As much as Elrhain wished to just run off and hatch a billion schemes, putting all of his knowledge of civilization-building games to good use, the next one month was almost a repeat of the days before.

If one thing has changed, it’s that Agwyn had at last seriously started fixing her adorable lisp. Despite its usefulness as a tactical weapon, the fact that even Ysbail could beat her in tongue twisters really seemed to piss the little princess off. And the results were mixed, notwithstanding her dubious motivation.

"Thi-Siani! Take your filthy hands off of him!"

"Ahhh! Busyfish went crazy~"

"I am telling you, Eudav, that it is not feasible to mix ailment-shrooms with rot-flowers to use in boiled vomeat!"

Some days he and Agwyn scurried about in the cloistered hall, and other days they roamed around Lochuir under Vesiphis's strict supervision. As time went by, the two forged a deeper bond with their cousins—or entourage, as Vesiphis put it, until they were finally an integral part of their group.

Although his, their plans were put on hold, the days were enjoyable nonetheless. Siani showed them around the shire, a large encampment an hours Alleigh-ride away from Lochuir with hunters and delvers bustling about the place, hauling their monster catch like a middle-eastern marketplace. But there were no coins to be traded. Either they bartered with those who lived in the shire or contributed to the clan for knowledge and training.

Everything, was the clan's responsibility.

Eudav took them to the clan archives, where the elderly record keeper had to use magic to pry Elrhain's chubby fingers from one-of-a-kind valuable scrolls. The kind old man then let Elrhain browse through the messy piles of more mundane ones to his heart's content.

The best thing was that the archive caves' walls were full of holes stuffed with messy unimportant piles of knowledge nuggets.

All the while Agwyn and the others crowded around the keeper, gasping loud and low at the epic stories the old man so enthusiastically shared.

The group visited many of the nearest river tributaries, mountains, and smaller lakes, which would be awakened nearing the tenth cycle of the collapse, according to the watches that accompanied them. They even got to know many of the freemen, headsmen, and lesser nobles leading their people to the evacuee camps or settlements around Lochuir's outskirts, situated near those very lakes.

They saw the people's hopes, sorrows, stubbornness, and every other emotion the disaster could possibly throw at them.

The nausea that assaulted Elrhain the first time he saw the dhionnes' tragic state faded with each time he and Agwyn stepped their tiny feet near the camps. They could now calmly take in what had occurred, and what had to be done.

Replacing the nausea was an urgency. An urgency to act.

But he knew he could not force anything. They were only three cycles one season old.

He needed to take his time, plough through the archives for ideas, and finally ensure he had the clan's full support before sharing any of his probable plans. In his mind, even the hyper-active cousins could contribute significantly as long as his strategy was doable enough.

Of course, the two didn't spend every minute touring the township with the kids. Most of the older ones had to cultivate in the Elder's Rest until the suns were at their highest. During those tedious hours, it was only Cati and Ysbail to keep them company.

Elrhain thought today would be the same. So he was reading one of the scrolls about a gheist called the 'Gadoran Plant Biter' he had brought along from the archives.

Luckily, by now, he had a good enough grasp of the written words to quickly decipher the contents. Cultivation, magic, and other cryptic scrolls were still out of his understanding, though, with their convoluted magical runic jargon.

Agwyn, who was bored out of her mind, was also passing the time by teaching Cati and Ysbail espionage techniques.

However,

“"C-Cultivation!”"

The kids exclaimed, their large eyes sparkling with enough fervour to fill a bucket, and Bromwyn nodded as he thumped his oversized pecs.

"That is right! The time has come for you to at last step onto the path towards supremacy! Hahahaha!"

The big guy guffawed like it was his birthday. But Elrhain didn't mind, thinking finally, finally, he could start learning magic!

The four children had been waiting in front of the Cave of Descent, one of the entrances to the Elder's rest just outside the main house's mountain, for the others to come out.

It was then that the chieftain, along with Vesiphis and Cati's fathers, exited the cave and threw a bombshell at them.

He, Agwyn, and Cati were as happy as a bumblebee.

Ysbail, on the other hand, was pouting like a storm cloud.

"No!" she cried, "It’s not fair!”

“Come now, Ysbail. Let’s take you to Meredith. She will bring you back when their cultivation session ends.” Cati’s father, Cyn, a man with four eyes and gnarling satanic horns, patted the sobbing little girl.

“B-But why can’t I play with them?”

“Papa, can she come with us? Please?” Cati also chirped. When she realized her best friend could not come, her eagerness melted, and only tears remained in her three eyes.

The lass’s father sighed. “The ancestor’s teachings forbid anyone under three from cultivating. You know that, don’t you? It would do her more harm than good.”

“Buuuuut!” The two best friends started whimpering. It eventually got to the point where they each hugged onto Cyn’s two stumpy legs and refused to let go.

No amount of coddling or urgings could get them to do otherwise.

Elrhain sighed, before calling out to Bromwyn, “Big guy, why can’t Ysbail come with us?”

“It warms my heart that you think so much about your comrades, my stout warrior.” He grinned.

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“Alas, Ysbail is just too young. Her nodes and lattice channels are barely mature enough to handle ambient manna, let alone the cultivation regimes the scions of the main house experience under the shaman’s guidance.”

“… no, I didn’t ask why she could not cultivate with us. Why can’t she at least come down with us?”

Bromwyn started, then tilted his head. “What else would she do in the Elder’s rest, if not cultivate?”

Elrhain groaned, “She can simply accompany us, no? Maybe she can wait by the side or anywhere the ambient manna is weaker.”

“Can I?” “Can she?” The little girl in question and her three-eyed friend picked up on their conversation and started begging as annoyingly and as cutely as they could.

“That… can actually be arranged. As long as she doesn’t directly enter the Cultivation platform.” Bromwyn scratched his head awkwardly. “I must confess, I completely forgot to consider this. We’ve never brought down children to the Elder’s rest before to do… nothing.”

Elrhain patted his legs. “Don’t worry about it. Thinking has never been your strong suit.”

Bromwyn laughed, “Indeed. Though, might not most consider this a waste of time? What do you suppose, Cyn?”

“If it can get her to stop ruining my kilt, why not.” The other man shrugged, pointing at Ysbail as she slathered his expensive-looking gheistfur kilt with tears and snot.

Elrhain pushed his point even further.

“Waste of time? What else is a 2-cycle old kid supposed to do other than eat, sleep and poop? You already said she can’t cultivate. Unlike servant children, she doesn’t have to help out with family matters at such a young age. And besides,” Elrhain added, “We can just let her do something actually productive in the meantime. Like learning to read and write.”

“Huh?” Ysbail stopped. Her eyes blinking rapidly.

“Maybe get a learned servant to impart her how to recognize Uorian symbols? I bet by the time she is old enough to cultivate, she’d be smarter than Siani.”

“HUH?”

Cyn’s eyes lit up. And so did Bromwyn and Cadwell’s.

“Certainly! That would be a much better use of young Ysbail’s time than accompanying her mother. Actually, we should adopt this for when all babes are two cycles old in our main house!”

Ysbail broke down into tears again, but for an entirely different reason.

Alas, what has been decided by a leader cannot be taken back by the tears of an adorable little girl alone.

Thus, despite her flailing, she was dragged down to the Elder’s rest with the giddy Cati, while Agwyn whispered to Elrhain with an imperceptible grin,

「You evil little bastard. You doomed them all.」

Only she had noticed the insidious smile that crept onto Elrhain’s face as he peered at Ysbail, the dim luminescence of the cave casting grim shadows on his face.

***

Their second time entering the Elder’s rest was much like the first. The adults carried them down most of the journey, and they didn’t delve as deep this time.

About twenty minutes later, they reached a large underground cavern with tranquil streams running down the ground. The cascading waterfalls backdropping a large platform suspended in mid-air by chains at the centre of this space, which was connected to many tunnels of the cavern’s walls with floating stone steps.

The platform was of blue crystals, green algae, and grey stones, circular in nature and reaching about twenty meters high. Stairs covered in moss, cracked and uneven yet evidently held together by magic, connected the platform to the cavern floor below.

Elrhain had to stop himself from gawking.

He spotted the other kids and heard Cati squeal like an excited kitten while Ysbail snorted with twice the cuteness.

Most of the kids on the platform sat crossed legged. Each had a glowing circle underneath them, which evidently helped with cultivation. Cadfael was also there, but he didn’t notice the new arrivals, thanks to what Elrhain assumed was a deep meditation.

A few of the younger kids, like Siani and Cadough, rested to the side, their faces breaking into giant smiles when they saw them.

There was also a dwarfish man Elrhain had met at the gathering the month before, who also sat cross-legged on a boulder at the very front of the cultivating kids with a stern glare in his eyes.

When he saw Elrhain’s group walk in, he lazily waved a hand at them.

Bromwyn waved back.

Five minutes later, Cati, Elrhain and Agwyn were seated on top of their own glowing circle, while Cyn had to drag back Ysbail at the foot of the stairs as she kept trying to run up.

Without so much as a proper reception, the man, Tudor Arente Earthloch as introduced by Bromwyn, officially started the three’s first steps in cultivation.

“Heiress,” He sighed, “You cannot share one manna gathering circle with the heir. There is not enough manna for the both of you.”

It was the third time he had said that, and Agwyn bashfully giggled while sitting back down on her own circle.

“Good.” Tudor smiled. “Now, listen carefully to the words I say. Young Cati, please. Stop getting distracted by Ysbail.”

Elrhain really wanted to pat the guy on the back. It was not easy trying to coerce overexcited kids to concentrate on one thing. If he were in Tudor’s place, he would have already committed the crime of spanking them into obedience.

The short man must have had a lot of experience, seeing as he was the official clan tutor and all for the main house. His temper was even, and his face barely twitched at their antics.

“Close your eyes,” Tudor directed, and Elrhain complied. “Heiress, and heir-”

“You can call us Gwyn and Rhain!”

“… yes, Gwyn and Rhain. Do you remember the sensations you felt when you received the blessing from the spirits?”

“… Kinda?”

“Kinda, will be enough,” Elrhain swore he could hear a note of amusement in Tudor’s voice.

“The manna gathering circles underneath you, yes the glowing circles, they will send up similar particles of manna for your use. Of course, they will lack the ichor of the spirits or the quality, so you will need to focus harder to feel them. But the sensation will be quite similar to that time. Delve deeper when you grasp the manna and do not let your mind wander.

As for young Cati, your family should have already taught you how to feel the manna using your eyes, right? No, don’t open them. This time, I want you to sense the manna without their assistance.”

Elrhain was acquainted with meditation. It was part of the school curriculum back on Earth. Mindfulness was essential for daily practice, alongside compassion, spirituality and stillness at movement, depending on the person. He could not do the latter while sitting cross-legged, even if he somewhat wanted to try that right now.

This felt a lot like guided meditation, minus the magical props he was using.

But for now, he simply followed Tudor’s guidance. He could experiment with mixing Earth meditation with fantasy meditation later.

“Totemic Soul, Marrow Core, Spirit Totem, and Ichoric Heart Chamber. Ignore the latter three for today. Because for the initiation to manna, and the most important opening lesson I will teach you now depends solely on the first. It is your link to find, harvest, and cultivate manna. Your other self that lives in the astral realm as you do on the material disc.”

For the first few minutes, Elrhain was lost. He couldn’t spot them. Neither manna nor this totemic soul thingy.

The slow underground wind and sound of water, the gentle breaths coming from his left and right, and Tudor’s gruff voice. Elrhain could visualize each and every happening in the cavern, his supernatural senses taking in information like a sponge, his dhionne brain filtering through them like a computer.

Yet, the orbs of manna were nowhere to be found.

He sat there, minute after minute. Just when his mind was about to wander away for the nth time back to a novel he had once read, he sensed something.

Like spotting a clue from the corner of his eyes, but more fleeting, and with all his senses, not just sight. He doubled down on the feeling, but gently, as to not scare it away.

Soon, the boredom and emptiness left his mind. What replaced it was marvel and novelty.

Like fireworks in the darkness of his mind, they appeared simultaneously. One moment it was a black canvas, the next, he felt as if he was a god staring down at himself from the heavens above.

He saw teeny-tiny fireflies, millions of them rising up from below his body and scattering into the void where his senses could not reach.

Blue, green and brown; red, gold and purple. They came in every hue and every shade of both visible and invisible light. Always dancing, always mixing.

Manna, he realized.

Like the orbs gifted by the spirits, but so much smaller, so many more. And within the middle of that upward shower, he saw an unmoving darkness in the shape of a tiny little dhionne. It had a dim constellation of stars inside. They were different from the manna particles; they felt empty.

These stars sat static.

As he observed them, a thought popped up in his mind, or was it Tudor’s voice? He could not tell.

‘If the manna comes from a source, then might these be the sink?’

Yet, unlike the dancing, vigorous manna, these stars inside the toddler-shaped void were weak, blinking, and had a hollow core filled with thick toxic sludge.

None of the manna entered that silhouette of darkness, flowing around it as if it was a jutting rock lying in the way of a raging torrent.

That darkness was his Totemic Soul.