The Imperial Mark 10 was a castle with a hull. Its smokestacks rose like towers, and above them lay a field of billowing masts. Up on the ropes, wind mages pulled on Spirit Weapon gloves, ready to throw up a current. Below decks, fire mages stoked the forges.

  It looked to be half shipping vessel, half passenger vessel. There were so manymasts it seemed a bit excessive, but the ticket guy—a little old fellow with a train conductor’s mustache—was convinced every one was necessary. Up at the prow stood a proud dark-glass dome where instruments could be faintly glimpsed. Astrologers and fate-readers were ready to chart the course.

  “There are a thousand mages just in the staffing,” said the ticket guy. His mustache quivered with pride. “You won’t see the bulk of them up there just yet, good sir, but they’ll be manning the decks once we’re underway—seven hundred of the king’s finest battle-mages. You might’ve heard the Misty Seas are rough this time of year, what with those Octopus-kings and those blasted hammerwhales running amok. But I can assure you there’s no danger to your person at all. The worst you’re likely to find is indigestion!”

  He chuckled; he seemed quite pleased with that one.

  “I feel safer already,” said Zane.

  “Well, as I say—shouldn’t run into anything. If Fate’s really against us, you might run afoul of a whirlpool zone. But even then, the Mark 10’s got an emergency airship mode good for hour-long stretches at a time. Well long enough to clear any mishap you might have.”

  The fellow then started happily rambling about the ship’s cargo. The Raindragon Queen’s dowry jewel was on board, the living paintings of Master Asmon himself, and dozens of other great works of art. He mentioned the battle-mages again before going into a long spiel about how lively the steerage decks were—no less than two dancing halls and even a washroom. His job aside, he just seemed to really like boats.

  “Alright, I’ll take a ticket,” said Zane.

  “Very good, sir! Would you happen to be part of the Heartlands horde? You’ll have a discount.”

  The ticket guy nodded over at a bunch of barbarian folk, dressed only in loincloths with laurels in their hair. They stood beside a bunch of silk-suited noblemen.

  There seemed to be folk of all shapes and sizes on this boat.

  “No,” said Zane. “I’m going it alone.”

  “That’ll be a low-stone then, good for one ticket in steerage. Good sir, believe me when I say you’re in for the journey of a lifetime!”

  It was pretty common for folk to assume Zane didn’t have much to his name. Something about the look of him didn’t really go with nobleman, he supposed. He didn’t mind. The fellow seemed well-meaning—more bumbly and oblivious than anything.

  It did explain why he hyped up those lower-deck washrooms so much, come to think of it…

  Zane pulled out a ring and tapped it. He’d had to take a brief trip back home to rummage through some of his old rings and stock up on old currency. It could give some folks here something of a scare if he pulled out a heaven-grade stone.

  As it was, the ticket guy nearly fell over at the sight of one mid-grade stone.

  Ten minutes later, he was on board in first class.

  The next day, shortly after noon, the ship hauled anchor. There was a great whoosh above as the wind-mages flooded the skies—a great crackling from below as the fire-mages stoked the chambers.

  Slowly but surely, the behemoth wheeled out to face the horizon.

  So the passage between the Sealed Demon Continent and the Raindragon Continent began. It’d be a 19-day voyage in all. Zane wasn’t sure if what he was looking for was even on Raindragon. But every night, the pings came clearer and clearer.

  He was sure he was headed in the right direction. He figured he’d just drop off when he got close.

  For now, he just settled in.

  His cabin was all silk, leather, and crystal chandeliers. There were plenty of delicacies at the buffet, though nothing as good as Old Weng’s steamed bun, he was disappointed to see.

  He wasn’t sure what Weng put in that thing, but it was far too good.

  On his way to the buffet, he passed a bar, a war museum, a cluster of elemental punching bags, and a casino. On his way back, he passed a smoking den and a theater—it was like a little city in here. Unlike most cruises he was aware of, though, there weren’t really viewing decks outside. Once you got close to the outer decks, strange eldritch noises started filtering through—and all you were likely to see out the windows were shifting shadows through the mists, shadows with lots of teeth.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The decks were for the battle-mages. But there was an indoor aquarium full of dragon-horses, moonfish, and glowy blob creatures. He spent an afternoon touring it and found it sort of fun. His favorite were the blob things—like jellyfish without the tendrils.

  He treated those days as a little vacation. He mostly kept to himself. A straw hat and a stick made for a surprisingly effective disguise, he found.

  Day 3 out to sea, and a herd of lion-sharks came roaring at the Mark 10’s hull. But the battle-mages did their work and put it down pretty fast. Day 5, an Alodactyl—this giant prehistoric bird-creature—showed up and tried to shred the sails. But after a great deal of shaking, they took care of that fine too.

  Zane was on his way to dinner one day, munching on a steamed bun, when he passed a ‘King of the Ring.’

  That brought back memories—they had one of these at VGI. He remembered fighting Emeka Eze and almost getting knocked out in one of these.

  Last he heard of Eze, the guy had risen into the top 20 of the Rising Dragon Rankings. Zane wouldn’t be surprised if he was top 10 soon. He wondered what he was up to.

  “Come one, come all!” roared a blond, bare-chested man. “Who thinks they can beat the Skyhammer?”

  Zane blinked.

  It really was Skyhammer Kang. He held the leaderboard’s high score, with 9 title defenses.

  “He’s just showing off now,” grumbled a nobleman. “What’s a Saint doing in a King-of-the-Ring anyway?”

  “I dunno. If I were that strong, I’d show off too,” said his friend.

  “Come now!” laughed Skyhammer. “Or am I in a room full of cowards?!”

  At this point, he locked eyes with Zane, who was still chewing on his bun.

  Kang let out a whine and keeled over.

  Zane continued on to dinner.

  On the sixth night at midnight, Zane bolted upright.

  The chime came clearer than ever before—Ping! Ping! Ping! Like the chime of a bell…

  He was nearly there.

  He dressed and made his way to the top decks. He figured he’d find a jumping-off point nearby.

  The mists were so thick here he could barely make out his hands. The winds threatened to tear the sails right off the masts.

  An announcement boomed over the ship. “TURBULENCE AHEAD. WARNING. TURBULENCE AHEAD.”

  A guard noticed him.

  “Sir!” the guard jogged over, shouting to be heard over the wind. “Please head below decks! It’s not safe—”

  Then the ship listed.

  A dozen battle-mages went overboard. The rest cried out and began shooting blindly into the murk; there was a great hiss.

  And a kraken reared its ugly head.

  Its tentacles had crushed a set of propellers. The rest were snaking onto the decks. The battle-mages threw spell after spell, but fire, or sleet, or lightning, nothing seemed to faze the beast.

  The guard beside Zane looked rather stunned by the thing. It did seem rather overwhelming to all the ship’s crew—with a lash of a tentacle, a half-dozen battle-mages went overboard; more were barely clinging on.

  Zane gave it a punch.

  The kraken exploded.

  All around him, battle-mages were hacking out water, looking up at him—“Sir!”

  But he was still frowning, squinting at the mists ahead.

  The danger wasn’t over.

  It was only beginning. Something about those mists… they felt much thicker, heavier, than all the rest.

  They started to envelop the ship.

  Bodies started hitting the decks. As soon as the mist passed in front of the battle-mages’ faces, they slumped, eyes rolling back. Souls smothered.

  He felt his Red Moon Pagoda flaring, to his surprise.

  The Aegis of Infinity towered above him, through him; he felt a great shattering—CRACK-CRACK-CRACK! and reeled, groaning.

  He wiped his mouth and found blood.

  …

  He was definitely in the right place.

  This was no mortal mist.

  It took out nearly half his soul defenses before it ground to a halt. It was rare his Aegis ever needed to flare.

  He looked around and found the ship was moving backward—backing out of the mist. Through the panes, he saw the captain asleep in the chair, but the ship was moving of its own accord.

  Someone, or something, didn’t want this place found. Zane had full confidence in his soul and soul defenses; in that respect, he didn’t fear even True God attacks.

  Then he heard the chime—clearer than ever. Ping!

  That was his cue. He took out his rowboat and dove overboard. Then he rowed toward the sound.

  The first hundred or so feet were smooth sailing. Though he saw why the ship had so many battle-mages. These were churning waters; he had to bat away far too many overgrown fish. They weren’t much trouble—just a bit annoying.

  Soon the water began to slant. It began to rush faster and faster, and a familiar roar filled the distance.

  The roar of a waterfall.

  Then he got the sense he was at a crossroads.

  He trusted his gut and sailed on through.

  He fell into a maw of empty black.

  The boat collapsed beneath him, and he went tumbling.

  He stomped a Solar Flare step, trying to right himself. This turned out to be overkill. He ate a face-full of wall for his trouble.

  After that, he wasn’t sure which way was up; he ping-ponged down the dark.

  A few thousand feet of painful falling later—

  CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

  He came to a final halt.

  Zane groaned.

  Even for him, that… he felt that.

  “Heavens!” A blurry light, the creaking of wheels.

  He sat up and blinked.

  He seemed to have landed in a little cavern workshop. There were a great many fine tools around him, sitting on stone shelves, marked with little glyphs. A forge burned low in the distance.

  Then there was the guy wheeling up to him. A pale fellow, a bit sickly-looking, in a wheelchair, holding a stone lantern. Bright green eyes.

  The man looked him up and down, and again.

  “…You alright there, friend?” he said.

  “I’m good,” said Zane, picking himself back up. “I’ll walk it off.”

  The fellow blinked at him.

  “What’s up?” said Zane.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but…” The guy hesitated. “How exactly are you alive?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To get here, you had to cross ten li infested with jawbreaker piranhas! And that fall, backed by that typhoon downdraft, straight onto heaven-grade steel…”

  “I’m pretty sturdy,” Zane informed him.

  The guy looked at him closer and looked dizzy. “You took all that as an Ascendant.”

  Now that Zane checked him out closer, he realized the guy had no aura. He had to be True God, at least.

  “Say,” said Zane. “Where am I?”

  The guy snapped out of it. “My apologies. This one’s name is Aiw?. It's a pleasure to meet you. I don’t get many visitors down here.”

  He gave a rueful grin.

  "And you are?”