The world around Hector melted away—his room becoming nothing more than paint running off a canvas. A new scene bubbled up, like boiling water in a pot, and he found himself in a void. Water was at his ankles again, shimmering as he moved his legs.
No difference so far.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. He turned, sloshing water at his feet.
Three marble pedestals stood across from him, intricate designs running up and down their surfaces. At the top of these pedestals were plant pots, brown clay plant pots. He tilted his head and waded towards them.
“System, I take it this is where I plant the Talents,” he said, coming to a stop before the middle pedestal. Up close it seemed glossy—no doubt that if it was in the real world, the nobles would pay a good price for it.
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///: “Yes, once a Talent has been converted into a seed, it can be planted into one of these pots.”
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Hector rested a hand on his hip, bringing the other to his lip in thought. He looked at the water at his feet—was that what he’d have to use to water the Talents, or did the pedestals have some kind of pump mechanism?
He held out his palm, keeping it straight as he sent his will out into the void. “Bring me [Nimble Sole].”
A silent moment passed, then a bright light bloomed into the void. The light arced through the sky, racing towards him with reckless abandon, a trail of white behind it.
I wonder where it came from this time. I didn’t see it when I entered earlier.
The Talent screamed through the air before slamming into his palm. Its impact sent a pulse of white energy through the void, rippling as it went. The whole thing was a tad bit dramatic, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it.
Hector lifted the Talent in his hand. The orb, much like the previous, glowed, swirling with an indecipherable language—perhaps one day he would figure it out. He glanced around the void and then brought his attention to the brown clay plant pot.
“Do I just shove the Talent inside it?” he asked. He stuck his finger into the pot, fingering the loose soil and swirling it around. The soil was warm and seemed to crackle with energy as he moved it.
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///: “No. You must now begin the seeding process. Channel the soul waters around you to harmonize the Talent into a seedling.”
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“Well, that doesn’t sound too hard.” He paused, unsure of how to proceed. Looking at the water at his feet, he sloshed it around with his foot, then looked to the Talent. “Do I just stick it in?”
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///: “The host must will the waters to the Talent. Much like you did when you summoned it here.”
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His face brightened as his lips broke into a smile. That was trivial. He had thought it would be some long, complicated process requiring him to memorize some form of technique. He again held his hand out, the orb resting in its centre.
“Begin channeling...” he said hesitantly.
The water reacted.
It began to swirl at his ankle, turning into a shimmering whirlpool. A connection formed between him and the water, and he directed it at the orb in his hand. The whirlpool lurched, as waterspouts shot out of it, plunging into the Talent, like tendrils of a jellyfish found in the lake surrounding Middlec.
Hector watched on, a smile firmly on his lips. This had to be one of the most impressive things he had ever done. He held the Talent up for several minutes, as the whirlpool spun, and the tendrils continued to... do something to the orb. Eventually, the whirlpool slowed, retracting its tendrils, before going still at his feet.
The waters were calm again. He glanced at the talent, now a rather large seed. It had the same white glow, but he could no longer see the words on the inside—not that seeing them meant much.
“So I guess I can just put it in now,” he said. “I mean, unless I have to do anything else.”
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The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
///: “No. You may now place the seed in either of the pots and begin the watering process.”
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“Alright.” He began to dig a large hole in the pot’s soil. Energy crackled as he moved the dirt to the side, specks of it getting caught under his nails. Eventually, he stopped, studying the hole for a moment, judging it against the size of the seed.
“Looks good to me,” he said, carefully lowering the seed into the hole like it was a baby—there was no point being reckless now. After all, who knew if anything in the soulscape could break? With a satisfying thud, the seed was in the hole. He then scooped dirt over it, crackles of energy buzzing as he covered the seed.
“Okay, it’s covered. What do I do now?” He looked off into the void. He wasn’t sure where the system's voice came from. It was an odd thing—if he could even call what he was doing normal.
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///: “Now you must harmonize with the seed. Push your will onto it.”
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Seems simple enough.
He held his hand over the plant pot, willing it to grow. Particles of light floated up from the water, like bubbles floating towards his hands. They drifted over the back of his hand, twisting in the void, and curling into a ball just above the plant pot.
Finally, the ball of light condensed, collapsing in on itself, becoming denser and denser. Trickles of glowing water poured out from the ball, splashing down onto the soil and seeping beneath its surface. The sight was magical.
Hector watched on, his mouth parting and his eyes wide. It was almost as if he were a high-level mana cultivator, able to change the weather on a casual whim. It was awesome.
A box of text flashed into existence above the plant pot.
He moved his hand, the ball of light dissipating like smoke, and read over the text—thankfully in a language he could actually read.
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///:
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| Name: Common Seedling
| Growth Time: 2 days
| Watered: [1/2]
| Time Till Next Watering: 8-hours
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///:
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So I have to water it one more time before it’s done growing. It should also finish growing on... what day even is it?
Hector frowned. He rarely tracked the day, as every day was pretty much the same as the last. But things had changed. He had a pickpocketing operation coming—heaven forbid he missed the entire thing because he got the date wrong.
Nevertheless, it would be done in two days. He glanced at the two other pedestals and the pots sitting atop them. He didn’t have any more seeds, but in time, he would surely find a few more fragments. And with the common seedling currently growing, maybe it would sprout more talents he could use—hopefully more than one.
He looked around the void, water sloshing at his feet. He regarded the pedestals for a moment. There didn’t seem to be much more he could do, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “System, is there anything else I can do here?”
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///: “The host may sit and meditate within the space, speeding up the growth of the seedling fourfold.”
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Hector froze—not sure of what to make of that information, but feeling excited all the same. What did this mean? Potentially, he would be able to finish growing this common talent in half a day. That was only twelve hours.
He paused and smacked his forehead.
Even if it was a speed-up, he couldn’t spend twelve hours in here. Mirae would throw a fit—especially after his own words to her about spending too much time cultivating. But what could he do? This was a new talent on the line. Most likely several.
If it really comes to it, I can just stop halfway. Mirae will probably come in and pull me out of meditation, anyway.
Hector sighed, lowering himself and getting into the lotus position. Water washed onto his thigh—it would have soaked his clothes had it been real. Instead, it was just cool—no wetness at all. It was soothing—it was one of his favourite parts about coming to the soulscape.
Taking a deep breath, his lungs filled. He directed his focus to the plant pot, channelling everything he had to it.
His mind calmed as time slipped away. Determined. Uncaring. Inevitable. The seconds flittered by like a stream running off into the empty void of his Talent Garden space.
“Hector, you silly goose.” Mirae’s voice boomed through the void. “And after all your talk about me having to be careful of how much I cultivate, and not to overwork myself, yet here you are.”
He snapped back to the moment. Time returning to his mental grasp—well, as much as he could grasp it, anyway. Time was a fickle thing, never caring whether you were ready or not. Someone who couldn’t at least account for that was bound to waste a lot of it.
“Hector, it’s time for dinner. Dad’s home,” Mirae said, her voice continuing to boom through the void like an avalanche.
I should get going, but first, let’s see how much time I’ve got left.
He placed his hands into the soul water, pushing off and climbing to his feet with a grunt. It never made sense how he had to physically exert himself in a place that was said to be in his soul—then again, what normal people, especially in the slums, knew about the soul could be called small at best.
He stood over the plant pot, reading over the stats. A small smile forming on his lips.
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///:
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| Name: Common Seedling
| Growth Time: 1.33 days
| Watered: [1/2]
| Time Till Next Watering: Ready: Death in 2-hours
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///:
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His arm shot into the air, his heart racing with excitement. It had actually worked—not that he doubted its effectiveness, but this was great. He had spent, what, four hours and the time had dropped so much. If he came back after dinner and did this for the rest of the night, he should have a few new talents by tomorrow.
But I should probably get it watered before I leave. I don’t need it dying on me.
“Hector, please,” Mirae said, shaking the void. “Okay, I’ll give you a few more minutes, but if you aren’t up and out before I come back, this pillow is coming straight at your face.”
He lowered his head, chuckling as he sloshed closer to the pot. He had no doubt she would do what she said. When it came to helping, she would do whatever she thought was necessary—even using one of his rather dense pillows to whack him out of meditation.
Alright, I best hurry up then. Besides, I’m a bit hungry, anyway.