As the skyscraper dandelion began to rise, I sprinted. Not toward the battle, but toward the big mace-head ball at the top of that tree. Just as it rose from the ground, I jumped, plunging through its cloud of leaves, hoping to clamp on to its center.

  It turned out there really was a circular node right in the middle of those leaves, with even branches in all directions. It was dazzling to behold—or would’ve if I had time to waste beholding.

  The tree whizzed up into the air, shedding leaves that rained and poked across my back. I stifled a scream. This was no time to cry out! My job, as before, was to keep my senses alert. Not marvel about what terrifying number of meters above the ground I was about to be.

  I felt the brief pause and slight wobble as the tree hit the apex of its rise.

  It was time. Thanks to my Map and the heat of the sun, I’d pointed myself in the right direction just a second ago. Now there was nothing left but to fly. So I lightened myself with a Low Gravity, channeled power into my legs, and took a Leap.

  I arced slightly upward, through the trees. It’d give me less distance, but I hoped that was fine. I still had a decent chance of reaching the battle. It was important that I not thrust myself through endless scenery-obscuring dandelion puffs.

  And I was rewarded with a heartstopping view. Leaves passed below like an ocean’s surface, even sparkling like sun would off water. The spheres of leaves didn’t billow like wind, though. They rustled and bobbed like individuals, like they were plotting.

  Up ahead, in the place I was speeding towards, was an empty spot in the canopy.

  Perfect!

  Augh, I overshot it! Lowering my gravity—which, need I remind you, was really lowering my weight, word choice be darned—had actually made me fly too far. This trajectory was taking me over the fight and possibly over the whole entire patch of wood.

  Well, too much was better than too little? I used a High Gravity.

  With very little time to suss out the scene, I plummeted down into it.

  A familiar caw whizzed into my ears—Murder the condor?—and faded just as fast.

  The warfare changed from ominous distant crashes and booms to massive, immediate danger. Smoke filled my nostrils, along with the purple steam of aura and the telltale note of blood. I rolled in midair to land on my feet, then discovered why I wouldn’t want to do that. Below me, sand had been blasted away, replaced by oh so many thorns.

  Um, does killing vines give me any EXP? If so, I might Level Up soon, so it might be smartest to spam Guard instead of—oh gosh, it’s about to poke my eyes—

  Earth!

  I cast a rock to break my fall, which was better than falling on a bed of needles. Landing on it like a surfboard, I braced myself for the inevitable shatter. A meaty vine swiped for me, missed. My surfboard cracked across the ground, shattered, and sent me flying. Onto sand. Much better, honestly.

  Then I tossed myself upright and looked around. There wasn’t much to see, on account of all the smoke, purplish steam, and flames…and an odd brownish hue, like the brown I saw before a particularly heavy Vencian storm. But there were no clouds today, and the smoke smelled normal…

  Through all the mess, I saw limbs both plant and animal. Flashes of blades glinting gray, bronze, and more unusual hues: deep blue, scarlet, meadow green. I saw the snarling jaws of what had to be the flytraps’ final forms, dripping saliva and all.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I thought I saw a pair of legs starting and stopping, as if I were seeing them frame by frame, or in a rave. It was so bizarre that I had to stop and wipe my…

  There’s no stopping here.

  For a moment I contemplated getting somewhere safe, but that was a laugh. The very direction I tried to dart in was rocked by a white explosion of what sounded like sizzling electricity, which seared so hot in the air afterward that it must’ve turned the sand below to glass.

  So I just hunkered down and finished my job. I prepared to use an Attract Spell, and to pull it off, I envisioned Reed.

  Picking her was a no-brainer. Watching her in our nights together…sitting with her under the clouds of the Kaugs…heck, even today, when I sat next to her during the drive and found my gaze drifting her way—I thought it all gave me a decent idea of what Reed looked like. Now I had to trust that my knowledge was sufficiently complete, and that all my friends really were holding each other tight.

  I cinched my eyes shut. Attract!

  The effect was instant. Through the warzone soared a bundle of humans the moment I looked up. Too bad Guard had worn off recently (and uselessly), or else I might’ve taken the impact with confidence. Instead they barreled into me and I squawked.

  GOOD THING THEY DIDN’T BRING THE CAR.

  Well…also sad thing they didn’t bring the car. My strategy here might’ve caused it to get left in the dust, and crushed by weird plants. I could only hope they’d done something clever to keep it safe.

  Right this moment, though, I was struggling just to orient myself. In the middle of so many explosions and smoke, four familiar humans seemed to materialize, then roll into life.

  “Sorry!” a Reedlike voice screamed.

  Of course she would be. No! I thought. This was on me!

  Then I saw Bayce with an enormous hunk of charcoal in one hand and her wand in the other. In one brisk movement, she seemed to shove the charcoal into the wand like powder up some kind of musket. Instead of shrinking and shooting inside, the hunk disappeared in a puff of—of nothing, it seemed, because everything was smoke—and then a new sound raged.

  FWOOOOOSH. A geyser of fire streamed up from the wand, just in time to spray in the face of a tyrannosaurus-sized flytrap above Bayce’s head. Instantly the flytraps that’d begun to crowd around us froze, mouths agape. Bayce slowly wheeled herself around, spraying their faces with a fire far stronger than I’d thought that wand was capable of.

  But of course, she hadn’t used a regular Spell this time. It had to be the cooler-sized version she’d pulled from the trunk. The proverbial big dog.

  At least something in that car didn’t go to waste.

  Bayce’s flamethrowing gave the rest of us a chance to get our bearings. As Chora disappeared into the clouds like a ghost and Heidschi inched backward with the frightening Sheep Ball hoisted high, I found myself next to Reed.

  I didn’t meow, and she didn’t speak. Sometimes things were quiet enough that I could make out a voice distinctly, sometimes they were too muddled. Even a whistle might get lost here.

  So she just drew her blade, and with an effort of will that was palpable, she summoned an energy that ran through like blood in the body and echoed out in reddish-pink waves. Her aura was a pulse, one that stayed close to its blade but exuded a heat I could feel even from a short distance.

  When a whipping vine closed in, glowing through the smoke with an aura of purple, I braced for the worst. If I had trouble slicing them, imagine what’d happen to Level-less, unconfident Reed.

  She didn’t guard. She swung fearlessly, her sword chopping into the vine. It almost cleaved clean through.

  Above where she’d cut were a good six meters of the vine—not quite dead, but dangling, hurt severely. The dripping wound was one of the oddest things I’d seen. It leaked the same aura that streamed from the whole vine, only condensed into goo that looked radioactive.

  Needless to say, the less time we spent with that stuff, the better.

  I had a second to look around, observe things. To my surprise, I could smell several specific things, even if they were all chaotic and diluted. I inhaled deeply, and the mixture stung my throat. All the smoke here came from different sources. My nose picked up lightning magic, the peculiar coal tinge of magic fire, something toxic, and an ozone smell that brought to mind astral Spells—more from instinct than prior knowledge.

  Many humans were around. Somewhere between…fifty and a hundred? Moving and fighting. More than I’d seen to date on Vencia. If I focused, I could see their dim shapes through the brownish-purplish grayness. Scuffed, wounded, casting, parrying. The vines and their occasional flytrap heads didn’t glow as brightly as the Spells or the aura-charged weapons, but they were much wider, and covered in that purple miasma.

  In the eyes of one human I saw meters off, I thought I saw specks of purple, dim headlights, beaming from their face.

  If their body was wrapped in smaller vines, I didn’t see it. There was no time before another tentacle crashed down.