Shaden was tired.
Not physically, of course. His body was in top condition, as well as his mana pool. Even with a full day of healing the injured with only food breaks in between, he was nowhere near running dry.
But mentally, he was reaching his limit. The faces had come and gone, and news spread fast in the Wall. The place had been quickly filled with patients, and for three days, he’d been curing them without stopping. Some had even come to find him during the night, and it had been more than once that he had been woken up.
It wasn’t fun. He’d simply put his hands out and let his magic do the work, and the people would thank him then leave. He’d appreciated the thanks at first. But he’d heard it too many times by now.
Perhaps the number of people he’d healed so far was close to two thousand. He wasn’t keeping track. He wasn’t sure if anyone was. He was glad he was able to find many, but the task wasn’t something he was excited about.
But he’d have to endure. The Jakhar Kishaks were waiting for him.
“Next,” he muttered as the healed woman began to babble about how grateful she was. He smiled weakly. The ‘guards’ pulled her away as another took her place. He hadn’t needed any protection, but after Kortuya had found out how unlimited his energy could be, he’d wanted to speed up the process.
Five hours in the morning, five hours in the afternoon. That was the schedule that had been set for him. Kortuya’s superiors had received the message from the capital, and while Shaden didn’t know its exact contents, it apparently had something to do with working as a servant if he couldn’t use magic.
Now they knew. He could tell that they hadn’t expected much from a child; it was probably why they’d sent him to the top right away to scare him. He wasn’t sure of the prince’s exact intentions, but at least Shaden was fulfilling his part of the bargain.
It would be best not to meet him again. By the way some patients had reacted, the Royalty was revered severely, worshipped almost. One had even exclaimed, “The King has answered our prayers!”
His emotions were conflicted. Had he really done a great evil? After talking with Kortuya, he’d found out that wyverns were extremely difficult to tame, even when raised from birth. Complex magic and techniques were required—many years of conditioning and care. Their value was astronomical. And he’d killed one.
He still didn’t like the prince, and had he ordered him to be executed, he would have leveled the whole place. But—these people had their customs. Strange, extreme customs, but it was what they believed, what they’d grown up with.
To hate them because of that felt...unfair. As dreamlike his world was for him, these people were living real lives.
So, he wanted to leave them as soon as possible. He wanted to return to the Jakhar Kishak settlement where he could spend the rest of his year in peace. An unstressful life—that was what Shaden was all about. Not working ten hours a day.
At least the people seemed happy. And his food had become better with some vegetables and dairy products added.
“Good work today as well,” Kortuya clapped when the final patient went out of the room. “I believe the general will visit within the week, so you must prepare yourself.”
Shaden turned his head after finishing his yawn. “General?”
“Yes. General Nohcam Watayurk,” Kortuya said with excitement. “He is the overseer of the Wall.”
“Like the head of the Watayurks.”
“Yes.” Kortuya touched his beard. “Though I wonder why he would come. Perhaps he has an injury. Perhaps he wishes to thank you.”
Shaden scratched his cheek. “Hopefully, it won’t be anything serious.”
“I hope so too.”
Things were finally working out. Hopefully, after healing ten thousand people, General Nohcam would serve as his witness to the prince. At this rate, he’d finish within two weeks.
Kortuya brought dinner. He’d been assigned as Shaden’s caretaker for the moment, but in reality, he was more of an assistant, asking Shaden questions all of the time.
“Your magic—it is exceptional,” he said through a mouthful of jerky. “I still cannot understand it. How is the spell not interrupted by the patient’s mana? Healing is a delicate thing, and without a magic circle to stabilize the process, I cannot see it happening. I would be honored to learn about it.”
“I push it away,” Shaden explained, “the patient’s mana, I mean. Then, I apply the magic.”
“Prodigal, and difficult. I could never do such a thing. And the color too—why is it so bright and green? Do you borrow power from the spirits?”
“Healing magic is always green, right?” Shaden replied.
“I believe color is added to spells to make them more noticeable,” Kortuya said. “The ancients designed it so that it would be more easily understood. But you—you do not chant. And yet, you choose to add light to your magic. Is that not wasteful? Or perhaps, it is the will of the spirit that lends you power?”
“No spirits,” Shaden stated. “About the color, I never thought about it.”
“Fascinating. So much power, yet you adhere to the rules. Where do you draw your power from? Or is it from yourself?”
“Myself, I think.”
Kortuya shook his head. “You must be one of those people in the stories I’ve heard during my childhood. A Sage of Healing.”
I can do much more than heal, Shaden wanted to say. But he had a feeling that things would become more complicated if he did, so he decided to avoid letting people know about the full extent of his abilities.
“Am I that great?”
“Very. What you do is unheard of. Extremely wasteful and inefficient, but you never run dry. I simply cannot understand it. I would not be surprised if you collapsed any moment.”
“So I should improve my technique.”
“It’s a wonder you haven’t when you are so good at it. Perhaps your wastefulness has given you the capacity that you have? No, that doesn’t make sense. It’s too much.”
Kortuya sighed, then pursed his lips. “Perhaps you have been gifted by a god.”
Shaden didn’t fully understand it himself. Was it because he was ‘dreaming’? But nothing was fake about the world. And no ‘god’ had approached him before. The strongest beings he’d met were a librarian and a white-haired scholar, and they hadn’t sensed anything attached to him—like someone else’s influence.
Where did his power come from? And why was he so adept at magic? It was still a mystery.
“Who knows?” Shaden said.
“Perhaps—you are a god.”
Shaden thought about his life as Demund.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I mean, I’m human. Have you ever seen a god get stressed from healing people?”
“I have not seen any gods, but no. And no god would be so wasteful.”
A thought came into Shaden’s mind.
“What about Naera?” he asked. “What kind of goddess is she?”
“She is the creator of magic as we know it, I believe.”
“But Saiton did the same, right? What’s the difference?”
“Naera would be...more powerful.” Kortuya crossed his arms. “I am not well versed in these matters. My studies were not on foreigners.”
“You said that the Royal Family were descended from gods. What gods?”
“The divine. The god of the sun, Rahn.”
“Did he actually exist?”
“So it is said.”
“You sound like you don’t believe it.”
Kortuya only moved his eyebrows.
“I must get going now,” he said, getting up. “My wife is waiting for me.”
“Uh, before you go,” Shaden requested, “could I get something to read? It’s really boring down here.”
The doctor’s face turned into one of shock. “Of course!” he exclaimed, his face turning pale. “How could I have not known? It must be terrible being here alone.”
Shaden nodded.
“I’d forgotten for a moment that you were a child,” he muttered. His eyes lit up within a few seconds. “You must be lonely.”
“Well—”
“I know just the place where you can stay,” Kortuya clapped. “Follow me. They will love you. They visited yesterday afternoon, and I’d forgotten that they’d told me that they would be pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The people of Nafar were convivial, but with it came a pushiness Shaden had rarely experienced as Demund. It was different from following Lytha’s instructions. He hadn’t had a choice then. Here, he could refuse.
“Or—would you not?” Kortuya sounded disappointed already.
“I’ll go,” Shaden accepted. The man nodded, motioning with his hand.
Refusing people’s offers here made him feel like he was becoming enemies with them. Similar to refusing a birthday gift that a friend had prepared with all of his heart. But he wasn’t exactly friends with these people. They were just...too kind. Too friendly. It wasn’t bad, but not knowing them very well, it was uncomfortable.
He’d never been good at refusing others. But it had never felt burdensome. His family’s legacy, his training, his life as Shaden—until now. Normally, he wouldn’t have minded the extra attention.
But here, in the heat of the desert and the weight of his penalty, something inside of him was slipping. It wasn’t noticeable when he was circulating, but when he stopped, the vexation brewed within, growing like mold on humid wood.
So, he circulated.
They walked through the halls and up some dimly lit stairs for some minutes until Kortuya found a door. He knocked twice, and Shaden heard someone move within.
The door opened, and it was a child that stepped out. A child who recognized Shaden.
“Mom! The doctor is here!” he yelled, looking back, then turned to Shaden. “You! You keep missing class. Did you move?”
“Kibra, right?”
“That’s me. And you were…um—”
“Shaden.”
“Yeah.”
“You two know each other! That’s good,” Kortuya chuckled.
Shaden groaned internally. He didn’t want to spend his nights with a kid. Maybe if they were as smart as Eilae it would be fun, but Kibra was a child through and through.
His mother came out, and she gasped softly when she spotted Shaden in the doorway.
“Doctor,” she breathed, “and the Green Child.”
“Green Child?” Shaden repeated.
“You are called that, yes,” Kortuya told him. “Shaden wanted a place to stay. You were offering a place before?”
“Yes, yes! How wonderful of you to come here,” the lady said, clasping her hands together. “Come in! And your name is Shaden?”
“Yes,” Shaden replied.
“Wonderful, wonderful. Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Well, do come in.”
“I will take my leave here,” Kortuya said, nodding to Shaden. “I will come to pick you up tomorrow at seven, unless you wish to wake up later?”
“Seven will do,” Shaden answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
So, the doctor left and he was left inside of the room with the curious child and the woman who looked at him like he was some kind of fairy. He stood there in the room while the woman moved about, putting things away and pulling clothes and blankets out.
It made him feel like he’d barged inside uninvited. But eventually, a place for him to sleep was prepared—next to Kibra.
“We have little, but help yourself to whatever you need,” the lady told him.
“Did I heal you?” Shaden asked. Even his superb memory couldn't keep up with the few thousand people he’d seen for only ten seconds each.
“Yes. My knee. And my back,” the lady said enthusiastically. “I’ve never felt better!”
“That’s great. I can heal other injuries if you need it.”
“Oh, how wonderful! I will tell you if I need anything.”
After smiling awkwardly, Shaden made his way to his mat—which was worse than the bed he’d slept on before—and sat down, looking around. The rooms were very dark, lit only by one light each, powered by mana crystals.
He wished he’d stayed in the infirmary. It wasn’t helpful when Kibra came to him and sat down on his mat, facing him.
“Mom told me you’re special,” he piped up with twinkling eyes. “I heard you can use green magic. That’s pretty weird.”
“Yeah,” Shaden replied weakly. For some reason, he felt extremely tired, even when he wasn’t. “I guess.” He’d never wanted to sleep so badly before.
“We don’t see much green here,” Kibra continued. “Wait, I have something to show you.”
Shaden waited while the boy went out of the room. He wasn’t circulating anymore. He just wanted to rest.
When the boy came back in, he was carrying a small pot with a leafy plant inside. He held it delicately like a valuable gem, placing it down gently before Shaden.
It looked like any normal weed to him.
“Amazing, right?” Kibra giggled with excitement. “Mom doesn’t approve, but I know a place that has more.”
“Do you mean the plant?” Shaden asked.
“Of course I mean the plant,” the boy replied, looking hurt. “Uh, sorry if it doesn’t interest you.”
“It’s just a plant, right?”
Now he looked even more hurt. “Just a plant?”
Shaden was too tired to continue. Frankly, he couldn’t care less about this boy who he'd met for the second time. Yawning, he leaned to the side.
“That’s just a weed. It’s useless,” Shaden stated.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Oh. Well, I mean—yeah.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but he got up with the plant and exited, coming back shortly after with an empty hand. His face had lost the enlivened glow it had held moments before, and he went to the light before looking at Shaden.
“You look tired,” he said. “Should I turn off the lights?”
“Yes, please.”
Shaden crawled into the blanket that was on the mat and placed his head on the pillow. He could feel the straw underneath the cloth individually on his skin. He’d liked the cotton-filled ones better. Kibra also laid down on his bed and pulled the blankets over himself.
“Goodnight,” the boy muttered.
“Goodnight,” Shaden feebly replied.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
In the morning, the boy left for class, and Shaden was picked up by Kortuya to return to the infirmary again. Already, people had lined up; even those with minor discomforts had come to get a taste of his power.
The more, the better. He would be able to return faster. He cheered himself up while removing a scar from a woman’s arm, who muttered thanks before heading out.
Where were the severely injured that the Watayurk hunter had mentioned? There had been those with missing fingers, toes, and limbs until the third day, some with deep scars in their stomachs, but he hadn’t spotted that many fresh wounds.
“All dead,” Kortuya told him.
“What?”
“We can only save a handful with the number of healers we have. Nor can we carry them all the way here. Do you think we’d have many resources out here?”
It was the prisoners that made up the most casualties, but there were half as many soldiers who’d perished as well.
“But I didn’t see anyone get hurt at the top of the Wall,” Shaden said. “This place had enough spears to make the wyverns flee.”
“Our spears are not infinite,” Kortuya informed. “With every battle, they must be retrieved. And migrating, hungry wyverns can be very cunning. Other hungry beasts wander near the Wall, searching for men to devour.”
“And that’s when people get hurt.”
“Yes. The east of the Wall is a dangerous place. With abundant materials, yes, but very dangerous.”
“What do wyverns even eat?” Shaden asked. “How are there so many of them?”
“There are speculations. An expedition record tells of massive worms and bugs that live off of Taash’s heat—they could be food.”
There was a moment of silence while they chewed on their meals. The people who weren’t injured were all dead. It wasn’t pleasant to think about.
“There was a battle a few days ago, right?” Shaden asked. “I didn’t see many wounded after that.”
“Then the retrieval was a success,” Kortuya stated, “or the injured were left behind to die.”
“Oh.”
“Or, they haven’t gone out yet. The Wall has enough spears to defend against a million wyverns.”
“How do they even make it across the Wall? There were a few to the west.”
“They eat each other.” Kortuya held his hands together, an uncanny glint forming in his eyes. “Do you know how they migrate? They eat each other for food as they move north.”
“Really?”
“Had all the wyverns survived the migration, the country would be enveloped in chaos. But they are hungry beasts, eager to fill their stomachs.”
“So...they expend a lot of energy. I guess their metabolism is very rapid?”
“What is metabolism?”
“It’s how food is broken down in your body as energy,” Shaden replied.
He’d suspected it after spending his time with Grak. For a beast of his size to fly around, the amount of energy he’d need would be tremendous. Grak hadn’t flown much after bonding with him, but he’d still been a voracious eater.
“It doesn’t feel like I’m doing much,” Shaden finally said after wiping his hands. “Maybe I could join the people retrieving the spears? I’ll be able to save people better that way.”
“That would be a terrible idea. Why would you want such a thing?”
To show off. There was a moderate desire inside of him to flaunt his abilities so he’d be treated better—so that people would know not to cross him. Sometimes he thought about what would have happened if he had simply lifted the prince by his foot and shook him around a little bit. Would power have made him submissive, or would it have given fruit to more aggression?
At least no one had been killed. It had just inconvenienced him a little.
“Saving lives is important, right?” Shaden decided with a sigh. “I can take care of myself.”
He healed more people in the afternoon and when the clock struck six, the guards pushed the rest of the patients away who cried out from behind the doors. Shaden was too worn out to care. He wanted to get his mind on something else, anything.
A day off sounded great. Not that there was much to do in the Wall, but it would be better than healing.
So when he saw Kibra watering his plant after dinner, he was more interested this time to ask.
“So, what’s the name of the plant?” Shaden initiated, sitting down next to him.
“Why would you name a plant? That’s stupid,” Kibra replied.
Shaden held in the urge to groan.
“But I call it Planty,” he went on, giving the weed a pat. “I don’t think that’s really a name.”
“Hm.”
“What, finally interested?” Kibra asked with a grin. “You’re a strange one. I thought you didn’t care for plants.”
“I was bored,” Shaden said.
“We could play some floor sticks.”
“Yeah, sure.”
It was a simple game involving drawing on the floor and using sticks as points, but despite thinking that it was boring in the beginning, Shaden got into it, and on their eighth round, he was laughing out loud when Kibra made funny faces after losing.
It wasn’t that it was particularly fun. He just liked keeping his mind simple, and playing with Kibra was liberating in a way. Forgetting about his problems—that was what it was.
The boy was talkative and enthusiastic about everything. Shaden found him very easy to become familiar with. Maybe it was because his body was a child, but he wanted to indulge himself in childish things. That’s why he’d liked it when Lytha had taken care of him and when he’d stayed at Danark with his family, enjoying everyday pleasures.
He was only realizing that now. The chaotic and unordinary were thrilling, but his heart felt at home when spending time with his friends and family. Here, surrounded by strangers, his mind always felt uneasy, and the feeling intensified before he fell asleep.
At least playing with Kibra brought some peace back. Simple, childish things that could be enjoyed without responsibilities. He wished he’d remained at the settlement, no matter how boring it had been.
But things were different now. Was this what his grandfather had meant by being responsible? Or was it the result of his own choices? His grandfather had always been so vague.
He closed his eyes, wishing to return to the normality he’d had before.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
A day off. He’d finally asked for it.
And he’d spend it with Kibra, who was also free from class on the weekend. After just a week of spending time together, they’d become friends. Shaden found him to be a likable guy—just a tad too enthusiastic, but kind and surprisingly caring. He’d seen it in the way he’d talked with his mother, helping her with every little thing she asked for without complaint.
Well, today Kibra had invited him to a ‘surprise,’ as he called it, so they were making their way across the Wall to whatever that place could be. The residents of the Wall all seemed to know each other by name, and it was more than once that they stopped on the way while Kibra talked with one of the people they’d come across while Shaden stood behind him, unsure of what to do. Quite a lot seemed to know him as well, and apparently, no one knew his name—but they knew him as the Green Child or the Green Boy.
But they eventually exited the Wall to the outside where the sun shined mercilessly down on the land, except where the Wall was casting shade to the west.
“If we come here in the afternoon, it’ll be too hot,” Kibra told him as they walked down the various camps, tents, and animal pens outside of the wall. “It’s good to go outside in the morning.”
Shaden hadn’t paid much attention the first time he’d arrived, but the bareness of the land struck him as uninhabitable. No trees met his eyes when he looked around—the plants he did see were yellow-brown shrubs that were rooted lifelessly into the rocky earth. The darkness cast by the Wall stamped out the remaining signs of life that were left, and even the animals looked weary in the dull light.
“It’s so barren,” Shaden commented. At least the place had been sunny when he’d come. The morning of the Wall gave off an entirely different mood.
“What? It’s nice, right?” Kibra argued, “And very peaceful.”
“I guess you can see it that way.”
“I think it’s better than being scorched by the sun,” he said. “Have you ever gotten your skin peeled off? It’s weird. Your skin turns into white flakes.”
“That’s a detail I wouldn’t have minded not knowing,” Shaden grinned, “but yeah, not getting a sunburn is good.”
“We’re almost there,” Kibra stated, pointing. “See that little cave-thing in the Wall? That’s where we’re going.”
They were nearly at the edge of the Wall, and they’d walked more than an hour to reach it. This was the side that shared boundaries with the Rvuvick Empire, so he could see where the Wall began to slant down at the end. It was still reasonably high.
“Okay,” Kibra told him when they finally reached the large, draped cloth that served as a door to the ‘cave.’ “Try not to touch anything. The owner is very sensitive about his stuff.”
Shaden nodded, and they headed inside.
It felt humid. An odor of grass hung in the air, but the coolness of the area prevented it from being unpleasant. It wasn’t a smell Shaden had expected to get from a desert.
“Farmer!” Kibra called, walking through the darkness with ease. There was light seeping through the front. “Farmer! I finally visited today! Are you here?”
“Who?” echoed a voice in the distance. “Who is calling?”
“Me! Kibra!” Kibra yelled, more loudly this time. “Can we come in?”
“Who?”
The voice sounded muffled, and Kibra cleared his throat as they made their way past yet another draped door, going inside. Admittedly, Shaden was surprised.
He’d stepped into a lush forest, full of small trees, shrubs, bushes, grass, flowers, vegetables—and many others he didn’t recognize. The raw earth had been broken and tilled to create soft soil for the verdure, and small streams with banks of stone gave life to the vegetation that lived inside of the cave. Shaden even spotted some butterflies and colorful bugs flying around, though he didn’t like the mosquitoes.
“Farmer!” Kibra called again, jumping over a stream. As numerous as the plants were, they were all short—and a man’s exposed head could be seen in the distance. “It’s me, Kibra!”
The man straightened his back and looked behind him. Despite them being in a desert, the man looked like a resident of a jungle; his hair, long, was unkempt and wild, and his face and uncovered body were smeared with fresh soil he’d been toiling on. He appeared old despite his dark hair, but his body was that of a young man’s. And his body was brimming with life—a subtle, but incessant flow of undiluted mana.
He looked like a beggar, but Shaden knew better. While not as notable as the Elders of the Consortium, the man was many heads above the soldiers that patrolled the Wall.
“Ah, Kibra!” the man smiled broadly, waving his hand. “You should have spoken louder! I couldn’t hear you.”
“I did!” Kibra complained.
The two of them neared the shaggy man, and Shaden immediately noticed the smell that surrounded him. As well as the small bugs in his hair and on his skin and clothes, mixed with soil.
He almost cried out loud when Kibra gave the man a giant hug, which the man returned. The boy looked back at him, motioning to the old man.
“This is Shaden, a friend I made,” Kibra introduced. “This is Farmer. He is the most amazing person I know.”
“I appreciate the flattery!” the man laughed, “and Shaden. Welcome, welcome to my humble abode. It’s the most wonderful place you will see in this lifeless structure of ash and rock. But if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my tasks.”
“Can we watch?” Kibra asked.
“Of course. But—”
“Don’t step on anything.”
The man nodded while raising his eyebrows. “Come along, carefully now,” he told them, returning to the area he’d come from. Shaden and Kibra cautiously stepped over the vegetation and followed the man to a place where holes had been dug up and various gardening tools were tossed around the floor.
“What are you doing?” Kibra piped up, seeing the man plop some mana crystals and seeds into the soil. Then the man covered them with dirt, giving the mounds a little pat before moving on.
“A little boost of energy,” the man explained. “Of course, the soil still must be rich with nutrients. But a little crystal can give it the motivation it needs.”
“I knew that. I mean, what seeds are they?”
“Ah, these are rare ones from the east. I discovered them in the stomachs of some wyverns. For all I know, they could be useless.”
“Like—like rocks.”
“Yes, rocks!”
The two burst out laughing, and Shaden didn’t know why planting rocks was so amusing to them. He doubted that the man didn’t know what he was dealing with. There was a certain feeling to life, a feeling that was more apparent when one was adept with mana control. Even seeds had it.
“Oh, it’s just that we accidentally planted some pebbles before,” Kibra explained after seeing his puzzlement. “It was really funny because I think we planted other seeds together without knowing it, and when they actually grew, we really thought that the pebbles had sprouted.”
“Good times, good times,” the man chuckled, swatting a mosquito away. It looked like a simple motion, but Shaden clearly saw the man grab the mosquito with his fingers before tossing it away.
“Would you two like to help?” the man offered, showing them his bag of seeds. “There are shovels lying about.”
“I’d love to. Shaden, isn’t this fun?”
“Yeah, it’s great,” Shaden said half-heartedly. Seeing the garden had been intriguing, but he didn’t want to labor. But he smiled when Kibra handed him a shovel.
While circulating, he stabbed his shovel into the ground and copied the man’s movements, putting a seed inside with a crystal the size of a fingernail and covering it. After the seventh seed, he decided that it wasn’t too bad. Something about Kibra’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he soon found himself rapidly completing the task he’d been given, sweat forming on his brow.
The sun shined down—or across on them as they steadily filled up the patch of land with the seeds. Fast as he was, the Farmer was faster. It was mechanical, the way he moved on from one hole to the next. Artful, even.
“Wonderful,” the man announced, opening his arms wide. “I’ve finished an hour earlier! Ah, sweet rest, come onto my bones.”
“Do we get something?” Kibra asked eagerly.
“Yes, yes. I have fresh fruits. Fruit slices, fruit juice, whatever you’d like.”
Kibra clapped his hands together, and Shaden couldn’t help but smile. It felt more natural to do so now, and he wasn’t faking it as much anymore. He could get used to this, this feeling of accomplishment. Only if it was a once-in-a-while kind of thing, though.
“Dates with water pears,” the Farmer presented, handing them each a cup of white-greenish, opaque liquid along with a large plate full of small, dried fruit. Kibra dug in hungrily, making noises of happiness when he chewed.
Shaden also took a bite. It was sweet, but not as sweet as candy. But sweeter than most fruits he’d eaten. The drink was very good—not too thick, but refreshing with a gentle aroma of fresh fitness and cleared his nose. He cooled the liquid before taking more sips.
“Farmer thinks that he can transform the desert into a forest,” Kibra said after they’d had their fill of fruit. “Isn’t that awesome?”
“The whole desert?”
“It can be done,” the farmer stated. “Not in one lifetime, but I will be the stepping stone for future generations.”
“Ah.”
“The soil. Rich in nutrients. Hard, but once softened, very good. The only problem is water. This place receives its water from the underground rivers, but for the whole desert to be watered, there must be rain.”
The man looked up at the ceiling. “That is for the clouds to determine.”
Shaden knew he could do it if he wanted to. Making rain wasn’t that hard, probably, even though he’d never tried it.
“I really want to continue his dream,” Kibra said, “but Mom says I shouldn’t.”
“Come back later when you’re older than twenty-five to take my will,” the Farmer chuckled, patting Kibra on the head. “You’re too young to make decisions.”
“I’m old enough. You said I’m good at farming.”
‘Yes. But being good at farming and giving everything up for it are very different things. Do you want to become madman number two?”
“You can’t really believe that.”
“Oh? Googoo Habah, goobah roo!”
Kibra stuck his tongue out in distaste as the man roared with laughter, slapping his leg for emphasis. It was all very weird for Shaden, who watched while keeping a bubble of mana around his body, not wanting the bugs to get on his skin.
“See? That’s why they all say you’re weird,” Kibra complained, crossing his arms. “You should shave. And shower, and wear some nice clothes. Then they won’t call you names.”
“I own this part of the Wall. Why should I care about what anything thinks?” the man snorted.
“Well, I’m the only person who comes here. And that’s not good.”
“One is enough for me.”
“It’s still not good.”
They argued lightly with each other, and Shaden sipped on his drink while he listened. The man? Mad? It was likely that the man was faking it. Well, it didn’t matter to him. He’d leave soon anyway, and this would be no more than an interesting memory for him.
“Oh! And if you have any injuries, Shaden can heal them,” Kibra blurted halfway through the conversation. “He’s also known as the Green Boy.”
“Green Boy?”
“Yeah. And he heals hundreds of people each day!”
“Hundreds?”
The man looked at him with his dark eyes, and Shaden resisted the urge to look away.
“It’s true,” Shaden admitted.
“He healed my finger when I cut it,” Kibra proudly said, holding his finger up. “See? Not even a scar.”
“That sounds extraordinary! Are you a Savant?” the man asked, stroking his beard. “But you are not from Nafar, it would seem.”
It wasn’t really a secret by this point, so he explained his situation to the man, who nodded.
“Ah, an unfortunate circumstance,” the man commented with a frown. “Killing a prince’s wyvern is indeed a dire crime.”
“Deserving of death?” Shaden sighed.
The man thought about it, placing a hand on his chin.
“Eh, why would I care?” he shrugged. “All I know is farming. I do not know about the Royal Court’s rules. But,” he added, “you are alive. And that is what matters. Also farming. Farming matters too.”
“I guess so,” Shaden agreed.
“Then, it’s time for more farming!” the Farmer declared, picking up his shovel. “Who is with me?”
“I am!” Kibra said, jumping up.”
“Me too,” Shaden said, though with the least energy out of the three of them. In terms of raw power, he was much, much more capable than the two, but he couldn’t beat their motivation.
Farming in the desert. It sounded hopeless, even in a fantasy world.
But the two were enjoying their lives, and who could do anything about it?
Shaden decided to enjoy it together.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
Demund opened his eyes.
Yawning, he looked at the clock while stretching his arms out. Morning circulation was wonderful, and he was adept at it now. Because he had been healing so much as Shaden, he’d learned a few tricks to help him control his mana better, which in turn was very helpful to him in the waking world.
Lately, it felt like the roles of each world had switched. He was finding more peace as Demund than Shaden ever since he’d been sent to the Wall. It was only around two days for Demund, but even two days was two weeks for Shaden. If he had to bear the full extent of time without feeling like he’d woken from a dream, he didn’t know how he’d be able to handle it.
There had been many times when he’d wished for the two worlds to be more connected. After all, it would allow him to transfer spells to his real-world self much more easily. But while the knowledge remained, other things didn’t. Perhaps using magic was similar to muscle memory; he knew the way of using it, but his abilities didn’t allow him to bring forth what his mind wished for.
But—but, he’d gotten so much practice.
He pressed his hand against his stump of a leg and took in a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he focused on his fingertips and let his mana crawl forward.
He’d found that it was much more efficient to turn his spell into thin threads before casting it, much like using mana to make an object a figurative part of his body. The difficulty had risen tremendously, but threading mana was something he’d done for a long time. Once he’d grasped the feeling behind healing—and it had taken so, very long—he’d succeeded in creating an imitation of Shaden’s power: the ability to close small cuts.
He let go of his leg and sighed. It barely did anything for a missing limb. A small tingle here and there was the extent of his power.
But there was hope.
Many years from now, after countless hours of practice, if he could just do what his other self could do—would he be able to restore his leg? The future was murky, but he’d seen the speck of light somewhere on the horizon.
Practice. That was all he could do at the moment. He would persevere.
But—it was the weekend.
He guessed he could go watch a movie with his friends.