The Gate Traveler

I lay in the bath, thinking about Sami's words. My last "age drop" made me look younger, but not that young. Taking out a mirror, I shaved and stared. I had lost a few more years. Now I looked like a teenager, and since I had always looked younger than my peers, they might even ask for my ID in bars. My eyes and hair had changed even more. In the past, my eyes were gray with a hint of purple undertones. After I discovered the Gate—at some point I could never quite pinpoint—the purple became more pronounced as the gray faded. Now the gray was almost completely gone, leaving only the purple. It was sad to see it vanish. My mother's eyes were gray, and it had always been the one thing we shared.

My eyes also glowed more. My hair had once been a light blond, almost bleached, but over time it shifted, becoming whiter, closer to silver than blond. Now it was nearly white, with only a faint yellow tint hinting at what it used to be. I examined my skin more closely. It looked smoother than ever. The acne scars that had remained even after the previous change were now gone.

I cast Diagnose on myself. Everything was fine. More than fine, actually. I was a young, healthy male.

I took out a full-length mirror, undressed, and examined my body. The changes continued there. I used to have a slight potbelly my wife teasingly called my "pasta baby." Now I had a six-pack. It wasn't large or cut like a bodybuilder's; I was always slim. But now there was a clear muscle definition. My shoulders were broader, my arms and legs were more toned, and I thought I might be taller, though I wasn't sure. I didn't bring a measuring tape. Another oversight. Still, almost no body hair. Oh well, you can't have everything.

I lay in bed, mulling over the changes. They were far too drastic to come about on their own, so I looked for the culprit, and the main suspect was Vitality. After a quick pass through the last system messages, I found it in the Healer Level-up messages.

I opened and re-read the Vitality description:

The change in my appearance was obvious, but I lingered on the part about the mental aspect.

Do I feel more alive?

Maybe.

Younger?

Sort of.

More vibrant?

In a way, yes.

But it wasn't youth in the traditional sense. I wasn't overflowing with reckless energy and hormones. It was more subtle. I just felt lighter. Like some heavy weight I had been carrying was gone. Well, maybe not completely gone, but much lighter and easier to bear. The constant weight of grief and pain had dulled. It didn't vanish completely, but it no longer pressed so tightly against me that I could barely breathe. There was space now. Space to think and just be. That thought stayed with me as my eyes grew heavier. And just before sleep pulled me under, I realized it didn't really matter why. I felt the way I felt, and that was that. End of story. Trying to explain it or dissect it wouldn't make it more real. It was already real.

Breakfast looked like oatmeal, smelled faintly of nuts, and tasted better than anything I'd had in days. It was sweet, warm, and had a gooey texture that somehow worked. After finishing the meal, I approached the innkeeper. "Thank you for your service during my stay," I said, handing him three coppers as a tip.

He took the coins and stared at them, his confusion obvious. It was as if the concept of a tip was completely foreign to him, which I found quite amusing.

"It's called a tip," I explained with a smile, using the English word since I couldn't think of it in the local language. "Just a way to show appreciation for excellent service."

"You island folks must be rich if you give your money away like water through open fingers."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Only to deserving people for exceptional service."

He looked pleased as he took the tip. "Do you have more of those 'rich folks' coppers' to change?"

"Actually, I do."

He smiled broadly and produced another ten gold and forty silver coins. I handed him twenty-eight pouches filled with copper. He started counting the first five pouches, but then just took the rest and said, "I'll return the pouches shortly."

I waved my hand dismissively. "You can keep the pouches."

He shook his head firmly. "Those leather pouches look real fancy; you can sell them for good coin."

I was unsure how to explain that it wasn't genuine leather but PU leather, so I just let it go and nodded.

Outside, I took out my bike, connected the trailer, Stretch hopped in, and we rode to the location of the jurbers. It took me five hours to reach the area, so before looking for them, we had lunch. Stretch devoured twelve burgers and still looked like he could eat more.

I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw he was changing too. He was taller. Before, his torso reached my mid-thigh, but now it reached my pelvis. He was stockier and looked less "stretched." His paws looked bigger, and his fur, which used to be mottled with white, gray, tan, and black, had smoother transitions between shades of light and dark gray with a lighter white belly. I diagnosed him; his body was in top condition.

Scratching his neck, I asked, "We are changing, huh, buddy?"

He wagged his tail furiously and slobbered all over my face.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

After lunch, I looked into my Storage and sighed, flipping through my options for something that could work as armor. I'd read about proper gear in the books, but somehow it never occurred to me to actually buy any. Shaking my head in exasperation didn't help. I was still armorless. After a moment of mental rummaging, I threw together a passable solution. Skinny jeans went on first, then a pair of thick leather pants that creaked with every step. I added a thick flannel shirt and topped it off with a leather-armored motorcycle jacket. The second the zipper closed, sweat broke out across my skin. My back prickled, my shirt clung, and I felt like a roast left in a slow cooker. Still, better sweating than getting bitten.

Just to be safe, I snapped on a full-face motorcycle helmet. The visor fogged instantly, and I had to crack it open to breathe. I summoned my staff and glanced at Stretch. He tilted his head, ears twitching, then gave a slow shake of his head. I didn't imagine it; he actually shook his head like he was disappointed in all of my life choices. From where I stood, I couldn't see his eyes, but somehow I got the feeling he was rolling them. Hard.

We set off through the tall grass and patchy shrubs, filled with the buzz of insects. Five minutes in, Stretch froze. A low growl rumbled up from his throat, his hackles bristled, and his ears pinned back. His gaze locked on something ahead.

That was my signal. I followed his line of sight and tightened my grip on the staff.

A blur of fangs exploded from the undergrowth. The first jurber launched at my leg, jaws snapping shut less than an inch from it. My staff cracked across its skull with a crunch, and the thing dropped limp, body skidding through the dirt. Another shot from the side. I pivoted fast, my foot slipping, but the staff moved instinctively. The impact jarred my elbows as the second jurber hit the ground.

Before I caught a breath, the air filled with snarls and rustling brush. Two more came from opposite sides. I barely saw them before I was swinging again, arms burning from the speed of the strikes. And then they were everywhere. Over twenty, maybe more. A living tide of snarling and teeth. They darted in, snapped at my legs, and retreated like piranhas. Growls echoed. Snarls tangled with the whirling noise of motion. My helmet rattled with every strike of my staff. Pain bit into my calf. Another tore into my thigh. The jacket held up, but the pants didn't. Some teeth got to my skin, gouges more than punctures, but they still hurt. I gritted my teeth and kept moving, turning in a tight circle, trying to keep them in front of me. Every hit dropped another, but they kept coming. Utterly brainless.

Off to the side, Stretch was a whirlwind. His jaws clamped down on one, then he spun to tear into another. His growls mixed with the screams of the jurbers, and even as I caught glimpses of blood on his legs, he didn't slow. He limped once, then lunged again like he hadn't noticed.

It felt like a fight that would never end. My arms were rubbery. My breath came in ragged bursts. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, and I tasted dust every time I gasped. Then the last one fell, twitching once before going still.

I stood and heaved, blood dripping down my shin, my shirt sticking to my back, and my hands clenched so tight around the staff it took effort to loosen my fingers. The ground around us was littered with broken limbs and shattered skulls.

Stretch trotted over, tail wagging like nothing happened. Blood smeared his fur, and a few shallow gashes marked his sides.

"Good boy," I said, kneeling beside him.

He nudged my shoulder, panting with a doggy grin, like it had all been a fun workout.

I pressed my hands to his wounds and let the healing magic flow. His skin knit together, the wounds fading as if they had never been. A Clean spell took care of the blood. When I was done, I leaned into him for a second.

I checked my health to understand how the numbers worked, but it wasn't enlightening. My legs hurt, and I could feel I was bleeding, but the numbers showed 2,480/2,500. It made little sense.

What else is new?

With a sigh, I facepalmed and shook my head. I had the mana dart spell I once used on Earth to heal the rider, and forgotten ever since. It would have been better if I baited them to come out and shot them from afar. The books even mention mages being compared to artillery. I had to make a list of all the ideas I got from those books and practice implementing them. What was the point of calling it "research" if I never used what I learned?

After undressing, I healed my legs, cast Clean on myself and my clothes, and inspected the damage. The leather pants had small tears in several places, but the jeans underneath only had a few holes. I'd need to fix that. An idea came to mind, so I checked the Skills and Spells list and found one called Mend. After a short deliberation, I bought it. That left me with forty-eight ability points. My Health was still 2,480/2,500, despite the healing. I just shook my head, even more confused.

The red dot was blinking rapidly, like it was jumping and shouting, "Check me! Check me!"

Of course, there was no other information. What did I expect?

I walked up to the first jurber, cast Diagnose, and got a BIG surprise. Honestly, the surprise didn't even surprise me anymore. At this point, I was used to them popping up from every direction like whack-a-mole. Maybe the mental aspect of my Strength stat finally kicked in. The jurber wasn't a real animal or creature. It had something resembling anatomy, but it was mostly polluted mana held in a loose shape, and it was already dissipating. I could actually see it breaking down, bits of it unraveling and drifting into the air like smoke pulled by an invisible breeze.

For a second, I considered looting it the traditional way, but the idea felt pointless. There was no flesh, bones, or organs. Just an unstable energy coming apart in front of me. That plan clearly wasn't going to work.

Maybe collect the mana?

I switched gears. Instead of trying to take something physical, I channeled my mana outward, wrapped it around the dissolving form like a cocoon, and started compressing it. The mana within the jurber felt wrong. Tainted. It clung to my senses like foul smoke, and I recoiled from the contact. Disgust rose in my throat, and I had to swallow a few times to keep it down. Thankfully, I managed to hold the structure firm despite the nausea.

I split my mind and kept compressing with one part. In the other, I brought up an image of a spirit coin, or something similar. A small round object, the size and shape of a quarter, glowing with mana. I didn't know exactly how it worked, but figured if the concept was clear enough, this polluted energy could be forced into that shape. I kept pressing down, pushing inward, guiding the compression. The mass shrank and twisted under the pressure, and the filth within it seemed to resist, almost writhing against the shape I was forcing on it. Still, I kept going. It felt like the mana folded in on itself, tighter and tighter. My mind began to shake and sweat. The pressure in my thoughts built until it felt like trying to squeeze a stone down to a grain of sand using only willpower. I kept going until it reached a point where it could no longer compress any further. Then I let go.

A tiny crystal dropped to the ground at my feet, green-gray and glowing faintly. It looked nothing like a coin, but it definitely wasn't mana smoke anymore.

I identified it:

I tried to diagnose it, but met strong resistance. Shifting focus, I reached out to sense its mana and recoiled almost instantly. It was filthier than it had been in jurber form and unstable, barely holding together. The moment I touched it, the breakdown accelerated. Whatever I had done was speeding up its dissipation.

I ran over to the next jurber and repeated the process, but this time, I partitioned my mind into three parts: One to wrap in mana and compress, one to hold a picture of a mana crystal—I gave up on the coin idea—and one to cast Clean and Purify on the mana intermittently. It was more challenging, and I got a killer headache, but I persisted until I got the crystal. Before even identifying it, I wrapped it again in mana and tried to create a shell around it to stop the dissipation. The layer idea didn't work, but the crystal absorbed some of the mana, and it felt like I could add more mana into it. I shrugged and added mana into the crystal with the precise intention of cleaning and stabilizing it until it felt "full," and I couldn't add any more.

My red dot was blinking.

Yay!

Again, not a Spell or a Skill, but learned.

Why?

I stomped the ground in frustration. It's not fair! I want a spell. A one-cast deal! I want to think "loot" and get cool stuff!

After a few minutes of mental griping, I identified the crystal.

At least it was progress.

Now, I tried something else; I created a mound of five jurbers and repeated the process. It was even more challenging and took much more concentration, but I managed. Identified it:

The only difference was that the first crystals were the size of a grain of rice, but this one was the size of a pea.

Once I formed a bigger mound of half-dissipated jurbers and started again, a sudden wave of lightheadedness washed over me. Mana: 45/4200.

A drunk mariachi band was wreaking havoc in my head, my mana reserves were a joke, and I swayed on my feet. Yeah, that was enough progress for one day. Time to make camp.