Chương 48: Chapter 43: Travelers are a Unique Breed

We arrived at the dock late afternoon, and I asked about the captain. One sailor went on board to fetch him. The captain approached with an amused expression.

"You're early. I told you I don't need to test your dog."

"I finished all my business in the city, so there was no point in delaying. Is it a problem that I'm early?"

"No, it's not a problem at all. Welcome aboard." He paused, then added, "I have a proposition for you."

"Go on."

"If you check all my crew and heal them as needed, you don't have to pay for the passage." After a moment's thought, I nodded.

"No problem, but not today. Today, I want to see my cabin and relax. Let's do it tomorrow."

"Of course, not today; we are busy with final preparations." He gestured toward the crew hauling crates up the gangplank.

"Tomorrow is also not good; the first day of sailing is always hectic. How about in two days?"

"That works for me," I said, giving him a nod before glancing toward the ship. He called a sailor over and asked him to show us around. The sailor led us up the ramp on board the ship. The vessel was extra-long, wide, and mostly square except for the front, which narrowed to the ship's bow with a raised platform. Three wooden deckhouses stood on the main deck. He pointed at the first one.

"The one in the front is the cabins. All the guest cabins, as well as the captain's cabin, are there. The second one is the galley, scullery, and mess hall. The third one is the crew quarters. You can sit on the main deck wherever you want, but sailors might ask you to move if you're in the way." He led us around the front deckhouse and pointed at an open hatch with a trapdoor.

"The cargo hold is below deck, and there are five hatches to access it; they are very obvious. When in port, don't sit on or near them." He led us to the back of the ship and pointed at a row of enormous barrels.

"Water barrels," he said, then pointed at a big pot with a handle resembling a giant saucepan.

"Use only that to fill water from the barrels." Returning to the first deckhouse, it opened into a long corridor with six doors on each side and a door at the end of the corridor. He pointed to the door at the end.

"Those are the captain's quarters; please don't go there uninvited. If you need anything, ask a crew member. All the other doors are guest cabins and look the same. Since you're the first one here, you can choose whichever you like." Not wanting to hear people going back and forth in front of my cabin, I pointed to the end of the hall.

"One of the cabins at the end. It doesn't matter which." He led us to the one on the right and showed us inside. There was a bunk that he lifted.

"You can store your things here, but don't leave valuables in the room." He opened a small door I hadn't noticed before, revealing a chair with a hole in the middle and a bucket below it.

"Chamber pot. Somebody will empty it twice a day, morning and evening." I handed him a copper and thanked him. He blinked at the coin in surprise but pocketed it without a word. The room, though small, was charming. It had a bunk with storage, a table with two chairs, and a two-seater couch in front of a window. I arranged Stretch's blankets and my bunk, and we had a late lunch. Halfway through my meal, raised voices drifted in from outside. Curious, I went to investigate.

Two women stood in the middle of the hall, faces flushed. One was younger, with red hair pulled tight under a kerchief, her arms folded across her chest. The older one, dressed in layers of pale fabric that screamed money, jabbed a finger at a crewman who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"You will put my trunks in my cabin," she snapped, her bracelets clinking with every sharp gesture as she waved toward a mountain of luggage stacked behind her. The sailor wiped sweat from his brow and shook his head.

"Ma'am, there isn't room. They'll have to go below deck." The younger woman muttered something under her breath, tugging at her sleeve like she wanted to disappear, but the older one wasn't hearing it. She blocked his path, skirts swishing, and glared up at him.

"You will find a way to put my belongings in the room. My luggage is not going below deck with your filthy cargo."

"You can pay for another cabin for your trunks," he suggested in a flat tone.

"Nonsense!" She stamped her foot, bangles rattling up her arms.

"I am not paying for another cabin. You will make room. Move the wall if necessary. My belongings are not going into the cargo hold, and I will not let you steal more money from me for another room." The crewman opened his mouth to argue, shoulders sagging, but her tirade broke off the moment her eyes landed on Stretch peeking from behind me. Her face twisted in horror, and she let out a shriek that cut through the air.

"A filthy animal? On this ship?" She clutched her shawl to her chest as though he might leap at her from thirty feet away. Stretch tilted his head, ears pricked, while the sailor groaned under his breath and rubbed at his temple.

"Excuse me, but what's the problem?" I asked, stepping forward.

"This… this beast!" she screeched, pointing at Stretch.

"Nobody told me there would be filthy animals on board!" I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm.

"Don't worry, madam; he won't get near you."

"Good, because if he does, I'll—""For his own good," I added, then turned and walked back to my cabin, closing the door behind me, resolute in my intention to ignore everyone and everything. For the next three days, I sat in quiet corners on deck, watching the river carry us along and enjoying the view. At first, we sailed past the city itself.

The buildings closest to the water were tall and crowded together, unlike in the rest of the city, their facades worn from the damp air but still lively with laundry lines and the smell of cooking drifting out of open windows. Families leaned over railings to watch the ship leave, kids waving as if we were some grand parade. Not long after, the city thinned out, and villages dotted the banks. Each had wide-open fields stretching behind them, worked by people who barely looked up as we passed.

The smell of turned soil and fresh grass reached the deck when the wind shifted, and the low shapes of farmhouses sat scattered between rows of crops. Further downstream, the villages grew into small towns with stone piers, warehouses, small boats tied to the docks, and market stalls pushed right to the edge of the water. Kids gathered along the banks to watch the ship, and fishermen paused in their work, hauling nets in slowly while tracking us with their eyes.

On the third day, we glided past another city, smaller than the one we'd left, but still dense with rooftops, mansion turrets, and the sound of bells carrying across the water. On the second day, I spent a few hours checking and treating the crew. Nothing serious came up, so it went quickly. The sailing speed wasn't great, but it was still faster than walking or pedaling a bike. After three days of sitting around doing little, I felt restless. I pulled out my guitar and practiced new songs.

Wherever I settled, crew members drifted over, leaning against the railing or perching on coils of rope to listen. Stretch joined in every so often, howl-singing along. The crew thought it was hilarious. By the end of the first day, he had become their mascot, food scrap disposal unit, and unofficial therapy dog. He also had no trouble doing his business in a bowl, which earned him compliments from the captain and crew. Every time they praised him, he strutted around puffed up and important, and it cracked me up.

On the fourth evening, I was practicing a new song when a crew member approached me.

"What song is that?"

"It's called'Sailing Away.' It's a song from my homeland," I said.

"Would you like to learn it?" He nodded eagerly.

"Yes, please!" I smiled and taught him the lyrics and melody. Since the song was originally in English, I translated it into Shimoorian first.

"Waiting at the water's edge, Watching all the ships as they are heading for the harbor wall…" Soon, more crew members gathered around, listening and joining in. Some asked me to teach them, and I heard them singing or humming it for the rest of the voyage. I added twelve new songs to my repertoire and finished three books. I reached the last book in a series I was reading, but the series didn't conclude. Should I return to Earth to get the following books? The absurd thought made me laugh. Don't be an idiot.

Deciding it was time to be social, I made the rounds and met the other passengers—everyone except the two shrieking ladies, who kept to themselves. The rest turned out to be merchants, each with their own stories about trade routes, markets, and far-off towns. We swapped tales of travel and business, and before long, I was setting out some of my own goods. The glassware drew their eyes immediately. They picked up the pieces one by one, holding them up to the light and marveling at their clarity and craftsmanship.

Their excitement was almost comical, and more than a few of them could not stop gushing about how much their wives or clients would love such fine pieces. I ended up selling a good portion of what I had, lightening my load considerably. I also offered some of my office supplies. To my surprise, they were an even bigger hit. Several merchants bought multiples, saying they would use them for notes, letters, or even sketches on the road.

I walked away with a mix of coins and goods in trade: two sturdy belts with pouches, a knife sheath without the knife, a set of beautifully carved wooden bowls, and a pair of boots that felt perfectly broken in. The entire process reminded me why I enjoyed trading: the relaxed atmosphere, the easy banter, and the fun of haggling until both sides felt they had won. Sometime later in the voyage, the wind shifted against us, and the sails lost their pull.

Switching to oars, the crew settled into the steady rhythm of rowing, and the captain announced our journey would take longer. The shrieking ladies complained loudly enough for all the ship to hear, but the rest of us took it in stride. The river still flowed, the sun still shone, and nobody seemed in a hurry but them. Throughout the entire voyage, I kept an eye on the view, even while trading or practicing songs, and the more I watched, the more confused I became.

When I traveled on land, I spent days and even weeks in the wilderness without seeing a single settlement. Even when I followed the main roads, I pedaled for days between towns. There was so much empty space. But sailing on the river, it was the opposite. Villages, towns, and cities stood one after the other with hardly any breathing room between them. The Map showed five major rivers cutting through the continent. Plenty of smaller rivers crisscrossed the land as well, but only five counted as truly massive.

And on every one of those five, the Map showed town, city, and capital markers stacked almost on top of each other. When I zoomed out, they literally overlapped. I couldn't figure out why. The overland routes weren't dangerous. Jurbers were the only monsters, and they were easy to handle. The only bandits I'd ever run into were the three I met in my first days here. So why build everything so tightly packed along the rivers? From a logical standpoint, it didn't make any sense.

After eighteen days, we reached Mormet. The crew eased the ship to the pier, threw ropes to the people on the dock, and closed the sails. The sailors bustled around, shouting to one another while they hauled off crates and bundles. Adjusting his hat, the captain approached me.

"You're the only one continuing with us, so you can stay on the ship or take a room in an inn. I won't charge you extra for staying on board."

"I'll take a room in an inn," I said. He nodded and glanced toward the docks, where merchants argued with porters.

"Come find me in six days, and I'll tell you when we leave."

"See you then." I gave him a quick wave and headed down the gangplank, Stretch sticking close as the city's noise washed over us. This capital reminded me a lot of the previous one. The same wide cobblestone streets, the same mix of large and small houses standing side by side, and the same sense of space that kept the city from feeling cramped. The difference was in the style.

Where the first capital had leaned heavily on wood and stone together, with bright colors painted across facades, here the builders seemed to prefer darker stone and less ornamentation. The mansions still had turrets and tall windows, but the designs were more square and less ornate. I found a lovely inn on one of the major streets, with a kitchen that filled the place with the smell of cooking food the moment I walked in.

The innkeeper's wife quickly noticed the quality of the linen I offered and bought the last of my stock. We even bartered my stay for some pieces, so I didn't have to pay—a win-win in my book. After settling in, I found the baths and made a point of enjoying them every evening. Over two days, I toured the city, walking from district to district and noting the markets, warehouses, and neighborhoods.

The nobles had their walled mansions, just like before, though here the walls were taller and the guards stood out more clearly. After two days of exploring, I began discreetly trading. Since I learned my lesson in the last capital, I kept an eye out, made sure no one followed me, and chose shops based on the content of my Storage. The glassware sold quickly, but the clothes were more challenging to sell. The idea with the hangers worked only partially.

I bought 50 hangers with square frames on wheels to display the clothes, and sold most of the evening gowns I had, since they were the closest match to the fashion of the wealthy here. The rest were a problem. Some jeans sold in shops for workers, but that was it. The clothes were too different. Still, I was satisfied with my success. I moved about five baskets of clothes.

Finally, realizing I wouldn't be able to sell the rest, I sold the hangers and the frame to a shop and shoved the remaining clothes into the corner of my Storage. Maybe they'd sell in some other world. I also visited the blacksmiths and the leather district, just like before, and bought more old, rusty weapons along with another large batch of arrows.

That made me think of the bowyers I'd promised to return to, but with everything that happened during the attack in the last city, the promise had completely slipped my mind. Remembering it now brought a heavy pang of guilt, and I could only hope they didn't get stuck with piles of extra stock because of me. After six days, I visited the captain, and he told me we'd depart in five days. Since it hadn't snowed in the last couple of days, I checked out of the inn, and we left the city.

The city spread across both sides of the river: one side nestled in a valley between two mountains, the other stretching into open plains. I chose the mountains. After about two hours, we reached the far side of the mountains, only to find more mountains with small valleys between them. Needing to move, I pushed myself to the limit and sprinted to the next valley. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. My speed was astonishing!

As a kid and later as an adult, I was always fast. Fastest at every school I'd ever attended. But now, my speed was something else entirely. The wind resistance alone made the run feel wild, and the rush addictive. Stretch also had a lot of fun running beside me. We spent hours darting through the valleys, sticking to the lowlands rather than climbing the higher mountain passes. By afternoon, we reached a wide valley where several streams cut across the land, and a herd of mukar/bison grazed lazily. Yay.

Time to replenish the meat supply. After lunch, I went hunting, still buzzing from the run and probably too excited for my own good. I aimed for the eye but hit the cheekbone instead. The mistake caught me off guard, and I froze for a moment. The mukar bolted. Not wanting to let it escape wounded, I sprinted after it. Once I brought it down, opened its belly, and hung it, I reminded myself, "Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast." I saturated it with mana and tried out an idea I'd thought of during the voyage.

Instead of flooding the whole thing and then forcing the mana where I needed it, I created a mesh of mana directly along the lines where I wanted the cuts. It looked like a butcher's diagram of a cow. Setting up required much more focus, and the mana was harder to place initially, but the benefits were obvious. It was clear I used far less mana. Adding a thin layer of mana between the skin and the meat, I pushed with my intention. The whole thing collapsed inward.

Lifting the pelt, I checked the cuts—they were cleaner than before. The sun had shifted, maybe half an hour gone. Mana: 6, 820/7, 200 Woo Hoo! The red light started blinking. You have perfected a technique to harvest bovine game. +1 to Perception Advance the technique and formalize a spell to get more benefits. The notification was strange. I hadn't expected a level, and the hint about my next step was nice enough, but still odd. The increase in Perception felt entirely out of left field.

I couldn't see the connection between seeing better and cutting a cow into steaks. Scratching my head, I stared at it again before tossing it onto the growing pile of things I didn't understand. On my Profile, Harvest Game still showed [In Progress] beside it. I blew a loud raspberry to let the system know exactly what I thought of the whole thing and went back to the meat. The next day after breakfast, I rearranged some things, emptied another cooler, and gave it a thorough cleaning.

I had fourteen coolers to work with. I doubted I'd fill them all, but with three days ahead of me and a better handle on conserving mana, I figured I could manage plenty. Over the next two days, I hunted and harvested nine mukar, which filled eight coolers. That was plenty. I didn't want to overload myself with just this one kind of meat, so I saturated the rest with mana and left it at that. Stretch had the time of his life feasting on hearts and livers, cooked, of course, and sometimes washed down with a beer.

The following day, the snow returned. It was time to head back. The trip took longer since I didn't want to push my speed with the snow falling, but even at a slower pace, we reached the city late at night. I rented a room near the docks for the night and boarded the ship the following afternoon. It snowed nonstop, so I spent most of my time in the cabin. I finished saturating the meat and switched to restoring weapons. When my mana dropped to 250/7, 200, I stopped to regenerate. That's when I ran into a problem.

To read, I needed light, and the Light Ball needed mana. Since I was trying to regenerate, that felt counterproductive. Finally, understanding the bored Travelers who wasted hours in the Archive, I opened it, and on the first page, I came across an "interesting" discussion. Tr. SPV: Location: World—Marut, Country—Sasna, City—Ford Does anybody know where to fix a sword in the above location? Tr. BH: A blacksmith. Tr. BBN: What he said. Tr. JN: A good blacksmith. Tr. BBN: What he said. Tr. FV: A very good blacksmith.

Tr. BBN: What he said. Tr. SPV: Ha-ha, hilarious. It's a magical sword. Tr. BH: A magical blacksmith. Tr. BBN: What he said. Tr. JN: A good magical blacksmith. Tr. BBN: What he said. Tr. FV: A very good magical blacksmith. Tr. BBN: What he said. Tr. SPV: You are all annoying. It's a tech-world, and I need my sword fixed. Any ideas anybody? Tr. FV: We are annoying, but you have the intelligence of a bundak. You can't fix a magical item in a tech world. Tr. BBN: What he said.

I stared at it for a while, scratching my head. Travelers really were an interesting breed. Curious, I scrolled down to my question about what to do with mana crystals, and this time the strange discussion didn't surprise me as much. Tr. SD: Does anybody know a good place to buy mana crystals in the cluster of Lipia–Timus–Ilmavirta–Sonest? Tr. JR: Harvest them yourself. After you kill a monster, envelop it in your mana and slowly compress until the monster dissipates and you have a crystal.

It will be polluted and make you want to puke, but don't give up. Keep compressing it and cast Clean & Purify until it looks clear and you have a crystal. By the way, what are mana crystals used for? New Traveler here. Tr. JH: Great tip, my friend. You should write it in the Tips & Tricks section. Tr. KL: Stop lying and polluting the Archive with junk. It's already a mess. If it were that easy, everybody would do it. Tr. NH: Yes, a total liar. Tried it, didn't work. Probably a girl. Tr.

MJN: Listen, you misogynistic piece of milkik shit. I'm a girl and an amazing Traveler, and not a liar. And I agree with you the tip is from a girl. A dumb guy like you can't do it. Tr. LKM: You are all idiots. I did it, and it worked, but I got a killer headache. Tr. LI: Both JR and LKM are liars. I tried it; doesn't work. You can't "envelop" something in mana. You cast a spell, or you don't. There is no Envelop spell on the list; I checked. Tr. SD: Tried it. Didn't work.

Does anybody know the answer to my original question? Does anybody know a good place to buy mana crystals in the cluster of Lipia–Timus–Ilmavirta–Sonest? Tr. KM: No idea where that is. Tr. BBN: What he said. Tr. SD: You are all annoying idiots and not helpful at all. I'm getting fed up with the Archive. Expecting the worst, I scrolled down to the guy who had written about shoelaces and my tip to buy the Mend spell. There was an entire discussion on which was better: Mend or Restore.

The Restore detractors argued against it because it cost two Ability Points and was a channeled spell, which meant heavier mana drain. On the other hand, the Mend detractors dismissed it because it only handled breakage or tears, not deterioration or wear. The debate was civil. Nobody sounded like a frat boy, and there wasn't a single insult. After the previous two "gems," that was what surprised me the most. Yeah, Travelers were an interesting breed.

Remembering my idea to post the lasagna recipe in the Archive, I started typing it in, but then remembered the recipe I'd read that had only one ingredient I recognized—salt, so I suggested workable alternatives. Tr.

JR: John's Amazing Campfire Lasagna That Can Wake Even the Dead The amount depends on the size of the pan Equipment 4 metal baking pans: one high-edge pan for the lasagna, one slightly larger pan to fit over the main pan and cover it completely, and two larger pans 2 pots Grater Frying pan Metal wire Tongs Gloves Ingredients 4–6 tomatoes, or any other vegetable from other worlds that is red, squishy, and has a sweet, acidic taste; or, if you're a smart Traveler who bought tomato sauce, use that 2–3 onions, or another root vegetable with layers that tastes good when fried A medium bowl of minced meat 10–20 lasagna noodles, or any other dough you can cook in water Hard cheese, grated Garlic (if you don't know what it is, I have no idea how to help you) Salt Sugar Assorted vegetables that can be grated Herb seasoning Preparation Grate the tomatoes.

Put them in a pot over the fire, let them boil, and then move the pot to the side of the campfire where the heat is lower. Add sugar and taste—there should be no acidity. Add salt, garlic, and herbal seasoning to taste. Cook until the amount has reduced to two-thirds, then set aside. Boil water in a pot and add the pasta. Cook until soft. Heat oil in a frying pan and fry the onions until golden. Add the meat and continue frying until brown.

Add the grated vegetables, mix well, and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender. Add salt and seasoning to taste. Layer the lasagna pan first with pasta, cover with meat, pour tomato sauce on top, and sprinkle with grated cheese. Repeat two or three times, depending on the pan. Place the lasagna pan inside a larger pan, cover it with a slightly larger pan, and then cover it with another larger pan. Wrap wire around the whole thing to hold it together. Move the coals and burning wood aside to create a cradle.

Put the lasagna in the middle and cover it with coals on top and all around. Wait until you smell something delicious. Move the coals aside and use tongs to drag the pan out. Put on gloves, unwrap the wire, and open the pans. Enjoy. Writing in the Archive was an odd experience. There was no keyboard. You had to intend to write, and an empty line would appear. Then you had to think the text you wanted, and it would form. A few times, I had to delete and rethink the words to get them right.

The whole process turned into an annoying mental exercise. I had written in the Archive before, back when I posted the information about Earth, and hoped the second time around would be more bearable. It wasn't. Still annoying as hell. I kept thinking about the pompous ass who wrote that article on awakened beasts and couldn't understand why, with how much effort it took to write a long text in the Archive, he still padded it with so much flowery fluff.

Scrolling to the post where I'd mentioned getting the Luck stat, I saw 162 people calling me a liar. Based on the mature discussion I'd read earlier, it seemed calling someone a liar had become a kind of game rather than an accurate reflection of the Travelers' intellect. That was a relief. There was also a recent addition. Someone posted that they had gotten the Bard Class and received the Creativity Trait. Already, 21 people had called them a liar. It's a trait I'd love to receive.

I reached the article "Opportunities and Dangers in Worlds Undergoing Integration," which I'd started before but abandoned because of my alarm, and finished it. I'd already read the parts about the stages and the dangers, so this time I only had to go through the benefits. After finishing, I sat back and thought it over. The article clarified that Ability Points came more easily on worlds approaching integration, and why that wasn't the case here, but it didn't explain why integration made things easier.

That bugged me. I shoved the question onto the ever-growing pile of stuff I didn't understand, which was multiplying way too fast. This time, I kept scrolling through the Archive but did it smarter. I didn't stop at everything. Instead, I searched only for articles and skimmed the titles to decide if they were worth my time. The method worked wonders. For once, I didn't want to murder the Traveler population, and I actually found some cool articles.

One explained the difference between the "Planets, Realms, and Parallel Universes" mentioned in the Gate Traveler Class description. It was fascinating, and I definitely wanted to see the Dragon Realm someday. Much later, though, when I'd be strong enough to survive. Otherwise, I'd never even get close to a dragon. Something else would eat me long before that. Another article broke down the classifications of low-mana, medium-mana, and high-mana worlds, explaining the ranges and what sets them apart.

After reading, I decided my next stop should be a medium-mana world in the 30–50 range. Hopefully, there'd be a Gate to one somewhere in Shimoor, maybe even the Gate I was already heading toward. At first, I'd thought the pull I felt was pointing me to someone writing a book who needed time to finish it. But maybe I was heading to a Gate that led to a higher mana world, where I could finally gather more information? The only problem with that theory was the "take your time" feeling I kept getting.

Maybe they really were writing the book in another world. I told myself to quit tormenting myself with speculations and kept scrolling for more articles. I read a handful of articles with theories about why mana and tech couldn't exist in the same world after integration. The ideas were all over the place, and some of them were downright wild. One author claimed mana disrupted the electromagnetic fields that power technology, shutting down everything from simple circuits to advanced machinery.

Another suggested mana acted like a corrosive force on metal, breaking it down so fast that no device could last. A more extreme theory argued that mana had a kind of sentience that actively rejected and dismantled technology to keep the world "purely magical." And then there was the nut job who swore mana was the soul of cosmic beings, while technology was a false soul that disrupted the proper flow of the cosmos. What struck me most was that none of these was more than a theory.

The authors had no proof, only suppositions, vague references to obscure texts, and plenty of speculation. The articles weren't based on experiments or real data. They were just people tossing ideas into the Archive, hoping something would stick. The only thing all those articles agreed on was that Magitech was the solution. I could imagine what it might be in theory, but I wanted details, so I dug deeper. It took a long time to track anything down.

God, the Archive was full of so much crap, but I kept at it until I finally turned up a few solid articles. They were fascinating. Suddenly, the mention of dungeon cores in the Opportunities and Dangers article made a lot more sense. Dungeon cores weren't just powerful; they were the very fuel and operating system that made Magitech work. During the voyage, I ended up getting a Traveler education that proved both interesting and enlightening.

Finally, the snow stopped, and I spent the last three days on deck, soaking in the view. Shimoor was breathtakingly beautiful, even along the crowded riverbanks. The small towns with their fields, and the big cities with their chaotic mix of buildings, created an experience so far removed from Earth that I couldn't forget for a moment I was in another world. It was exactly what I'd needed when I first arrived, grieving and broken. The serene landscapes had given me the quiet and solitude I needed to heal.

When I crossed into Shimoor for the first time, my heart was heavy with loss, and my spirit felt shattered. The endless wilderness and the tranquility soothed my wounds and helped me regain my balance. And now, the crowded banks and the heavy river traffic, with every kind of boat imaginable drifting past, were reconnecting me to humanity—no matter which world it lived in. But as much as I appreciated the tranquil beauty of Shimoor, I could feel myself growing restless.

The stillness that once brought comfort now felt more like a gentle push urging me forward. I had needed this place, its beauty, and its nature to heal, but I was no longer the same person who had first arrived. I felt stronger in both mind and body, and it was not just because of my stats. My time in Shimoor had fortified me in ways no number could measure. The raw grief that once clouded my thoughts had lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of adventure. My body also felt lighter and more resilient.

The constant activity and the clean air had worked wonders on my stamina and health. It was time to move on to something more engaging. Shimoor had been my sanctuary, my place of recovery, but now it had served its purpose. I was ready to step into the wider world, eager for new challenges and adventures, with a heart that felt whole again and a spirit no longer weighed down by sorrow.