In the morning, I’d planned to explore the fields and orchards, but the world had other plans. Heavy rain began overnight, with winds that lasted all day. Oddly, the temperature stayed steady at around 25 to 28 degrees Celsius. According to the map, we were near this world’s equator, yet the temperatures weren’t too hot, and the area didn’t have a tropical feel—only the rain was somewhat tropical. It still messed with my head. I could sense the mana in the air, almost taste it, and I knew the weather was being influenced by it. Even though I’d learned how mana could alter weather and terrain, I still couldn’t shake the ingrained Earth rules in my head, shaped by nearly fifty years of living on Earth.
In the evening, the temperature dropped drastically—about ten degrees in one fell swoop—and then it hailed. The hailstones in this world were the size of ping-pong balls and looked downright dangerous. I wasn’t keen on a stone about four centimeters across—or bigger—crashing down on my head. The hail continued through the night, pounding the roof like an intense drumbeat. I started to suspect that the ruined state of the houses and barns around here wasn’t just because of age, but also from weather damage.
I was also very glad the rain and hail hadn’t caught us while we were up in the balloon, with nowhere good to land.
Sometime early in the morning, the hail finally stopped. When I stepped outside, the yard we’d landed in was muddy, but otherwise, there was no sign of the previous day’s weather. Not even a single white cloud hung in the sky—just an expanse of deep blue. The temperature had risen, easily crossing the 30-degree Celsius mark by my estimate. The wooden farmhouse looked a bit more weathered, but everything else remained unchanged.
Not wanting to wade through mud, I flew over to the nearest field to investigate. It was full of tall stalks that reminded me of wheat. Some were broken, likely from the hail, but more had survived than I’d expected. Maybe seventy percent of the field stood intact.
I drifted down to land beside a cluster of stalks, bending closer to get a better look. The grains at the top had a familiar shape, but the stalks themselves looked almost ethereal—more delicate than Earth’s wheat, with a pale color that seemed nearly translucent in the morning light. I ran my thumb over the pods and saw that each kernel had a shiny husk, making it look like it was softly glowing.
I identified it.
Ghost Wheat
I appraised it, hoping to get more information.
Ghost Wheat
1 bronze per chat (1.2 kg)
I gathered a few stalks of ghost wheat to experiment with back at home, curious to see if I could use it like regular wheat. Then, I flew over to the orchard where those avocado-like fruits grew. Plucking one from the branch, I sliced it open with my knife. Even the inside looked strikingly like an avocado. The fruit was about the size of a squash, but with a smaller seed, leaving plenty of flesh packed inside its peel.
I tasted a small piece, and sure enough, the flavor was almost identical to avocado, but with a twist. It had a faint sourness, like a hint of lemon mixed in, and the flesh was even richer, with a more buttery, fatty texture. Ninety percent Earth avocado, but with a bit of an unexpected zing.
Identify:
Lemavo
Apraissal:
Lemavo
6 bronze per chat (1.2kg)
I explored the fields and orchards for two days, covering the whole ten kilometers and coming across some unusual finds along the way.
The place had an eerie silence, broken only by my own footsteps and the occasional rustle of wind. Rows of fields stretched wide, some half overgrown with tangled weeds and vines creeping across broken fences. I flew from one patch to another, landing where things seemed promising. Each field had its own wild mess of plants, and most were slowly being reclaimed by the landscape.
I touched down in one field full of twisted, half-buried Spiral Tubers. The roots poked up through the soil, corkscrew shapes twisting out like stubborn weeds. They must’ve been growing unchecked for years, their skins a deep orange-red, almost rusty-looking in spots. I broke one open, surprised by the soft green flesh inside and the faintly sweet, earthy smell that hit me, a bit like a cross between potato and pumpkin.
Further out, I flew over a field where Sun-drop Melons had sprawled out along the ground, vines spreading in all directions, weaving through the dried remains of what used to be fencing. The melons hung low, a hard amber rind covered in black spots. I cracked one open, and dark purple juice leaked out slowly, staining my fingers. It smelled tangy, almost spicy, like something that might bite back.
Next, I drifted over to rows of Sable Corn—or what was left of them. Stalks stood tall, leaves fraying and drooping under their own weight, silver-green fronds tangled with weeds. The black kernels glistened dully under the sun, some bursting open to reveal a smoky aroma, like burnt wood. Even in their state, they seemed oddly fresh, untouched by whatever years had passed.
Moving over to the orchards, I found trees scattered here and there, thick roots pushing through the earth, their branches heavy with Glow Pears. The pears’ golden skins caught faint sunlight filtering through branches, giving off a soft glow. I picked one, rolling it in my hands, its cool surface a slight shock against the warmth of the day. A taste brought a chilled sweetness with a hint of citrus, refreshing in the otherwise stifling air.
Flying farther, I spotted Cobalt Squash peeking out from beneath large, fading leaves that had long since crept into each other’s space. The squat, rounded vegetables lay low to the ground, their cobalt-blue skin almost blending into the surrounding weeds. I sliced one open to find a surprising light purple flesh inside, smelling faintly earthy and metallic, like something left to stew underground for a long time.
During the first day’s exploration, Rue stuck close by, but by midday, he’d had enough. “This boring. Rue go check stuff,” he announced, trotting off in search of more interesting territory.
That evening, as we gathered around, I asked, “So, Rue, what did you do all day?”
He perked up, his ears twitching. “I go to trees. Killed stupid, no-yummy, no-levels snakes.”
Al jolted upright. “Snakes? Where?”
“Hide in trees.”
The three of us exchanged puzzled glances. None of us had seen a single snake around.
“What did you do with them?” Al asked, still looking mystified.
In answer, a neat pile of snakes—severed cleanly with wind blades—appeared on the floor in front of Rue. “Rue bring snakes for Al. Rue good friend,” he announced, his tail wagging proudly.
As I continued, I came across Hollow Drupes growing in the wild. They looked like giant plums with thin skins, each one barely containing the thick, dark-blue gel sloshing around inside. I picked one, feeling the gel shift under the skin, and when I tore it open, the gel oozed onto my hands, both cool and tart.
Further in, purple, twisted Bramblecarrots poked out of the ground in tangled clusters, their tiny thorns prickling at my fingers as I pulled one up. Each root was twisted, covered with dark, bramble-like skin, and when I cracked one open, the bright pink interior surprised me with a spicy, peppery scent.
In another patch, long-abandoned rows of Spindle Pumpkins lined a gentle slope. Tall and oblong, with gold and green stripes, their rinds were rough and weathered. I sliced one open, revealing a vibrant orange flesh coiling inward, like the last echo of life spiraling to the center. The scent that rose from it was warm and earthy, carrying a faint hint of cinnamon.
Eventually, I found a wall nearly hidden by wild vines that had long since reclaimed it. Thick, scaly Dragonfruit Vines clung to the stones, husks hanging low and heavy. I broke one open, finding ruby-red flesh dotted with tiny seeds, almost as if they’d been waiting all these years for someone to come along and take a taste.
Two farms over, I found Silverroot Radishes bulging out of the soil, their silver-skinned bulbs catching the light. I pulled one free, its creamy white flesh cool and firm in my hands, like it had been sitting in the shade all this time, untouched.
Making my way to the far end of the fields, I found a grove of thin, twisted trees bearing Skyfruit—pale, apricot-like fruits hanging low, close to the trunk. Some had fallen and softened on the ground, but a lot clung on. I picked one, biting into its airy, light flesh that practically dissolved with a sweet, fluffy taste.
As I flew across the last stretch of fields and orchards, I came across even more strange crops tangled in the wild growth: Swirl-root Tubers, twisted purple-black potatoes with bright orange insides; Glow-Melons, with translucent green rinds faintly lit from within; and Ashen Squash, gourd-like, covered in a fine layer of dusty gray, almost blending into the ground.
In the last stretch, nestled in one of the wildest, most overgrown patches, I found Dragon Pears—deep purple and massive, their scaly skins shimmering under the sunlight. I tore one open, letting the juice run down my fingers.
I also came across over ten fields filled with Emberroot Tubers. They looked exactly like the Terra Rosa potatoes from Earth—the only difference was their name here. I peeled one and took a taste; it had the same familiar pink flesh, just like the potatoes I knew from Earth.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
The second difference was the sheer quantity. When I uprooted one stalk, it came out with over thirty potatoes attached. Lucky for me, it had rained the day before; otherwise, I doubt I could’ve pulled it out, no matter how high my Strength was. Then again, I had no idea if thirty potatoes on one stalk was a lot or a little—I’d never actually picked potatoes on Earth.
During my investigation, I ran a few experiments to see how I could harvest all this bounty and discovered some disappointing limitations. My mana sense field was useless for picking; I couldn’t just pull them off with magic. If I wanted to store something, I had to pick it myself—right from the branch or stem. The same went for anything with roots; only if I pulled the whole stem out of the ground could I store it, with the fruit or vegetable still attached.
There was a huge amount of food here, and I really didn’t want to leave it behind. I had no idea if we could buy food in this world. Sure, I still had plenty of supplies from Earth and more from Lumis, but with three of us and a giant dog who ate like ten, it would eventually run out. On the other hand, even with Mahia and Al helping, picking everything by hand would take weeks, if not months.
At dinner, I glanced at Mahya and Al. “I finished checking the fields,” I began, setting down my fork. “There’s a lot of food here ready to be picked, but one thing doesn’t add up. All these crops ripen in different seasons, yet somehow, most of the fruits, vegetables, and grains are ripe now. I saw a few overripe ones on the ground and some that aren’t quite there yet, but the majority are ready for harvest.”
Mahya raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re trying to understand a mana-based world using rules from one that, until recently, didn’t have mana. The laws of nature here are different—you’ll only drive yourself crazy.”
I leaned back, crossing my arms. “So, do you know what those rules are?”
She shrugged, shaking her head. “Nope. Farming’s never been my thing.”
Al gave a faint chuckle. “Growing food has always been the job of the commoners.”
“So… neither of you has any clue why everything’s ripe at the same time?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Al gave a nod, and Mahya grinned. “Yep,” she said with a quick laugh. “Pretty much.”
“Are you planning to pick up all the food?” Mahya asked, eyeing me over her glass.
“Yes, but not by hand. That would take us months,” I replied, shaking my head. “I want to build a spell for it.”
She nodded approvingly. “Good idea. If you’re handling the harvest, Al and I will take care of the cattle.” She set her glass. “Hand over any empty rings and coolers you’ve got left.”
I was about to reach into my storage when Mahya paused, tapping her fingers thoughtfully. “Actually,” she added, “pass me one or two of those large metal containers your core made. There’s a lot of cattle here, and I’m planning to gather as much as we can fit into our storage.”
Al’s eyes flicked between us, nodding as he geared up to start his part of the task.
“Rue go collect yummy mana cows,” Rue informed me, tail wagging in anticipation.
“Have fun, buddy,” I said, the only thing that came to mind.
In the morning, I sat down with a piece of parchment and a pen, determined to work out a solution. I started sketching a magic circle designed to pick, harvest, and gather all the edible food. The challenge, though, was trickier than I’d expected. Even if I could define within the circle’s parameters to only collect items fit for human consumption, something told me that wouldn’t be enough. Many of the stems, leaves, and other parts of the plants were technically edible, but they weren’t anything we’d want to eat. I needed to target only the actual fruit, vegetable, or grain—leaving everything else behind.
With each attempt, new issues surfaced, each idea missing some detail or leaving parts of the harvesting process to chance. After hours of fiddling, five pages of sketches and crossed-out notes surrounded me; the parchment growing cluttered with complex glyphs and half-formed ideas. Finally, I found a breakthrough.
I added a layer of Appraisal to the circuit, integrating a sort of assessment tool within the spell. Now, instead of just grabbing anything remotely edible, the spell would evaluate each item, gathering only what the Appraisal deemed valuable. It would be like having a seasoned farmer’s eye built into the spell, selecting only what was worth storing.
Satisfied, I took a step back and looked over my work. With this circuit in place, I’d finally have a solution that saved time and ensured we only took what was actually useful.
The second problem I encountered was the spell’s area of influence. The original design worked well to target an individual fruit or vegetable, but that wasn’t practical; casting it on each piece one by one would be slower than picking manually. I needed the spell to cover a far greater range in one go.
I spent another full day on it, adding to the growing pile of discarded parchments. After hours of work and four more ruined drafts, I reshaped the spell’s structure into a sphere of influence tied to the extent of my mana sense. I adjusted the spell to operate within my mana sense’s full reach, casting magic from every point within that space.
Of course, I realized this approach would be costly in terms of mana—there was no way around that. But in weighing the pros and cons, the ability to gather vast amounts at once without constant recasting seemed worth the expense. I felt confident I’d found the right balance: a solution that could actually handle the task.
I created a mana mesh to form the spell marble, carefully layering the spell’s structure. However, no matter how many times I tried to add aspects to incorporate spell progression, it just wouldn’t work. Each added aspect either disrupted or altered the runes and magic script I’d set up. After completing the full spherical magic circle, I attempted an alternative approach, embedding the aspects within the marble’s central space. But only the Nature aspect managed not to interfere with the spell’s structure.
After testing it again, it became clear that the Nature aspect didn’t make the spell any more powerful or efficient. Instead, it only doubled the mana cost, which wasn’t a trade-off I wanted. I ended up clearing the marble of the extra aspect, leaving it with the original spell. I double-checked everything to make sure the spell held steady, then closed the mesh, satisfied with the simpler, more reliable version.
Congratulations, Wizard!
Through your skill, intellect, and mastery of the arcane arts, you have successfully created a new spell to harvest crops—one that has never existed in the annals of magic. The arcane forces have recognized this extraordinary achievement.
Please name your spell to finalize its creation ______________.
I didn’t spend too much mental energy on the name and just went with the system’s suggestion: “Harvest Crops.”
What can I say? The spell was effective—but expensive! My mana sense field stretched nearly twenty meters around me, and when I cast the spell at full reach, it cost a hefty 1,500 mana per cast. Still, there was an upside. With each cast, I gathered all the crops within that twenty-meter radius in one go.
The next problem I ran into was that when I harvested vegetables or grains, they fell on the ground, and I had to store them via my mana sense sphere. With fruit, though, things got trickier. On the first tree, I quickly realized the spell’s spherical shape wouldn’t work—I had to reshape it into a dome to surround the branches. That’s when I hit the next snag: all the fruit fell either on my head or straight to the ground, with a few getting bruised or smashed on impact.
There was a small silver lining, though. The dome only needed to cover one tree at a time, so the mana cost dropped significantly, down to 680 per cast. By the third tree, I had a system going: I cast the spell, then immediately stored everything before it could fall too far. Now and then, a few pieces still hit the ground or my head, but for the most part, the spell worked like it should.
Then came the biggest issue—storage. I’d gathered a massive amount of food, and my baskets, boxes, crates and barrels barely made a dent in holding even ten percent of it. Normally, I didn’t like storing food without a container, but eventually, I had to accept it. I simply couldn’t let all that bounty go to waste.
I considered asking the house for more metal containers, knowing it had consumed enough materials to supply a few. But, eventually, I figured it was time to start traveling like everyone else and store things directly. Maybe it was time to leave some of those Earth-born sensibilities behind.
The high mana cost of the spell forced me to stop and regenerate frequently, and with the need to cast on each tree individually, the entire operation took almost four weeks. I could have done it in two, but occasional days of rain or hail slowed the process. Still, that was far better than the months it would have taken by hand. Meanwhile, Mahya and Al were working on collecting beef. I didn’t check in on their process, but one herd shrank steadily day by day. By the time I’d finished gathering all the crops, one herd had vanished entirely, and the other was down by about fifty percent.
When Mahya heard I was done, she flashed me a grin. “Great. We need your help with something.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“You’ll see,” she replied, her tone playful as she led me through a cluster of half-ruined wooden buildings. The structures creaked in the wind, their wood faded and splintered, but among them, something far more surprising caught my eye—a massive black pig, the size of an elephant, its body covered in a shaggy coat of long, dark fur.
I identified it:
Winter Hog
Level 5
Appraisal showed that its meat was worth a solid 1 silver per chat.
“Huh,” I muttered, in what was surely the most intelligent reaction I could muster.
“Yep,” Mahya replied, crossing her arms as she eyed the massive beast. “Its fur is so long and thick that bullets, swords, even bolts didn’t do a thing. We thought about using Flame Wave to give it a ‘haircut,’ like with the monsters back in the city, but we didn’t want it suffering before the kill.”
She glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow. “So, hit it with your lightning, stun it, and I’ll handle the rest.”
In total, Mahya led me to twelve of these Winter Hogs. After the third one, she ran out of mana on the scrolls and the Harvest Herbivore spells, so I was nice and took over, handling the rest myself.
While Mahya and I worked on the hogs, Al and Rue continued gathering beef.
At dinner, I asked, “Are we done here?”
“No,” Mahya replied, shaking her head. “I want to collect all the cattle. I even expanded my storage once already. Who knows if we’ll come across another goldmine of food like this? Would be a shame to leave it behind.”
“Want me to join you tomorrow?” I offered.
“No, you have a different mission.”
“What mission?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You’ll see,” she said with a smirk.
The next morning, she dropped a massive pile of pelts in front of me. “Use your murderous clean on all these pelts,” she instructed. “We’ll have more for you by evening.”
I didn’t even have the energy to argue about the spell’s name.
After I finished with the pelts, I joined Mahya and Al to help with the beef collection. Nearly three more weeks passed before we finally finished gathering everything—or nearly everything. Rue managed to pry open the heavy metal door of a stone structure we’d overlooked, and inside, we discovered five floors of basement space fitted with special beds for growing mushrooms. And there were a lot of mushrooms.
This unexpected find sent me flying around the entire area, scanning for similar stone buildings. I found five more. Two were partially collapsed, and I was fairly certain that if I cleared away the rubble, there’d be cellars with mushrooms underneath—but I didn’t have the energy to dig them out. From the original structure and the other three intact ones, I harvested enough mushrooms to last us years. On second thought, maybe only a few months, considering Rue’s love for stews with mushroom.
We finally finished collecting everything and were ready to move. The sky, though, didn’t look promising, thick with dark clouds. We waited, and sure enough, on the second day, a hailstorm rolled in and lasted for several hours before the sky finally cleared.
We lounged on the porch, relaxing in the garden chairs, each of us with a drink in hand. The sky had finally cleared, and a soft, warm light settled over the fields. Rue lay by my side, lapping happily at a bowl of beer, his eyes half-closed in contentment. Mahya and Al each cradled glasses of scotch, letting the quiet sink in after weeks of hard work.
Mahya took a sip, breaking the silence. “So, hot air balloon—worth it, or not?”
I swirled my beer thoughtfully. “Well, pro: it’s fast. And safer, since we’re above any of the beasts or monsters.”
Al nodded, but his expression stayed cautious. “Yes, that’s true, but our safety is not guaranteed indefinitely. Should we find ourselves up there while a storm is happening…” He shrugged. “A single hailstorm could prevent us from being able to fly.”
Mahya gave a short laugh, glancing out at the fields. “Yeah, and with those chunks of hail we’ve seen here, we’d be toast.”
I sighed, picturing it—the balloon, us stuck inside, and hail hammering down. “Alright, not ideal. Last thing we need is to get smacked out of the sky.”
Rue huffed, his head resting heavily on my knee, clearly voting for any plan that kept us on solid ground.
“So, Jeep then?” Al asked, his glass catching the evening light.
“Jeep it is,” I nodded. “But if we hit any big monster territory, we’ll improvise.”
Mahya tilted her head, interested. “What kind of improvising?”
“Simple,” I said with a grin. “I’ll fly with Al, and you’ll ride Rue. And we’ll do it all invisible, so nothing sees us coming.”
Mahya raised her glass, a gleam in her eye. “Now that’s a plan I can drink to.”