Year 1, Fall, Third Month, First Week.

As fall's golden hues reached the village, Karl found himself tirelessly working to enhance the village's arsenal of weapons and magic tools. With each Rune he carved and every Array he redrew, his mastery over Alchemy deepened.

Recognizing the limitations of working in isolation, Karl began to forge stronger bonds with the villagers. He initiated regular gatherings to brainstorm and share ideas, realizing that the wisdom of the community was an invaluable resource. These interactions sparked new insights, allowing him to see beyond the confines of his mind.

With the harvest coming, the villagers expressed a unanimous need for a tool to aid in the laborious process of collecting and processing grains. The villagers' focus was naturally attuned to the immediate challenges of their work, guiding Karl's priorities. However, he remained cautious, aware that focusing solely on present needs might leave them unprepared for future challenges.

Improved knives, now sharper and more efficient thanks to the enhancements, had already made a significant impact in harvesting. However, they realized that more could be done, particularly in streamlining the wheat harvesting process. Wheat was the lifeblood of the village, its grains were milled into flour that sustained them throughout the year.

The current method of threshing – striking wheat stalks with stones to separate grains from stems – was time-consuming and labor-intensive. Following the threshing, the villagers relied on the gusty winds of late Fall to blow away the chaff, leaving only the precious grains to be collected and ground into flour using rudimentary stone grinders.

Now, they needed a magic tool to facilitate either the threshing or the grinding process. Threshing, in particular, was a bottleneck in their workflow. However, as Karl pondered over this challenge, he found himself at an impasse, unable to envision a viable solution to ease this laborious task.

Sitting under the shade of a robust oak tree, Karl's mind raced with ideas. His gaze drifted over the golden fields, where the sun's rays danced upon the wheat, igniting his imagination. "The essence of True Alchemy," he mused aloud, "is to simplify, not complicate."

His thoughts took a decisive turn as he considered the Direction Array, a tool he had often used to manipulate the property of elements. He envisioned harnessing the Array to delicately separate the grains. "But what about the affinity?" he pondered. The plant crystal's affinity was too broad, so if he used it as a reference, it would attract the entirety of the plant rather than its individual components.

As if on cue, Master AI's voice echoed in his mind, revealing two new arrays that could transform his vision into reality.

‘-- The Signature Extraction Array allows you to identify and extract the unique energy composition of a target. It's an advanced version of the Properties Extraction Array, now capable of working beyond elemental energies. --’

[https://i.imgur.com/LRMz2zk.jpg]

Karl's eyes lit up with understanding. "So, I can use this array to pinpoint the grain's unique signature, isolating it from the rest of the stalk."

‘-- Correct, and the Manipulation Array is an evolved form of the Direction Array. It grants you the ability to precisely control a target outside the array's boundaries. --’

Armed with this new knowledge, Karl's plan took shape. He would use the Signature Extraction Array to identify the grain's unique energy signature, and then employ the Manipulation Array to delicately extract each grain. It was a solution that combined the elegance of simplicity with the precision of Alchemy.

[https://i.imgur.com/XKYNxTQ.jpg]

As the morning light beckoned a new day, Karl, armed with his new invention, ventured into the wheat fields, eager to test the fruits of his labor. The sea of golden stalks swaying gently in the wind whispered promises of a bountiful harvest.

The tool, a fusion of bamboo and wood, held the intricacy of his design. The Signature Extraction Array, with the concept of Path and the aspect of Trajectory, mastered in only a day, was proof of Karl's advancement.

[https://i.imgur.com/k3MuybF.jpg]

With the patience, Karl took a single stalk, severing it from its brethren. Gently, he extracted a lone grain, placing it within the Array. He pointed the tool at a cluster of stalks, each one brimming with a promise. As the energy coursed through the Arrays, the grain glowed.

A hush fell over the field as the grains, as if summoned by an invisible force, began to float from the stalks, suspended in the air before the Array. Karl, his eyes wide with wonder and satisfaction, moved the tool upwards, guiding the grains as they danced in the air. With a swift retraction, he released them from the Array's grasp, watching them settle gracefully onto the ground.

The villagers, drawn by the spectacle, gathered around, their faces filled with awe and curiosity. Karl demonstrated the tool's efficacy, explaining how it would be best utilized once the stalks were cut and gathered in a clean area.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Karl stood amidst the fields, surrounded by the people whose lives he sought to improve. At that moment, he realized the true essence of Alchemy – it was not just about creating tools or harnessing energy, but about bringing hope and life to the village.

***

The air in the slave market was like a miasma of fear and desperation lingering in the cramped space. The trader, a wiry man with a sly gaze, tried to mask his frustration behind a mask of flattery. His voice wavered as he spoke, a clear sign of his unease.

Mage Howland, standing tall with an air of detached superiority, eyed the scene with a discerning gaze. His demeanor was calm, almost disinterested, showing none of the excitement the trader hoped to elicit. He brushed off the trader's desperate attempts at persuasion with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

The clanking of chains filled the air as the slave guards returned, dragging two formidable Beastmen in their wake. These beings, with their leopard-like heads and humanoid builds, moved with a feral grace despite their shackles. Their yellow fur bristled, and their narrowed eyes glowed with fierce intelligence.

The younger of the two, with a more vibrant coat and a slightly less wearied look, caught Mage Howland's attention. Despite the drugs dulling their instincts, the strength and agility inherent in their strong frames were unmistakable.

"I'll take the younger one," Mage Howland declared, his voice carrying an unspoken authority. The trader quickly nodded, eager to conclude the transaction.

***

The battlefield was a desolate scene of chaos and carnage, with the relentless sun bearing down on the arid, sand-swept terrain. Amidst the symphony of war — the metallic sounds of clashing swords, the guttural cries of the wounded, and the unmistakable sound of steel rending flesh — the Beastmen stood out. These intimidating warriors of different animalistic traits and towering physiques wielded their weapons with savage grace. Some clutched rudimentary swords, while others relied solely on their brute strength and natural weaponry.

Their raw power and ferocity painted a deceptive picture of dominance. However, this initial tide of battle was but a strategic feint, orchestrated by the calculating minds of the Serion Commanders. These commanders first unleashed their expendable troops, the army slaves, to wear down the Beastmen's defenses.

When the front lines of Beastmen had sufficiently diminished the slaves, the real battle commenced. The Fighters' troop, an elite squadron, surged forward with disciplined precision. Their intervention halted the Beastmen's onslaught, slowly turning the tide of battle in their favor. Any significant resistance, usually the presence of a high-ranked Beastman, prompted swift and merciless intervention from the Mage unit, who targeted these threats with lethal precision.

In the midst of this brutal dance of war, Akino, a young Fighter, stood his ground. His journey from an army slave to a respected member of the Fighters' troop was marked by his innate ability to harness magic energy, enhancing his physical prowess. Recognized for his potential by his Captain, Akino had risen through the ranks, although not without enduring the harsh realities of military life within the Kingdom.

His current adversaries, a pack of swift and agile Jackal Beastmen, proved to be a terrible challenge. Despite their lack of brute strength compared to other Beastmen, their speed was overwhelming. Akino parried and dodged, his movements a blur as he struggled to keep up with their relentless assault. His fellow Fighters, recognizing the difficulty of facing these swift foes, adapted their strategy — they paired up, taking on each Jackal Beastman with coordinated attacks.

The sandy battlefield beneath Akino's feet seemed to quake with the ferocity of the conflict. His breaths came in quick gasps, his eyes sharply scanning for the next threat, even as he engaged with the Beastman.

The enemy launched a savage strike aimed straight at Akino's throat. With a swift upward thrust of his sword, Akino parried, the force of the blow reverberating down his arms. But the Beastman was cunning and quick, landing a solid kick that sent Akino sprawling to the ground. Tumbling away from a potentially fatal downward stab, Akino's survival instincts kicked in. He retaliated with a swift counterattack, his blade slicing through the Beastman's ankle, drawing an enraged hiss from his foe.

As the Beastman's onslaught momentarily slowed, Akino perceived a subtle shift in the rhythm of the battle. He held his ground, biding his time, his every sense attuned to the Beastman's movements. His patience was rewarded when the Beastman, perhaps faltering under the weight of his injury, stumbled slightly. Seizing the moment, Akino lunged forward, channeling all his strength and energy into a decisive strike. His blade tore through the Beastman's chest in a spray of blood, felling the creature instantly.

In the heat of the battle, Akino remained unaware of a subtle but significant detail — as he delivered his fatal blow, his sword emitted a faint glow.

***

The magic fields bustled with activity as the villagers diligently loaded the transport carts. The air was tense with anticipation as the guards from the Second Eastern Post stood watch with threatening expressions.

Chief Omero accompanied the guards and the Official Supervisor from Wind Castle. This year, a hint of optimism was hidden under his usual solemn demeanor. He had witnessed firsthand the effects of the magic tools and the feasts.

The Official Supervisor, a middle-aged man with a slightly overweight frame, emanated an air of superiority typical of those from Wind Castle. Despite not being of noble birth, his demeanor left no doubt about his sense of self-importance. His role was critical — to ensure the village's compliance with the tribute quota, a task typically reserved for those trusted by the City Lord. This responsibility, although significant, was beneath the dignity of a noble, hence delegated to a servant like him.

As the villagers continued their work, the Supervisor meticulously noted each contribution. The process was slow and thorough. By the afternoon, the final stock of vegetables was loaded onto the carts. The Supervisor, with a practiced eye, began his final count.

“This can’t be right... I’ll count again... It seems that you exceed the annual tributes by about ten sacks. This is very unusual... How did you do it?” the supervisor questioned.

Omero lowered his head in feigned deference. “This lowly servant just tried his best to attend to the noble’s needs. To achieve the quota, this lowly one allocated more youths to work in the magic fields... The hands that were moved to help here compromised the village’s food stock but this lowly one didn’t dare to not do his best to achieve the quota,” he replied, his voice steady, masking the satisfaction he felt.

The supervisor, perhaps too eager to leave or too indifferent to probe further, accepted the explanation. “Indeed, as servants of the great Serion Kingdom, you should put the needs of your Lords above your own. Since you paid the due tribute, we shall take our leave. You can return to your village, the guards will come to you when the snow melts.”

As the supervisor turned his back and left, Chief Omero maintained his bow as a symbol of subservience. But hidden beneath his bowed head was a mocking smile, a silent victory against the oppressors.

And so, as the first snowflakes began to fall, the village of Caiset settled in for the winter, a little stronger and a little more hopeful.