Exploring aether worlds could be dangerous, but also extraordinarily rewarding.

  Most adventuring teams earned their money through the loot they carried back—meat, cores, materials, and anything that could be harvested from the beasts inhabiting the realm. On top of that came bonuses for new discoveries, rare resources, or—on the rarest occasions—a commission from the Guild itself.

  The Horizon Striders’ current haul was a perfect example of stumbling onto treasure.

  After the Hammerfish had been properly processed by the Guild harvesters, the team received their payment.

  Ninety AC for the edible meat. Three hundred pounds at a rate of 0.3 AC per pound. Not the best quotation, but the meat had been judged somewhat tough and excessively fishy.

  Twenty AC for the remaining usable parts—fins, cartilage, organs, and scales.

  Forty AC for the beast core. Only fifth-rank or higher beasts produced cores at all, and even the smallest ones were usually bought for fifty to seventy AC. Unfortunately, the Hammerfish’s core was tiny and underdeveloped.

  Still valuable. Just not exceptionally so.

  Then came the real prize.

  Fifty AC for registering a new species and providing a body for Guild examination.

  Altogether, the expedition had already earned two hundred AC. That officially classified the run as a successful exploration.

  Assuming they didn't lose anyone in the following days.

  Technically, they could already return to Beacon City. The Guild officers had even offered to refund the rent on the expedition boat as a goodwill gesture. If they accepted, the team would leave the world with nearly their initial profit target already secured.

  It was tempting.

  A successful expedition with almost twenty AC profit per member—Arin excluded—in barely half a day, and without a single injury. But continuing the expedition was even more tempting.

  Everyone knew luck rarely knocked twice.

  Still…

  The unexpected success had lifted their spirits and increased their hopes.

  Before heading out again, the team decided to enjoy a proper meal at one of the provisory floating restaurants that orbited the portal dock.

  It was a rare luxury.

  During most expeditions they survived on preserved rations, dried meat, and whatever emergency food they carried. This time they ordered real food.

  Hot stews.

  Fresh bread.

  Even grilled vegetables imported by portal.

  The kitchen also sent over a tray of roasted Hammerfish scraps—less valuable parts that the processing workshop had set aside. The smell alone made Bran’s eyes shine.

  “Guys,” he declared while grabbing a massive roasted fin, “this expedition is already a success.”

  Cassia glanced at the tray with a critical eye.

  “Those are connective tissues,” she said absently. “Mostly cartilage.”

  Bran bit into it anyway.

  “Delicious cartilage.”

  Kael laughed loudly.

  Arin, meanwhile, quietly observed the others while sipping a hot broth.

  The sudden wealth had opened another possibility.

  Better equipment.

  Specifically—a spatial crate. Proper spatial enchantments were rare and extremely expensive. But defective versions circulated widely in portal zones.

  It had created a strange parallel market.

  Spatial enchantment was a notoriously difficult craft. Even experienced enchanters produced flawed prototypes oftenly, and those failures were too valuable to discard. Instead, they were sold cheaply to adventurers.

  A mutually beneficial arrangement.

  A stable spatial container could last for years and expand storage space up to tenfold. But unstable versions often degraded after a few weeks. Their expansion could range anywhere between two to ten times internal capacity.

  Still expensive. But potentially worth it.

  Cassia tapped the table with a finger.

  “If we buy one,” she said, “we can carry far more harvested material.”

  Kael leaned back in his chair.

  “How much are we talking?”

  “About one hundred AC for a large crate with moderate expansion.”

  Bran nearly choked on his food.

  “One hundred?!”

  Cassia nodded.

  “Five-times internal space. That means we can carry the equivalent of five boatloads inside one container.”

  Kade folded his hands thoughtfully.

  “That would drastically improve harvesting efficiency.”

  Nira finally spoke from the corner of the table.

  “Only if we find enough resources to fill it.”

  Everyone turned toward her. She continued calmly.

  “If we don’t, we lose half of our run.”

  Silence followed. Then, Kael grinned.

  “So the question is simple.”

  He tapped the table.

  “Do we feel lucky?”

  Bran raised his mug.

  “I always feel lucky.”

  Cassia ignored them. Instead she looked toward Arin.

  “You’re the one taking half the expedition profits,” she said bluntly. “What’s your opinion?”

  Arin blinked.

  Then he smiled faintly.

  “Well…”

  He leaned his head against his locked fingers thoughtfully.

  “From a purely economic perspective, the crate increases our expected value if we plan to continue exploring.”

  Kade snorted.

  Arin ignored him.

  “However,” he continued, “I’m willing to make a concession.”

  Cassia raised an eyebrow.

  “What kind?”

  “If the crate becomes part of the expedition equipment,” Arin said calmly, “then it should be excluded from my profit share calculation.”

  The table went silent.

  Bran’s eyes widened.

  “You mean…”

  Cassia spoke first.

  “That would save us fifty AC.”

  Arin nodded.

  “It benefits everyone.”

  Decision made.

  They purchased the crate—a large reinforced traveling trunk enchanted to provide five times internal storage space.

  The rest of their newly earned crystals remained inside their Guild accounts. Every adventurer received a basic Guild account free of charge. It allowed teams to receive payments, store funds safely, and pay for Guild services like permits, maps, rations, and expedition fees.

  More importantly—

  It prevented explorers from walking around the portal bridge with pockets full of crystals. A very effective way of avoiding post-expedition robbery.

  Thanks to Arin’s boat-propelling spells, the team reached their previous location on the lake by late afternoon.

  Kael stood at the front of the boat, shading his eyes as he stared ahead.

  “…Huh.”

  He squinted harder.

  “Oi.”

  He pointed.

  “What’s that?”

  Everyone followed his gaze.

  Ahead of them, the water had changed. A strange division line stretched across the lake, running toward the horizon like a scar across the surface. The water on one side flowed slowly. On the other side—

  It moved much faster.

  Miles of water separated the currents.

  Nira studied the map in her hands. She checked the portal compass. Then looked up again. Her eyes widened slightly.

  “The river.”

  She rarely raised her voice. So when she did, everyone listened.

  The team had wondered about this before, though none of them had openly said it.

  Lakes and rivers were defined by land. But Thalassara had no land, only water.

  So how exactly did rivers exist?

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Now they had their answer. Beyond the invisible boundary line, the water flowed rapidly in a clear downstream direction.

  The lake remained calm.

  The river rushed forward.

  Two completely different bodies of water—existing side by side without any land separating them. It felt strangely unreal to watch.

  For a moment, no one moved, waiting for the boat to cross it.

  The transition was surprisingly smooth. The vessel slid across the invisible boundary and was immediately caught by the stronger current.

  “Hey!” Bran laughed. “Free rowing!”

  Even without a spell, the current carried them downstream at impressive speed.

  Arin activated his [Aetheric Lenses], scanning the water beneath them. Almost immediately he noticed something unusual.

  Dozens.

  No—hundreds or more.

  Small disturbances flickered across the shallow riverbed. Tiny flashes of movement spread across a wide area. The pattern looked familiar.

  Arin leaned over the railing.

  “Interesting…”

  Cassia glanced over.

  “What is it?”

  “A school,” Arin said.

  “Of beasts.”

  The team immediately became alert. Cassia stepped beside him and looked down.

  “Size estimate?”

  “Small,” Arin said. “Maybe thirty centimeters each.”

  “How many?”

  He paused.

  “Several hundred... At least!”

  Cassia’s eyes sharpened.

  “Depth?”

  “Fifteen to twenty-five feet.”

  She frowned.

  “That doesn’t match Guild reports.”

  She tapped the side of the boat thoughtfully.

  “There are records of schooling beasts in Thalassara’s rivers,” she said, speaking rapidly now, “but they usually appear deeper and further downstream.”

  Nira nodded slightly.

  “Different species?”

  “Possible,” Cassia said. “Or different life stage. Juveniles, breeding behavior, seasonal migration…”

  She clicked her tongue.

  “Hard to say without samples.”

  Unfortunately, the team had not brought fishing nets capable of handling aether beasts.

  Earlier expedition planning had concluded that low-value schooling creatures simply weren't worth the effort without large-scale harvesting equipment. Cassia and Tessa had both reached that conclusion.

  A bigger boat.

  More cargo space.

  And heavy nets.

  Only then would the operation become profitable.

  The newly purchased spatial crate did change the calculation slightly, but not enough.

  Cassia sighed.

  “Probably not worth the effort.”

  Arin tilted his head.

  “…It shouldn't be difficult for me.”

  Kael grinned instantly.

  “I like where this is going.”

  Cassia narrowed her eyes.

  “How so?”

  Arin smiled.

  “I could design a spell.”

  Kade raised an eyebrow.

  “Design?”

  “On the spot,” Arin said casually.

  Bran blinked.

  “You can do that?”

  Arin looked genuinely confused.

  “…Of course.”

  Then his eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Oh! Actually this is perfect.”

  He leaned over the railing again, speaking faster now.

  “The challenge is mostly efficiency. If I conjure a physical net directly with aether it becomes extremely expensive in terms of energy expenditure. However if I instead use a material already present in the environment and merely alter its configuration—”

  Kael groaned.

  “Here we go.”

  Cassia crossed her arms.

  “Let him talk.”

  Arin continued enthusiastically.

  “I need three components: a capture material, a transmission medium, and a retrieval mechanism.”

  Kade nodded slowly.

  “A modular spell structure.”

  “Exactly!”

  Arin beamed.

  “The capture material needs to move easily underwater while still resisting the beasts’ strength.”

  He leaned over the railing and dipped his fingers into the river. Cold water ran across his skin.

  His eyes brightened.

  “Oh.”

  He smiled.

  “That works perfectly.”

  Kael tilted his head.

  “What does?”

  Arin ignored him and then he resumed pacing across the deck while muttering rapidly.

  “For the transmission medium, sound would work but requires complex harmonic matrices. Space is far too expensive. Light, however…”

  His grin widened.

  “Light is perfect.”

  Kade folded his arms.

  “Fast propagation.”

  “Exactly!”

  Cassia sighed.

  “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

  Arin ignored her completely.

  “Finally, retrieval.”

  He tapped his staff.

  “That part is easy.”

  He had already developed several efficient methods to lift objects from underwater.

  After running through the spell design several times in his head, Arin practiced drawing the circles in the air.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Five times.

  Ten.

  Finally he nodded with satisfaction.

  “Alright.”

  He turned toward the others.

  “I’m ready.”

  Then he pointed to a certain direction.

  “Row that way.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow.

  “Why?”

  “We need to get ahead of the school,” Arin said.

  “Not too far.”

  “Not too close.”

  He smiled.

  “Just the right distance.”

  Staff gripped firmly in his left hand, Arin planted his feet on the deck.

  Then he began to cast.

  Arin extended his free right hand toward the unseen target.

  For the opening move, he needed speed and precision, not power.

  Fast.

  Nimble.

  Faintly glowing white circles of light-attuned aether appeared one after another in rapid succession, each lasting barely a heartbeat before fading. From every circle, a thin ray of light shot into the water—so quick that the eye could hardly follow it.

  Deep below the surface, the rays collapsed into smaller magic circles the moment they reached their intended positions. Like pieces of a puzzle snapping into place.

  Arin swept his hand horizontally.

  The surface of the river exploded in a dazzling display of flickering light, while far below the water the rays transformed into new circles, each one connecting carefully with the previous ones.

  Light was cheap to conjure. But it was also ephemeral.

  That meant he had to be fast.

  And precise.

  Soon, a web of circles formed deep underwater, fencing off a wide area in dimly glowing geometry before fading into pure magical effect.

  Then the reaction began.

  Heat drained violently from the surrounding water.

  The cold focused into thick frozen tubes that formed along the path of the circles, while excess energy dissipated outward as harmless glimmers of light.

  One after another, the geometric nodes flickered and vanished, leaving behind frozen connections.

  Ice tubes.

  Linked together.

  A net.

  The frigid river water immediately began melting the structure.

  But slowly.

  Slow enough.

  Unperturbed, the school of beasts continued swimming toward it.

  Arin kept casting.

  More rays.

  More circles.

  More frozen strands weaving together.

  A race against time.

  The collision was imminent.

  This was the grand test.

  Would the structure hold?

  Or would it shatter?

  Arin couldn't see the fish directly, but the disturbances they created in the aether painted a clear picture in his mind.

  Then—

  Thump. In his imagination the sound echoed loudly. Arin even recoiled slightly as the first beasts struck the frozen barrier.

  Through his spell-assisted perception he watched the scene unfold.

  The ice net trembled violently.

  And then—

  It broke.

  But only slightly.

  A small opening formed where the leading fish had rammed through the forming structure. Several of them slipped past the gap, disappearing into the river.

  The rest of the school reacted instantly. They swerved in unison.

  For a fraction of a second Arin considered sealing the opening, but doing so would interrupt the rest of the net from forming.

  And the spell was almost finished.

  He held his focus.

  The school slammed into another border of the forming structure and changed direction again.

  This time the ice held.

  Arin accelerated his casting. His hands moved faster than his eyes could follow. Even his enhanced perception began struggling to keep up with the spellwork.

  The trapped fish swam along the forming barrier, desperately searching for the opening.

  Arin hurried as well.

  Above the water, the Horizon Striders watched the growing light show in stunned silence. At this point the magic was visible even from the surface—flashes of pale light shimmering beneath the water like lightning trapped below the river.

  Bran opened his mouth to speak.

  Cassia elbowed him immediately.

  “Quiet.”

  The gap was closing. The fish rushed toward the remaining opening.

  Arin sealed it just before they reached it.

  Then he immediately returned to the original hole and froze it shut as well.

  The trap was complete.

  But there was no time to celebrate. The ice net was already melting.

  Arin aimed his next spell just beneath the frozen sphere.

  This time the circles formed more slowly.

  More carefully.

  He poured additional aether into them, drawing deeply from the gem embedded in his staff.

  The magic responded instantly. Air gathered from the surrounding water, forming countless tiny bubbles. They clustered beneath the frozen structure.

  Pushing.

  Lifting.

  The net began floating.

  Slowly at first, then faster.

  And faster.

  When Arin finally stopped casting and relaxed his posture, the others understood that something was coming.

  But none of them were prepared for what actually happened.

  The water suddenly churned.

  Then the frozen structure erupted from the river.

  Inside the spherical cage of ice—

  Thousands of small silver fish thrashed and glittered. The trapped school filled nearly a tenth of the frozen sphere, their bodies flashing like scattered crystals under the light.

  The Horizon Striders stared in stunned silence.

  Arin wiped sweat from his forehead.

  “We should get them before it melts.”

  The perfectly mundane comment broke the spell.

  Kael burst out laughing.

  “You're telling me you just fished a river with ice?!”

  Bran leaned over the railing, eyes wide.

  “There are so many!”

  Nira crouched beside the floating ice net, studying the creatures.

  “…Minnowkin.”

  Cassia immediately joined her. Within seconds her professional instincts had taken over.

  “Correct,” she said briskly. “Rank one. Small river species.”

  She grabbed one with a hook tool and inspected it carefully.

  “Edible meat. Aether-rich oil glands. No special harvesting requirements.”

  She paused.

  Then sighed.

  “The bad news is they spoil quickly if unfrozen.”

  Arin gestured toward the floating ice structure.

  “…No problem.”

  Cassia nodded reluctantly.

  “True.”

  She tossed the fish into the boat.

  “Unfortunately their market value is low. Transport logistics reduce profitability significantly.”

  Bran scratched his chin.

  “How low?”

  “Fishing boats normally sell them for sixty AC per ton,” Cassia said.

  Bran blinked.

  “…That's not great.”

  “No,” she said bluntly.

  “Because the real problem is quantity.”

  She gestured at the thousands of fish.

  “Without proper equipment you can't transport enough to make the logistics worthwhile.”

  The team fell silent. They had a way to catch them.

  But did they have the space?

  Arin crossed his arms thoughtfully.

  “I can cast the spell several times,” he said calmly. “Perhaps a dozen without exhausting myself.”

  Kael whistled.

  “That many?”

  Arin nodded.

  “And each cast will become more efficient.”

  Kade adjusted his glasses thoughtfully.

  “The real question is storage.”

  Cassia sighed.

  “And opportunity cost.”

  She tapped the side of the enchanted crate.

  “If we fill our cargo with low-value fish, we might miss something more profitable later.”

  Another silence followed.

  Even Bran looked conflicted. Easy loot was hard to ignore, but experienced adventurers knew when to walk away.

  Eventually, one by one, they began nodding.

  Reluctantly.

  Cassia crossed her arms.

  “We stop here.”

  Everyone looked disappointed.

  Arin quietly observed their expressions.

  He waited.

  He wanted to see their limits. Only when there were no alternatives left would his solution carry the most value.

  Finally he spoke.

  “Well…”

  Six heads turned toward him.

  “I might have a way.”

  No one looked surprised. Instead they simply nodded.

  “Go on,” Kael said.

  Arin resisted the urge to sigh. That was the downside of charging half the profits. People eventually started assuming miracles were part of the service.

  Still.

  He explained his idea.

  And the team immediately agreed.

  Unlike the experimental [Frost Net], which was still a developing prototype, this next spell required almost no design work.

  Three minutes later Arin was ready.

  He planted his staff near the water.

  The gem at its tip began glowing with a cold blue light. Floating circles formed in the air.

  A faint mist of frost spread outward.

  Using ice-attuned aether directly, Arin slowly froze the surrounding river water into a massive hollow structure.

  A boat.

  Made entirely of ice.

  Forward intake-slits and a central pool, allowing river water to circulate through the reservoir without compromising the vessel's buoyancy.

  The hull grew thicker.

  Wider.

  Long enough to trail behind their vessel.

  Once the shape was complete, Arin waved the staff again and released a pulse of water-attuned aether. A thin protective layer wrapped around the hull. Slowing the melting process.

  He left a simple handle ridge so they could tie it securely to their own boat.

  “The spell will require occasional reinforcement,” Arin said. “But it's manageable.”

  Arin thought for a moment, mentally naming the spell [Freezing Wright].

  Bran scratched his beard.

  “So… you just built a second boat.”

  “…Yes.”

  Cassia nodded approvingly.

  “Efficient.”

  Then the real work began.

  For the next several hours the Horizon Striders fished relentlessly.

  Arin refined the [Frost Net] with each cast, using thicker rays of light to create stronger structures with fewer spells.

  Two schools escaped entirely due to mistimed casting. The others were caught.

  One after another.

  By sunset they had captured thirteen schools of Minnowkin.

  The ice boat had to be redesigned halfway through to increase its capacity. By the end it was filled nearly to the brim with wriggling silver bodies.

  Night eventually arrived.

  Following Guild safety protocol, the team rested in two shifts of three while the others kept watch.

  At first light they resumed travel. Sailing against the current with Arin’s propulsion spells.

  Twice they made greedy stops to capture additional schools.

  Instead of continuing their original exploration route, they turned back toward the First Lake.

  Then pushed the propulsion spell to its maximum output.

  The destination—

  The portal zone.

  When they finally arrived, the Guild officers were already watching the incoming boat.

  At first they looked confused. Then one officer leaned forward.

  “…Is that another boat?”

  Another squinted.

  “…Made of ice?”

  Then the vessel got closer and the officers saw the thousands of fish thrashing inside it.

  “…What.”

  The entire dock burst into commotion.

  “You brought them back alive?!”

  “Where did you even get that many?!”

  “How did you build the boat?!”

  Arin stepped forward politely.

  “Temporary transport solution.”

  The officers immediately began asking questions about the ice vessel.

  Could it be replicated?

  How long did it last?

  What was the maintenance cost?

  Arin shrugged modestly.

  “It requires recasting roughly every thirty minutes.”

  In truth it lasted closer to two or three hours, but there was no reason to advertise that.

  Soon the officers began coordinating logistics. A transportation aether cart was dispatched to bring a large containment tank from the portal processing yard.

  The plan was simple—Transfer the fish, send them through the portal, and process them in the main facility where costs were dramatically lower.

  Negotiations followed.

  Normally fresh Minnowkin sold for 60 AC per ton. But since the catch had arrived alive and could be processed on the other side of the portal, its value increased dramatically.

  After several minutes of discussion they settled on 150 AC per ton.

  In truth the Guild was being generous. The senior officer overseeing the dock had personally approved the bonus as an incentive for the Horizon Striders’ ingenuity.

  The transfer process took nearly an hour.

  Workers carefully shoveled the still-living fish into large water tanks mounted on aether carts while scribes recorded weights and estimated yields.

  The frozen boat slowly melted beside the dock as Arin stopped reinforcing it.

  By the end of the operation the Guild accountant approached with a final tally. The expedition had earned two hundred and twenty AC from the Minnowkin haul alone.

  Combined with the Hammerfish earlier that day—

  It became the most profitable expedition the Horizon Striders had ever completed.

  And the week had barely begun.