Back at the guild hall, the place was much livelier than it had been in the morning. Clearly, many adventurers followed the same routine, head out early and return in the afternoon for quest rewards and socializing. James again noted the low visible headcount of caster types among the groups, a detail he would need to ask about later.
He spotted Mirelle behind one of the counter booths, speaking with an adventurer who seemed upset. James quickly made a beeline for an open booth on the far side, having no patience for her big sister attitude about Iona. He presented the haul of goblin ears to the guild clerk. As she counted, James noticed her eyes lingering on his group, already calculating that she would pester them again given the chance. Their spoils clearly showed they could handle the local F rank zones without trouble. He made a mental note to ask about more challenging zones and other creatures they might fight for better profits, but first, he requested to speak with Kaelith. He hoped to get some questions answered, though he suspected he might not have as many now if they had listened to the man’s long exposition on the first day.
After the clerk handed over their quest rewards, with a small bonus for taking out so many goblins in a single run, they left to find Kaelith and check his availability. James counted the reward, about four hundred copper. A tidy bonus. Twenty six silver and a few extra copper, just shy of their first gold. Maybe we can make this work, he thought.
Kaelith appeared, descending a set of stairs at the back with a wide grin, clearly happy to see James. James gathered Christine close and told the kids they would be back, warning them not to get into trouble. That was after they begged for spending money, James relented and gave each of them two silver pieces, reasoning that they could not possibly get into any major trouble with so little.
Kaelith led them to a smaller office space. One wall was dominated by a large bookshelf, packed with all manner of books, scrolls, and jarred samples of who knows what, Christine’s eyes lingered on this area. The opposite wall displayed a collection of broken weapons, everything from dented and bent swords to what looked like someone had tried to turn a frying pan into a mace. They settled into chairs, and James started with the more pressing questions.
The first was about mana crystals. Kaelith explained that these could be found inside larger creatures or Rank E and above monsters. Essentially, mana condensed into a physical form, big enough to harvest. Usually found in the chest area near a heart, if the creature possessed such a space. James made a mental note, so basically, we need to fight something that could also eat us if we are not careful. Great. Mana crystals had value to everyone, and the guild helped monitor their trade, setting baseline prices and trying to keep things from turning into a free for all.
His second question concerned the goblins’ mindless behavior. It turned out they were actually, well, mindless, and even lacking what most would call a soul, at least to a lesser degree. Most of the races in Elyndra had their good and bad sides, but all were smart enough to speak and use the slates. Sure, there were wars and fights, but diplomacy still had a place, James filed that under not my problem, yet.
Monster zones, as they called them, were filled with mindless versions of every race, magically spawned by concentrated mana and pulling resources from the surrounding land and air. Mana caused natural carbon capture, imagine that on Earth, James thought, picturing a forest of goblins undoing the work of a coal plant. These zones popped up randomly, but cities were safe thanks to secrets only leaders knew, keeping the chaos contained. The monsters themselves represented the worst traits of a given race, like someone had hit the worst case scenario button on a magical spawner machine.
James’s final question for the guild leader was more curiosity than anything else. He asked about gunpowder, and whether anyone in this world used firearms. That was when he produced one of the shotgun shells and showed it to Kaelith, explaining how it was supposed to work.
Kaelith looked visibly confused as James spoke. He admitted they had no technology even remotely like it. James cracked open one of the shells, carefully spilling out the gunpowder and giving a rough explanation of its function, his knowledge rudimentary at best. He gathered the grains into a small pile, lit the end of a stick, and touched the flame to the powder, shielding his eyes as he waited for a flash or a bang.
Nothing happened.
The pile burned, but slowly, so slowly it would not even make a decent fire starter, let alone an explosive. Kaelith raised an eyebrow and asked, genuinely puzzled, why anyone would need a powder to cause an explosion when magic already did the job just fine. He snapped his fingers and a small bang went off, better making his point.
James did not have a good answer for that. Instead, he made a mental note to experiment later, maybe with some gasoline from the motorcycle, and if he could find it, some high proof alcohol. If this world wanted to break the rules of physics, he would at least like to know exactly how badly they were broken.
It was then that there was a knock on the door. Garron, who at this point James had figured was some kind of bodyguard and assistant, stood there.
“Sir, there’s a commotion in the lobby,” he said while looking at James and Christine.
They immediately knew who it was, “the kids,” they said at the same time, exhaustion behind their voices. They hurried back to the guild hall and found Nikki and Luke in the middle of a yelling match with a pair of adventurers, while Jessie was slumped over the bar, multiple mugs scattered around her. I gave them two silver each, how did it turn into this, James thought.
As it turned out, the drinking age in this world was tied to the age of awakening. In typical fashion, the kids had all been invited to drink, and things had quickly spiraled. Jessie had downed three mugs of some kind of wine or mead before promptly passing out like a textbook lightweight. Meanwhile, some random adventurer had tried to grope Nikki, prompting Luke to put a knife to his throat. James just nodded. Yeah, that tracks. Exactly what I would expect in a world like this.
A few of the more experienced adventurers were taking bets on who would win the fight, the kids or the would be groper, cheering and goading the chaos along, naturally making the scene worse.
James and Kaelith intervened, stepping between the two groups. Garron arrived and removed the offending adventurer from the building. He swore vengeance, apparently not expecting the greenhorns to have any fight in them. Luke’s quick reaction and nicked neck had caused enough of a stir to make the man lose face in front of the others.
Christine raised hell, but there was little more to be done. This world did not have as robust a legal system as they were used to. While a person could be branded a criminal, minor incidents like this were not enough to trigger permanent punishment or exile.
Annoyed, Christine and Nikki decided they were done for the day and headed back toward the RV. James gathered up Jessie, the human heap she had become. He easily picked her up, realizing his strength had fully returned and been enhanced, even surpassing his old prime, because Jessie was still in full armor yet the weight did not bother him. He called for Luke to take her axe and shield, but did not see him around. He assumed Luke had left with his mom. Shrugging, James stowed the gear in his magic bag and followed the two women out.
Once back at the RV, James found Luke safe and sound, feet kicked up on a table as if nothing had happened, with Christine and Nikki nearby.
“Thanks for the help,” he huffed, setting Jessie into a chair in front of the RV. Grateful for his now boosted endurance, he admitted cardio had never been his favorite. At one point, he had to stop and shift Jessie from a princess carry to just tossing her over his shoulder for the last stretch to the RV. Even after all that, he still had energy left, something he made a quiet mental note of to test further.
“So… dinner?” he asked the group before stepping into the RV to start preparing what remained of the real provisions they had brought with them. While working, he took the chance to review his stats.
By now, he had a solid understanding of how the system worked. His family was unusually strong for civilians, essentially double what one might expect for people from Earth with no inherent mana. Even an Olympic level athlete from Earth might have a few stats in E and maybe one or two pushing high E, but without mana, and without being a genius, their mental stats would still hover in F. In contrast, the average Elyndran living a normal non adventurer life usually had most stats in E. With mana supporting physical abilities to sustain growth and a normal life.
If Earth’s baseline F was normal and E was normal here, the fact that most of his family had stats touching, or even in, D, while still technically F rank humans, put them on par with ordinary adventurers. Today’s guild hall altercation had proven they could at least hold their own.
James pondered this new perspective and then turned to his own stats. He realized he had not spent any points for the levels he had earned, either from recent adventures or from arriving in this world. He had been so focused on keeping his family safe and fed that he had completely ignored himself.
Now, he decided it was time to remedy that. Scanning through his stats, he noticed many were already approaching D rank. That would be his starting point.
Profile, James
Age, 38 Level, 25
Body Stats
Stat | Tier
Strength | E
Dexterity | E
Constitution | D
Endurance | D
Agility | E
Mind Stats
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Stat | Tier
Intelligence | D
Wisdom | D
Willpower | E
Perception | D
Charisma | D
Luck | F
As he started reallocating points, he felt no immediate difference, but he decided to push some spare points into Strength. He had been treating it as a dump stat, but clearly it was getting some use. With the additional points, he was able to push Constitution, Endurance, Wisdom, and even Perception just past the threshold into D.
He remained unsure how he felt about having high Charisma and Luck that he could not actively invest in. Another skill point had appeared when he hit 25, which he could now apply. He already had a few skills to his name, mostly practical in nature, but his focus had been learning more about the magic of this world.
With his buffed Wisdom, he noticed an overlapping skill tied to both Intelligence and Wisdom, Artifice. He immediately recognized the path he wanted to follow and added it to his kit. At first, nothing happened, but then the familiar buzz of knowledge pressed in.
The flow of understanding revealed why both stats needed to be at D, each bolstered the other. Suddenly, he grasped, at a base level, concepts that normally took craftsmen years of study, runes, enchantments, and magical artificing. There was far more than he could comprehend for now, but he already knew that, with practice, he could unlock far more.
For the moment, his abilities were limited to simple parlor tricks, making something glow or causing a thrown item to return to a designated spot. Ideas were already forming in his head on how to put these to use.
Distracted by the new knowledge, he did not notice the pot on the stove boiling over. Swearing under his breath, he yanked it off the flame before the stew became a disaster. Nothing like almost destroying dinner to remind you you are still an adult, he thought dryly. Magic or no magic, some things never change.
That night, James set up a small workstation next to the RV. He pulled out some of the tools he had scavenged earlier and began experimenting. Some of his focus was on Nikki’s arrows, applying various runes and enchantments to gain a deeper understanding of how they worked.
He had also fashioned himself a headlamp, a light enchanted stone housed in a bent sleeve of aluminum siding scavenged from one of the RVs, strapped to his forehead like a mad scientist who had lost a bet. He looked absolutely ridiculous and he loved it, bonus, it was also extremely effective.
James turned back to his next experiment.
This one involved a full gallon of alcohol he had managed to acquire for a single silver piece, an absurdly lucky find. His first test was simple.
Would it ignite?
He struck flint. Nothing.
Tried a spark rune. Nothing.
Even pushed a controlled flame spell close enough to feel the heat on his knuckles.
The alcohol refused to catch.
He frowned, boiled the liquid and tested again. Higher proof. Same result.
Wood burned just fine, dry kindling flared eagerly, embers catching and spreading the way fire should. But the alcohol? The gasoline siphoned from the abandoned motorcycle?
Dead, not even a sputter, it was like the air itself was wrong.
He soaked a strip of loose cloth in alcohol and tried again, layering materials the way he would have back home. Still nothing. No ignition, no vapor flare, not even that brief whoosh he had expected. Finally, irritated, he shoved a small fireball down the length of a stick and forced the issue.
Flame bloomed, but only along the wood and the now dry cloth. The alcohol burned off as heat, not fuel, leaving nothing behind. The gasoline evaporated uselessly, untouched by the flame licking around it.
James went still.
“Right,” he muttered.
It was not that combustion did not work the same. It was as if mana was in the way.
Fire here was not just heat and fuel and oxygen, it had a fourth component, one he had not accounted for. Mana saturated the air, thick enough that it smothered volatile reactions before they could chain properly. Like trying to light a match underwater and being surprised when it failed.
He scribbled furiously in his notes.
Wood burns. Volatiles do not. Mana interferes with ignition. It must have something to do with air fuel ratio. Fire magic as an alternative. Angry crude notes.
“Fantastic,” he muttered. Everything I know about the physics of fire is wrong here.
Then he paused, tapping the page with his pencil.
Or at least incomplete.
He capped the alcohol and leaned back, already turning the problem over in his head. If mana was acting like a suppressant, then the solution was not more fuel.
It was controlling the mana, finding the right balance.
Frustrating as hell. But also exactly the kind of puzzle he lived for.
“What are you doing this time, strange one?”
James felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked up, heart pounding, only to see the sky. It was not until he looked down that he spotted a familiar figure, an old woman wrapped tightly in her cloak. Spiderweb motifs shimmered faintly across the black fabric in the starlight.
“Nyssara. How nice to see you,” James said, quietly grateful he did not have to witness her larger arachnid form again. “More hot cocoa?” he added, already pulling out a chair.
This time, the dogs ran up immediately, sniffing at her like she was an old friend.
“Oh yes, please,” she replied at once, clearly her primary motivation for appearing.
James moved to the pot already simmering in the outdoor kitchen and quickly ladled a mug for her, adding marshmallows from their dwindling supply. He handed it over and found her watching his workstation with keen interest.
“Interesting,” she said. “You have already gleaned much, despite being here such a short time.”
“Yes, well,” James replied, “I am something of a nerd, and my hyperfocus is on this right now, and how best to apply it.” After a moment, he added, “Care to offer any help?”
Nyssara smiled faintly. “My knowledge always comes at a price. You know this. But I can say you are already on many a right path.”
“Then maybe you can help me understand something,” James said at last. “I am willing to pay.”
He pulled a shotgun shell from his pocket and held it out.
“Why does gunpowder not work here?”
Her eyes widened as the object lifted from his hand, floating between them. It rotated slowly in the air, her long fingers hovering near it without quite touching, slowly it came apart. It reminding James of looking at an engineer’s exploded view of an object, but floating in space between them.
“This metal I recognize,” she murmured. “Many alchemists have driven themselves mad experimenting with lead. But this casing, firm, stable, flexible in ways it should not be. And this powder…”
The shell separated cleanly in midair, its components hovering as she examined each in turn.
“This is clearly designed to accomplish something,” she said. “What is it meant to do?”
James sighed and began explaining, doing his best to sound like a reasonable adult while describing controlled explosions inside handheld tubes. Gunpowder. Pressure. Ignition. A projectile accelerated by rapid combustion and expanding gases.
As he spoke, he had the uneasy sense that she was absorbing far more from the exchange than he was.
When he finished, Nyssara remained silent for a long moment. Then she tilted her head slightly.
“Combustion still occurs,” she said at last. “But mana resists violence.”
James frowned faintly. “Violence?”
“Rapid escalation. Chain reactions. Pressure spikes. Anything that compounds faster than equilibrium would allow.” She traced a slow spiral in the air. The scattered powder drifted toward her, and for a brief moment additional eyes opened around the two on her face, focusing intently before closing again. A reminder that she was something far more than she appeared.
“Mana inserts itself into the reaction,” she continued calmly. “It bleeds excess energy. It slows propagation. It enforces balance.”
“So explosions fail,” James said, thinking it through.
“Yes.”
“So combustion engines.”
“Yes.”
“And concentrated fuel burns?”
“They collapse before they can escalate.”
He nodded slowly. “But wood burns.”
“Wood burns gradually. Oil burns. Coal burns. These are sustained exchanges with the environment.” She glanced toward the horizon. “Mana participates in those. It does not oppose them.”
“So the difference is?”
“Speed,” she said. “And confinement.”
She stepped closer, examining the dismantled shell in her hand.
“If a reaction depends on compressing energy faster than the world can absorb it, mana will intervene.”
“And if it does not?”
“Then it usually functions.”
“Usually?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “This world simply operates under different constants than yours.”
The components of the shell reassembled themselves with a soft click.
James ran a hand through his hair. “So the air fuel balance is wrong.”
“Yes, and no,” she replied. “Because mana is now part of the equation. A fourth component. One your world never accounted for.”
“Fantastic,” he muttered.
She tilted her head. “You are not disappointed.”
“No,” he admitted. “Just annoyed. That usually means I am close to understanding something.”
That seemed to please her.
“May I keep this?” she asked, holding up the shell.
James handed it over without hesitation. It was functionally useless here.
“I do wonder if a nuke would work though,” he mumbled under his breath while pacing away.
Nyssara paused mid sip.
“I suspect I should not ask what that is.”
They spoke for some time after that, about engines, pressure systems, combustion without mana. In return, she described how mana shaped Elyndra’s laws, how it softened extremes, prevented runaway reactions, enforced equilibrium rather than chaos. He gained some insight into how to progress through his own research through the conversation.
She did add, almost as an afterthought, that at sufficiently high ranks, even functional firearms would become irrelevant. Weapons integrated with mana, wielded by those whose own levels and ranks were sufficient, could contend on equal footing with anything chemistry alone might try to offer.
By the time they parted, James understood something important. Information was not just power in this world. It was currency, making him wealthy in the right circles, and he had also made a very wealthy friend.
By the end of the night, James leaned back in his chair, watching a small enchanted stone hover above the table, casting a soft, steady glow. He smiled to himself.
Okay. It is not a gun, but this? This I can work with.
Eventually he made his way to bed. The rest of the family was already asleep.
Thanks for reading!
This is my first time publishing anything publicly. I'm writing this for fun and learning as I go, so feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.
And a reminder new chapters set to post Monday / Wednesday / Friday all the way through what would make up a "book 1"
