The road to Crystalshire continued without incident.
That alone made it unsettling.
The path wound higher into the mountains, narrowing as it climbed along sheer stone faces. On one side, jagged cliffs rose like broken teeth. On the other, the land fell away in plunges so deep that clouds drifted below the road itself. In some places, the drop stretched hundreds of feet down into mist and shadow.
Barb's words echoed in Jax's mind.
Tamed beasts don't fear heights. They're bred for this terrain.
The Draft Behemoths pulling the carriage moved with steady, untroubled confidence, their massive hooves finding purchase on paths that would have terrified ordinary travelers. They neither slowed nor hesitated, even when the road curved sharply along exposed ledges.
Inside the dimensional space, however, the danger felt distant—almost unreal.
Jax sat on the couch in the main living area, elbows resting on his knees, staring absently at the far wall while thoughts spiraled.
What if the carriage went over the edge?
Would the impact transfer into the dimensional space?
Would the portal collapse?
If the device broke… would they be expelled? Or trapped?
Or worse—would the dimension seal itself, leaving them stranded in a pocket of reality with no exit until food ran out?
Could another device be tuned to the same frequency?
Was each dimensional space truly unique—or just keyed?
Jax exhaled slowly.
These were not questions adventurers normally asked.
But then again, Jax was no normal adventurer.
Crystalshire, according to everything he'd learned, was the place that held those answers.
The city sat nestled in a wide valley between two massive mountain ranges, their peaks capped in crystal-veined stone that shimmered faintly even in daylight. Roads funneled in and out along the mountain corridors, making Crystalshire both isolated and strategically invaluable.
As the carriage descended into the valley, the city revealed itself.
It was… strange.
Crystalshire was poor—there was no denying that. Buildings were modest, many half-repaired, stone patched with metal braces and glowing runes. But threaded through that poverty was ingenuity.
Crystal conduits ran along rooftops.
Mana-driven pumps turned slowly near farms.
Workshops hummed with low magical resonance.
It was a city that didn't wield magic.
It engineered it.
Jax felt immediately at home.
After checking in at the local Adventurer's Guild—where he politely declined additional escort offers and gathered directions—they learned the name they needed.
Eldrich.
Scientist. Inventor. Dimensional theorist.
And apparently… difficult.
They found him in a converted warehouse near the inner district.
The door was open.
Inside was chaos.
Tables overflowed with papers, crystal shards, half-assembled devices, and humming mana cores. Chalk-covered walls were filled with diagrams—wormhole equations, spatial lattice structures, schematic frames for what looked suspiciously like rideable magical constructs.
One wall had project names written in large, messy letters:
PROJECT L.U.M.I.A.
PROJECT PEGASUS
PROJECT CUTTER FISH
PROJECT PERSONALITY UPGRADE SO PEOPLE WON'T FIND ME WEIRD AND ACTUALLY INVITE ME TO THINGS
Jax blinked.
"…That one's ambitious."
A man nearly collided with him.
"Move—no—don't touch that—it's oscillating!"
The speaker was a young human, mid-twenties at most, wild hair, ink-stained fingers, eyes bright with manic focus. He clutched a cup labeled TRIPLE ESPRESSO.
"Who are you?" the man demanded, already turning away. "If you're here to complain about the noise, file it with the Guild—unless you're here about dimensional instability, in which case—wait, actually—who are you?"
"Jax," Jax said. "This is my team."
The man paused.
Then nodded. "Fine. Eldrich. Don't touch anything. Especially that."
He pointed vaguely at three different objects.
Jax smiled. "You helped design dimensional storage devices."
"Yes."
"And manufacture them."
"In my spare time."
"And sell them."
"They fund my research."
That tracked.
Jax didn't waste time.
"Hypothetically," he said, "what happens if someone is inside a dimensional space and the device breaks?"
Eldrich stopped walking.
Slowly turned.
Eyes lit up.
"Oh, excellent question."
He took a long sip of coffee. "Three possible outcomes. Either the system collapses and expels all foreign matter—about eighty-three percent likelihood."
Jax relaxed slightly.
"Five percent chance of catastrophic failure resulting in instant death."
Jax stiffened.
"And twelve percent chance the space stabilizes without an exit. Subject would eventually starve."
Jax stared. "So… seventeen percent death."
"Yes."
"Absolutely not."
Eldrich tilted his head. "Statistically, eighty-three percent survival is quite good."
"Would you like to help me test the theory?"
"And have a seventeen percent chance of death? No," Jax said flatly.
"Hm. Shame." Eldrich turned to the Vixens. "Would any of you like to help me test the theory?"
"No," Jax answered for them.
Eldrich stared into the middle distance. "I wonder how I can test this… Maybe ask one of the neighbors. Or someone at the guild."
Jax couldn't believe his ears. This man truly didn't understand the value of intelligent life.
"Have you considered a lab rat," Jax said carefully, "or some other non-intelligent life?"
Eldrich's eyes lit up. "Oh. That could work. I can start testing on lab rodents from now on."
Jax felt a chill. He suddenly didn't want to know what Eldrich had tested before he'd been given that idea.
Jax continued with is hypothetical questions. "What if another device was created at the same frequency?"
Eldrich froze.
"…Go on."
"Two doors. Same dimension. If one collapses, the other could be used as an exit."
Eldrich's cup slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
He sprinted to a glowing console, hands flying.
"Yes—yes, that could work—you'd need synchronized anchors—stabilization arrays—mana harmonic matching—"
"We could overlay the doors on top of each other, so if one fails the other would be there as a back-up."
"You can do that?"
"Theoretically, yeah. I'd just have to sync them together, possibly at the same time to be in-tune with each other."
"Two doors," Jax thought. And then a new question popped in his head.
"Well what if they weren't overlaid on each other? What if they were on opposite sides of the room?"
"Why would you want doors on opposite sides of the room?"
Jax pressed on. "What if one device was in Crystalshire, and the other in Solmere?"
Eldrich spun around.
"That's not storage," he breathed. "That's teleportation."
Jax still contemplating the discovery the two of them came up with, just nodded.
Eldrich's head was really working overtime now. He started running calculation and trying to find notes on his extremely messy desk with equations he had long forgot about.
Llandra blinked. "He broke him."
Zee nodded. "Completely."
Jax gestured around the lab. "Before you get lost in your work, let me ask you. Who makes your devices?"
"I do," Eldrich said distractedly. "Mostly. I hire help sometimes."
"Then here's my proposal."
Jax laid it out calmly.
He'd buy Eldrich's schematics.
Manufacture the devices at scale.
Provide upfront capital.
Give Eldrich a percentage of every sale.
Permanent funding.
Freedom to research.
No oversight beyond safety.
Eldrich listened.
Then shrugged. "Yeah, sounds fine."
The Vixens stared.
"That's… life-changing," Llandra said.
"Is it?" Eldrich asked. "Good. Less I have to worry then."
Contracts were drawn.
Signed.
Hands were shaken.
Jax left the lab with more than answers.
He left with a partner.
And Crystalshire, quietly, took its first step toward something far greater.