The Gate Traveler-Chapter 68B5 - : Heartfelt Thanks and Final Goodbyes

For the next week, our world revolved around books. Al buried himself in the massive tome of Alchemy runes, muttering under his breath as he painstakingly translated each symbol. I wrapped up the formations book, then moved on to Basic Rituals and Magic Circles, the words blurring together after hours of work.

Mahya latched onto the Print Thoughts spell the moment I mentioned it. With a glint of determination, she set to work compiling a book of engineering knowledge—everything her apprentice engineer still lacked. It turned out that the issue with the spell wasn’t my incompetence—it was the spell itself.

Every time the spell mangled her thoughts on the page, Mahya exploded in a furious string of curses, drawing from every world she had ever visited.

"By the shattered gears of Karvok! Rotten circuits and rusted mana coils! May the abyss take this useless excuse for a spell!"

She slammed her hand on the desk, scowling at the offending page as if sheer intimidation might force it to cooperate.

"Stars above, below, and sideways, this is worse than those cursed glyphs from Ravax!"

Mahya yanked at her braids, muttering something that sounded vaguely like a profanity—if one could curse using only vowels and clicks.

Rue, curled up on his beanbag, cracked open an eye. "Mahya angry words funny."

I snorted, flipping another page of my book. "She’s not wrong, though. That spell’s a mess."

"Mess? Mess?! This thing has the accuracy of a drunken skyfish with a broken wing!"

She jabbed a finger at the page, huffing out a breath that could’ve powered a wind turbine.

Al barely glanced up from his tome, lifting an eyebrow. "You could refine your thoughts. I am sure the problem is a lack of clarity while casting."

Mahya let out a dramatic groan, throwing her hands up. "Oh, sure. Let me refine my thoughts into perfect clarity while using a spell that was probably written by a sleep-deprived lunatic on a caffeine bender."

She grabbed the book again, scowling at it as if sheer willpower might force it to cooperate. Rue let out a sleepy chuff of amusement from his beanbag, his tail thumping on the floor. I just grinned and went back to translating. It was going to be a long week.

My next task was to create two more pairs of crystals for the balloon gizmos. Unfortunately, the crystals Mahya and Al brought back were just enough to cover that—no extras. Worse, I had no one to pass the process on to.

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After some thought, I decided to sketch the design for the engineer. He might not be able to replicate it now, but maybe, with time and practice, he could figure it out.

Owen hovered nearby, watching as I carefully drew the magic circle on parchment. His brows knitted together, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out and touch the design.

I set the pen down and tapped the outer ring. "This part needs to be etched exactly like this onto the crystal. Any deviation, even a fraction of a millimeter, and the whole thing either fizzles out or explodes in your face."

Owen swallowed hard. "Explodes?"

"Just a little," I said, holding my fingers an inch apart. "Nothing dramatic. Probably."

He gave me a flat look. "That’s not reassuring."

I smirked and pushed the parchment toward him. "You'll be fine. The trick is the connections." I traced a finger along the delicate lines between the magic script and runes. "Every path needs to be even, no breaks, no overlapping. The mana flow depends on it. Get this right, and you might be able to make them yourself down the line."

Owen studied the design, his brows furrowed in concentration. He traced a finger along the parchment, exhaling slowly. "I think I get it. It'll take some practice, but... yeah, I’m hopeful."

"Good," I said, nodding. "We’re leaving soon, so if you can figure this out, you won’t be left scrambling for gas later."

Owen let out a short laugh, rolling up the parchment with care. "Yeah, no pressure or anything. Just the survival of the whole balloon project riding on me."

"You’ll manage.”

He snorted. "Sure. But if I blow something up, I’m blaming you."

"Fair enough," I said, grinning.

With our final projects wrapped up, the time for goodbyes crept up faster than I liked.

Rima cornered me early in the day, a notebook in hand, her expression a mix of determination and reluctant farewell. "I have a few last questions," she said, flipping through the pages. "Promise you won’t leave before I get them answered?"

I chuckled. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

We spent the day going over details—clarifications on healing techniques, theories she wanted to double-check, and a few last-minute bits of advice she scribbled down furiously. But after a while, the conversation drifted. We talked about books, the people here, and what came next for both of us.

As the evening settled in and the air cooled, she walked me to my house. Her steps slowed, her fingers twisting together. Then, just as I turned to go in, she pulled me into a hug.

"Thank you," she murmured, voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

For once, I didn’t have a quick response. I just hugged her before stepping back. "Take care of yourself, Rima."

She nodded, blinking fast, and with one last lingering look, she walked away.

My last goodbye was Roda, and I didn’t go empty-handed. With the balloon swaying gently beneath us, I placed five spell marbles in her hands—freshly made Harvest Mana Crystal spells. Her fingers curled around them, eyes shining.

"These will help a lot," she murmured, turning one over.

"Figured you’d need a steady supply," I said, handing over a bundle of translated books next. "And these should help."

The day stretched out as we drifted over New Sanctuary, the balloon carrying us in lazy loops above the cultivated fields, the fallow land waiting for new life, and the steady ribbon of the river. The wind was warm, the sky endless.

Roda leaned against the railing, watching the landscape pass below. "I still can’t believe how much has changed," she said, shaking her head. "When I first started all this, I just wanted to keep people alive. Now… now I want to build something bigger."

I raised an eyebrow. "Bigger?"

She turned to me, grinning. "A trade network. A real one, between the good cities. With the balloons, we can make it work—fast travel, safe routes. Maybe even all the way to Zarad to rescue more slaves if we’re careful."

That was ambitious. I let out a low whistle. "That’s… a hell of a plan."

Her expression hardened with resolve. "We’re also going to keep rescuing people from other places," she said, her voice steady. "Even without you."

I nodded, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. "Then you’ll need this."

I sketched quickly, marking down every city we’d passed—every place still breathing, still alive. Then, using a different color, I traced the location of the edible dungeon.

"These are your best bets," I said, tapping the city markers. "They’ve got people, but they’re like Almatai and Almadris, so make sure your people stay cautious."

My finger moved to the dungeon mark. "And this one—this is a game-changer. If you can secure it, you’ll have a steady supply of honey, nuts, and even some eggs."

She studied the map in silence, eyes flicking between the marks. When she looked up, something in her gaze had shifted—steadied.

"Thank you," she said softly.

We spent the rest of the ride laughing, talking, and making plans we wouldn’t be around to see through. As the sun dipped below the horizon, we made our way to my house, where the rest of the apprentices were already waiting.

Everyone we had taught had gathered—healers, alchemists, woodworkers, one engineer. Roda stood among them, along with a few others who had joined me on rescue missions more than once, Mountain included. The air buzzed with quiet anticipation, a mix of gratitude and unspoken farewells hanging between us.

I had gone all out for our last dinner together—something special, something memorable. The table overflowed with dishes: slow-roasted meat glazed in a dark, spiced honey sauce, its edges caramelized to perfection; fluffy herb-studded flatbreads warm from the pan; a bright, citrusy salad tossed with roasted nuts and crumbled cheese; and a deep, fragrant stew simmered with root vegetables, tender enough to melt on the tongue.

The room buzzed with conversation as plates were passed, laughter spilling between mouthfuls. Even Rue had his own feast—thick, meaty cuts set aside just for him, which he devoured with loud, appreciative chomps.

By the time everyone had eaten their fill, Roda stood at the head of the table, her glass raised, seriousness settling over her expression. The chatter faded, all eyes turning to her.

"For everything you’ve done," she said, voice clear and unwavering. "For giving us a future."

A chorus of cheers followed, glasses clinking together in a last toast.

When the night wound down, she hugged each of us—Rue included, much to his delight.

"Rue good dog," he informed her as she scratched behind his ear.

She laughed. "The best dog."

Then, with one last lingering hug and thank you, she stepped back, letting us go.