Chapter 45: Swirl of Vita
Third Person – Narrative View
In the wide sunlit room adjacent to the living space, Lyra Woods stood with her feet planted firmly on the smooth tile floor, her focus sharper than ever.
Her red hair, pulled tightly into a high bun, shimmered slightly under the glow of natural light pouring through the skylight. Freckles dusted her cheeks, but there was nothing childish in her expression. Her brow was furrowed, lips pressed in concentration.
Before her—a sphere of water, suspended mid-air.
It wasn't just floating.
It was swirling.
The ball of water rushed and spun, rotating in place like a miniature planet caught in orbit. Tiny ripples moved along its surface in controlled chaos, held together by invisible pressure. Lyra's palms hovered close, fingers flexing delicately, subtly guiding its motion.
She was manipulating it through Vita—the elemental life-energy of this world.
From nothing, she had drawn oxygen from the air and hydrogen from trace moisture, aligning the particles through sheer force of will and channeling them into H₂O. The water formed not as a chaotic splash, but as a deliberate, constructed compound. A creation.
> This wasn't magic in the fantasy sense.
It was science rewritten through energy—a blend of knowledge, training, and instinct.
The swirling continued, faster now.
A faint hum vibrated in the room, a soft pull in the air as Vita twisted around her, unseen by the eye, but felt deep in the skin. A glow shimmered briefly across her fingertips—not light, not heat, but a presence—the Vita reacting to her command.
The sphere tightened, becoming more perfect with every pass.
Lyra's eyes narrowed, locked onto the spinning globe as if it held the entire world in its shape.
> "Don't collapse," she whispered to herself, teeth clenched.
The water inside rushed louder for a second, pressure building. She adjusted her stance slightly, steadying the energy. It responded.
The ball slowed. Balanced.
It held.
She exhaled with a grin—not smug, but satisfied.
Behind her, out of view, Oliver watched silently from the hallway, unseen, eyes wide—not with jealousy or fear, but with curiosity. He was witnessing a new kind of power, not flashy or destructive… but precise. Alive.
Lyra didn't notice.
She was too focused.
Too locked in.
And for that moment, she didn't seem like a ten-year-old girl at all—
> She was a practitioner, a conduit of the Vita around her.
A young wielder, shaping the essence of existence one drop at a time.
----------
First-Person – Lyra Woods' View:
I take a deep breath, steadying my hands as I concentrate.
The air around me shifts just a little, a soft hum that only I seem to notice. I can feel the Vita—pure, living energy—gathering at my fingertips. Warm and bright, like sunlight and spring wind mixed into one feeling.
I start to guide it, drawing it down into my palm. I swirl it gently, coaxing the energy into shape. Bit by bit, the moisture in the air begins to gather, invisible at first, then glistening like dew caught in motion. I can feel the molecules, the pull of hydrogen and oxygen aligning under my control. It's weird, knowing how it all works now—Vita acting as the bridge between will and matter.
The water forms slowly, rushing and swirling in tiny streams, wrapping around itself in spirals until—snap—it locks into place.
A perfect sphere. Clear. Alive. Swishing and rushing like a miniature whirlpool held in midair.
I hold it carefully in the palm of my hand, focusing just enough to keep it stable. The Vita keeps the shape intact, weaving invisible threads through the water to stop it from collapsing. It's tricky, but I've done it enough times now to keep it steady.
I glance at Oliver out of the corner of my eye.
He looks shocked—wide-eyed like he's never seen something like this before. It's just water magic. Simple. At least, simple for me.
I smirk, raising an eyebrow.
"Pretty cool, right?"
The sphere pulses once, then I let it dissolve into mist, the water turning to air with a soft hiss. Just like that.
But inside, I'm glowing a little.
Each time I shape Vita like that, it reminds me—I'm getting better. Stronger.
And someday, I'll do more than just swirl water.
[information dump, read at your cost]
Knowledge Entry: Vita – The Metaphysical Energy of Creation
Vita is a fundamental metaphysical energy that exists beyond the material realm, yet directly influences the physical world. It is often described as the "essence of life and purity", flowing through all living things and natural elements. In many celestial teachings and magical disciplines, Vita is regarded not only as a spiritual force but as a binding agent—a conscious energy that understands and responds to will, intent, and natural law.
---
Elemental Principle: Bond Formation Through Vita
At its core, Vita acts as a metaphysical catalyst that encourages the formation of elemental bonds, often replicating or accelerating processes found in nature. For example:
Hydrogen (H₂) + Oxygen (O)
→ Bonded through Vita
→ H₂O – Liquid Water
In this process, Vita doesn't simply combine particles; it harmonizes their spiritual resonance, allowing stable compounds to form even under non-natural conditions. This is why skilled users like elemental practitioners or Vita-channelers can conjure pure water, flames, stone, or wind seemingly from thin air—they're drawing on ambient elemental potential, then using Vita as the thread to sew it all together.
---
Applications and Characteristics
Color and Texture: When Vita is manipulated, it often glows with a soft hue (typically white, blue, or gold depending on the user and intent).
Emotional Influence: Strong emotions like clarity, compassion, or resolve amplify Vita's strength. However, impure intentions can corrupt or distort its effects.
Compound Control: Higher understanding of chemical or elemental interactions allows for more precise manipulation (e.g., controlling temperature, phase of matter, or molecular density).
---
Vita and the Planet Elorian
Elorian, an Earth-like world brimming with natural beauty and celestial alignment, is rich in ambient Vita currents. These leylines of raw energy crisscross the land, enhancing the growth of life and allowing even untrained individuals to unconsciously interact with Vita.
On Elorian:
Water conjured via Vita is biologically clean and spiritually neutral, often used for healing, purification, and agriculture.
Young practitioners like Lyra Woods can manipulate elements using minimal effort, provided they have a natural affinity or training.
---
Final Thought:
Vita is more than just a magical force—it is the language of creation, the silent agreement between the unseen and the physical. Those who master it do not merely control the elements…
They commune with them.
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[Secondary persons view point ]
Chapter 46: The Water Encyclopedia
Third Person – Narrative View
Oliver sat cross-legged on the living room floor, the sun spilling across the pages of the heavy, leather-bound tome resting in his lap. The cover shimmered faintly—The Water Encyclopedia, embossed in silver-blue lettering that gleamed like still pond water under the moonlight.
He opened to one of the early chapters.
The text was strange at first—not just the script, which had subtle curls and accents unfamiliar to Earth languages—but the perspective.
It wasn't written like a textbook.
It was written directly to him.
> "You are water."
"You are motion, flexibility, and form. Your body is 60% water, but your control must reach beyond what is within."
"When you lift your hand, you are not commanding the water—you are becoming its rhythm."
Oliver blinked.
The whole page was written in secondary person point of view.
Not "he," not "I."
But "you."
It was like the book knew who was reading it.
Like it was training the reader personally.
He turned the page.
> "You must understand its duality. Water gives life. Water takes life."
"Do not control it with force. Guide it with thought, calm, and conviction. Water will resist your anger. It reflects your emotion."
"Begin with condensation. Take the vapor in the air. Gather it. Feel it between your fingers. You will not see it—yet—but you will feel the Vita begin to respond."
Illustrations decorated the margins—simple, elegant sketches of open palms shaping droplets, vapor swirling into lines, moisture collecting from leaves, breath, and even sweat.
Oliver turned another page, his small fingers trailing the ink.
> "You will fail at first. The water will fall apart. It will slip from your grip like a dream. That is normal. You are still learning to listen."
> "You are not bending water."
"You are asking it to dance."
He stared at the page in silence.
For a boy who once scrolled past TikTok clickbait and rage threads, this was… different.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.
It was calm.
Direct.
Personal.
Like a quiet mentor whispering through paper.
Oliver gently closed the book, resting his hand on the textured cover.
> Maybe this was how it started.
Not with glowing explosions or training arcs.
But with a book.
A lesson.
And the first invitation to understand.
Vita… water…
himself.
-------
First-Person – Lyra Woods' View:
Heh. He's so into that book.
Oliver's sitting there with his nose buried deep in The Encyclopedia of Water Forms and Fluid Vita Theory, or whatever it's called. It's twice the size of his head and filled with boring diagrams. I mean—who reads that for fun? He looks so serious, like he's about to take a test or discover the secret of life in chapter four.
I twirl a bit of water between my fingers again, the Vita flowing nice and easy today. It listens to me better when I'm in a good mood. I smile to myself, keeping the water light and smooth—cool but not too cold. Just the right weight to catch him off guard.
Without warning, I flick my hand.
SPLASH.
Direct hit—right in the side of the head.
"Hey!" Oliver yelps, the book slipping from his hands and hitting the floor with a thud. Water's dripping down his face, his pajamas soaked on one side. He looks completely stunned—like a wet puppy who just realized rain is real.
I burst out laughing. "Oops," I say, not meaning it at all. "Guess you should've read faster."
He stares at me, half annoyed, half frozen in disbelief, and I can't help but grin wider. Watching him scramble, all serious one second and soaked the next—totally worth it.
Besides, he needs to loosen up.
We're family now, right?
Time to act like it.
---------
First-Person – Oliver Woods' View:
I was deep into the book—The Encyclopedia of Water Forms and Fluid Vita Theory—and, to my surprise, actually enjoying it. The way Vita could split and bind elements, forming compounds like hydrogen and oxygen into water, was... fascinating. It was like reading science rewritten through the lens of magic.
Each page was color-coded, clean diagrams, and even step-by-step breakdowns of elemental formation. My fingers traced a passage about pressure shaping water spheres when—
SPLAT.
A cold, wet smack hit me square on the side of the head.
"Wha—!" I gasped, completely thrown off as a chill soaked through my shoulder and neck. The book slipped from my lap and hit the floor with a heavy thud, the pages fanning out as a few droplets splattered across them.
I blinked, stunned, water dripping from my hair and running down the side of my face. Slowly, I turned my head.
Lyra was standing there, grinning ear to ear, her hand still glowing faintly from the Vita she had used.
"Oops," she said, way too proud of herself.
I stared at her, soaking, cold, and holding back the strongest urge to launch the nearest couch cushion at her smug little face. Instead, I just blinked again.
I forgot what chapter I was even on.
I swear... this kid.
------
Chapter 47: Soaked and Lifted
Third Person – Narrative View
The water hit Oliver without warning.
It wasn't violent—just sudden. A splash of the swirling sphere Lyra had so proudly conjured moments earlier. She didn't even seem sorry. If anything, she smirked like she'd just marked territory. A little "welcome to the family" gesture, perhaps.
Dripping, chilled, and silent, Oliver turned without a word and padded toward the hallway. His small bare feet tapped against the smooth floor, droplets of water trailing behind him like a quiet protest.
He was on a mission now: find a bathroom.
Anywhere to dry off. Regroup. Regain some dignity.
But before he could vanish into the corridor, Martha Woods stepped into view from the laundry room, arms full of folded clothing. Her eyes caught the sight of her soaked six-year-old son, hair damp and shirt clinging to his thin frame.
She didn't need an explanation.
> "Let me guess," she said, raising an eyebrow, "Lyra."
Oliver said nothing—just offered a small shrug, the universal sibling victim response.
From deeper in the house, Liam's voice called out. "No worries, I got him!"
A moment later, footsteps. Heavy, steady.
And then—lift-off.
Oliver was suddenly in the air, scooped up entirely by Liam's arms with surprising ease. His body rose like a feather, his perspective shifting from low hallways to shoulder-level views in an instant.
> "Whoa—" Oliver blinked, not expecting it.
"Man, you're light," Liam chuckled, casually carrying him down the hall like it was nothing. "even my old friend can pick you up, you won't meet her yet, buddy."
They entered a modest-sized room—Liam's guest room, by the looks of it. The walls were painted in soft greens and warm oranges, earthy yet lively, like a sunset over a forest. There were framed pictures of winding trails, grassy fields, and tall trees under copper skies. A small desk near the window had camping gear and a worn hiking bag leaned against the side.
> "Green's always been my favorite," Liam said as he opened a drawer. "Reminds me of the wild. Places I'd go when I wanted the world to shut up for a while."
He pulled out a neatly folded set of clothes—a dark green T-shirt with a stitched mountain emblem on the front and brown cargo shorts with buttoned pockets too big for Oliver's tiny hands.
Liam held them out.
> "Here, try these. Should fit now. Least you won't freeze walking around soaked like a sea sponge."
Oliver took the clothes quietly.
The cold was fading already—not from the change of outfit, but from something else entirely.
Maybe from the way Liam had picked him up so easily.
Maybe from the warm tone of a man who didn't ask too many questions.
> Maybe it was starting to feel like… family.
Real family.
Oliver looked down at the green shirt in his hands.
Something about it made him think of fresh starts.
Of walking through forests.
Of growing again.
------
Third-Person Narrative:
Oliver tugged gently at the green wilderness outfit Liam had given him. The fabric was light but sturdy, stitched with care—made for movement, for travel, for something beyond these house walls. The green tunic draped comfortably over his small frame, the cloak resting across his shoulders like a promise of future journeys. It felt strange to wear something so… fitting. Like it belonged to someone meant for the world outside.
He stepped quietly into the living room, the soft sound of his footsteps muffled by the rug. The television was off now. No Wigglenuts. No noise. Just Lyra—focused, still, and completely absorbed in what she was doing.
She stood in the center of the room, her brow furrowed in concentration, a wooden stick in her hand. Not just waving it around like a toy—but using it with purpose. In slow, deliberate motions, she swirled a thin stream of water in the air, guiding it into different shapes—circles, spirals, short arcs that looped around her wrist and floated midair like silver ribbons.
The stick acted like a wand, the Vita in her flowing naturally, effortlessly, into the water. It wasn't raw power—it was precision. Discipline. There was elegance in how she moved, like she was weaving water as though it were thread.
Oliver stood silently by the doorway, watching her work.
To him, it was more than just child's play.
It was magic.
And she was already good at it.
Maybe too good.
He didn't speak. He didn't want to interrupt.
Instead, he watched—his mind quietly stirring with something between admiration… and a quiet, growing pressure.
---------
Third-Person Narrative – Oliver's Thoughts and Action:
How is Vita even made? the question echoed in Oliver's head as he watched Lyra swirl water through the air like a ribbon dancer. The water obeyed her every flick, guided by Vita like it had a will of its own. It was beautiful—unnerving, even.
He didn't ask. Didn't want to. Not yet.
She probably knows, Oliver thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. Lyra might even be able to teach me, but... would she?
A part of him doubted it. She was sharp, playful, and unpredictable. One moment she was conjuring water like a prodigy, the next she was soaking him for fun. Asking her outright felt like admitting he was behind.
There has to be another way, he reasoned.
His eyes drifted to the hall. If there's a TV here... there has to be a computer.
Curiosity ignited in his chest, and with a new determination, Oliver turned away and padded quietly down the hallway, then toward the staircase. He looked up. From this small body, the stairs loomed large—each one a steep climb. His legs, still adjusting to this new height and strength, trembled with each step. The wooden railing felt higher than it should, like something built for someone much taller.
He gritted his teeth and kept going, one small hand gripping the banister tightly as he ascended. Every step was a mild battle—legs straining, balance challenged—but he didn't stop.
I'll find out, he told himself. There has to be something. A computer. A datapad. Anything.
He reached the top landing, breathing just a bit heavier than before.
This world was different. The rules were different. But somewhere, in some search bar, in some digital archive...
...the answer to Vita was waiting.
-------
Chapter 48: StarLink Spiral
First Person – Oliver Woods
I wasn't trying to snoop… okay, maybe a little.
The laptop was just there on the desk in the corner of the green-orange room, lid half-open, screen still glowing softly like it was waiting for me. I didn't know if it belonged to Lyra or someone else, but curiosity? Yeah—it won.
I climbed onto the desk chair awkwardly—still not used to these tiny legs—and tapped the touchpad. The screen woke instantly.
No password.
Lucky me.
First thing I did?
Typed in the word:
> "Vita"
I needed to know more. The book, Lyra, the Black Tortoise's explanation—it all hinted that Vita wasn't magic in the "fireball and wand" way. It was bigger, more grounded. Elemental and scientific. And maybe… usable.
What I found?
Well, it wasn't what I expected.
Apparently, Vita isn't really common in modern, urban society. Most regular folks don't use it. They rely on tools, machines, synthetic tech—just like Earth. But people who left society? People who lived out in the wilds? Travelers? Dwellers? They used it a lot.
Streaming results popped up like a floodgate opened. A platform like YouTube—called StarLink Videos—with a ton of views and weirdly beautiful thumbnails.
> "Using Carbon + Oxygen = Campfire: Survival Cooking in the Western Pines"
"Trading with Dwarven Villages: How I Got 3 Rubies for My Vita-Grown Carrots"
"Top 10 Hidden Chests in the Fogroot Caves"
"How to Grow a Garden With Vita and Moonlight Soil"
"Finding Druids in the Woodland Leaf Woods (And Why You Shouldn't Stare at Them)"
"I Built a House Using Only Vita, Rocks, and Pure Stubbornness – Time-lapse (4K)"
Fifty million users.
Comment sections stacked with reactions.
Clips of glowing hands shaping energy into vines, spinning pebbles into walls, purifying swamp water just by touching it.
> This was like if Bear Grylls had elemental powers and lived in a fantasy blog network.
I kept scrolling. Down and down.
More videos. More tips. More worlds I didn't know existed.
And for once, the Internet didn't feel like a blackhole of doom or a distraction from misery.
It felt like a portal.
A glimpse into what people did with their second chances.
What they built. Where they traveled. Who they became.
And maybe, just maybe…
> Who I could become too.
I clicked "save playlist."
Marked a few videos.
Leaned back, wide-eyed.
> There's more to this world than just starting over.
There's living.
There's creating.
------
Third-Person Narrative:
Sitting in the chair that was just a bit too big for his smaller frame, Oliver scrolled through the StarLink video network, his fingers tapping cautiously on the crystal-clear touchscreen. The internet interface was smooth and a bit stylized—clean fonts, glowing borders, subtle ambient hums as tabs opened. It felt familiar… but also strangely better.
He'd expected to find videos on Vita theory or magic duels or maybe local news about talking birds—something wild. But instead, the most viewed content?
Plant videos.
Cooking tutorials.
Each with five million+ views, sometimes more. There were slow, soothing videos of people pruning massive glowing vines, growing healing herbs in pocket-sized gardens, or showing off time-lapsed footage of Vita-infused vegetables blooming overnight. Some of the cooking channels felt oddly meditative—flame users searing fish with exact bursts of heat, others layering spices into broths with almost religious focus.
Oliver blinked, eyebrows raised.
This is what's popular here?
He leaned back, the chair squeaking. His thoughts drifted back to Earth—back to loud thumbnails, screaming reaction faces, and explosive jump-cuts.
IShowSpeed screaming at his screen.
MrBeast giving away islands.
Lucas and Marcus backflipping off tables.
Cocomelon—endless, looping songs.
The chaos of content that never quite slowed down.
He glanced at the comment section under a gardening video. One person shared tips about watering cycles. Another recommended a Vita fertilizer brand. Someone else simply said "beautiful work."
...Wait, what?
Oliver scrolled more. Still polite. Still helpful. No insults. No spam. No angry culture war arguments.
It hit him—this comment section is actually... nice?
Not like the internet he knew. Not like Reddit flame wars, 4Chan chaos, Twitter/X shouting matches, or Instagram toxicity. Even TikTok had its dark pockets. And YouTube? Well, he stopped reading comments years ago.
Here, though—on StarLink—people actually seemed to care. Like the internet hadn't been dragged through a hundred controversies and ego battles.
He noticed the platform's logo in the corner. A yellow star, faintly glowing. It reminded him of Rumble—a would-be competitor to YouTube back home, full of promises and its own storms. But StarLink felt different. Controlled. Balanced.
His gaze shifted again. No Gmail icon.
Instead:
Email. Just "Email." A plain, blue envelope.
Simple. Direct. Like everything else here.
Oliver narrowed his eyes, a strange mixture of curiosity and caution stirring in his chest.
This wasn't just a different world.
It was a different internet.
Maybe... a better one.
Still, he couldn't shake the thought:
What else is hiding behind all this peaceful content?
-------
Chapter 49: A Different Internet
First Person – Oliver Woods
As I kept scrolling through StarLink Videos, something felt… off.
Not in a bad way.
Just… different.
No obnoxious edits.
No zoom-in rage faces.
No robotic voices yelling "SKIBIDI TOILET!!!" or "YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS GYATT!!!"
Actually—none of that Gen Alpha noise.
No "rizz king" this, no "sigma grindset" that.
No "Ohio Final Boss" memes.
No "mewing tutorial that changes your jawline in 24 hours."
Just people.
Talking.
Normally.
Words like:
> "Cool."
"That was really nice."
"Pretty fantastic, I guess."
"Okay, that's great!"
"Useful stuff."
"Love how calm this is."
It was kind of eerie.
And kind of… refreshing.
> Did nobody talk in slangs in this universe?
Or maybe the Internet just grew up differently here.
Without the spammy AI junk, without the TikTok trends every five minutes, without "skibidi" breaking everyone's attention span into 1.5-second chunks.
People actually typed full sentences.
They had normal reactions.
One comment just said:
> "Thanks for this video. Helped me grow tomatoes with Vita for the first time."
That was it. And 12,000 people upvoted it. No fire emojis. No weird inside jokes. Just… wholesome feedback.
I leaned back in the chair, blinking.
> Okay. I think I can breathe here.
This wasn't Earth's internet.
It was quieter.
Kinder, maybe.
Simpler, but not stupid.
And for once, I wasn't being force-fed the apocalypse in meme format.
I was learning.
And it felt…
> Nice.
--------
Third-Person Narrative:
Oliver's eyes remained fixed on the screen as the next StarLink video loaded. The thumbnail showed a woman in a wide-brimmed hat, surrounded by vibrant greenery, with text that read: "Day 194: Vita Gardening in the Quiet Glade 🌱".
The video began with soft wind chimes and birdsong. The camera panned slowly over an open clearing deep within a sun-dappled forest, where an elegant but handmade house stood—stone base, carved wood walls, wildflowers lining the windows. It looked like something out of a storybook, untouched by city life.
Then she appeared.
A tall woman with flowing green hair, tied loosely behind her back, her face calm, eyes thoughtful. She wore wilderness leathers stitched with floral patterns, her hands already gloved in soft cloth. Her fingers brushed gently along rows of leafy stems and saplings. Where she touched, the plants responded—straightening, blooming, changing color slightly with health.
The Vita in her hands shimmered faintly, glowing along her veins like soft threads of light. She didn't chant. She didn't draw symbols. It was instinctive—like breathing.
Oliver leaned in.
The woman spoke softly to the camera, her voice carrying an almost musical cadence.
"I wasn't good at school," she said, planting a seed with practiced care. "I couldn't pass my tests. Couldn't handle the pressure. They said I had no future in regulated society."
She looked up, smiling faintly.
"So I left. Became a Traveler. Found my own future."
The scene shifted to her garden—not rows of manufactured crops, but spirals of herbs, tiered planters of glowing fruit, small Vita-lanterns hanging on branches. It was more than farming—it was art. Magic.
She continued, touching a sprout. Vita rippled gently from her hand into the stem. The sprout grew an inch in seconds, its leaves widening like it had just taken a deep breath.
"I give them a little vitality," she said. "Just a nudge. Plants already know what they want to become. Vita just reminds them."
Oliver stared in silence.
The video wasn't flashy. No sound effects. No edits. No sponsors.
Just a woman, exiled from the system, who made something beautiful with the power she was told wasn't enough.
This is what people watch? Oliver thought. This is what they admire?
He looked at the glowing subscribe button in the corner:
@GladeGirlVita – 5.4M followers.
And hundreds of kind comments.
Oliver didn't even realize he had stopped breathing for a moment.
Maybe this world had room for people like him after all.
People who didn't fit in the usual places.
People who made their own.
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[Information dump: Mysticoins]
Chapter 50: Mysticoins and Money Talk
First Person – Oliver Woods
Alright, so I was knee-deep in StarLink Videos, eyes dry from staring too long, but my curiosity? Still going strong.
That's when I clicked on a video that changed the whole game for me.
"How I Make 50,000 Mysticoins a Month – FULL Guide (No Gimmicks)"
By a guy named AzureTrekker90.
The video opened with this cool, confident dark-skinned Traveler, hair braided tight and neat—looked like someone you'd see back on Earth in the African-American community. He stood in front of this massive blue-painted house, stylized with bright trims and wood-carved window arches, surrounded by garden beds and wind chimes made from bones and shells.
The dude looked like he had everything figured out.
Then he pulled out a heavy-looking duffle bag, dropped it with a clank, and opened it to show off dozens of golden coins. Except they weren't just gold—each one shimmered with distinct colors:
> ✦ Yellow – Base coin. Everyday value.
✦ Green – Trade coin. Used with nature-based vendors, herbalists, and for bartering.
✦ Blue – Tech and transport-related. Used at stations, gates, shipping networks.
✦ Pink – Luxury and specialty purchases. Rare and flashy. Think custom-made furniture or spirit beast grooming.
I could hear the clinks just watching.
The Traveler was flexing, but not in an annoying way. Just showing the potential of what Vita and clever resource management could do if you lived beyond society's walls.
I couldn't help myself.
> I typed in the search bar: "Mysticoins"
And just like that, I fell into another rabbit hole:
"What Are Mysticoins?"
"Why Regular Cities Don't Use Mysticoins Anymore"
"Avoiding Mysticoin Debt as a Beginner"
"Day One as a Traveler – Earning Your First 200 Coins"
"Mysticoin Farming Routes – 5 Best Locations (Updated 2025)"
Turns out, Mysticoins are kind of like an adventurer's currency, completely separate from the polished banking system in the modern parts of this world. Regular citizens use Central Credits, but Travelers, wanderers, explorers—they all trade in Mysticoins.
Why?
Because Vita-based trading isn't exactly taxed.
And because if you're living in the wilderness, dealing with druids, dwarves, forest merchants, or mountain caravans—you're not carrying a credit chip.
You're carrying glowing coin pouches.
> "Mysticoins are backed by Vita-rich materials," one video said.
"They're stamped with elemental signatures—each coin has weight and potential."
This wasn't just shiny change.
It was energy-based money.
Literal value born from elemental crafting.
One comment I read said:
> "I bought my whole traveler's forge with just 6 blue and 1 pink. You just gotta know where to look."
So yeah… I saved that playlist too.
At this point, I wasn't just watching for fun.
> I was studying.
Preparing.
Because whether I liked it or not, I had stepped into a new world.
And the sooner I learned how money worked here, the faster I could build something of my own.
Even if I was six years old.
Even if my hands were still small.
I had knowledge.
I had time.
And now? I wanted my own bag of Mysticoins.
---------
Third-Person Narrative:
Oliver continued browsing StarLink, his small fingers clicking and scrolling through video after video. Eventually, a new trend caught his eye: Mysticoins.
He tapped on a video titled "Retired Traveler Shows Off 3 Decades of Mysticoin Wealth 💰✨" and was immediately greeted by the image of a grinning, silver-bearded man standing next to massive cloth sacks spilling with shimmering coins. The coins weren't gold or silver—they glowed faintly with a bluish, pink, green, yellow hue, each one etched with strange, swirling symbols that pulsed softly, almost like they were alive.
The man chuckled proudly, waving a coin toward the camera. "Used to trade these for enchanted bread and barrier charms back in my early days. Now? I use 'em to buy a hot spring and a self-cooking pot!"
Oliver's eyes widened. The man had entire cabinets stuffed with jars and barrels full of Mysticoins. In the background, Oliver could spot walls lined with Traveler gear—rare artifacts, creature bones, trophies from strange regions, and weathered cloaks hanging from polished weapon racks.
One video led to another. Another woman—probably in her late 40s—sat in a handcrafted log mansion, laughing beside a glowing fireplace as she poured hundreds of Mysticoins into a steel bowl like water. "Back when I was sleeping in caves, I didn't even know what warm tea tasted like. Now I own an indoor sky garden."
Oliver gasped aloud.
That's… a lot of money.
The coins shimmered like treasure from a fantasy game. The glow wasn't just for show—it meant they were charged with magical energy. And they were everywhere in the Traveler community. Even the cooking videos he watched earlier mentioned small exchanges of Mysticoins for rare spices, dried dragonfruit, or bottled starlight water.
He leaned back in the chair, blinking.
So... getting Mysticoins must be easy, right?
But the more he watched, the more a subtle pattern emerged. Every person with big coin stashes had something in common:
Decades of experience.
Worn gear.
Old battle scars.
Tales of curses, near-death encounters, and strange beasts in forbidden woods.
They laughed about it now, but the comments told a different story—"That one nearly died fighting a tunnel wraith," "Lost an eye in the Echo Ruins," "Don't forget she was stuck in the Crystal Labyrinth for a month."
Oliver swallowed.
Sure, Mysticoins were out there. And yes, Travelers made their own path. But earning them?
It wasn't easy.
It was dangerous. Relentless. Hard-earned.
Still, Oliver couldn't help but feel something spark inside him—a flicker of thrill, fear, and hunger for something more.
Maybe someday... he'd earn his first coin too.