I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On one hand, I was massively pleased that my control over Water Magic had improved. On the other, my gaze wandered over the gigantic wheat field, and the thought of having to water what felt like two square kilometers by hand, one small stream at a time, was soul-crushing. Hm. When the Water Magic shot out of my hand like a burst hydrant, the range was actually pretty good, I mused. But it was totally uncontrollable, a wild force I couldn't yet tame.

  Well, no use complaining. I got back to work and summoned the water, letting a steady stream flow from my palm onto the thirsty field. The sun began its climb, its heat beating down relentlessly on the back of my neck. The bone-dry, dusty soil initially repelled the water, causing it to bead on the cracked surface before slowly, reluctantly, starting to absorb the precious moisture. I started walking at a slow, methodical pace, my boots crunching on the parched earth as I watered the wheat, section by painstaking section.

  The minutes bled into an hour. The repetitive motion of walking the rows, the constant, draining focus required to maintain the delicate balance of the mana flow, the unrelenting heat—it all began to merge into a monotonous, grueling haze. A dull ache started in my lower back from bending slightly, and my arm, held out constantly, felt heavy as lead. Sweat trickled into my eyes, stinging them, and my throat was dry as dust.

  After what felt like an eternity under the hot sun, my muscles screamed in protest. My mana reserves felt scraped hollow, leaving an empty, aching void inside me. I collapsed onto my butt, my body drenched in sweat, panting heavily as I stared up at the blinding glare. Every part of me felt heavy, wrung out like a damp cloth. Just then, the sun disappeared.

  “Absolutely insane…” Orin's deep voice rumbled from above me, his large frame blocking the sun. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden shadow, I saw him surveying the small, pitifully damp patch of earth I’d managed to cover.

  “Even with the new well, I couldn’t haul this much water. You… you really are a gift from the heavens, boy. First, you save my daughter, and now you’re helping me save our harvest…”

  I just nodded silently, not meeting his eyes. A bitter aftertaste lingered in my mouth. A gift from the heavens? It felt more like I was a beast of burden, a tool to be used. First, I save his daughter from a horrific fate, then he holds a sword to my throat, and now, on the very same day, I’m busting my ass to save his farm. And for what? A bowl of stew and a spot on the floor for a night? Nobody ever helped me like this. Life had always been a constant struggle for survival, a desperate scramble for scraps, just me and Pip against the world. Nobody ever handed me a damn thing. The injustice of it all coiled in my gut, hot and bitter.

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed the resentment down, and kept my mouth shut. While I wasn't exactly profiting directly, at least my magic was improving. Although, it probably would have improved over time anyway.

  "Come on," Orin said, breaking the silence. "Let's take a break. See if the food's ready." He stepped aside and headed towards the house. Breathing heavily, feeling every ache in my small body, I pushed myself up. Orin was waiting by the edge of the field. Respect your elders, I thought, a little grudgingly.

  My steps felt hollow on the parched earth. As I reached him, I glanced back at the vast field. The sun was beginning its descent, painting the world in shades of soft gold and long, purple shadows. The endless waves of wheat shimmered, dancing in the gentle evening breeze. The sight had a strangely calming effect. And yet… all of this would soon wither and die. I had to figure out a way to tackle this faster. But how…

  Orin gently placed a heavy, calloused hand on my shoulder. "Come on," he repeated softly. "The field isn't going anywhere."

  I nodded silently and walked towards the house beside him. It might be paranoid, but the question kept nagging at me: Was Orin only being friendly now because I could use magic? Because I was useful? Or was it genuinely because I'd saved his daughter? I rubbed the bridge of my nose. As always, so many questions. I pushed them aside for now, falling into step beside Orin as we walked back from the field. The short journey was silent, broken only by the crunch of our boots on the dry path.

  Arriving at the house, I let Orin go in first. He opened the door and hesitated for a fraction of a second—steeling himself, perhaps, before facing the grief inside—then stepped through. I followed.

  Vana was adding a log to the fire pit, diligently stirring the stew in the kettle. Jory was leaning out an open window, staring absently into the twilight. Vana turned towards us, offering a faint, weary smile. "Ah, there you are. I was just about to call you. How's the work going?"

  Orin ignored her question, his head lowered as he walked past her. "How's Willow?" he asked, his voice strained.

  Hearing her name, Vana began fiddling nervously with her apron. "She's sleeping," she said quietly.

  Orin just gave a weak nod. I asked cautiously, "Is Pip still with her?"

  Vana's expression softened slightly, a genuine warmth touching her eyes for the first time. "Yes. I think it's doing her a world of good. Since that little fur-angel curled up with her, Willow's been sleeping peacefully. And… thank the gods, she's not quite as pale as she was earlier."

  A fragile moment of relief hung in the air. Orin’s weary expression, however, didn’t change. He let out another heavy sigh and walked heavily over to the table, sinking onto the bench as if his legs could no longer hold him.

  I followed suit. Vana moved to the cupboard to fetch bowls. As she rummaged inside, her voice broke the heavy silence. "Are you finished with the well already?" she asked, her back still to us.

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  Orin frowned. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

  Vana peeked out from behind the cupboard door, her expression puzzled. "When I went to get vegetables, I saw the ground in the wheat field was wet. Wasn't Grim watering it?"

  The confusion vanished from Orin's face. "Ah, right," he explained, his voice low. "You were in Willow's room. The well isn't finished. The field is only watered because… Grim is a mage."

  A clatter came from the window as Jory spun around. He rushed over, slamming his hands flat on the table between us. "A MAGE?!" he yelled.

  The word exploded in the quiet room, causing an immediate, dead silence. Even the bubbling of the stew seemed to pause. Vana froze, her hand halfway to a bowl, staring at me. Her expression was a strange, flickering mix of intense, desperate hope and a primal, instinctive fear of the unknown. Jory's eyes, though, just sparkled with pure, unadulterated excitement, the look of a kid who’d just been told his favorite storybook hero was real.

  Orin sighed deeply and nodded towards me, a clear prompting gesture. Prove it, I guess?

  Tentatively, I opened my hand and summoned a flame, letting it flicker warmly and cheerfully in my palm. I stared into the dancing light, my own anxieties resurfacing. Is this a good idea? Magic felt like a double-edged sword: incredibly exciting, but potentially insanely dangerous. I didn't even know the basics yet. Okay, I knew my own magic wouldn't hurt me. But what if a spell misfired? What if I accidentally hurt someone?

  But there wasn't time for those worries. I looked up. Jory's eyes were practically popping out of his head. Vana stared with that intense, hopeful gaze, her lips moving silently in prayer. But it was Orin's reaction that surprised me most. His jaw had literally dropped open, as if, despite seeing the water magic, this was the first time he was truly comprehending it.

  "Y-you…" he stammered. "You can use… fire magic?"

  Uh oh. Is that bad? Fire was destructive. Were people here superstitious about it? Did they think fire mages were inherently evil, messengers from hell or something?

  Orin interrupted my paranoid spiral. "So you can use two kinds of magic?" he asked, his voice filled with a stunned awe. Vana and Jory leaned in, waiting breathlessly for my answer.

  No point denying it. I took a deep breath. "Technically, three," I admitted, thinking of Gravity Magic. "But I can really only use water and fire right now."

  Shit. I probably shouldn't have said that. The air in the room seemed to freeze solid. Until Jory suddenly broke the silence, exploding with excitement: "WHOA! AWESOME! A REAL MAGE, RIGHT HERE WITH US?!"

  Startled, I blinked at his sheer volume. He immediately launched into a barrage of questions. Weirdly, Orin still didn't say a word. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him get up and whisper something in Vana's ear. A moment later, both of them slipped quietly back into Willow's room, leaving me alone to fend off Jory's enthusiastic interrogation. It was a blur of rapid-fire questions—"Can you summon a dragon? Can you fly? Can you shoot lightning?"—until he finally landed on the big one: "Can you teach me magic?!"

  "No," I replied instantly, a little too bluntly.

  Jory's face fell, his excitement collapsing like a popped balloon. Seeing his crestfallen look, I felt a pang of guilt. "Look," I explained, softening my tone, "I really can't teach you. We don't even know if you have the aptitude for it. I could explain how I learned it, and you could try to copy it, but that's the best I can do, sorry."

  Apparently, that was enough. Jory's face lit up again. "When can we start?!" he asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

  I scratched my chin. "Depends how long your parents are gone. But I guess we could practice until they come back."

  Jory nodded eagerly. I pushed away the thought of how brutal this world could be and opened my hand, summoning a water ball. An apple-sized sphere of clear water hovered above my palm.

  The boy's eyes shone with pure joy. "What do I do?" he fidgeted.

  I had to fight back a grin. "Okay, listen carefully. The first time I managed this, I just pictured it. I closed my eyes tight and imagined a water ball. Then there was this… tingling… in my hand. When I opened my eyes, it was just floating there."

  Jory listened intently. He immediately held out his own hand and squeezed his eyes shut, his face screwed up in intense concentration. His whole body went rigid. After ten seconds, his face started turning bright red. After maybe twenty seconds, he snapped his eyes open, scowling furiously.

  "Why isn't this damn crap working?!" he yelled right at me. "You can do it!" And with that, he stormed off, disappearing into his room and slamming the door hard behind him.

  My eye twitched. I let out a long, weary sigh. Okay, so maybe it happened quickly for me, but giving up after one try? Well. Now I was alone again. I'd maybe only been without Pip for an hour or two, but it always felt like an eternity. I wonder if Pip is—

  The door to Willow's room opened, and Orin and Vana stepped out. Orin looked exhausted, but Vana… Vana looked different. Hopeful? Maybe… satisfied? A strange calmness about her.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting," Vana said kindly. "Where did Jory storm off to?"

  “Ehm,” I stammered, pointing at the door Jory had just slammed, “he went in there.”

  Orin nodded wearily. "His room. I'll go get him." He returned a moment later with Jory in tow, who still looked furious. His foul mood evaporated instantly, however, when Vana began placing steaming wooden bowls of thick, savory-smelling stew on the table.

  All of us except Willow sat down. Orin, Vana, and Jory immediately closed their eyes for a few silent seconds. Praying? It felt strange, this quiet moment of gratitude in a house so heavy with sorrow. When Vana opened her eyes, she noticed my confused expression. "Don't people pray before eating where you come from?" she asked gently.

  "No, we don't," I admitted. "Sorry, was that rude of me?"

  Vana shook her head, smiling faintly. "No, of course not. Everyone has their own customs. We just pray silently, each to themselves."

  Nodding thoughtfully, I decided to try it myself. I closed my eyes briefly. It felt awkward. In my old life, prayer had been a desperate, last-ditch plea shouted into the void—praying the food from the dumpster wasn't rotten, praying for the rain to stop, praying for Pip to live. This calm, thankful kind of prayer was entirely new to me. 'Uh, Honored Ithrak? Guess I should thank you. For the blessing... and this meal. Amen?'

  When I opened my eyes, Vana was smiling a little more warmly as she began to eat. Jory and Orin were already practically inhaling their stew. I picked up my own spoon and eyed my bowl skeptically. Vegetables… watery broth… and some unidentifiable brownish chunks? Well, beggars couldn't be choosers. I took a spoonful, chewed… and tasted… not much. Definitely no salt. Or any other spices. Fucking Middle Ages.

  Before I could complain further, Orin spoke up. "Grim," he said, his tone serious. "I don't know what your plans are. But… I'm heading to the capital city tomorrow. Taking some goods to market. Would you… like to come along?"

  I looked up, surprised but definitely curious. "The capital? Can you tell me a bit more about it?"

  Orin nodded, seeming pleased by my interest. He began to tell me about the capital—its long history as a mountain fortress, its diverse inhabitants from all corners of the world, stories about its current ruler, a wise and just king named Richard, and finally, its name.

  A grin spread across my face as I whispered the name softly.

  “Aegis…”

  That concludes the mass release for the launch! Phew.

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