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B2—Chapter 34: Hot-Air Balloon

  I had just spent a thousand mana learning another book’s nguage to find more information about familiars when I heard Mahya cursing from the other room, “Stupid, archaic piece of junk!” Her voice was sharp with frustration, cutting through the otherwise quiet space.

  And then Rue’s voice exploded in my mind, “Fix! Fix!” The urgen his tone made me drop what I was doing and go to iigate.

  “What happened?” I asked as I stepped into the saloon, notig the temosphere.

  “We were watg the Avengers movie,” Mahya expined, her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently on the floor, “and the puter just died.”

  Rue shouted telepathically again, “Movie! Movie!” His voice echoed loudly in my head, making me wince.

  Mahya and I exged a quick, pained look, and I said, “Rue, buddy, we’re looking for a solution. Don’t worry. And please don’t shout so loud mentally.” sidering the mental pounding, my tone was as gentle as I could manage.

  He hung his head, looking like a scolded puppy, and shouted, “Sorry!” The volume of his apology made us wince more.

  “No big deal, buddy, you’ll learn,” I said, trying to soothe him as I reached down to scratch his . His tail wagged slightly, but the worry was still apparent in his posture.

  “Maybe it ran out of power?” I suggested, turning baahya.

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head as she ied the dead puter. “It’s ected to the geor. It’s just dead.” Her fiapped uselessly on the keyboard, and she looked frustrated.

  “Do you think it’s the rising mana levels?”

  “Yeah,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair, “and the fact that we’re magical doesn’t help the situation.”

  “I hope you didn’t lose any data from the puter.

  “Of course not,” Mahya said. “It’s all on the crystalline disc.” She sounded offehat I asked.

  I took out my puter and ha to her. “We should buy a few more puters, just in case,” I suggested.

  “Yeah...” she agreed, her torailing off as she looked at the backup puter with a hint of weariness.

  I returo the ded checked the book I learhe nguage of, but still didn’t find an answer. I took out the book, paid the mana, and looked at my regeion. It went up to fifteen units per mihere was no doubt about it; the mana level increased.

  yed Starfarers in the evening, and Rue won again.

  This dog is a master cheater!

  The day, after seven books, I found something promising. I reized the words Familiar and Wizard on the book’s first page, so I kept reading until I uood the nguage. The Wizard’s Crutch was the name of the book, and its tiny size made it impossible to call it a book––more like a booklet or pamphlet.

  The author wrote the first chapter in a very flowery and plicated nguage, and after I deciphered it, basically the entire first chapter called Wizards that el mana through their familiar, zy, stupid, mediocre, and inpetent.

  I gred at the book and muttered sarcastically, “Tell us how you really feel.”

  My frustration was mounting as I slogged through the extensive sed chapter, where the author droned on and on about the “crucial nature of a wizard’s skill in harnessing and utiliziernal mana.”

  “Yeah, I got that. Move on with it,” I muttered, flipping the page more forcefully than necessary.

  Alfonsen, who had been quietly me, finally asked, “Who are you talking to?” His brow furrowed in mild .

  “The book,” I replied, not b to hide my annoyance as I tinued reading.

  “Why?” He tilted his head, genuinely puzzled by my one-sided versation.

  “Because it’s annoying,” I said, tapping the page as if emphasizing my point.

  “So stop reading it,” he suggested casually, clearly unfazed by my frustration.

  “I ’t; I o find answers,” I expined, my voice tinged with resignation as I forced myself to keep going.

  He shrugged again a, leaving me aloh the droni.

  I was really developing a hatred fical books. Every single one of them exhibited a voluted and ostentatious writing style. It was ANNOYING!

  The third chapter was only three, three!! Paragraphs long. It expihat to el through a familiar, one must be able to el directly. Of course, it didn’t bother to eborate on the process of eling directly or through a familiar. Why should it? Somebody might learn something. I got so annoyed I threw the book into the river.

  After a sed, I retrieved it using telekinesis and eled Heat with low mana to dry it.

  After it was dry and 99 pert of the text survived, I read the fourth and st chapter, the lo in the book. In this chapter, the author expined ad nauseam how great, outstandiraordinary, amazing, and exceptional he was because he could el directly. This time, I threw the book in the river, didn’t bother to retrieve it, and said to the fish, “Bon appétit.”

  I heard Mahya ughing loudly behihe sound catg me off guard.

  I turo her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. She grinned and said, “No wonder you and Lis are such good friends.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head slightly, w where she was going with this.

  “You should hear him curse at a math book sometime. It’s a verbal masterpiece,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

  She must have noticed the shift in my expression, because she quickly sobered, her smile fading. “I know he’s fine, and we’ll hear from him soon,” she added gently, trying to reassure me.

  I just nodded, sighing, and took out the book to spend mana on.

  ?━━━━???━━━━?

  Three hours from Ma’anshaarted seeing hot air balloons, blimps, and even a Zeppelin floating zily in the sky. Mahya and I exged a gnce, both of us intrigued.

  “Why did we hink of this?” I asked, grinning as I admired the se.

  “We are thinking now,” Mahya replied, her eyes gleaming.

  “We definitely are,” I agreed, nodding solemnly.

  “You and Mahya are strange,” said Alfonsen, shaking his head in exasperation.

  “We’ll o stock up on gas,” I said, already pnning ahead.

  “Why?” Mahya asked, her brow furrowing in fusion.

  “So we don’t run out!”

  Wasn’t it obvious?

  “We buy gas on many worlds,” she said, giving me a funny look that made me feel like I was missing something.

  “We ?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

  “Of course, it’s a natural resource,” she said with a chuckle, clearly amused by my ignorance.

  “I thought all those societies in magical worlds were medieval or something,” I admitted.

  “Of course not,” Mahya said, rolling her eyes. “Some are, but most aren’t.”

  “Seriously?”

  “They ’t develop electrical teology because of the mana, but they’re not idiots,” she expined, her toient. “Some are even more advahah, just on a different progression track.”

  “So how e Lis needed Earth’s engineering?” I asked, still puzzled.

  “The guilds guard the secrets of Magitech more diligently than any other form of magical knowledge.”

  “Why?”

  “Money and trol,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, if we run out, you always el [Heat] until we resupply.”

  “True,” I nodded.

  When we moored in Ma’anshan, we learhat a week-long lighter-than-air show was taking pce. Alfonsen wasn’t ied, so I found him three workshops to attend, and Mahya and I went shopping.

  We quickly discovered that we had exaggerated dreams of grandeur. The cheapest blimp, with an open gondo that seats six people, cost 2 million. A nie, with three bedrooms, a kit, and a living room, started at 12 million. On top of that, they needed helium, nur gas, to heat the air, which arently more challenging to e by in magical worlds.

  We lowered our aspirations and looked for a hot-air balloon. We found a lovely, colorful balloon with a-person gondo for 30,000. After Mahya ied the gas burner, she said we wouldn’t have any problems with it in mana worlds.

  To make sure, I took Rue up on a balloon, and he had no problem with it.

  “How e you have no problem with an E-foil or a hot-air balloon but refuse to go on a boat?” I asked, gng at him.

  “No! Boat!” Rue barked bad shouted telepathically, his tone filled with clear distress.

  “I know, buddy, but why?” I pressed, genuinely curious.

  “Wobble! No! Boat!” he insisted, his tail tucked between his legs as he shook his head emphatically.

  “That’s your problem? That it wobbles?” I asked, blinking in surprise as I tried to process the simplicity of his fear.

  “Yes!” Rue’s ears fttened, and he looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.

  That surprised me; I thought the reason was more plicated. I reached out to scratch behind his ears, trying to soothe him.

  After we nded, I told Mahya about the wobbling when a man in a crisp uniform approached us with a clipboard. His expression was all business. “Your hot-air balloon will be delivered in five days,” he informed us, his tone as formal as his appearance. “However, you won’t be able to fly it without a lise.”

  “How long does it take to get a lise?” I asked.

  The man g his clipboard, then looked back at us. “It requires six months of training at a specialized school,” he replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

  I felt my jaw drop slightly. “Six months?” I echoed in disbelief.

  Mahya and I shared a look. Without missing a beat, she reached int and started rummaging around. With a smirk, she pulled out a certificate and casually ha to the man.

  “Here you go,” she said, her voice perfectly calm as she showed him the hot-air balloon pilot certificate.

  The man blinked in surprise, his posure faltering for a moment before he nodded and accepted the dot without question.

  During the five days of waiting, I anized five more workshops for Alfonsen. Mahya and I alternated going up on balloon flights to withe gas activation, the take-off process, and the nding. We also visited the show area to withe balloons’ opening, initial filling, and folding. We didn’t get an ability point, but we felt we uood the basics.

  “When we sail to the US, we traihe o on days without a strong wind,” Mahya suggested.

  “Good idea,” I agreed, nodding. “I have no iion of spending six months on a course.”

  “Me her,” she said with a smirk, clearly on the same page.

  Between balloon rides, Mahya and I walked around all the exhibiting panies and bought gas. We deliberately did it separately, each time at a different end of the exhibition, so that no one would uand how much we were buying.

  The st day before we were supposed to receive the balloon, I went around the markets and bought 10,000 worth of food to fill my Ste some more.

  We finally got our balloon, and all the gas we bought arrived at the marina. Alfonsen fihe st workshop, and we were ready to go.

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