TravelingDreamer
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B7—Chapter 19: Hot Cats and Dim Sum
🕑 Added 2025-09-18 11:26:06 +0000 UTCBy the time we got to the station, we’d already missed that day’s train to the red zone.
“I do not wish to return to the city,” Al said, his expression slightly disgusted.
From him, it was like Mahya and I had just stuck our fingers in our mouths and mimed throwing up.
“I’m with you,” I said.
We looked around for a solution. The train station sat on the outskirts of the city. Beyond it lay the industrial area, heavily guarded by house guards. On the other side stretched an open space full of dry, yellow bushes and thorns, with a line of hills about half a kilometer farther out.
I pointed toward the hills. “We can check what’s on the other side.”
Mahya scrunched her nose. “I don’t feel like fighting through the thorns.”
“Fly?” Al asked, and we all glanced around for a good place to turn invisible.
After a while, we found a passage between two parked trains that was clear of people, turned invisible, and flew over the hills. On the other side, the bushes and thorns stretched for about a kilometer, but then we reached a sparse grove near a tiny stream. There were no thorns, and the vegetation looked a bit more lively. It seemed like a good place to park for the night. I considered opening my house, but decided against it, not knowing what kind of surveillance or security measures they might have in this world. And besides, sometimes it’s fun to camp out.
At first, Mahya and Al weren’t too enthused about the idea, but once I lit a bonfire, hung a podgi pot over it on a tripod with stew, and arranged some yoga mattresses with sleeping bags, they came around.
Well, Mahya did. She looked around and smiled. “This looks fun.”
Al still wore that mildly disgusted expression but didn’t argue. We had stew dinner with beer—Rue included. Mahya, of course, kept shooting Al meaningful glances.
At some point, he sighed and nodded. “I am making progress. However, the plants I require are rather difficult to obtain, given their popularity in potion enhancement.”
That settled, the night drifted into a lighter mood. For the rest of the night, I played my guitar, and we sang a bit. But mostly, we sat and talked, joked, fed logs to the fire, and I taught them how to roast hot dogs on a stick. Truth be told, I taught myself as well, since I’d never done it before, only read about it.
Al tried to skewer his hot dog too neatly, like the whole thing was beneath his dignity, then glared when it slipped off the stick and hit the dirt. Mahya and I burst out laughing, and he gave us the kind of look that said we were the problem children, not him.
Rue, of course, didn’t even bother with sticks. He proudly floated his hot dog in the air with telekinesis, turning it slowly over the flames to show off. I tried to do the same, but he shot me a side-eyed look and let out a low growl. Fine. Message received—this was his thing. I let Rue have his show-off moment while the rest of us kept losing bits into the fire. His, of course, stayed perfect.
He also growled at us every time we called it a hot dog.
“So what should we call it?” Mahya asked him.
“Hot cat! No hot dog,” he said in a decisive tone, adding a firm nod to drive his point home. We all cracked up.
The laughter faded into the crackle of the fire as the bonfire snapped and hissed, throwing sparks into the night and sending waves of heat that made the cool air on my back feel sharper. The stew smell still hung in the grove, mixing with the smoky tang of burning wood. Shadows danced across our faces, stretching long and strange against the trees. Altogether, it created a peaceful atmosphere, and I felt myself relax and unclench. Not the odd rush I got when my mana rose, just the simple calm that comes from having a good time after something unpleasant.
Yeah, camping out can be a lot of fun. Even Al loosened up and laughed at some point.
When we got on the train, we all caught up on some sleep after staying up all night. Then, after a light brunch, Mahya went to her workshop to bang on some metal, Al went to the greenhouse to take care of his unknown plants and my glorious cocoa, Rue headed to the pool, and I worked on the next mind split. Number six.
Surprisingly, it went more easily than expected. It still took all my concentration, and I had to clench my fists and teeth from the effort, but my mind didn’t crack at the seams or steam. That was a massive improvement, and it encouraged me to push for number seven. Of course, that was a different story. I couldn’t even create the split, let alone hold it. Yeah, I still needed to master the sixth one before attempting it.
For the next few hours, I split my mind into six, held them until my whole body shook from the effort, let go, rested for ten to fifteen minutes, and then split again. After five or six hours, I got a killer headache that no healing spell or potion could fix, so I spent the rest of the ride lying on the couch in the living room with a wet towel on my forehead. Every once in a while, I pulled the heat out of the towel to make it cold again. I wasn’t sure if I was using fire or ice affinity. The distinction wasn’t clear to me yet, and I didn’t care. The important part was the cold towel easing my suffering.
Being a wizard was sometimes really hard and painful.
On the second day of the train ride, every now and then, one of the gang left the house to check our progress. They let me and my wet towel be, taking turns about once an hour or two. Since the house was a closed dungeon dimension, we didn’t have a day-and-night cycle, and when you’re busy like them or suffering like me, your sense of time gets messed up. It was easier just to check if we’d reached the destination.
It was Rue’s turn, and he came back immediately. “Train stop. People outside with swords take people from train.”
That made me jump up and rush out. Pressing to the window, I caught sight of armed guards herding people off the train. Based on Rue’s description, I’d expected a heist or something, but this wasn’t that. The men were too organized. All of them wore the same dark gray uniforms as the guards at the station in Outpost Fourteen, and there were far too many of them.
“Call Mahya and Al,” I told Rue.
He bounded off, claws clicking on the floorboards, just as a sharp knock rattled the door.
“Yes?” I called.
“Please open the door.” A man’s voice came through, clipped, the tone of someone used to giving orders.
“Give me a minute to get dressed,” I called back.
I shuffled around, tossing a shirt and boots to make enough noise to sell it, waiting until everyone joined me. With a thought, I shut down the house, stored the core, and pulled the door open.
Two guards stood there, both broad-shouldered and armed, their helmets casting shadows over their faces. One was taller, with a scar cutting down his cheek; the other shifted on his feet, eyes flicking between us.
“Dressed?” the tall one asked, his brow arched.
“Yes,” I said evenly. “Is there a problem?”
He smirked, his gaze sliding over Mahya from head to toe in a slow, appreciative sweep before he winked at me and Al.
Mahya’s boot connected sharply with my shin. “You’re dead,” she said in my head, her voice flat with menace.
Behind me, Al shook as he tried—and failed—to contain his laughter.
“Are you Eliminators?” the short one asked.
“Cleaners,” Mahya said.
“You can stay on the train,” he replied, already half turning toward the corridor.
“What’s going on?” Mahya asked.
The tall one stopped mid-step, his eyes sliding over Mahya before fixing on me and Al. “Monster wave. All Eliminators and Cleaners can proceed to the outpost. You’ll be given your orders there.”
“I’m a healer,” I said quickly. “Is anybody hurt?”
His smile was brief but genuine. “I am happy to hear this. Here we’re all fine, but you’ll have plenty of work once you reach the station.”
He turned away, boots thudding on metal, and rejoined his partner, who was already banging on the next door.
It took them another three hours to empty the train, and in total, they removed about two to three hundred people. Finally, it moved. This time, I didn’t open the house, and we suffered through the heat and heavy air in the cabin. With every kilometer, I grew sweatier and more annoyed. Why the hell was the whole train filled with steam? I didn’t know much about steam technology since it wasn’t used anymore on Earth, but from movies, books, and general history lessons, my understanding was that the steam was supposed to stay outside the vehicle, train, or whatever. Not inside, cooking us slowly like dim sum.
We spent the time quietly, reading books and dripping sweat. Rue used it to catch up on his nap time. About two hours in, I remembered the cloak I had bought in Tatob, and the moment I put it on, life changed. My face and hands still felt the heat and humidity of the steam, since I didn’t want to cover myself completely—reading and all that. But the rest of me was in heaven. It wasn’t exactly cool inside, but it kept the unpleasantness outside its borders.
Did I say already that my cloak was amazing?
We got to the station in the middle of the night, and it was even more chaotic than last time. The place was packed, and the moment the train stopped, everyone surged toward it. From the window, it looked like a tsunami of people pushing and shoving to get closer, while guards shouted and struggled valiantly to hold them back.
The door out of the train was heavily guarded inside and out, with a line of people ahead of us waiting to disembark. When we finally reached the guards at the door, one of them asked, “House affiliation?”
“House Jook,” Mahya said.
He pointed. “Go left and exit past platform six. Transportation’s waiting there.”
Outside that exit, a line of centipede-like vehicles with caterpillar tracks stood waiting.
“House?” a guard called.
“Jook,” Mahya called back.
He pointed at one of them, and we climbed aboard. I’d wanted to see the inside of one of these for a while and was glad for the chance, though the circumstances were far from ideal. I just hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as the atmosphere at the train station had made me suspect. Inside, it was a hollow tin can, with benches bolted along the walls on both sides and a fenced cargo enclosure taking up the middle.
Two more men were inside, both dressed in scuffed leather armor with short swords strapped to their belts. They nodded when we got in. We nodded back and took our seats. One of them gave Rue a suspicious look. Not exactly fear, but he wasn’t at ease. The other was the exact opposite. “What an amazing animal!” he exclaimed.
Rue lifted his chin, puffed out his chest, and wagged his tail. The man laughed and began petting him. Rue half-closed his eyes in bliss. Yeah, he was done for.
It took about an hour before we moved. During that time, more people joined us, and soon our tin can was full. Surprisingly, even after the door was shut and we started moving, the air inside stayed pleasant. After the train ride, with over twenty people and four familiars—whom Rue immediately befriended—I expected the place to get hot and muggy fast. It didn’t. The air remained cool and comfortable, even though I couldn’t spot a single vent. I’d felt the core powering the vehicle the moment we got on, but still expected some kind of ventilation system. The fact that it worked proved they could do it if they wanted to, which made the train and the city buses all the more illogical. Why steam-cook people like for a grand feast?
The ride took over four hours, and on a few occasions, we heard heavy whomping sounds from above. The first time it happened, some of the people with us tensed, but the others calmed them down. “Relax, the mana cannons will take care of the creatures.”
It helped, and the tense ones eased a little, but not completely. Every time the whomping returned, they sat stiff until it stopped. At one point, something heavy slammed into the vehicle, causing it to rock violently. A more intense round of whomping followed, then faded after two or three minutes. The three of us exchanged glances, eyebrows raised. Mahya looked happy, Al and I were concerned. Rue didn’t care. He was too busy making friends with his new lizard, turtle, and bird companions.
We were back at Outpost Ten, but it looked different. The order and discipline from last time were gone. The walls shook with the roar of fighting. Defenders crowded the ramparts, wand-rifles cracking in sharp bursts while others hurled spells—fireballs and ice shards leading the barrage. The air carried the constant din of battle: beasts roaring, men and women shouting, and the thunder of magic striking home. Flying monsters wheeled and dove, only to be blasted from the sky, their bodies crashing down, sometimes even on the people below. A group of soldiers cursed as they dragged a comrade out from under a twitching beetle the size of a jeep.
Through the gates, vehicles screeched in from beyond the outpost. Bloodied men and women were unloaded in frantic rushes, some carried on stretchers, others dragged in half-conscious, their armor shredded and smoking. More convoys came in behind them, bringing fresh casualties from the battlefield outside. Healers and helpers swarmed the arrivals, shouting orders over the din as they hauled the wounded toward makeshift treatment tents.
A man in a brown and yellow uniform streaked with grime and sweat stood near the unloading point, holding a tablet. He intercepted each group as they came out of the centipede, his eyes flicking over their gear before he barked quick questions. With a few sharp gestures, he sent them hurrying left or right, toward the walls or deeper into the base.
When our turn came, he gave us a brisk once-over. “A party?” he asked.
“Yes, but I’m the only fighter,” Mahya said. She jabbed a thumb at me. “He’s a healer.” Then at Al. “Alchemist. Also, we’re Cleaners, not Eliminators.”
He grimaced for a moment, his jaw tightening, then smoothed his expression back into neutrality. “Know where the cleaners’ office?”
“Yes,” we all said at once.
“Good. Fu will tell you where to go.” He pointed offhandedly before turning to the next batch of arrivals spilling out of the vehicle, his voice already rising as he shouted fresh instructions.
We jogged toward the office, weaving through the chaos. Twice, we had to duck as defenders fired over our heads at swooping shapes. The air buzzed with the shriek of wings, and one massive green thing that looked like a hornet on steroids with a long proboscis dove straight at us. I snapped off a lightning bolt, catching it mid-flight. The smell of scorched chitin filled the air as it crashed, and a voice shouted thanks. I lifted a hand in answer, and we kept moving.
Fu stood outside the Cleaners’ building, haggard and pale, his clothes streaked with blood. The moment his eyes landed on us, his whole face lit up. “I am so happy to see all of you. Jo, we have a lot of injured. Al, we need mana, health, speed, and endurance potions. Ma, can you join a defense group heading outside the walls?”
I broke into a run toward the healing hall.
“Rue go with Mahya,” Rue called in my mind.
“Sure, buddy, but please be careful and protect her,” I sent back just as I pushed through the doorway.
Inside was chaos. Every surface held wounded—floor, benches, even the reception desk had someone sprawled across it. Len, Pi, and two others I didn’t know were bent over the injured, hands slick with blood.
“Jo!” Pi shrieked, bouncing high enough to make her pigtails fly. “You are back! Look, everybody, Jo is back. Now nobody will die.”
I gave her a quick wave. “Hi Pi, hi Len. Who can tell me where to start?”
Oos burst from the hall, her face flushed red, hands trembling, sweat plastering loose strands of hair to her forehead. “Jo! My thanks to Mother of Life! Come with me.” She spun on her heel and led me at a near run toward the main ER. Inside, groans and frantic orders overlapped, the air heavy with the smell of blood. “Everybody here was stabilized, but you need to get them back on their feet and fighting.”
She started to turn to leave, but I caught her arm. “Wait.” I dug into my Storage and pulled out a box, setting it on a nearby table. One by one, I dropped bottles into it, glass clinking against glass. All the mana potions I had, including the ones Lis had given me on Earth. After a second’s thought, I pulled back ten vials for myself.
“Those are mana potions. Spread them between the healers.” I dug deeper, producing more bottles. “Those are health potions. Use them sparingly. I don’t have any more. Give them to the urgent cases, just enough to keep them alive until we can reach them.” More clinks as I set down smaller bottles. “Those are antivenom. Same rule. And those”—I lifted a set of thick, dark-pink vials—“are Exoskin Elixirs. They’ll make the skin almost impervious. Can you get somebody to rush them to Fu?”
She nodded sharply.
“Good. These are endurance. Get them to Fu as well.” I sifted quickly through the rest of my Storage, but nothing useful came up. Sleeping potions and trauma balms weren’t going to help here.
“Please make sure that all the healed ones go back to fighting,” she said, already backing toward the door before hurrying off.
I promised, then rolled up my sleeves and got to work. The room reeked of sweat, blood, and burned flesh, every surface crowded with groaning bodies. Each patient I healed, I handed a bottle of water, pushed a bit of food into their hands, and clapped them on the shoulder. “Back to the wall.”
Most snapped to it, grim determination in their eyes as they staggered out. A few stayed slumped, faces hollow and spirits broken. I didn’t argue. I just shrugged and moved to the next, my hands already glowing with the next spell.
Comments
Silver Beard
Still think their are Guidance spells/buffs worth spending points on for situations like this.
