The Gate Traveler-Chapter 12B6 - : Catalysts and Consequences

As we neared the house, Rue bounded toward us with ears perked and tail swishing. He weaved between us, sniffing us thoroughly from the soles of our boots to the tops of our heads, then gave a curt nod of approval.

Malith froze, eyes wide and fixed on the massive dog. Then he gave a little shiver and glanced between the three of us. “Familiar?”

“Yeah. Mine,” I said, sliding a hand over Rue’s back.

“He’s big.”

Rue tilted his head back, nose in the air, and planted his paws wide. "Rue is very dangerous," he declared, chest puffed out.

I pulled a scroll of Telepathy from my Storage and handed it over. “Here, learn this so you can talk to him.”

He gave me a handful of gold coins. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” I said, frowning as I tried to hand the money back.

He gave me a strange look, like I’d just grown a second head. I’d seen that expression plenty on the worlds I’d visited, but never from a fellow Traveler. Coming from him, it felt out of place.

“What?” I asked.

He gave a faint shake of the head, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing. Nothing.”

The moment the scroll burned away in a flash of ash, Rue stepped forward and, with complete ceremony, placed an enormous paw into Malith’s hand. "This dog is Rue."

Malith snorted, then burst into laughter. “This human is Malith.”

Rue gave him a single, solemn nod, then turned and padded toward the house with a regal air, nose held high.

Malith was still smiling. “Your familiar is... unique.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Mahya said, lips twitching.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “He’s great, and you know it.”

She reached out and gave my bicep a squeeze. “He is. But come on—he’s also something else. You can’t deny that.”

I sighed, giving in. Rue was definitely one of a kind.

When we stepped into the house, Malith halted just past the threshold. His head turned slowly as he scanned the walls, the floor, the air itself. He drew in a sharp breath, loud and deliberate. “That is a powerful core,” he murmured, voice tight.

The three of us tensed. Rue spun around in an instant, hackles raised and lips curled back, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

Malith immediately lifted both hands, palms out in a placating gesture. “Do not worry. I have two cores of my own. One of them was almost as powerful as this one.”

“Was?” I asked.

He nodded with a grim expression. “Yes. That place drained it.”

Without another word, he pulled two black orbs. One was the size of a large apple, approximately ten centimeters in diameter. The other was massive, over thirty centimeters across. Without explanation, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

We exchanged confused looks.

He returned a moment later. “I placed them outside to absorb ambient mana. I do not want them drawing from your core.”

I nodded and motioned to the bar. “Have a seat.”

Malith climbed onto the stool while Mahya and Al took the chairs flanking him. I headed to the kitchen, pulled out a pan and eggs, and started making omelets while brewing coffee. The smell of browning butter quickly filled the room.

“You’ll need to learn a new language,” Mahya said, leaning on her elbows. “How’s your mana looking?”

“Regenerating,” he said, absently rubbing his wrist. “But slowly. I need to fill my body, not just the power orbs.”

“Orbs?” Al raised an eyebrow.

“I have a dual-mana system.”

Mahya gave him a long look. “You’re very open for a Traveler. Most people like us don’t share that kind of information so easily.”

Malith sat straighter. “The Guidance sent you to me.”

Al’s voice went firm. “Explain.”

Malith’s eyes flicked between them, then dropped to his clasped hands. “I was losing hope.”

His voice had changed, dropping lower and becoming distant.

“That place... it devours mana. I circled my mana constantly, but it didn’t help. My mana was sucked out like water from a cracked jar. The only way I could regenerate was by standing near the Gate. But the moment I even approached it, my whole body rebelled. My legs trembled. I broke into sweat like I was standing in the breath of a volcano. Every instinct screamed at me to run.”

He looked up, his expression tight and haunted.

“But I didn’t have a choice. So I stood there, just close enough to feel the mana begin to return. I never crossed it, of course. I wouldn’t dare. But each time, the dread grew stronger. The Gate’s presence... it expanded, like it was reaching for me. The air twisted. Objects moved when they shouldn’t. Shadows bent the wrong way. On my last trip to the Gate, the wall beside it changed shape and snapped at me, like it had teeth. I could feel a pull, too. Like the Gate wanted to drag me through.”

Mahya stiffened.

“I fled,” he said. “After that, I never went back. I tried regenerating through my dungeon cores instead. But they emptied, slowly and surely. I fed them every mana crystal I had, but that too ran out. That moon emptied them as well. Even the mana I managed to recover got siphoned away.”

He fell silent for a moment, staring at the countertop.

“I was stuck. No crystals, no cores, and no intention to cross over to Nami. I couldn’t even get close to the Gate anymore without the world twisting around me. That moon is cursed. I was out of options. So I prayed.” He sighed deeply. “I prayed to the Guidance. And then... you came.”

The silence that followed stretched. I stopped glancing back at them, but could feel Mahya and Al staring at my back while I stirred the eggs. Questions buzzed between them. I could practically feel the weight of their thoughts pressing on me, but I had no answers to give.

They fell silent after that, the only sound in the room the soft sizzle of eggs in the pan and the occasional clink of utensils. When the food was ready, I set the plates on the bar and slid onto the stool across from Malith.

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Mahya picked up her fork but didn’t eat. “Do you know what’s happening with that place?” she asked.

Malith looked up mid-bite. “What do you mean?”

“I lived in a tech world,” she said, absently twirling her fork. “Even traveled through deep space and landed on an uninhabited world—no Gates, no people, nothing. As long as I kept my mana circulating, I didn’t lose any. But on that moon…” She paused, brows drawing together. “I was leaking mana. Just a trickle, but it never stopped.”

She rubbed her arms as if trying to chase off a chill. “That empty world didn’t have Gates at all—until the Nami Gate appeared.”

The moment she said Nami, both she and Malith shuddered, almost in sync. It didn’t look intentional. I wasn’t even sure they noticed. But I did.

Malith nodded slowly. “Yes. I felt it too. And... I’m familiar with tech worlds, so I know what you mean.” He shifted in his seat, frowning. “But ... no. I don’t know what’s going on. I searched. Dug through the Archive. Went back... I don’t know, close to a thousand years’ worth of records.”

He rubbed the side of his head. “But nothing. No clear answers. Just speculation.”

“Speculation?” Al asked, eyes narrowing.

Malith hesitated, then gave a small, reluctant nod. “I found a few old theories. Musings, really. Nothing solid. One said that every living world has mana, even if the Gate reports a reading of zero. The idea is... well, as long as a world has life—plants, atmosphere, microbes, whatever—it technically has mana. Just in minuscule amounts.”

He looked around at us.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” he added quickly. “But if it is... maybe the moon drains mana because it’s... dead? Or—no, maybe not dead. That’s probably the wrong word. Empty, maybe?”

He waved a hand. “I don’t know. It was just a theory, and not even a good one. No research to support it. My class helps me understand societies, not geology or planetary mana flow.”

He glanced down at his plate and poked at the omelet. “I’m just guessing.”

We ate in silence for a while.

Malith glanced over at Mahya, a puzzled look on his face. “Why do you want me to learn a language?” he asked. “We can already communicate.”

Mahya nodded, setting her fork down. “We speak a language called English between ourselves,” she said, gesturing toward me. “It’s from his home planet, and the place where we all met. Most of our books, fiction and non-fiction, are in that language. It’ll make things easier.”

Malith blinked. “English? Like... from Dirt?”

“It’s not Dirt,” I snapped, my voice a little sharper than I intended. “It’s Earth.”

He flinched and dipped his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend,” he said in perfect English.

All three of us stared at him, eyebrows raised.

He chuckled. “I traveled Earth a while back. Didn’t stay long. They were in the middle of a big war.”

“Which war?” I asked, setting down my coffee.

“They called it a world war,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But it was more like a half-world war. Only about half the planet was involved.”

“There were two of those,” I said. “Do you know which one?”

He frowned, searching his memory. “Not really. But about six months before I crossed over, some country attacked the country I was in. A place called Gem Port? Gem Harbor?”

“Pearl Harbor?” I asked.

He pointed at me. “Yes, that one.”

“That was the Second World War.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug, like it didn’t really matter.

“You crossed into the U.S.?” I asked. “Where?”

He tilted his head. “It was called a reserve. Like a reserve for wildlife, but it was for people.”

Mahya and Al both looked at me, clearly confused.

“Which one?” I asked. “Navajo Nation or Pine Ridge?”

“Pine Ridge,” he said, smiling faintly. “Beautiful place. The people were fascinating. Kind, thoughtful. But I hate war. I left through the next Gate I found, in a place called Montana.”

Mahya turned to me, brow furrowed. “I thought all the U.S. Gates were on army bases.”

“The ones on the reserves aren’t,” I said, tapping a knuckle on the bar.

“But he crossed in Montana.”

I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it wasn’t an army base back then? I don’t know when they first discovered the Gates.”

“They know about the Gates?” Malith asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

We all nodded.

“That’s bad,” he said flatly.

I let out a slow breath and gave a small shrug. “They’re in the middle of an integration. Maybe they’ve lost interest in the Gates by now. They’ve got bigger problems, I’m sure.”

“You think it’s already started?” Mahya asked quietly.

“I know it’s started.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when I felt it—an immediate pulse of warning from the system, sharp and clear like a slap to the back of my mind. I clenched my jaw, growling in my head, and nearly out loud.

“How?” Al asked, leaning forward, voice low.

“Do the math,” I said, eyes on my coffee. “The timeline, the rate mana was increasing ... there’s no way it hasn’t started.”

Malith leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’ve always wanted to visit an integrating world.”

Mahya clapped him on the back with a grin. “Well, you’re in luck. This world integrated thirty-something years ago, and it’s still choked full of dungeons.”

He shook his head. “I’m not interested in dungeons. I want to observe the societal shifts. How people adapt, how institutions change, how cultures react to a surge in mana. That kind of transformation is fascinating to me.”

Mahya blinked at him. “You don’t care about dungeons? But you have cores!”

“Yes. I have two. I don’t need more.” He folded his hands on the counter. “What interests me is how society evolves under pressure. Whether it’s an integration or a mana-eb, the effects ripple through everything.”

Mahya’s brows drew together, clearly baffled. “Wait! You know about the ebs?”

“Of course,” he said, eyebrows lifting like the question caught him off guard. “I told you, I’m a Theorist of Threads. Integrations and mana-ebs… they’re catalysts. They rewrite the rules of entire worlds.”

Mahya let out a small hrrmph and crossed her arms.

“What’s a mana-eb?” I asked, glancing between the two of them. Al gave a silent nod, echoing my curiosity.

Mahya waved a hand dismissively. “I told you about them. It’s when mana recedes from a world instead of flooding it.”

“I thought you said that was just a theory your father was researching, not an actual thing.”

She flipped her hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “It is a theory, but there’s a lot of evidence to support it. The debate is more about why it happens. Whether it’s a natural cycle or something people trigger.”

“Like that dead world we saw?” Al asked, voice quiet.

Mahya shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure. My father talked about this stuff constantly, but I didn’t always pay attention. When you grow up hearing about something every day, it gets boring. By the time you’re an adult and the subject might actually be interesting, you’ve already learned to tune it out.”

She gave a sheepish smile. “From what I remember, he was especially interested in worlds that went through an ebb or an integration but managed to survive the change. That was his focus—the transformation the world underwent and the restoration of lost knowledge. Whether that world fits… I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Malith said, nodding slowly. “That’s what interests me too. The society, not the physical changes to the world. The way people adjust, restructure, and find balance again. It’s fascinating.”

“So why did you leave Earth?” I asked. “War is a major societal shift.”

He exhaled through his nose, the sound tired. “It’s not the same. War is an explosion of negativity. It’s like a festering boil finally bursting, releasing all the suppressed insanity. The anger, the hate, the resentment, the violence. All the murderous urges people usually keep buried.”

He paused, glancing down at his hands with a dark expression.

“Yes, war brings change. It does shift a society. But the shift is driven by darkness. And, unfortunately, one aspect of my class is that I feel it all deeply. The emotional current of a population, the societal threads that bind it together. In a time of war, it’s overwhelming. It’s hard to breathe through it. The despair and rage seep into everything. It’s difficult… and depressing.”

He looked back up, his voice softening.

“But when the change comes from something external—like an integration or a mana ebb—it’s different. The world shifts, yes, but it’s not born out of hatred. It pushes people. Forces them to adapt, to grow, to reach for skills or strengths they didn’t even know they had. Of course, there are always those who use it for harm, who take advantage of the chaos. But they’re not the majority.”

He gave a small shrug. “In percentage terms, more people rise to the occasion than sink into their worst selves. So, for me, it feels different. Like the difference between optimism and suppression. One brings out hope. The other crushes the soul.”

He fell quiet for a moment, then added, “I enjoy one… and suffer through the other.”

“The assholes here sure didn’t,” Mahya muttered under her breath.

Al and I both nodded in silent agreement.

Malith turned to her, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She made a vague sweeping motion, as if gesturing to the entire planet. “This place. We visited one city that actually rose to the occasion, like you said. The rest? Total shit show.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. I feel the heaviness in the threads. The weight of fear, confusion, selfishness… but I also sense small pockets of progress. Of hope. So not everything is lost here. They simply need time… and a little guidance to find the right path.”

We stared at him.

He feels the whole world? Shit. That must be terrible.

I thought about the class the system had once offered me—then taken away—and felt a wave of relief. It had made the choice for me, and at the time, that had pissed me off. But it had kept me from doing something stupid. Looking back, I was glad it had.

A surge of pride washed over me through the connection in my mind. It felt almost identical to what I got from Rue when he strutted around, bragging about how dangerous he was.

I shook my head. “You’re still a dick. You didn’t let me decide on my own.”

This time, nothing came through. No pulse of emotion, no scolding presence. I half-expected a reprimand for calling it a “dick,” but there was only silence.

Annoying system.

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