heavy meat pies, endless, rushing streams of thick, boiling stews, massive, towering mountains of dense, buttery breads, and raging rivers of sugary, sweet fruit juices were magically materialized and forced directly down his throat and into his stomach at the speed of light. The physical results of this impossible influx of mass were immediate, terrifying, and completely cartoonish. Lucian stopped dead in his tracks mid-lunge, suspended awkwardly over the blanket. His eyes widened to the size of large dinner plates, practically bulging out of his skull in sheer, unadulterated shock.
And then, he expanded. He suddenly became like a balloon.
It was both deeply horrifying and incredibly, unbelievably hilarious to witness in real time. His stomach pushed aggressively outward with extreme, terrifying speed, stretching the durable, reinforced fabric of his adventurer's tunic to its absolute, tearing breaking point. The seams groaned loudly as his midsection swelled outward in every single direction simultaneously. His arms and legs were forcefully pushed outward by his expanding torso, becoming completely stiff and utterly unable to bend at the joints as his core swelled into a massive, perfectly spherical, fleshy orb. His cheeks puffed out comically to an impossible size, his face rapidly turning a deep, vibrant shade of dark purple as he completely lost his footing and actually floated slightly off the grass, rendered completely round, incredibly buoyant, and entirely helpless. He looked exactly like a giant, over-inflated, highly pressurized human balloon bobbing gently up and down in the warm afternoon breeze.
The rest of the class stared in absolute, stunned, breathless silence. The sheer absurdity of the punishment had completely paralyzed us. Elphyete immediately slapped her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking violently with silent, uncontrollable laughter as she stared at the floating sphere that used to be our classmate. Aria looked like she was completely torn between sheer, paralyzing terror of Sir Vael's magic and the overwhelming urge to poke Lucian's tightly stretched stomach with a sharp stick just to see if he would violently pop. Lucian could only let out high-pitched, incredibly muffled, highly distressed squeaks through his puffed-up cheeks, his stubby, completely stiff limbs waving uselessly and desperately in the air as he rolled slightly in the wind, completely incapable of altering his trajectory or touching the ground.
Sir Vael sat perfectly still against the oak tree, watching the highly pressurized human balloon bob around the clearing for a few long, agonizingly slow moments, his terrifying smirk never fading from his lips. After deciding that his point had been adequately and thoroughly made, Sir Vael lazily raised his right hand once more. He snapped his fingers a second time.
The magical effect was just as instantaneous and jarring as the first. The massive, impossible volume of magical, conceptual food vanished from inside Lucian's body as quickly and violently as it had originally appeared. Lucian completely deflated in a single split second, the sheer volume of pressurized air and magical energy rushing out of his mouth with a loud, highly pathetic whoosh that echoed through the trees. He dropped out of the air like a solid lead weight, crashing heavily back down to the solid grass, landing awkwardly on his hands and knees. He became normal again, his physical mass instantly returning to its standard proportions. His previously stretched clothes now hung loosely and awkwardly off his frame, his body miraculously completely unharmed by the intense expansion, but his dignity and pride entirely, irrevocably shattered. He knelt there on the dirt, taking huge, desperate, wheezing gasps of fresh air, his eyes spinning slightly in his head as he tried to comprehend the terrifying reality of what had just happened to him.
For a very brief, incredibly naïve moment, we all thought the ordeal was finally over. But the human body, even one reinforced by strong, high-level adventurer magic and rigorous physical training, was absolutely never meant to expand to the size of a small cottage and instantly compress back down to normal size in the span of thirty terrifying seconds. The sheer, overwhelming biological confusion, the violent shifting of his internal organs, and the extreme, magical motion sickness hit Lucian like a runaway, heavily armored freight train. His face rapidly shifted from a suffocated purple to a sickly, horrifyingly pale shade of green. He lurched forward on his hands and knees, his stomach convulsing violently. He gagged loudly, a horrible, wet sound that shattered the silence of the clearing.
Without any further warning or hesitation, Lucian suddenly vomited. And in his highly disoriented, completely dizzy state, he made his second massive mistake of the day: he vomited directly toward Sir Vael.
A massive, highly unpleasant, incredibly high-velocity projectile composed of half-digested festival food, stomach acid, and sheer regret flew through the warm air in a perfectly aimed arc, heading squarely for the teacher's pristine, impossibly clean white boots and highly expensive, custom-tailored trousers.
The entire class let out a collective, synchronized scream of absolute, blood-curdling terror. Actively vomiting onto the most powerful, most easily annoyed, and most dangerously volatile being we knew was an absolutely guaranteed, non-refundable ticket directly to the afterlife. We fully expected Sir Vael to draw his weapon or instantly incinerate the entire forest clearing in a fit of rage.
But Sir Vael didn't panic. He didn't even flinch. His expression didn't shift a single millimeter from its state of bored, supreme amusement. As the highly unsanitary, absolutely disgusting projectile soared rapidly through the air, closing the distance and coming mere inches away from completely ruining his incredibly expensive clothing, Sir Vael simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers for the third and final time.
A brilliant, blinding, completely silent flash of pure, highly concentrated white Light and Space magic completely enveloped the entire physical area directly between them. It was a display of absolute, terrifying, god-like magical precision and control. Sir Vael cleaned everything instantly. The incoming vomit didn't just hit an invisible magical shield and splatter onto the ground; it was completely, conceptually erased from existence. Every single individual droplet, every lingering trace of a foul smell, every single microscopic molecule of the disgusting mess was completely vaporized and vanished directly into an empty spatial void before the vomit even came close to touching him.
The patch of green grass directly between the two of them was left entirely spotless, completely pristine, and perfectly dry, as if absolutely nothing had ever happened. Sir Vael lowered his hand, casually picked up his premium roasted fowl from his lap, took a delicate, highly civilized bite of the crispy skin, and chewed very slowly, looking down with a victorious, highly smug expression at the groaning, highly traumatized, and completely terrified Lucian.
After lunch, once Lucian had finally managed to stop dry heaving into the bushes and the rest of us had fully recovered from the sheer, paralyzing shock of witnessing the entire sequence of impossible events, Ma'am Cherha ordered us to pack up the camp. We quickly gathered the heavy woolen blankets, threw our remaining supplies and bags back into the massive storage compartments, climbed cautiously back into the plush, velvet-lined cabin, and we continued traveling.
The carriage resumed its steady, rumbling, rhythmic journey down the long, heavily rutted dirt road, pushing deeper into the unknown continent. However, the atmosphere inside the enclosed cabin had shifted dramatically from the relaxed state of the morning. Lucian was no longer the loud, boisterous, highly energetic troublemaker he usually was. He sat completely, perfectly still curled up tightly in the far corner of the velvet couch, hugging his knees to his chest, looking incredibly pale, highly sweaty, and completely terrified of his own shadow.
His intense fear was entirely justified, because Sir Vael was absolutely, unequivocally far from finished with him. For the rest of the entire afternoon, and well into the countless days that followed, Lucian kept getting tortured by Sir Vael. It wasn't physical, bloody, or damaging torture, but a series of relentless, highly creative, deeply psychological magical punishments that kept Lucian in a constant, unbroken state of absolute paranoia.
If Lucian even attempted to close his eyes to take a nap on the couch, Sir Vael would instantly use a microscopic, silent spatial rift to teleport a small, hovering bucket of freezing cold, incredibly icy river water directly above his head, dumping it instantly the moment he began to snore. If Lucian tried to cautiously reach for a small piece of dried fruit or a snack from his own personal leather bag, the food would suddenly, magically turn into a heavy, tasteless stone the exact moment he bit down, nearly cracking his teeth. Sometimes, Sir Vael would casually, without warning, use his RSA to teleport Lucian directly into his personal Light Dimension for exactly three seconds—just barely long enough for Lucian to scream in sheer, unadulterated, blinding terror before violently reappearing back on the carriage couch, hyperventilating heavily and completely covered head-to-toe in a freezing cold sweat.
There was one particularly cruel instance on the third day where Lucian's leather boots were magically, permanently glued to the wooden ceiling of the carriage interior, forcing him to walk awkwardly on his hands or dangle upside down for two entire, grueling hours while the rest of the class watched him in highly amused, deeply unsympathetic silence. Another time, his vocal cords were magically, temporarily swapped with the sound of a very small, very angry, highly annoying chicken, making it completely impossible for him to verbally complain about his situation without sending Aria and the twins into absolute, uncontrollable fits of hysterical laughter. Sir Vael flawlessly administered every single one of these highly complex punishments without ever once leaving his comfortable resting spot on the roof, executing the advanced magic with a lazy, effortless, and entirely invisible precision that served as a constant, terrifying, and highly effective reminder of the absolute, massive, insurmountable power gap between the student and the teacher.
This terrifying, highly entertaining routine became the absolute new normal for our group as the days rapidly bled into one another. We drove the heavy carriage through massive, sprawling green valleys, crossed incredibly wide, violently rushing rivers by driving over ancient, crumbling stone bridges, and navigated slowly through thick, treacherous, snow-capped mountain passes where the air grew incredibly thin and freezing cold. The scenery outside the glass windows changed constantly from lush, vibrant green forests to rocky, barren, arid badlands, and back again to highly fertile, yellow grassy plains. We slept securely inside the heavily reinforced carriage when the weather turned into violent thunderstorms, and we set up our large, highly comfortable canvas tents out under the brilliant, unpolluted starlit sky when the weather was clear and calm. Through it all, the steady, unrelenting rumble of the heavy wooden carriage wheels pushed us relentlessly and steadily forward toward our goal.
Finally, after one complete week of traveling through the highly varied and unpredictable terrain, the landscape outside our windows began to drastically shift once more. The air growing slightly cooler, carrying a different, distinct kind of scent—something slightly metallic, heavily industrial, and completely different from the untamed wilderness we had been traversing for the past seven days.
We had successfully covered an incredibly massive, sprawling distance in those seven uninterrupted days. The constant, forward momentum of the travel, combined closely with the daily, highly amusing entertainment of watching Lucian constantly look over his shoulder in absolute, trembling fear of Sir Vael's invisible magical traps, had made the incredibly long week pass surprisingly quickly for the rest of us. As the sun slowly began to set on the evening of the seventh day, casting long, highly dramatic, beautiful orange and deep purple shadows across the rugged, uneven terrain ahead of us, Ma'am Cherha suddenly called back to us from her position in the driver's seat. She held a large, highly detailed parchment map in her hands, comparing it closely to the distant horizon. We all eagerly gathered around the glass windows, squinting out at the distant, darkening horizon where the faint, massive silhouette of incredibly large structures and towering spires could just barely be seen against the fading evening sky.
The anticipation inside the small, enclosed carriage suddenly spiked to an all-time high. After all the absolute chaos of the journey, the massive eating contests, the unexpected romantic developments with Elphyete, the horrifying magical balloons, and the endless, grueling miles of dirt road, we finally had a concrete, visible endpoint in sight. The incredibly long, exhausting journey was rapidly nearing a major, highly anticipated milestone. Looking at the distant, towering structures on the horizon, we all shared a collective, massive sigh of relief, knowing as an absolute fact that we're officially only one day away from getting to the next destination.