The familiar purple glow of the teleportation token enveloped Rowan and Kai, pulling them away from the quiet comfort of his home and into the unknown.

  The transition was as disorienting as always—like being yanked through a rushing river, his surroundings twisting and warping around him.

  Then, with a sharp crack, the world snapped back into focus.

  Rowan stumbled slightly, his boots crunching against dry, brittle earth. The air hit him like a blazing wall, heavy and suffocating, carrying the acrid tang of sulfur. Heat radiated off the ground, shimmering in the distance like a mirage.

  He looked up to find the sun glaring down at him, its unforgiving rays unfiltered by even a wisp of cloud.

  “As unwelcoming as always,” Rowan muttered, shielding his eyes with a hand as he took in his surroundings.

  Kai took to the sky, flapping his wings to get a better vantage point.

  The landscape was an expanse of jagged, rust-colored rock, interrupted by blackened fissures that snaked through the ground like veins. Every so often, bursts of fire erupted from these cracks, spewing brilliant orange flames in the air. The vents weren’t random, either—they pulsed with a rhythm, as if the land itself was breathing.

  In the distance, towering spires of obsidian jutted into the sky, their surfaces polished smooth by centuries of searing winds.

  Kai let out a sharp caw from above, his feathers more than enough to deal with the heat.

  “Find anything?” Rowan yelled out.

  He turned away from the spires, circling high above.

  As they started walking, the teleportation token Rowan held in his hand burned away.

  It was a marvel of enchanting. The runes were engraved into the hide of a high Ebony-rank monster with a Space affinity. Ruby dust mined from chasms deep beneath the Mountain of Sorrows filled the furrows, glowing with power.

  Rowan wouldn’t hesitate to say a single one of these was worth more than everything in Litwick combined. Most likely by an order of magnitude. Teleportation was an expensive endeavor, especially when it came from items instead of mages.

  And he had hundreds of them. To every single region in the kingdom. From the Stormspire Heights to the Onyx Sands. North to south, east to west, it didn’t matter.

  The only problem was that while the tokens were incredibly useful, they were as precise as a blind archer with only one arm.

  They targeted a region, not a location. Meaning every time Rowan used one, he appeared in a new spot.

  For most regions, that was a massive problem. Teleporting to a random spot in the Wilds had the slight drawback of being downright suicidal.

  Rowan was undoubtedly strong for his level. But in the grand scheme of things, he was little more than a pest. There were monsters out there that could sneeze him out of existence, so for at least a little while longer, he was confined to just the regions where he could live through the trip.

  The Scorched Plateau being one of them.

  The difference between the Plateau and other regions was that monsters grew stronger the deeper you went. Meaning Rowan could teleport here without fearing for his life. At least for the moment.

  As if on cue, a low growl reached his ears.

  From a crevice off in the distance, a scaled monster made its presence known. It burrowed out of the ground, displacing rock with frightening ease, its massive claws tailor-made for the task.

  Rowan grinned. Let’s see what changed.

  Not wasting even a second, he channeled mana towards his palm. A [Firebolt] formed before the Ember Crawler even left its hole, the radiant orb flaring to life.

  Rowan marveled at the ease with which it came to him. He’d cast the spell thousands of times before, but never before had it felt so simple. He expected the increase in his reserves, but the heightened control surprised him.

  The Crawler burst from its hole, rushing at him with an enraged snarl. Spittle flew out of its fanged jaws, its muscled legs bounding across the cracked earth.

  Rowan didn’t move, facing the charging beasts with an eager smile on his face.

  He remembered the first time he’d face one of these beasts. It had ended with a broken arm and bruised ribs. A learning experience, to be sure. But there wasn’t much a monster as weak as this one could teach him now.

  Rowan raised his arm and let the spell fly.

  The [Firebolt] erupted from his hand, whistling through the air and impacting the monster in the head. It burned through its hardened carapace like it wasn’t even there, penetrating through its skull and into its brain.

  The beast went limp. Its bulky body fell to the ground with a loud thud, the momentum carrying it forward a few more feet before coming to an abrupt halt.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Never one to miss a meal, Kai landed on its head, dipping his beak into the hole his spell had left. It was a gruesome sight, but Rowan was used to it by now. And besides, he wasn’t paying attention, his focus instead drawn to his Core.

  Like a drop in an ocean, he thought in awe.

  His advancement had improved everything about his magic. From the amount of mana he needed to cast a spell, the sharpness of his Intent, to the depth of his reserves. An all around increase in strength.

  He looked around the Plateau, his gaze drawn toward a cave entrance far in the distance, the dark opening yawning like a hungry maw. Steam hissed from the cracks around its edges, hinting at the vents found deep below.

  The Plateau wasn’t just filled with danger, but opportunity too. If one knew where to look, and had the right tools, it was a resource to be mined.

  There, he decided. No point in wasting any more time.

  It was time to find a vent.

  Most likely, one monster or another would already be occupying it. But Rowan didn’t care. There was nothing on the surface that could pose a threat to him, and he doubted anything on the first layer could either. Not as he was now, and definitely not when he started using the vent.

  Kai let out an eager caw, taking to the sky.

  Together, they began their trek toward the caves, the air around them rippling with heat and the faint promise of fire.

  .

  .

  .

  Rowan stood in a large cavern, a dead Crawler by his side. It had taken them a few minutes to get this far deep, moving through narrow openings and low caves.

  Not many adventurers would have braved these conditions. The heat had been steadily growing, and getting out would have proved a problem for most. But Rowan didn’t plan on leaving through the standard route. He had his tokens for that.

  In the middle of the cavern, a fissure snaked across the ground. An almost transparent haze flowing out of it.

  “Should be good enough,” Rowan said, moving closer.

  It was almost mundane in appearance, yet it was anything but.

  Pure, unfiltered Fire mana rose from the depths of the Plateau. Supposedly, the density grew the further down you went, but Rowan had never tried to confirm that particular fact. For what he needed, this was enough.

  “Try to find a ledge,” he called out, mana already moving throughout his channels to counteract the heat. “And don’t just swoop down as soon as I kill something. Wait for the wave to pass.”

  Uncharacteristically, Kai did as he was told, settling down on an outcropping and waiting for his meal to arrive.

  Rowan took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.

  The vents in the Plateau were a fascinating phenomenon. A cornerstone of the region’s ecosystem. They regulated the monster population and drove the stronger ones deeper in. They required denser mana to progress along their Paths, something they couldn’t find this close to the surface.

  To mages, the mana was mostly useless. Trying to absorb it would scar their channels and strain their souls. It was a curiosity, nothing more.

  But to Rowan, it was a boon like few others. A perfect way for him to master spells.

  There were two things he needed in order to work on his magic.

  The first was obviously mana. Which to most, was a finite resource. There were only so many spells a mage could cast each day. And if it took ten-thousand casts to master it, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do to speed that along.

  Having talent cut that number down significantly, but even still, there was a bottleneck. One Rowan didn’t need to worry about. At least when it came to Fire mana.

  If Rowan had to guess, he’d cast [Fireball] somewhere north of five-hundred times. And by the time he returned to Litwick, he planned on mastering it.

  The second thing he needed was a good location.

  There was a reason mages built their towers far away from densely populated areas. Even with only a tier-one affinity, Rowan could do immense damage. A few [Fireball]’s were capable of destroying a large chunk of Litwick with relative ease.

  At least until the Guildmistress, or the mage advisor, came to stop me. I doubt they’d appreciate me blowing up buildings.

  Not that he had any plans on doing that, but the point stood.

  Rowan could practice his magic in the backyard. However, in the Plateau, he could finally let loose.

  The cracked ground swallowed up spells like a sponge, funneling the mana down before spitting it back up. Rowan was pretty sure there was a Beast King somewhere below, but that wasn’t something he wanted to find out.

  His desire for getting smote out of existence was exactly zero.

  As he stepped into the vent, a low hiss escaped his throat. The heat was almost overwhelming, stinging at his eyes, his breathing growing quicker. If it had been an actual flame, he’d already be a charred corpse. But thankfully for him, it wasn’t.

  It was mana. Magic, just waiting to happen.

  Drawing deeper from his reserves, he imbued his body with it, fighting back against the oppressive heat.

  It took him a few seconds to get into a rhythm.

  What Rowan was doing was a difficult technique, one that had taken him quite a while to get down.

  He cycled his mana through the channels closest to his skin. Creating a balancing force against the mana spewing from the vent. It was costly, and inefficient, but it got the job done.

  Even with his improved reserves, Rowan’s Core drained rapidly. With the amount it was costing him to keep the technique running, he had barely a minute before it emptied fully. Something he wanted to, if at all possible, avoid.

  With the stage set, he got to work.

  Rowan closed his eyes, feeling the foreign mana as it moved across his skin. There was something comforting about it, like a warm blanket on a chilly winters night. But even more than that, it felt familiar.

  Ever since Rowan Awakened, he’d been working on mastering his affinity. Fire mana was something he knew. Something he could control.

  With a working of Intent, Rowan drew it into himself.

  It burned as it made its way into his body. Trying, and failing, to char his channels. As far as he could tell, his trait made them practically invulnerable. It allowed him to move and channel a seemingly boundless amount of mana without straining his soul.

  The first thing he needed to do was stabilize his infusions.

  Fighting against the vent was expensive, but with mana flowing into him at a steady pace, it wasn’t an insurmountable hurdle.

  Over the next minute, Rowan found the right balance. Powering his technique with only the ambient mana he drew in. But that wasn’t all of it, not even close. The rest slowly replenished Core, leaving him ready for the next step.

  The circuit for [Fireball] was a familiar one to him. Rowan had spent long hours pouring over the spell tome, memorizing the path he needed to take. Now all he needed to do was perfect it.

  A shell formed in the palm of his hand as he completed the first portion. Another two joined it soon after, filling it with destructive potential.

  Holding his infusions, drawing in mana, and casting was a definite challenge. Even for him. It strained his focus to the brink. Forcing him to draw on every scrap of willpower he had.

  Ever so slowly, the [Fireball] forming in his hand flickered to life.

  As the shell filled to capacity, Rowan could feel it trying to jump from his grasp. Wanting to be let loose. Fulfill its purpose.

  Thirty-nine seconds, he thought. That’s… a whole lot better than I expected.

  The increased difficulty meant it took him longer than it normally would have. Juggling three things at once wasn’t exactly conducive to precise magecraft. But even with that, it was a massive improvement over the last time he’d been here. It had taken him over a minute then.

  I need to get that down to ten. That should be enough for the System to acknowledge it.

  A low growl drew his attention. Coming from a cave towards his left.

  Rowan’s gaze moved towards it, his smile growing wider at what he saw.

  Three Crawlers had made their way into the cavern, their slitted eyes focused on him and the vent he was occupying.

  “Alright, now we can start.”

  And with that, Rowan let his spell fly.