Magna was lying on her back in the grass, Leica right next to him. Sam, like her men, was not far from his position. He couldn't help himself, but suddenly he began to laugh cheerfully, oh how he missed his old voice. Still, in that one moment, he didn't care. Instead, he laughed from his heart.

Sam: What's so funny?

Magna: We're alive, damn it, we're alive.

Sam couldn't help but join in his laughter, and soon the rest of the mercenaries began to laugh too. Absolutely insane, even Sam couldn't describe it any other way. Sam: Hey, Magna?

Magna was just doing magic to dry herself and her backpack, even if the inside was waterproof: Yes?

Sam: Maybe you would like to join a mercenary clan in the mercenary guild? You haven't developed yet, but damn it, you kept your back in there, me and the boys owe you one and would be happy to have someone so versatile with us. I don't throw this party, but I decide which people are in my unit.

Magna: Don't mind, but not now. I have a few more things to fix before I join you. One way to contact you?

Sam: I could write you a letter so that you can register with the mercenary guild at any time, after which you are always welcome.

Magna: I gladly take it. I guess I would have to accompany you to the base camp again for that, right?

He was deeply uncomfortable, but what should he do if he wanted this letter of recommendation, then he had to obey. Next to him, Leica began to move, whereupon he shouted “No, no, Leica, no” shouted, but it was already too late for him. She shook herself vigorously a few times, giving him a second shower. From there on he smelled like a wet dog again.

Sam and her people couldn't help but laugh again.

Sam: I think I'm starting to like your wolf.

Sam patted him again on the shoulder. Crossing the river was no longer a problem from there, because there was no more river! There was still enough water left in the miniature lake, but soon this would dry up too. Some fish, not swimming with the current, trembled helplessly on the riverbed, gasping for breath.

Not long after they recovered, Magna began meditating to fully regenerate his mana so they could begin their journey back to the other camp. The men treated her with due respect that seemed a little strange to him. He was playing on her gratitude, but these expressions made it a little uncomfortable for him. Sam herself kept her relaxed manner, which he was slowly coming to appreciate, but he was not mistaken for a moment that her behavior would change if he had been part of her team and not a valued guest.

The journey there was uneventful in the broadest sense. The terrain and its dangers were no longer unknown to them, and they also knew what they were walking on. Not quite a day's hike at a good speed made them get there the next morning. They circled the mountain of rubble that was left of the plateau.

As soon as they arrived he could see the few people from the last time in the camp. As well, apparently two other survivors. Damn Larkin and his little charge seemed fine too. Well, with Larkin he couldn't be surprised, cockroaches have always been masters at surviving.

Their reception was a bit subdued, but what did they expect? Trumpets and fanfares? The remaining mercenaries seemed to be patterning him suspiciously, an act that Sam stopped with just a glance that promised true pain. At that moment he didn't wish he was in the boys' shoes. Larkin looked terribly battered, which is why he wasn't alone. The young lord himself was no longer a spawn of vitality either!

He could do without Lark. This guy still gave him goosebumps on the back of his neck. With an imperious tone he demanded a cure for the young lord: "Commoners, bow down and give the young lord your cure!"

Bard knew that Lark had meant well, but the eternal paranoia and the noble manners annoyed in the wrong moments. Just him: Lark, don't embarrass me, it's bad enough that you have mistrusted a stranger but not noticed the snake in your own nest.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

That statement made Lark wince, that true truly inexcusable failure for him. This threat should not only have been recognized by him, but should have been eliminated long before it became a problem. To their shame, strangers had to deal with a traitor. He would have loved to silence everyone on site to protect the honor of their home.

Bard: Miss, Magna, I would be happy if you could maybe spare me a cure or two.

Magna was terribly annoyed by Lark, of course he did not miss the opportunity for an aggressive comment: I always like to help a "friend", but he should also be able to keep his dog on a leash.

Lark was indignant: How dare you ...

Bard: Quiet, Lark. That's enough, I owe them my life, but I have what I came here for and maybe even made a friendship that will be useful for the future. Magna, if you ever need anything please let me know. I will trust them with the seal of the Astoria family, just as I will trust their secrecy.

It didn't sound bad to him at all, after he had had so much healing effect on the young lord, he relaxed into his chair.

Magna was happy to accept both letters of recommendation. In Sam's, the coat of arms of her clan and that of her platoon were listed. There was a single coat of arms on the letter from Bard. Sam explained to him that there was a Mercenary Guild branch in almost every major city, like every other known guild. All he had to do was present the letter, and the registration would work without any problems. The Mercenary Guild wasn't known for asking a lot of questions.

The survivors didn't really feel like having a party. Most of them just wanted to leave this place, but Bard insisted on a farewell drink that they at least ate.

It had been a hell of a long time since the last party or socializing for him. In his last life, after a few wild years, he preferred quiet events in a small group, at some point he began to avoid most events completely. There was a certain irony in working in the promotional trade to promote parties. But it was just a side income for his studies.

For him there were always a few different kinds of people that he hated from the start, including Lark, those with whom he talked but didn't have much more to say beyond that, and those with whom he was at one Wave swam. Maybe there were a few shades of gray in between, after all, you could never deny life with just three categories, but these summed it up pretty well.

He also had a few guidelines for friends, but they weren't really important because he hadn't really had any friends in this new world yet. Only created a few useful relationships so far.

The drink consisted of a few bottles of wine, as well as freshly hunted venison that was grilled over an open fire. It was nice to leave it around a campfire. Usually he'd given up drinking in his last life, but he didn't say no to a glass, at least to know how the new body reacted to alcohol and how it interacted with the improved body values. If he wasn't mistaken, he would have had to empty the whole bottle so that he could feel something more than a tingling sensation.

Sam reported again all the details of her fight with Robert, which Bard almost let himself vomit from the story alone. Lark was extremely uncomfortable, even trying to get on a green branch with this man seemed completely impossible, which is why Magna didn't even try. The mercenaries mostly laughed when they drank or told old stories of battles or missions. Still, one thing could really be seen in the exchange, something that set them apart as professionals. Although there were many stories, there were no details about the jobs or their clients, which created a fun atmosphere but also demonstrated professionalism.

The most interesting part occurred in the awarding of the rewards. They had another mirror for their views, with Bard pulling out a small enchanted mirror that was decorated with luxury. Apparently an aid of the special class to see his values. The rewards materialized in front of the mirror for everyone to see, whereas Bard apparently accepted them in the private room.

The farewell the next morning brought some tears to the eyes of the great leader Sam. He believed that if he didn't die from the explosion, the damn crack, or something else, it would be that hug. Inwardly, he could have sworn some of his bones were getting cracked from it.

He shakes hands with Bard, ignoring Lark. Before he turned around and began to go to his old location. Before he left the forest, he wanted to do two things, firstly he wanted to dig for debris in the rubble and secondly he wanted to have his first development out here before he set out to explore the society of this new world.

On Leica's back, he reached the remains of his house much faster than expected. Nobody had followed them and Lark hadn't tried to murder him, which he could interpret positively. Once there, he quickly discovered that the grassy area had already receded. The extremely high mana density allowed the forest to expand extremely quickly. The speed at which the deeper parts of the forest grew seemed more than a little unnatural to him. But what was the use of questioning the magical laws?

Instead, he immediately started his work, reshaping stone that was fused with another stone. The mana had altered the structure of the rubble slightly, making it more like a real mound of pure rock. Calling it a mountain was utterly wrong. For mountains there was a simple rule that anything below 1000 meters was not a mountain!

It took a while before he dug a simple entrance and worked his way up to the level of his former home. Only the rooms at ground level, which lay underground and served as his main warehouse, had survived the collapse, which made it easier to at least save something or, rather, to secure a place for the future to which he could return. From there he began to dig up all the other rooms and to recreate the stairs. A few rooms were structurally preserved and were simply thrown into the heap of rubble like cubes. It was terribly tedious, but something in the library had survived, too.

The shelves were broken, but it was worth it to compress the stone extremely. A few days passed after he had rearranged the library, sorted it and redistributed it. There wasn’t anything more than a floor above the ground anyway.

But he could keep his home in a similarly intact state, even if it was quite a chore! Except for the library, the bedroom was no longer usable. He was pleased to have his bed in the attic, but all the other furniture had been ruined or destroyed. Nothing was left of the alchemy laboratory or the separate room where most of the herbs were stored, but here he had already used up most of the resources and saved the rest of the more valuable ones in his storeroom.

Nothing was left of the kitchen, its enchantments, the living room, because without the water supply, the canals or other amenities, it only made sense to save the library and storage rooms and build a new bedroom. Nevertheless, it took a lot of time to identify the rooms and to create a new layout. Now the library and bedroom were at ground level, while the storage rooms with the crystals were still intact. It wasn't worth storing the crystals, but the mana wave didn't seem to have harmed them. On the contrary, they shone brighter than ever before!

The next goal was to dig into the depths of this new hill. What would have survived from civilization?