The Gate Traveler-Chapter 46B5 - : The Weight of the Past

The next day, after treating new patients and regrowing three fingers, I continued working with Rima. She was getting the hang of controlling her mana flow, which was great, but she still couldn’t open up to me, which wasn’t. I caught glimpses of her—her pain over losing her husband, her excitement about becoming a healer—but nothing more. Because of that, I could only take partial control of her mana, not enough to direct it into the pattern of the spell. Even with the slower flow, she ran out of mana in less than an hour, with nothing to show for it. Still, in a way, it was a compliment. Al had let me in even less when I’d tried teaching him spells.

“Go home and regenerate,” I told her.

Her face fell, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

I patted her shoulder. “Don’t look so disappointed. Trust takes time. We’ll get there. I’m starting to see why healers and mages take apprentices for years. It’s not because the lessons take that long—it’s about building trust.”

She stared at me in total bewilderment, like I’d just spoken Chinese. I waved a hand. “Never mind. The point is that this will take time, but we’ll figure it out. I promise. Tomorrow, instead of spell practice, we’ll focus on something else.”

She drooped even further, shoulders sagging, her ever-messy hair slipping lower over her face. This time, the tears spilled over.

I sighed and pulled her into a hug, patting her back awkwardly. She clung to me, crying in earnest, her face pressed into my shoulder. It was uncomfortable and, honestly, kind of embarrassing. But I had no idea what else to do. So I just stood there, holding her until she got it all out. Then I handed her a tissue, let her clean up, and sent her home.

I never knew what to do with crying women. Even Sophie used to say I was terrible at it.

After she left, another person showed up with a deep cut on their arm. A quick Healing Touch took care of it, and I sent him on his way before heading off to find Lady Almatai.

It took over an hour to track her down, but I finally found her in one of the warehouses. Outside, a stack of freshly cut trees lay piled up, their bark rough and uneven. Inside, a group of workers busied themselves processing the logs. Some sat on low stools, using small knives to strip the bark. In another section, a man labored over a thick log, pushing a hand saw through the wood with slow, deliberate strokes.

The entire process looked painfully inefficient. I stepped inside, scanning the tools they were using—most were old, dull, or just plain inadequate. No wonder this was taking so long.

I cleared my throat, getting their attention. “I think I’ve got something that’ll make your lives a lot easier.”

A few heads lifted, wary but curious. Lady Almatai turned from where she had been overseeing the work and looked at me with an expressionless face.

I reached into my Storage and pulled out a bundle of tools, dropping them onto the nearest workbench with a solid thunk. Axes, razor-sharp hand saws, chisels, drawknives, and even a couple of heavy-duty two-person crosscut saws—may the Spirits bless Earth’s DIY and home improvement stores.

“This,” I said, gesturing to the pile, “is what you should be using.”

The workers stared at the tools, eyes wide with something between disbelief and hunger. One man wiped his hands on his tunic before reaching out, hesitating only a moment before picking up a saw and testing the teeth with his thumb.

“This will cut the logs faster?” he asked, voice tinged with skepticism.

I gestured for him to go ahead. “Try it and see for yourself.”

He glanced at Lady Almatai, who gave a small nod. The man grabbed one of the newer logs, positioned the saw, and started cutting. Within seconds, the difference was obvious. The sharp teeth bit deep, gliding through the wood with half the effort.

Murmurs spread through the warehouse as the other workers crowded in. Some picked up knives and chisels, testing their edges, while others grabbed the axes, weighing them in their hands.

An idea hit me. “Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “Give the tools back—I’ll improve them.”

The workers hesitated, their grip tightening on the tools. They looked at me like I might snatch them away.

I rolled my eyes. “Relax. They’re still yours. I just want to add something.”

That got their attention. Slowly, they handed the tools back, though I could tell they weren’t thrilled about parting with them, even for a moment.

Pulling out an engraving pen, I grabbed the first saw and carefully etched two runes onto the blade—one for durability and the other for sharpness.

The man who had tested the saw leaned in, watching closely. “What is that?” he asked as I finished.

I pointed at the first rune. “This one’s durability—it stops the blade from wearing down.” Then I tapped the second rune. “And this one’s sharpness. Pretty self-explanatory. Just know that every once in a while, a mage will need to replenish the mana in the runes to keep them working.”

He took the saw back, turning it over in his hands with a look of awe. “And this works?”

“Try it and see.”

“You are a man of many talents,” Lady Almatai murmured, her voice low enough for only me to hear.

I shot her a grin. “You have no idea.”

It took me over an hour to engrave all the tools I’d handed out—plus a few extras I added along the way. By the time I finally finished, Lady Almatai had disappeared, leaving me to track her down again.

Ugh.

This time, I found her in her office.

She barely looked up before dipping her head slightly. “Thank you.”

I nodded in acknowledgment. “Originally, I was looking for you. The tools were just a side quest.”

Her expression remained unreadable, but I was getting better at reading her despite that stony face. A flicker of something—confusion, maybe?—crossed her eyes.

I waved a hand. “Never mind. The point is, I found a good spot for relocating the settlement and wanted to take you to see it.”

She leaned back slightly. “I have not yet made up my mind.”

“I figured as much. Still, I think you should see it.”

She studied me. “Are you hoping that seeing the location will convince me?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “That’s part of it. But not all.” I leaned forward, resting my hands on the back of a chair. “You’re a smart woman—otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to build all of this. You know you need to move. The problem isn’t that you don’t see the need—it’s that the idea of uprooting everything is overwhelming. You’re afraid of what comes next. I get that.”

Her brows furrowed, her expression thoughtful, but I could tell she was pissed at me for pointing all this out. The more I interacted with her, the easier it got to tune into her emotions. Unfortunately, that part of Perception wasn’t as straightforward as the rest—I actually had to focus on it. At least familiarity helped. Even with that limitation, Perception past 100 was a game changer for human interactions.

So many times in the past, social cues had flown right over my head—subtle shifts in tone, micro-expressions, the unspoken weight behind words. Now, I could zero in on emotions, pick up on the tension beneath a neutral expression, and read between the lines without second-guessing myself.

It was awesome.

I sighed. “Don’t be angry. I’m not criticizing you or your decisions.” I straightened, crossing my arms. “We want to help. Not with the small stuff—you’ll figure that out on your own. We want to help with the big picture. Right now, your two biggest problems are location and a lack of certain knowledge.”

She didn’t respond but didn’t interrupt either—a good sign.

I continued, “We’ll do what we can to help with the knowledge—though, let’s be honest, our expertise has its limits. But the location issue? That’s something we can solve. If you’re willing to work with us.”

She tilted her head slightly. “When did you intend to take me to see the place?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, the plan was to take you today, but it’s getting late. Tomorrow morning, maybe?”

She gave a single nod. “Find me here when you are ready.”

“See you then.”

At home, after dinner, I tested an idea that had been percolating in the back of my mind. I took a Fuse Stone scroll, laid it flat on a sheet of parchment, and cast Copy Magical Text. The parchment shimmered briefly before settling, now bearing the spell’s description.

Fuse Stone

For 50 mana, fuse two stones together into a single, solid piece.

I identified it.

A parchment with a spell description.

Bummer.

I was still unwilling to give up on my brilliant idea, so I searched the Spell List under the Scribe magic category. There was no “copy spell scroll” or anything like it, but I did find two interesting spells.

Translate Text

This spell enables the caster to instantly convert any written text, regardless of language, into the language of their choice. The translation preserves meaning, grammar, and structure, ensuring readability. However, it does not account for cultural nuances or idiomatic expressions, which may result in slight discrepancies. The spell works on books, scrolls, letters, and inscriptions but does not translate spoken language.

Mana Cost: Varies based on text length.

Cost: 3 Ability Points.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

I pulled out a medical book and cast Translate Text to convert it into the local language. The words shifted before my eyes—the English text fading, becoming nearly transparent, while the new language appeared over it, clear and solid.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Curious, I slid a blank sheet beneath the page and cast Copy Text. The result was disappointing. The copied page still contained the original English text, not the translated version.

Grrrr.

A wave of amusement trickled through the connection in my mind.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I said, annoyed. “Or better yet, give me an idea that works.”

Silence. No reaction.

What else is new?

The second spell was even more interesting.

Print Thoughts

Allows the caster to transfer a formulated thought directly onto a page, instantly transcribing it into written text. The clarity and detail of the output depend on the caster’s focus.

Mana Cost: Varies based on text length.

Cost: 3 Ability Points.

I read the page from the medical book, mentally translated it, focused, and cast Print Thoughts. The result... wasn’t great.

The words appeared on the page, but they weren’t as clear or structured as they had been in my head. Sentences that had made perfect sense in my mind now looked stiff and disjointed, as if my thoughts had been put through a filter that stripped away nuance. Some sections were missing entirely, while others had been rearranged in a way that made them feel unnatural. Medical terms, in particular, seemed to lose their precision, coming out as awkward approximations rather than the exact words I had intended.

I frowned, scanning the text. Why isn’t it working properly? The translation in my mind had been solid—so was the problem in how the spell extracted the thoughts? Was it simplifying things too much? Losing details in the process?

If that was the case, then maybe the issue wasn’t with the translation itself but with how my thoughts were structured before casting. Maybe I needed to focus on breaking the information into clearer segments, slowing down, and reinforcing intent with each phrase rather than letting the spell grab whatever half-formed concept floated through my mind.

I tapped my fingers on the desk, deep in thought. If I wanted this to work, I needed to refine my approach.

Another wave of amusement through the link.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Nothing. As expected.

I exhaled and rolled my shoulders. I hated when things didn’t work out, especially when they cost me six points. Yes, I still had 214, but they wouldn’t last forever. I wanted to growl again, but instead, headed to bed.

In the morning, after closing the house, I turned to Mahya. “I need the balloon.”

With a flick of her wrist, the balloon appeared before me. I reached out to store it—nothing happened.

Mahya burst into laughter, the kind of unhinged cackle that made her sound like a demented imp.

I shot her a death glare.

She still laughed.

This time, when I tried, the balloon stored properly. I debated giving her a piece of my mind, but after a long second, I just sighed and shook my head.

You have to know which battles to pick.

My first stop was the clinic. Fortunately, Rima was already there, busy organizing supplies.

“I’ll be tied up with Lady Almatai for a few hours,” I told her. “Let anyone who comes in know that I’ll be back this afternoon. In the meantime, practice channeling as little mana as possible. Check each patient the way I taught you, and help them with first aid if you can.”

She froze, eyes widening. “You want me to—?”

I held up a hand before she could spiral into panic. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back to heal everyone.”

She bit her lip, still looking uncertain, but nodded after a moment. “Alright… I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.” I patted her shoulder before heading out.

When I arrived, Lady Almatai was already waiting in her office, flanked by two guards. One was unfamiliar, but the other I recognized—Toman.

I nodded in greeting. “Ready?”

She rose from her desk with a brisk nod. “Yes. Let us finish this task quickly—I have much to do.”

Outside the city gate, I took out the balloon, connected to the wind, and asked her to inflate it. A gentle rush of air responded, flowing into the fabric and causing it to expand.

The three of them watched silently, their gazes shifting between the balloon and me.

The unfamiliar guard finally broke the silence. “How is it inflating on its own?”

I shot him a wink. “Magic.” Then, offering a hand, I added, “By the way, I’m John. What’s your name?”

He returned the handshake with a smile. “Rubin.”

Meanwhile, Lady Almatai walked slowly around the balloon, inspecting it from every angle. “I am familiar with lighter-than-air lift, but I never considered using it to travel. Clever.”

Once the balloon was fully inflated, I gestured for them to climb into the basket. As they settled in, I channeled Heat, and the balloon lifted smoothly off the ground.

High above the city, I connected to the wind again, asking her to guide us in the right direction. A steady breeze responded, carrying us effortlessly toward our destination.

I could have fiddled with Mahya’s gadget but didn’t feel like it. My way was better.

It took us about two hours to reach the target area. The journey was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The guards occasionally glanced down, observing the land with interest, while Lady Almatai remained deep in contemplation, her gaze unfocused.

As we drifted over the ruined castle, I asked the wind to hold us steady. The balloon stilled, hovering in place.

I turned to Lady Almatai. “I think this is a great location. And if you rebuild the castle, it could serve as a solid base to work from. What do you think?”

Lady Almatai stared down at the ruins, her face unreadable. Then, to my surprise, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

I frowned. “What happened?”

She took a slow breath. “This castle belonged to my uncle. Lord Myrtus.”

I studied her expression. “What happened to him?”

Her jaw tightened. “My husband killed him.”

I waited for her to continue, but she remained silent, gaze fixed on the crumbling remains below.

“Tell me the story,” I said gently.

“It’s ancient history. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’d still like to hear it—if you don’t mind, of course.”

She hesitated, then exhaled. “A year before the fall, a new king came to power. Before taking the throne, he had spent time in the Free Cities and returned with many modern ideas. He believed that serfs had the same rights as everyone else and sought to introduce sweeping reforms. Many nobles supported these changes, but just as many opposed them.” Her expression darkened. “My husband was among the latter.”

I stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“The disagreement escalated into open conflict. My family, House Myrtus, stood against the reforms. To secure an alliance, I was married to my husband when I was seventeen, sealing the agreement between our houses. The only one who opposed the marriage was my uncle.”

She gave a small, sad smile. “He was a big man, both in size and personality. Taller than your friend Al and wider than a grain truck. His voice could shake the walls, and his laugh carried across an entire district. When the war began, both sides sought to eliminate those who opposed their cause. My husband personally killed him.”

She paused for a long moment before continuing. “Later, when the fall came, my uncle’s wife and two children fled to Almatai seeking refuge. My husband agreed to take them in—but only as servants. A punishment for my uncle’s defiance.”

I frowned. “And the war itself? What happened?”

“It ended the moment the fluctuations began. Once the fall started, no one had time to fight over ideals or political power. Survival became the only concern.”

I leaned forward slightly. “Tell me what happened during the fall.”

She gave me a sharp, questioning look. “You said you were older than you looked. Didn’t you experience it yourself?”

I thought fast. “I grew up on a farm, and my parents were against technology. So my experience was very different from yours.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Oh, were your parents part of the Simple Life movement?”

I nodded.

“You were lucky,” she said, gazing back at the ruins. “You must have weathered the fall far better than the rest of us.”

“We did,” I said. “But I want to hear about your experience.”

She remained silent for a long moment, her fingers tightening around the edge of the basket. The wind shifted slightly, rustling her cloak.

Lady Almatai exhaled slowly, her voice quieter than before. “It was chaos,” she murmured.

She gripped the edge of the basket even harder, her gaze locked on the ruins below as if she could still see the past playing out in the crumbling stones.

“The initial fluctuations started two days before the fall, but they were small, localized. We heard news reports about sudden blackouts and vehicles stalling without explanation—strange, but nothing we thought could affect us. It was tragic, of course. People died in road accidents when their cars suddenly stopped, but it felt distant. Unimportant.”

She inhaled sharply, as if bracing herself. “Then came the first global fluctuation. Thousands of magnetic fliers fell from the sky, crushing entire buildings and killing tens of thousands in an instant. Every vehicle in the world stalled, causing even more accidents, and the power went out everywhere. But that wasn’t the truly terrifying part.” She shook her head. “The monsters were.

“They appeared out of nowhere—beasts we had no names for, creatures that didn’t belong in our world. And we had no way to fight them. Modern weapons stopped working. Energy rifles refused to fire, explosives fizzled out without so much as a spark. My husband was on the front lines of the war at the time. I was at home.

“Fortunately, we had old air rifles in our weapons gallery, relics from another era. The guards discovered that those still worked. They managed to kill the monsters that appeared inside the castle walls, then took to the streets, gathering anyone who could wield a weapon—knives, spears, anything sharp or heavy enough to fight with.”

She swallowed, her eyes unfocused. “That first fluctuation lasted for two days. When the power returned, everything was different. Some systems worked again, others didn’t. Old communication devices functioned, but the newer ones were dead. Certain power plants restarted, but many remained offline. Media broadcasts returned, but only in fragments, and they were filled with horror stories.

“The world itself had already been growing unstable for years—earthquakes, storms, floods—but the fluctuations made everything worse. In Almatai, tremors shook the city almost daily. We were lucky—our buildings were old, made of solid stone, and the city had a wall. Other places weren’t so fortunate. Newer cities, with their modern construction, suffered collapse after collapse. Entire districts were reduced to rubble, trapping families inside their homes.

“In desperation, thousands fled to Almatai seeking shelter. The city swelled beyond capacity. Food ran low. At first, it wasn’t too bad—trucks still arrived, bringing supplies—but after each fluctuation, fewer and fewer vehicles restarted. Fewer drivers were willing to risk the roads, knowing monsters lurked beyond the city walls.”

She tightened her jaw, her fingers gripping the basket until her knuckles turned white. “That was when my husband returned from the front. He returned with his surviving fighters, who all had classes.” Her voice was bitter. “One of the first things he did was purge the city. He expelled half the population, driving them out beyond the walls with nothing. Then he changed the laws—demanded eighty percent of all goods and earnings from every citizen. Anyone who resisted was thrown outside. Anyone with a combat class was executed in secret. He was afraid of rebellion.”

Her voice cracked, but she continued. “I tried to stop him. Many times. At first, he would argue, dismissing me as a fool, and slapping me for daring to argue. When that no longer satisfied him, he ignored me, taking three mistresses from the city—women he forced into it.”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling. “After that, I wasn’t even allowed on the same castle floor where he slept. He only acknowledged me when he wanted an heir. He forced himself on me until I became pregnant—twice. And then… he forgot about me.”

She finally fell silent, tears streaming down her face.

I swallowed, my throat tight.

“At that point,” she whispered, “that was a blessing.”

The two guards who had accompanied us stood stiffly, their backs turned, clearly uncomfortable.

I didn’t care.

I wrapped my arms around Lady Almatai and let her cry. I hated seeing women cry—this was the second time in as many days that I had found myself in this exact situation—but this time, I didn’t try to calm her down or tell her it would be okay. She had to let it all out. Maybe, just maybe, that would finally unseal something inside her.

She wept for a long time, her body trembling against me. Then, slowly, she pulled away, raising her head before turning her back to me.

I let the silence settle before speaking. “Where are your children?”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Are you trying to break me once and for all?”

“No.” I kept my voice even. “On the contrary, I’m trying to help. Where are your children?”

She gripped the edge of the basket, her head hanging low, her whole body shaking. She still wouldn’t face me, but I didn’t need to see her face to know she was sobbing.

“Tell me.”

Her breath hitched, and then, finally, she spoke.

“My son was killed during the rebellion. He was an alchemist—he used potions to slow the rebels down, buying time for the castle’s inhabitants to escape. He promised me he would be right behind us.” Her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. “But he never arrived. Later, I was told that the rebels hung his body—and my husband’s—on the castle walls for all to see.”

She inhaled sharply, her knuckles white where she clung to the basket. “My daughter… the leader of the rebellion took her as his mistress.”

I felt my stomach twist.

“Twice, my people tried to sneak into the city to rescue her,” she went on, her voice hollow. “None of them ever returned. A group that later managed to escape told me that she tried to run… and they killed her for it. They hung her body on the wall, just like they did my son’s.”

The wind stirred around us as she cried, her grief pouring out in silent sobs. I let her be, standing beside her while she mourned. Some things couldn’t be soothed—only endured.

When her tears finally stopped, I spoke. “Is the leader of the rebellion still in the city?”

Her voice was tight, but steady. “Yes, of course. He was the captain of our guards. After he killed my family, he crowned himself King of Almatai. He became an even more brutal ruler than my husband, ruling over everyone with a heavy hand.”

I frowned. “What’s his name, and where can I find him?”

She spun toward me, eyes flashing. “Don’t even think about it!” she hissed. “You’ll die!”

I leaned in, lowering my voice to a whisper. “I’ll tell you a secret, but it must stay between us.”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious, but gave a short nod.

I stepped sideways, angling myself to see the guards in case they turned around and vanished.

She gasped, jerking in place.

Before the guards could turn around, I reappeared, standing exactly where I had been.

Lady Almatai’s breath hitched. Her hands clenched her cloak as she stared at me, wide-eyed. “How?”

I shook my head. Some secrets weren’t meant to be shared.