Green Crest town, Spire Sea northern coastline, local time [1794.04.06]

  Without much fanfare, they boarded the ship just as the sunset started painting the frozen landscape in reds and violets.

  That day, Zeph had found a first small curiosity pertaining to the culture of small settlements like this one.

  That ‘morning’, noticing a distinct absence of wadokeis anywhere in the inn, he asked the inn’s butler—the one who dared to wake him up—what time it was. The man’s answer caused him to doubt his senses. Literally. Just by looking out of the window, it was clear that the sun was already past its zenith.

  It took the man a moment to understand Zeph’s confusion, but he quickly caught on and immediately explained what he meant.

  The ‘six in the morning’ he was talking about meant neither the hour after midnight nor the hour after ‘the day has officially started’ – as in, after the start of the first day-cycles. No, it simply meant that it was six Corora’s hours after sunrise.

  Zeph was so accustomed to the local measurements of time that he somehow missed the most obvious of answers.

  Thus, a bit longer discussion ensued because of Zeph’s curiosity.

  As it turned out, people here weren’t following the night-day cycles present in the cities and dictated by an authorized institution – like the Communication Bureau in Lurona. Any activity and business here was starting simply at dawn and lasted for 16 Corora’s hours – 10 of which covered the available daylight – leaving 14 hours for personal activities and sleep.

  In the language of the standardized timeframe, Zeph was woken up at the 16th hour of the day. Or, in other words, in the middle of the third day-cycle. It also meant that it was going to get dark soon. As the spring was starting, the days were becoming longer, but they still had only 10 Corora’s hours of sunlight as of now. As so, it should be of no surprise that the sun was over its zenith.

  In contrast, the populace of the cities was starting their day at half past seven, so with the start of the rigidly declared first day-cycle. In other words, two Corora’s hours before the sunrise.

  At least, that was the case right now. These ‘two hours before the break’ were a matter of change, as the FLK government was adamant about slowly shifting the daylight hours around the clock during the year to accommodate different needs during different seasons. On the last day of the year, the last light of the day marked the end of the day-cycle. On the first day of a new year and after the period of festivities, the dawn was declaring the start of the day-cycle. It was a bit of a mess, all things considered. Even if there was a method to this madness, it was motivated purely by economic needs, though.

  Thankfully, keeping the time synchronized around the whole country wasn’t of high importance. Keeping the units of time the same everywhere was a given, but this far from civilization centers and flourishing commerce the business hours weren’t important.

  Moreover, if Zeph had to state his opinion, the method of determining the first hour of the day was much more natural here than in Lurona. But again, people here didn’t have to worry about business hours at all – their port was working around the clock and it was their only facility dealing with outsiders regularly.

  But what was striking in those seemingly unimportant details, and what was attracting Zeph’s attention, was the information stemming from those differences. Not the history or regulations, but the cause-and-effect as well as the reasoning behind. The more he traveled, the more it seemed that Corora’s society was much more diverse than on Earth – even in the same country, under the Council of the same city, and on the land influenced by very similar powers, each community regulated itself independently. Additionally, those differences were more practical than cultural in nature.

  Now, looking at the aforementioned docs made him regret a little that he wasn’t able to experience this place more. It had its own quirks, and he felt like he missed a lot. Not that he was complaining about his time at the inn, though.

  Zeph stood on the deck as their ship started moving, musing over the lost opportunity while admiring the breathtaking spectacle playing around the port. The colorful light was refracting from the ice covering almost every surface – the sea, the high rocky islands, the infrastructure, and even the few ships docked there.

  The cold air was fresh in his mouth, free from any pollution thanks to the constant wind blowing from the direction of the veritable forest of mountainous islands and the great expanse beyond.

  Ferrandis was keeping him company when they walked through the town but decided to immediately go under the deck when they reached their destination – both to avoid the cold and to talk with Makani. As so, Zeph was left alone for a moment.

  The serene atmosphere was broken when the ship started vibrating, releasing a low hum. The sails started to lean back even further, guided by the experienced hands of the crew. Not many ropes were adjusted, as the rigid framework of the sails was half-automatized. But everyone had to work in harmony to not disrupt the ongoing air-and-Mana flow. If the sails were to deflate or lose taunt, the Magicule mix accumulated under their arched canopies would disperse, slowing them down considerably.

  They were going to travel upwind, so the additional engines were engaged to push them away from the bay. A fresh crust of ice was covering the path they took to enter the port yesterday, breaking loudly under the weight of the ship. From time to time, a deep, crunchy sound of impact reverberated through the deck as big chunks of ice floe were pushed aside.

  Zeph knew well that the hull was strong, partially thanks to its enchantments. Strong enough to break through a thick layer of solid ice even, so he wasn’t alarmed in the slightest.

  Accompanied by the sound of cracking ice and the rhythmic pulses of low vibrations caused by the engines, they started their journey anew.

  ~~~

  Zeph stayed on deck for almost an hour, contemplating while idly taking in the views. But as soon as he noticed the waves were regaining their strength, he decided a retreat was in order. He couldn’t feel his face already because of the cold; the sheer idea of meeting the full force of winds playing over the open waters was painful.

  He pushed away from the taffrail and turned around. He was wearing his armor beneath a heavy coat, bare the helmet, so he didn’t dare to touch his stiff face with his gloved hand. Instead, he pulled on his collar to bring it closer to his nose to catch his breath and warm his skin.

  Finding the hatch, he kicked an edge of a vertical plate to turn around the fastening and stomped heavily on the wooden surface a few centimeters ahead. The floor gave in for a moment before he withdrew his foot, allowing the mechanism to raise the hatch and uncover a wide wooden staircase.

  He quickly descended a few steps, grabbing a handle dangling from the hatch’s bottom. He closed the entrance before too much of the heat could escape, but cut off the light at the same time. With a practiced move, he reached for the wall on his right and secured the entrance using a turning mechanism.

  The space was dark, barely illuminated by a few lamps lining the walls down the corridor. The difference in intensity of light between the interior of the ship and the bright sunset outside was enough to make him pause for a moment. His eyes were accommodating fast – much faster than he was accustomed to – but it still took a while to adjust to a difference of a few orders of magnitude in brightness.

  The interior wasn’t dim by any means, though. After a few seconds, his sight regained its capacity. It took him a while, despite all of the enhancements his body possessed, but he didn’t have any optical implants, so it wasn’t that strange of an occurrence.

  Indeed, it would be slow in the eyes of any self-respecting sailor. These people have never invented an eyepatch to help with the drastic jump in light intensity – they either trained their bodies, took relevant implants, or used appropriate Skills and Spells. The romanticized picture of pirates that he knew from the Earth’s media didn’t stand a chance in the clash with brutal reality.

  Moving down the stairs and along the corridor, he quickly navigated the passages to find Makani’s room.

  A dulled but energetic dispute could be heard from behind the wooden doors. He couldn’t distinguish the words yet – people here valued their privacy and the doors themselves were almost airtight.

  He knocked three times, using a bit of force to make sure he was heard.

  The voices petered out and silence ensued. After a few seconds, Makani opened the door.

  Looking at Zeph’s face – still half-covered by the lower rim of his coat – the Manacaster frowned.

  “Don’t tell me you were outside all this time…”

  Zeph shrugged. “It was quite peaceful there, so why not?”

  Makani grimaced, immediately grabbing his arm and pulling him into his small abode. “And what made you think it is a good idea to stand for an hour in 10 mei? Are you masochistic?” he continued while using a Spell to send a warm air blow his way.

  Zeph chuckled, taking off his coat when he was finally released. Indeed, the temperature of almost minus 20 Celsius wasn’t comfortable, but he had his armor, enhancements, and many other ways to keep himself from freezing to the bone.

  The gesture was much appreciated, though.

  “I can guess what you are thinking just by looking at that creepy smile,” Makani commented sternly, observing him with an unimpressed gaze. “How is your ‘balancing’ ability faring right now?”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Poorly,” Zeph admitted, putting his coat on the rack by the door. Willforce Morphon could balance a lot of things within his body, but the temperature didn’t seem to be one of them. “I should be fine, though? Just give me a few minutes…”

  “Zeph, you really shouldn’t underestimate the diseases thriving in the cold environments around the lands you never visited before. They can disable a man for months,” Ferrandis interjected, speaking from his seat near the small, round window.

  For some reason, Makani sent him a hard glare, silencing the man, before turning back to Zeph.

  “I wasn’t asking if you are cold!” the Manacaster exclaimed. “Is your body losing resources? How are you feeling?”

  Noticing that something wasn’t quite right with that line of questions, he stopped trying to get rid of the warm leather covering of his armored foot and looked at the Manacaster. “No. I feel fine. Why are you shouting at me?”

  “Because your face is blue, you idiot!”

  _____________________________________________________________

  Spire Sea, local time [1794.04.08]

  Wary of the freezing, Magicule-saturated air, Zeph made sure his mask was sitting tightly over his face.

  As it turned out, the temperature wasn’t the only hazard in the middle of a sea during the winter. Magicule’s composition was so skewed towards Water-Mana that each breath taken was causing damage to the skin around the mouth and nose despite the Veil’s interference. Not that surprising, although irrelevant for people with Power above one hundred or possessing thick Veils. At least, in these ‘mild’ temperatures.

  Not like he had to worry about any of that. With all the upgrades to his immunology system, he was probably better suited for the weather and pathogens than most landlubbers. But, as it turned out, his skin was very sensitive to prolonged exposure.

  No wonder he couldn’t feel his face back then.

  Last time, Zeph let his Veil flow with the wind, exposing his face to the forces of nature. It was a great mistake. Not because it was dangerous but because of the aftereffects. As a Terrien, his body reacted to the cold temperature and perceived over-hydration in the only way it knew of – cutting off all capillaries cycling the blood in his skin. It was like a local hypothermia, but a bit more drastic visually. Instead of the red swelling he would normally get, his face gained a sickly pale color almost instantly. And the cold blood underneath was painting his face blue.

  He suspected the ‘Homeostasis defense’ Enhancement had its hand in that, but he had no evidence.

  Either way, it was a surprise. He had never spent so much time on the deck without protecting himself from the cold, so he couldn’t have known it would cause such an effect. Worse yet – drastic changes in skin coloring like that were a clear symptom of infection for the races of Corora, as Makani has explained. It was only natural they were worried.

  He couldn’t even explain himself and had to calmly agree to visit the ship’s Doctor. He wasn’t going to blow his cover by hinting that his physique was quite different from a normal human.

  Thankfully, he was way past that point now. He even learned how to prevent his blood flow from closing on him, which was an unexpected bonus in this whole fiasco.

  And a fiasco it was – until now, he was keeping a low profile: reading books, reading Skills, meditating, and perusing his Soul memories directly. He wasn’t even training his Spells or techniques because he wasn’t sure how much the Cartographer could detect. Yet, here he was now – a sick person without any infection.

  At least his explanations about his strengthened immune system made sense to the Doctor and everyone else.

  But he wasn’t here to analyze his past mistakes.

  He, once again, looked around.

  Nothing unusual could be seen on the horizon, no matter how much he squinted. There was a storm coming from the east – recognizable by the dark shadow dominating the high skies. Not the first one they have met. There was also a shimmering light coming from the south. Also, nothing unusual – it was a long-distance effect of light refraction, coming from the waters closer to the equator and basking in powerful sunlight.

  Also, it was another proof that Mana was a good conductor of light, as they shouldn’t have been able to see a lightshow that was happening beyond the horizon. They were still ways away from the source of those refractions, yet the bright pulses were somehow delivered to their very eyes despite the curvature of the planet.

  Still, nothing unexpected.

  All in all, he had no idea why Ferrandis brought them to the deck.

  “Okay, those are some nicely contrasting skies if you look at them from a right angle, I have to say…” Zeph started.

  “Yeah, it almost looks like a night and day are bordering each other, fighting for space. Quite a view,” Makani added, turning his head from the front to the left and back again.

  Ferrandis sighed heavily. “I hoped you would be more impressed… well, I suppose at least one of you can still be,” he commented before kneeling near his backpack that was lying on the deck.

  It took him a moment to retrieve two spyglasses from the mess and chaos that were permanently occupying its interior.

  “Look at the dark clouds,” he instructed, handing them the devices. “Tell me what you think.”

  Skeptically, Zeph took the spyglass from him. Turning back to the storm clouds, he tried to discern anything abnormal with his regular vision, to no avail.

  Shrugging, he used the apparatus too, and looked again.

  After a moment, he froze.

  “The weather today is perfect,” the scholar continued to speak. “We should have a perfect vi—“

  “It’s the Hiruk, isn’t it?” Makani suddenly asked, interrupting the man and making Zeph glance back.

  “Rude,” Ferrandis crossed his arms. “Yes, it’s our closest stratum-one continent. But that’s not why I brought you here.” He retrieved a scroll from his backpack and quickly walked up to Zeph. “You wanted to know more about different biomes and lifeforms, right? I think it would be best to show you one before I start explaining. That way, you will gain more contextual information and understand what we are dealing with.”

  “Said like it’s unrelated to his latest sickness…” Makani grumbled under his nose, going back to observing the distant landmass.

  The rolled-up parchment was indeed a map. A vague one, but definitely made for sailors. Zeph could easily recognize that by looking at the distorted landmasses painted there – it was clear that it was a nautical map that was used in navigation. Those were drawn with a slightly different coordinate system than a topological map. He didn’t know much more than that, though.

  “We are going to pass near that stratum-one continent,” Ferrandis continued unperturbed, ignoring Makani’s idle comments. “What you can see right now, is a shadow of a great flying landmass. The surface of the sea under it is illuminated thanks to the light-transfer properties of the dense Mana currents, so if we were to get too close we would lose sight of the landmass itself…”

  “Basics,” grumbled Makani.

  “Excuse me. Is my commentary unnecessary? Or is my voice that unsightly?”

  More unintelligent grumbling was his only answer.

  “As I thought,” Ferrandis said flatly. “Anyway, we need to establish the basics before going deeper, so deal with me.”

  “I kind of understand our Manacaster here, though,” Zeph said, using the pause in the lecture. “What does it have to do with any biome?”

  “Everything,” the man shrugged, turning his head to Zeph. “The intensity of light under floating continents isn’t exactly the same as on uncovered land. Even if it still looks like normal daylight, it’s much weaker. It’s not enough for the sea life to prosper, in theory. And yet, those organisms have developed alternative methods of producing or gathering energy.”

  Zeph was surprised by the depth of Ferrandis’s insight. This man was really using the language he could understand. The language of multidisciplinary science, that is.

  “Instead, they are using everything BUT the sunlight. The most thriving underwater biomes reside under the flying continents. But I’ve said enough – can you guess why that is?” he asked suddenly, turning to him.

  Zeph didn’t have to ponder for long, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Because of what is falling down, isn’t it? Rocks rich in microorganisms are one thing, but this flying rock is sure to constantly sweat with resource-rich water. Not to mention, anything organic that would fall, and the surface water washing away any biological debris…”

  He wanted to ask about the rivers. Were they unloading their baggage directly into the sea below, or was there some enclosed flow on the continent’s surface? Yet, he felt that this question would be too inconspicuous. Not knowing the details of natural phenomena or lacking biological knowledge was different from not possessing common sense.

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to ask at all. Ferrandis liked to be prude in his lectures, for whatever reason.

  “Right, right. The matter brought down by the waterfalls is the major component. Either way, the waters under the flying landmasses are the most fertile. We don’t know much about the life deep under the surface, where the majority of flora and fauna is located, but we can prove that most of the marine life is centered under the flying islands and continents by simply comparing the quality of water and its relative Mana saturation.”

  That’s something I would like to know before the New Year festivities… Zeph thought bitterly. Was Lurona visited by any of the rare species, I wonder… Ah!

  “Wait, you are trying to say that you know nothing about the underwater creatures?” he asked quickly, turning to the man. “What about the specimens that gained self-awareness? They should have tried to at least make a contact, no?”

  The man shrugged. “We wouldn’t know, they never attacked the land-dwellers. And not many people on stratum zero are able to dive so deep. We are separated almost physically. We only know that most of the plants living in the depths are producing light – as evidenced by the aftereffects of strong storms – probably influencing the ecosystem. The sea likes to throw up the most interesting samples at such times. The associations and academies around the world studied the corpses and detritus, learning that they have a very robust Mana metabolism, so it isn’t even a question of higher lifeforms’ existence—something has to generate the Mana for them to feed on—it’s merely a question of how advanced mentally they could be.”

  Suddenly, a fourth voice could be heard from behind. “What I hear? A talk about Murdúchu? Leave it, lads, it’s all lies,” Vuld announced his presence loudly as he walked up to them. “Anyway. In two days we will be closest to the Hiruk. If you want to observe or dive, that would be the time. Maybe you will find an interestin’ stick or something if you do,” he unceremoniously tried to insert himself into the discussion.

  It was a signal for everyone to finish and go back to their cabins. Not like Vuld himself was aware of that fact.

  _____________________________________________________________

  Spire Sea, local time [1794.04.10]

  The day passed pleasantly.

  They had premium weather to witness the flying continent, as the air became crystal clear after a long storm that started two nights ago. Also, it was the closest they would get to the flying monstrosity – their course leading south in an almost straight line.

  It seemed that the weather was also influenced by the presence of the continent. Zeph never saw the conditions to change that drastically in the span of an hour. It was very possible that the landmass was capturing all the clouds, as the wind was blowing from its direction.

  The view was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. They still couldn’t see any details, but the dark shape towering over the sea was much more distinct this close, even despite the dense clouds conglomerating around the floating rock formation. They were creating breathtaking, spiraling patterns of enormous proportions, diffusing the sunlight in a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of dark colors. The brightly lit upper borders of the dense vapor, shaped like horizontal spirals and cyclones, brought to mind an image of heavenly pathways piercing through reality itself.

  For Zeph, it was as if he was looking at an impossibly tall mountain, surrounded by fanciful cloud formations. And it wasn’t far from the truth.

  “Summer Monsoon is starting, I see,” Ferrandis commented from the side. “A shame we are here this early. The waterfalls caused by the water overflow are quite a sight.”

  “I think I can live with the memory of what we are seeing now…” Makani commented silently, transfixed by this miracle of nature.

  “Those rocks have to degrade quite quickly if so much water is escaping the land…” Zeph said absentmindedly.

  “Slower than on the stratum zero, but yes – the fragmentation of the continents is quite abrupt, all things considered,” the scholar agreed. “One of the reasons we have found methods of merging floating debris into the mainlands. That technology dates way before the System Onji’s interference—”

  Suddenly, a bright flash illuminated a small part of the sky near the distant continent. It looked almost like lightning but lacked the characteristic pulsating effect. It was immediately clear that it wasn’t a natural occurrence – especially because the dark clouds around were calm for the whole time.

  Zeph could hear a snap of quickly unfolding spyglass coming from behind. They were currently standing on the elevated part of the ship – the very place used by the ship’s watch and located at its back.

  For a silent minute, everyone looked in the same direction, trying to find out what was happening.

  “Captain!” the man with the spyglass suddenly shouted. “We have castaways falling from the continent!”