The journey to The Groove Canopy was an interesting trek. An approximation of 270 km was just that, an approximation—since truly, it felt and was more than that. For four days straight, without stopping and encountering dangers beyond my means, I simply pushed forward while still fuming at the actions of my variant selves.
The first day took me across the rolling plains that surrounded Koladar, their pale yellow-green grasses rippling like an alien ocean under the triple moons. I'd barely made it ten kilometers before encountering my first obstacle—a pack of what I could only describe as wolves, if wolves had six legs, scaled underbellies, and eyes that glowed with bioluminescent intensity in the gathering dusk.
"Quite the welcoming committee," I muttered to Codex as the pack formed a crescent shape before me, their low growls reverberating through the ground beneath my feet.
"They are known as Riven Stalkers," Codex informed me. "Territorial but not unreasonable hunters. They prefer weaker prey."
"Then they're in for a disappointment," I replied, drawing on a technique I'd gleaned from one of my variants' memories—a method of projecting dominance through manipulating my soul's aura. Despite my physically weakened state, my soul essence was astronomically powerful.
I locked eyes with what appeared to be the alpha and channeled a focused burst of intimidation. The effect was immediate and startling—the creature whined, dropping to its belly, the others following suit moments later. They parted as I walked through their midst, some even slinking backward to maintain distance.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," I said with a small smile, the first I'd managed since learning of my cosmic lab rat status.
"Your soul's power compensates for much," Codex replied. "Though I wouldn't recommend relying on it too heavily until your physical vessel strengthens."
By nightfall—which arrived after nearly 30 hours, Gaia's day-night cycle being considerably longer than Earth's—I reached the edge of the plains where the terrain began to shift dramatically. Before me stretched a vast wetland, its surface broken by countless pools that reflected the starlight like shattered mirrors. Steam rose from the waters, hinting at geothermal activity beneath.
"The Vapormarsh," Codex identified. "The water here contains minerals that, while not immediately toxic, will gradually weaken organic tissue. Best not to linger, my lord."
I skirted the edge where possible, but eventually had to wade through portions where solid ground disappeared entirely. The water came up to my knees in places, warm and oddly viscous, leaving an iridescent film on my skin. My already emaciated legs began to burn where the liquid touched them, the sensation growing from discomfort to genuine pain.
Halfway through the marsh, the waters suddenly bubbled around me, and I found myself surrounded by sinuous, eel-like creatures with transparent bodies that revealed pulsating internal organs. They circled, growing increasingly bold, until one lunged at my ankle.
Drawing on another variant's memory, I traced a symbol in the air—ᚦ—and spoke a word that seemed to vibrate the water itself: "Thurisaz."
The eels recoiled as if struck, their transparent bodies turning cloudy, then retreating into the deeper pools. The pain in my legs intensified, and I quickened my pace, finally reaching solid ground as the second night approached.
I collapsed on a rocky outcropping, examining my legs. The skin was raw, in places nearly translucent, revealing glimpses of muscle beneath. "Fantastic," I muttered. "Just what I needed."
"Your body will heal," Codex assured me. "The knowledge of regeneration from your variants—"
"I know," I snapped, closing my eyes and focusing on the damaged tissue. I could feel my cells responding sluggishly, the process painfully slow given my weakened state. "It would be faster if I wasn't starving to death."
"There," Codex said, his marker highlighting something in the distance—a cluster of what appeared to be fruit hanging from low, twisted trees at the marsh's edge.
The fruits were purple-black, their skins cracked to reveal pulpy interiors that glowed with bioluminescent blue. "Are these safe?" I asked, plucking one cautiously.
"Nightshade Orbs," Codex confirmed. "Mildly toxic to native Gaians, but perfectly compatible with your physiology."
The fruit tasted like a strange hybrid of mango and licorice, its juice tingling on my tongue. Energy surged through me almost immediately, the regeneration of my legs accelerating visibly. I devoured three more, feeling strength returning to my limbs for the first time since awakening in this world.
The third day brought a new challenge—a mountain range that seemed to have erupted from the earth in defiance of geological sense. The peaks were impossibly sharp, almost crystalline in appearance, with faces so steep they seemed to overhang.
"The Shardspine Mountains," Codex narrated. "Formed during the Great Convulsion, when Gaia's tectonic plates reoriented themselves in a single catastrophic event."
"Let me guess—we need to cross them," I said flatly.
"The safest path to The Groove Canopy lies through Whistler's Pass," he confirmed, his marker indicating a narrow gap between two particularly vicious-looking peaks.
The ascent was grueling. The crystalline rock was sharp enough to slice through the tattered remains of my footwear, leaving bloody footprints as I climbed. The air thinned rapidly, forcing me to draw on yet another variant's memory—a breathing technique that maximized oxygen extraction with each labored breath.
Halfway up to the pass, the mountain itself seemed to come alive. What I had mistaken for strange rock formations unfurled massive wings, revealing creatures that resembled pterodactyls crossed with bats, their skin the same crystalline texture as the mountain itself.
"Above us, Crystal Drakes," Codex warned. "They hunt by sound—the vibrations of your footsteps have alerted them."
Three of the beasts circled overhead, their wingspans easily twenty feet across. One dove, talons extended, aiming for my exposed head.
In desperation, I drew on another memory, a defensive spell that had saved one of my variants in a similar situation. I traced a rune in the air—ᛇ—and shouted: "Eihwaz!"
A barrier of translucent energy formed above me just as the drake struck. Its talons screeched against the magical shield, sending up sparks of conflicting energies. The creature shrieked in pain, its crystalline body fracturing where it had contacted my defense.
The other drakes withdrew, circling higher, apparently reassessing their strategy. I didn't wait for them to reach a conclusion, scrambling upward with renewed urgency, maintaining the shield overhead as I climbed.
By the time I reached Whistler's Pass, my muscles were screaming in protest, and blood from my lacerated feet had soaked through what remained of my tattered clothing. The pass itself was aptly named—winds howled through the narrow gap with such force that even small rocks were lifted and hurled like missiles.
I crouched low, using the uneven terrain for cover as I navigated the treacherous passage. Twice I was nearly swept off my feet by particularly violent gusts, and once a rock the size of my fist struck my shoulder with enough force to crack the bone.
Cursing through gritted teeth, I continued forward, finally emerging on the mountain's far side as Gaia's third sunset painted the landscape in surreal hues of amber, crimson, and violet.
Below me stretched a vast desert, its sands black as obsidian, shifting and rolling in patterns that seemed almost deliberate—as if the desert itself was a living entity contemplating its next move.
"The Midnight Sands," Codex said. "The final barrier between us and The Groove Canopy."
I made my descent as the long night began, the triple moons casting the black sands in an eerie, multicolored glow. The desert was mercifully cool compared to the scorching heat I'd expected, though the sand itself seemed to cling to my skin with unnatural persistence, gradually accumulating weight that made each step more difficult than the last.
By the fourth day's dawn—a spectacular eruption of light as three suns of varying sizes and colors breached the horizon in succession—I was trudging through the desert with black sand encrusted up to my knees, adding pounds of weight with every step.
"Why... is this... so heavy?" I gasped, each movement requiring conscious effort.
"The sands are rich in ferromagnetic materials," Codex explained. "Your body's electromagnetic field is attracting them."
"Fantastic," I muttered. "Just what I needed—magnetic sand."
The desert seemed endless, a black sea stretching to the horizon in all directions. Only Codex's marker, pointing steadfastly northwest, gave me any sense of progress or direction.
Midway through the desert, the sands began to shift unnaturally around me, forming whirlpools that threatened to drag me under. From these vortices emerged segmented, insectile creatures with mandibles large enough to sever a human limb with a single snap.
"Sand Devourers," Codex warned. "They sense vibration through the sand—and you've been making quite a lot of it with your labored progress."
Five of the monsters now surrounded me, their eyeless heads swiveling in my direction, mandibles clicking in what I could only interpret as anticipation.
Drawing on yet another variant's memory, I traced a complex pattern in the air—ᚱ—and spoke a word of power: "Raidho."
The sand beneath my feet solidified instantly, forming a disc of glass-like material that lifted me several inches above the surface. The Devourers lunged but found themselves unable to reach me, their mandibles clicking in frustration against the hardened barrier.
Using this makeshift platform, I propelled myself forward, the disc sliding over the treacherous sands like a primitive hovercraft. The Devourers gave chase for a time but eventually fell behind, unable to match my sudden increase in speed.
By the time Gaia's fourth sunset arrived, the black sands had given way to more solid ground, and in the distance, I could see the first signs of vegetation—massive trees that dwarfed any I had known on Earth, their canopies lost in the gathering darkness.
Despite my simmering rage and fury, after a continuous back and forth with Codex, in the end, I came to terms and understood the mission. Even though I am still pissed at being a cosmic lab rat, what was done was done, and nonetheless, at least they all felt the pain of doing such stupid actions. Though I forgave them even after their true deaths, I will still hold a grudge and ensure that such actions could and never can be done again—past, present, nor in the future...