"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
Glenn’s voice tore through the valley like a thunderclap, his body spinning in the air like an out-of-control top, arms and legs flailing in a chaotic spectacle of desperation. He was over a hundred ters above the ground, completely at the rcy of a zero-gravity pocket that had launched him skyward without warning.
Below him, calmly seated at the edge of a crystal-clear river, Master Silas took a sip of water with the serenity of soone watching a painting being finished. The breeze blew gently, stirring the folds of his red imperial robe as he murmured:
"Focus, little freak... You have to win the tug of war between the valley’s gravity and your own magic. If you want to cultivate here, you need to stop being pulled around like a dead leaf."
Glenn, for his part, was not in the mood for philosophy. His face was dripping with sweat as if he were in a sauna, teeth clenched as he channeled all his gravitational affinity in an attempt to anchor himself back to the ground.
Slowly, his movents began to slow down. Inch by inch, he was managing to overco the weightlessness, his gravitational magic working like an invisible crane pulling him downward.
His body trembled, muscles scread, but strength prevailed. He was returning to the ground.
All because, in a stroke of complete stupidity and bad luck, he had stepped on a seemingly harmless weed that, of course, had concealed an inverted gravity pocket strong enough to launch him like a ragdoll.
Silas crossed his legs and took the cigarette from his lips with a bored smile.
"Congratulations, Glenn. You’ve just learned the first lesson of the Valley of Floating Waterfalls: here, even the weeds want you dead."
Glenn grunted, still floating five ters above the ground, his face twisted in hatred and exhaustion.
"AND I HATE PLANTS!"
**
The Valley of Floating Waterfalls lived up to its na. After two days of riding, leaving behind the demon capital and the last walls of civilization, Glenn and Silas descended the rugged mountain trails until they crossed the border of the anomalous region. It was like stepping through an invisible wall between two completely different worlds.
The gray, rocky ground gave way in an instant to a tropical rainforest ecosystem, a sea of pulsing green brimming with life. Trees with canopies as tall as castles rose like ancient sentinels, their thick trunks covered in glowing moss. The climate was dense and hot, the humid air clinging to the skin like a second layer. In the sky, entire mountains floated, suspended by forces that defied logic—so anchored to thick clouds, others simply hovering, challenging gravity. From those celestial islands, waterfalls of clear water cascaded like crystal veils tearing through the sky and crashing furiously onto the ground below.
They hadn’t gone more than a few hours into that twisted paradise before the first signs of exhaustion set in. Thirst hit them like a ravenous beast, and even the Sleipnir accompanying them snorted, irritated by the thick air.
Then it happened.
Glenn felt as if he had inhaled a lightning bolt. The gravitational energy in that area was dense, abundant, vibrant—sothing he had never felt before. Breathing it in was like inhaling liquid power. His gravitational senses expanded instinctively, and he automatically tried to manipulate the forces around him, as he always did.
That’s when everything fell apart.
Nature did not respond like neutral, passive ground. It fought back. The mont Glenn tried to impose his magical will on the valley’s gravity, it was as if an ancient force awakened. Like trying to ta a wild beast with a whisper. The ground trembled slightly. The surrounding vegetation stirred. And then, like a silent scream, the energy around him rebelled. The earth pushed back, and space cried out in return. It was as if the valley itself were saying:
"Get your hands off my child, intruder."
Glenn felt gravity slip from his control, like trying to hold water in his hands. The energy twisted, resisted—and more than that—it struck back. Not like a trap set by human hands, but like a natural instinct: primal, visceral. It was the world saying no.
Panting, he felt his legs tremble.
It wasn’t just that the valley was alive.
It was as if he had invaded a sacred body... and the antibodies were coming for him.
Glenn threw himself to the ground, his entire body trembling, breath ragged, sweat pouring in rivers down his forehead. The gravity around him still flickered against his skin like small vibrations in the air, and his mind buzzed from the effort. He felt drained, like every muscle had just run a marathon with a mountain on his back.
Silas, in stark contrast, looked like he was enjoying a sumr picnic. Sitting comfortably at the edge of the crystal river, he extended a tal canteen toward him with one hand, still holding the unlit cigarette between his teeth. Glenn grabbed the container like it was the last gift of the gods and drank in loud, heavy gulps, the ice-cold water burning his throat with how refreshing it was.
"Where do we go now?" he asked between heavy breaths, propping himself up on his elbows, still not ready to stand.
Silas clicked his tongue softly and nodded with his chin toward the depths of the forest.
"Deeper in," he said simply. "The further we go into this valley, the stronger the spatial anomalies get. It’s a natural effect... the gravity here is so strong and unstable that it forces the space around it to twist. It’s exactly the kind of place you need."
Glenn nodded slowly, but the old man’s expression didn’t soften.
"But before that," Silas continued, standing up and stretching with the crack of old joints, "we need to find a decent place to camp. This place isn’t just a paradise of rare energy..."
"It’s a favorite buffet for natural beasts. And guess what the main course is?"
Glenn stared at him in silence.
"Awakened ones. Especially those who think they can sleep peacefully while glowing like a magical lighthouse in the middle of the forest." Silas gave a short chuckle. "They love easy, juicy prey like you."
Glenn snorted, ran a hand over his face, and stood up with effort, his back cracking.
"Great. So on top of nearly getting crushed by gravity pockets and spinning like a damn maniac in the air, now I have to sleep praying not to get eaten."
"Ah," Silas smiled sarcastically, his blindfolded eyes sohow pointing directly at him, "now you’re starting to understand the charm of real cultivation."
They pushed forward for two more hours, cutting their way through the dense tropical forest that blanketed the Valley of Floating Waterfalls. The branches were thick, tangled like fingers trying to block their path. The vegetation, lush and wild, almost seed alive, forcing them to use blades to clear a way as they followed the serene yet treacherous course of the river. The sky above was barely visible through the towering canopy.
It was Glenn who spotted the recess: a natural hollow in the rock face, shaded and sheltered between stone formations with a direct view of the river. A perfect place to set up camp.
"There!" he pointed, excited, jumping down from the Sleipnir with a confident leap.
But midway there, Silas spoke in the calm tone of soone about to announce the weather forecast:
"Get down."
Glenn turned his head, brows furrowed. "What?"
"Down, boy," Silas repeated, still mounted on the horse, his fingers drumming lazily on the saddle, a faint smile on his lips.
Sothing in the old man’s voice made Glenn obey on instinct. He threw himself forward in a clumsy dive, and a shadow tore through the air just above his head, followed by a violent explosion in the ground a few ters behind.
Dust and stone fragnts flew everywhere. Glenn rolled on the ground, shielding his eyes with his arm, until he finally stood up, coughing.
"What the hell...?"
He turned toward the newly ford crater, and his eyes locked onto the object lying at its center: a... banana?
Or at least, what used to be a banana. Now it was just a sticky sar and a charred peel.
"A banana did that?" he muttered, incredulous.
That’s when the forest trembled.
A deep, violent roar shook the leaves like thunder rising from the belly of the earth. From the top of a massive tree, sothing fell—or rather, plumted. A monstrous gorilla slamd into the ground with enough force to crack the earth.
The creature stood over three ters tall, its body covered in obsidian-black fur. Bones and spikes jutted out from its back like natural armor. Its eyes, glowing with furious amber light, locked onto Glenn with the kind of contempt only soone defending their own backyard could muster.
Silas pulled the reins of his Sleipnir with infuriating calm, casually backing away.
"Kid," he said, taking a long drag from his cigarette, "looks like you’re trying to pitch camp in the monkey’s house. Might wanna have a word with him first."
And before Glenn could reply, the beast roared again and charged, fists raised, ready to crush bone.
Everything exploded into motion.
And the campsite would have to wait.
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