The Dao of Magic

100 - Intuition

The plants and trees don't move when I leave the island. The plants beneath my feet wouldn't move anyway, being burned to a crisp as they are, but the ones outside the black trail I blazed when I arrived here only sway in the wind.

Ash gives way to sand which gives way to water as I speed up with every step I take. I feel some anger, causing a green mist to flash before my eyes. It's already less dense than before, a clear sign that the nature mana attracting effect of the skull is gone now.

Threading on the waves in a leisurely pattern is lethargic, causing my mind to drift backwards instead of ever forward. The first skull I stole was by accident, a righteous form a self-defence. The second skull didn't do anything but dissipate the concentrated light mana around Wave Island.

In hindsight, it's kind of weird how symbolic the order of skulls is. I got the black one after literally evaporating millions of souls and a couple of thousand bodies. The light skull I got after saving some old dude from certain death.

Nicking the metal skull didn't have any effect except for a predicted slight loss in productivity of Ferro Island's forges. The purple wind skull was the first theft with truly spectacular consequences.

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"Calm down Rhea."

"CALL ME RE-HAAN. AND I WILL NOT CALM DOWN."

"I agree with you Re, this is absolutely disgusting," Angeta growls with a pissed off look on her face.

I am holding Rhea by the arm, preventing her from flying off and shredding everything we are looking at. We sailed north after our staring contest on the metal mages island and approached the wind and thunder island not too long after. I really should ask someone what its official name is.

"They use the skin of my brethren to live in such a frivolous manner. How would you feel if they sailed the wind on human skin sails?"

"That wouldn't work. Human leather is weak as shit. And I wouldn't mind if humans shed nearly indestructible skin. Which we then threw away."

"No Dre-"

"TEACH!"

"Shut up, we bury our shed skin at sea. That does not give these barbarians the right to... to... make kites out of them!"

Keep your fucking face straight! Don't fucking laugh! With tremendous effort, I keep my face serious. Wind island is both awe-inspiring and silly beyond belief. The island itself is a sharp collection of grey cliffs, worn smooth and sharp by countless years of blasting wind. They jut nearly a kilometre out above the sea in all their spiky, jagged glory.

Above them float countless, colourful, bloated caricatures of dragons. They look like those massive parade balloons but made by a five-year-old with a wide variety of mental deficiencies. As if rebelling against the constant gale force winds blowing upwards, huts hang under these rounded balloons, connected by a complex web of walkways and wind deflecting sails. Thick ropes connect everything to heavy anchors, wedged in between the sharp rocks below.

As I said, majestic and silly beyond belief.

And the dragoness besides me is pissed that the skins their young shed are being utilized as moronic hot air balloons.

Don't start laughing hysterically, you utter ass! That would be a one-way ticket to single-once-again-ville. Another titanic struggle later, I turn my head from the sight and stare at Rhea.

I raise my hand slowly. Come on, where is it? I need to stall a bit. "Let's do it this way. I want to try something. Afterwards, you can do whatever you want." Her indignance at this entire situation is fighting with something else I can't quite place. I can usually read other people like a book, but she has a braincore too. Braincore cultivators need to manually make those subconscious ticks, I can't quite read-