The surreal image of a small glowing dog’s soul, sitting as any cheerful little dog would, took a moment to settle in Micro’s mind. It was an ordinary looking dog, much like the dogs many farmers kept in the village Micro knew well. Its black and white fur looked soft, and its ears drooped down the side of its head. It looked content as it gulped down the chaos energy it had licked off of Micro’s head, looking across at him with its tail wagging.

“Sorry about all this.” Micro said with a gentle wave.

“I’ll try to fix it up soon… I’m running on fumes right now.”

The dog looked back at him as he spoke with no particular expression, but its silence gave Micro some relief.

“You’re welcome to sleep under there, if you want…” Micro said, pointing to the ground beneath the truck.

“I’m not sure where else you’d go…”

The dog followed Micro’s finger intently, and immediately stood up and walked to the truck, crouching down to crawl underneath it. After getting comfortable, it looked back at Micro from beneath the chassis with a look of contentment.

“Alright then…” Micro said with a smile.

“Make yourself at home, I guess.”

Micro sighed and looked around at the broken garage again, then turned back to the dog beneath his soul with a stern look.

“If you even think about peeing on my tires though…!” He said with a finger pointed at the tire nearest to the dog.

“We’re going to have a problem.”

The dog didn’t seem to protest Micro’s order, though it wasn’t clear how much of Micro’s words it could understand. It was at that moment when Micro’s face suddenly felt cold.

“Hah?” He blurted out, feeling himself being pulled back to a conscious state. He waved to the dog one last time as he began to vanish from the garage.

“Good dog…!”

~

“You seriously hit a cultivator with a hammer?” A woman’s voice echoed in Micro’s ear.

“He looked like he was going mad.” A man replied.

Micro opened his eyes, finding himself on the dirt floor of a mud hut, looking up at a candlelit roof of straw. Standing above him to his left was the old man he had met before, holding a hammer with blood dripping from the end of it. To his right, he saw a woman roughly the same age, dressed in the same old rags, but with a fiery air about her.

“And besides, he might not be a real cultivator.” The man explained, pointing at Micro with the hammer in his hand.

“I hit him pretty hard, but he was out with a single bonk. Never seen anything like it!”

“He could be the heir to some sect, you old fool!” The old lady rebuked him.

“What in the world possessed you to take such a risk?!”

“The hammer guides me.” The old man replied meekly, bringing the hammer to his chest as if to hug it.

“That rusty old thing…! The woman fumed. She reached across and swiped it from his arms with a motion Micro couldn’t track with his eye, then threw it out the open door with alarming power.

“My hammer!” The old man shouted anxiously and scrambled out the door after it, leaving the old woman alone above the confused cultivator in dirty green robes who was finally starting to awaken.

“Oh, you’re alive…” She looked down with a forced smile and furrowed brow at Micro and sighed.

“Dare I ask the name of the honourable young master…?

“Micro…” He whispered, the sound of his own voice worsening his headache.

“I see…” The woman seemed to wince when she heard Micro speak, fear visible in her tone despite her stoic expression.

“And your sect…?”

“My sect…?” Micro whispered, then cleared his throat and sat up. He continued after rubbing the side of his head where a large welt had formed.

“I suppose it’s the Fire Mountain Turtle Sect right now…”

“Oh no…” The lady took a step backward as her eyes widened.

“Then you… You aren’t one of Vale’s… That is…”

“Oh, you know Vale?” Micro asked, looking up at the lady with a weak smile.

“He gave me a Core Card not long ago. Isn’t he nice?”

“So what’s all this about-” The old man returned with the hammer once more in his hand, but paused when he saw the look of terror on the woman’s face. A look of anger flashed across his own face and he glared at Micro with his hammer raised high in the air.

“Hey, what did you say to my wife?”

“We were talking about Vale, but…” Micro looked up at the man and leaned back with an eyebrow raised.

“Are you really a mechanic? I don’t think you’re using that hammer correctly…”

“What did you-” The man began to shout, but something clicked in his mind as Micro’s reply sunk in.

“Va- Va- Vale…?”

“You know him?” Micro asked, his smile returned.

“Oh dear.” The man muttered as his hammer-wielding hand dropped to his side.

“Please understand, it was dark, and my husband is a foolish drunk-” The woman began to plead.

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“Hey! I haven’t had a drop in weeks!” The man interrupted, but his wife shot him a furious glare that silenced him abruptly.

“As I was saying, he’s a confused old man.” The woman continued, trying to keep Micro’s attention from returning to her flustered husband.

“The longstanding contract we have with your sect need not be affected by the honest mistake of an honest idiot.”

“Contract?” Micro asked.

“Oh, do you service the sect?”

“Service…? Ah, yes…” She replied tentatively.

“We have worked endlessly to meet the standards of your sect, and Vale seemed content with the fees before, so…”

“Wait a second, that doesn’t make sense.” Micro frowned, causing the old couple to gasp in unison.

“Wha- What do you mean, honourable Micro?” She stuttered fearfully.

“Kel’s sect doesn’t have a single vehicle to service.” Micro explained, his eyes full of suspicion.

“What business would mechanics have with a sect that doesn’t even have roads for a truck to drive on?”

“Ah…” The woman paused, then looked at her husband for assistance, but his own face was blank with confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re mechanics, so why would Cultivators who walk everywhere need you?” Micro continued. He slowly rose to his feet and crossed his arms as he looked back and forth between the couple with a deep frown.

“Are you… magicians…?”

The old woman and her husband froze with complicated expressions for a moment as Micro’s accusations sunk in. The old man gripped his hammer firmly in both his hands, unable to find a single word to say, and it was his wife that eventually took the initiative in trying to continue the conversation.

“Excuse me, honourable disciple of the Fire Mountain Turtle Sect…” She said slowly, raising her hands in the air slightly, revealing them to be empty.

“I think there has been a misunderstanding…”

“Oh, really?” Micro asked, his eyes still narrow.

“We certainly aren’t magicians.” She elaborated.

“But I don’t know what a mechanic is or does… We are a family of blacksmiths.”

“Blacksmiths…?” Micro repeated, the suspicion on his face shifting quickly to an expression of disappointment.

“But that… Oh… I see.”

“My apologies, master.” The old woman said with a deep bow.

“We serve Vale’s faction, you see?”

“I see…” Micro said again, turning his eyes to the ground with his shoulders slouched.

“We’re doing our best to fulfil his order, but we’ll need more time, you see?” She added.

“I suppose you aren’t here about the order though, what with the chaos in the city last night.”

“Sorry for the misunderstanding…” Micro said with a gloomy tone.

“I’ll be going now.”

The old man reflexively jumped out of the way of the door as Micro turned toward it, but his wife suddenly jumped forward with her hand extended.

“No! Wait!” She cried out anxiously.

“About tonight, we’re terribly sorry. If word of this reached the sect…”

“Huh?” Micro mumbled indifferently, his raspy voice still melancholic.

“Please accept our humblest apologies! We’ll do anything! Please!” She pleaded.

“All the money we have, discounted orders, anything…”

Micro stopped in the doorway and turned around to look at the woman. He then looked around at the candlelit hut they resided in. It appeared that their entire home consisted of a single, large room. A small circle of stones around smouldering embers in the centre of the room with a metal pot beside it looked to be the extent of their kitchen facilities, and four straw mats to the side of the room seemed to be where they slept. There were windows covered with straw curtains, and another wooden door leading out to where the furnace continued to billow out smoke.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to give me any gifts…” Micro shrugged.

“Sorry for disturbing you. Goodbye.”

“Please don’t tell the sect!” The old man suddenly fell to his knees and grabbed Micro by the sleeve of his robe.

“We won’t survive this winter if the order is cancelled!”

“What?” Micro replied in surprise at the man’s strange gesture.

“What’s wrong?”

“After our last two orders proved unworthy of payment, we resolved ourselves to do better!” The man went on, his voice trembling.

“We’re doing our best to meet the expectations of your sect. Please, please don’t let the order be cancelled after all this…”

The old woman rushed forward and ripped her husband’s hand away from Micro’s sleeve, practically tackling him to the ground and forcing his head to the ground, joining him with her own head bowed to the ground.

“We beg of you…!” The woman grovelled.

“We’ll give you anything!”

Micro took a deep breath as he looked down at the awkward scene before him. He scratched his sore head and shrugged.

“I don’t plan to interrupt your business here. I just wanted a place to rest before I repaired my core…” He spoke down to them plainly, then he began to cough.

“If you want to give me something, how about some water?”

“To the well with you!” The woman screamed at her husband, pushing him violently out the door with one hand.

“Ye- Yes!” He replied as he somersaulted out the door.

Micro watched as he picked up a small bucket near the door, then ran deeper into the village.

“The well isn’t far from here!” The old woman assured Micro.

“He’ll return soon.”

“Oh, thanks.” Micro replied, then pointed to the ground beside the fire pit.

“Do you mind if I park over there for a while?”

“Of course! I’ll fetch some wood!” The woman shouted, then quickly ran out of the hut to the side of the building, leaving Micro alone near the doorway.

He looked at the candle flickering on a small wooden table in the corner of the silent room. He tried closing one eye at a time, and was annoyed to find that he still couldn’t see out of his left eye at all. He sat down near the smouldering embers in the fire pit and held his hands out to warm them. He was too tired to attempt to make use of any of the fire’s energy directly, so he simply closed his eyes and relaxed.

“I’ve got it!” The old man’s loud voice suddenly filled the room as he ran to Micro with a bucket of water in one hand and his hammer in the other. He clumsily pushed the bucket into Micro’s hands and retreated to the corner of the room with his eyes focused intently on the ground beneath him.

“Thanks, umm-” Micro tilted his head.

“What’s your name?”

“Me?!” The man blurted out in surprise.

“The honourable disciple of the Fire Mountain Turtle Sect wants to know my name?”

“Mine is Micro…” Micro shrugged.

“My name… My name is Kern.” He spoke softly as he observed the ground.

“Here!” Kern’s wife kicked open the door and entered with two armfuls of twigs. She threw them to the ground and quickly started stacking them one by one over the embers.

“What’s your name?” Micro then arrested Kern’s wife.

“What?!” She paused with her hand on a twig over the fire.

“Just answer him.” The old man mumbled.

“Barb.” She stated slowly, her face frozen in shock.

“But why…”

“Nice to meet you.” Micro said quietly, nodding his head a little before taking a sip of water.

“Ah… That’s good. Thanks, Kern.”

Barb quickly finished building the fire and retreated to the corner where her husband still awkwardly stood. Though Kern was still staring straight down, Barb dared to look up at Micro, whose face was now well lit by the fire.

His dark hair almost reached his eyes, and his face was young but far from youthful. However, what caused her the greatest surprise of that evening was not the sad expression on his face, but the colour of his eyes. While his right eye was an ordinary shade of brown, his left eye was bright red.

“Wait…” She said with a frown, taking a step forward to look more closely at his eyes. Micro looked up and nodded at her after taking another sip of water, but she only leaned closer in confusion.

“Aren’t you a magician?”