《So I have to Build a Kingdom in a New World?》 Prologue – A Small, Bao-Filled Beginning [Somewhere Between the Stars and Trouble] Once in a thousand years (or so), the exalted Council of Light met. A tradition broken at least six times in the last century alone. A circular chamber of divine beings hovered above a swirling map of a fractured world. Chaotic shroud emanated from cracks across its surface. A once pristine realm, now shattered and torn. ¡°Once again we find the world falling apart at the seams!¡± a deep voice rumbled ¡ª the kind that cracked like thunder and echoed with divine weight. ¡°We find ourselves in need, yet again, of a chosen one.¡± ¡°Or maybe,¡± sighed a goddess wearing a crown of thorny vines, ¡°we stop giving pointy sticks to the emotionally unstable?¡± Murmurs rippled throughout the assembly. ¡°We¡¯ve tried heroes. Chosen ones. Legendary sword-wielders. One guy even had a talking wolf.¡± The sun-eyed god rubbed his temples. ¡°None of them fixed the issue. At least not for very long.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because you keep picking the same self-obsessed morons,¡± said a new voice ¡ª soft and smooth, yet playful. It drifted in like smoke, dancing between the other voices. All heads in the chamber turned as she stepped into the light. A loose cloak. A mischievous grin. Trouble in goddess form. ¡°Ah¡­¡± the sun god sighed. ¡°It¡¯s you.¡± ¡°I have a candidate,¡± she said. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Hear me out.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°She¡¯s going to do it anyway,¡± the thorned goddess muttered. The roguish woman ignored them and waved a hand. The swirling map faded and was quickly replaced by mist ¡ª and at its core, a simple scene: Within it, a young man in a hoodie and headphones crossed a busy street, a plastic bag clutched in his hand like treasure. ¡°What is this?¡± the sun god growled. ¡°This¡­¡± the trickster goddess grinned, ¡°this is potential.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
[Bao and Embarrassment] The day had been long and strenuous ¡ª the kind of long that started with the same old automated email replies from jobs applied to weeks, or even months ago, each one soulless in its rejection. That was followed swiftly by an awkward phone call with a mother who still wondered how her son hadn¡¯t landed a job in this economy. And it all climaxed with standing alone in the rain, outside a 24-hour dumpling shop ¡ª because they didn¡¯t deliver, and they were the only place in town that served the good kind of bao buns. Not that frozen supermarket trash. This was salvation. In dough form. He was halfway across the crosswalk when a voice called out, like a siren in the street. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s you!¡± That voice. That tone. He stopped suddenly and slowly turned - like a man checking to see if the monster in a horror movie was still behind him. Yep. Her¡­ Same ponytail. Same sharp eyes. Same aura of impossibly out of reach. A girl from back in high school. The one who definitely caught him that one time reading a manga with a very questionable title under the desk during group work. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°Wow, it really has been a while, hasn¡¯t it?¡± she said, stepping closer. ¡°Oh, yeah. A couple of years now?¡± ¡°I bet you¡¯ve been up to all kinds of things, haven¡¯t you?¡± ¡°You¡­ bet¡¯cha!¡± He hadn¡¯t. He held up the bag of bao buns ¡ª his proudest achievement in years. ¡°All kinds of bao.¡± She blinked. ¡°Just now?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± A moment passed. She smiled ¡ª friendly, but a little confused. ¡°Cool. Well, I gotta run. Take care, alright?¡± She was already halfway down the street before he remembered to breathe. I swear I get pity points every time I talk to her. He turned, cheeks burning, and walked toward home ¡ª face redder than the crosswalk light that blinked green behind him. He stepped forward.
[Timing is Everything] The trickster goddess sipped from a divine smoothie cup that definitely shouldn¡¯t have existed in her world. ¡°He¡¯s not much,¡± a booming voice grumbled. She smiled. ¡°No, but he¡¯s different. He doesn¡¯t have delusions of grandeur ¡ª he simply dreams of escape. That¡¯s a special kind of desperation.¡± As the boy walked down the sidewalk, the crosswalk signal flickered. A van came screeching around the corner ¡ª too fast, and a little unrealistically so. The goddess stood still. ¡°Right on cue, Truck-chan,¡± she whispered, smiling into her smoothie. Chapter 1 – Bao, Belmont, and a Jobless Life A loud crack echoed as a whip lashed across a bright TV screen. A screech followed - the death cry of a vampire caught at the end of that whip. Trevor Belmont stood tall in a crumbling cathedral, bloodied but unbeaten. His cloak was torn to shreds as dust settled around him. He said something gruff and cool - the kind of line that only worked if you were both animated and absurdly attractive. The camera panned across the wreckage as rain poured through shattered stained-glass windows. Gothic. Dramatic. Totally awesome. Man¡­ I wish I was that cool The screen flickered slightly as the sounds of vampire slaying gave way to the gentle crinkle of wax paper being peeled back. Zoom out: a bao bun, steaming and soft, lifted ever so reverently from its wrapper. Zoom out further: a small, cluttered apartment. A typical NEET scene ¡ª clothes half-folded (or more likely, luckily tossed) into a pile on a chair, a pair of socks hanging haphazardly off a shelf, and a glowing laptop screen half-buried under a ramen bowl. On the screen, a job site blinked: ¡°Recommended: Junior Marketing Analyst ¨C Entry Level. Apply Now?¡± No, thank you. One bite of bao bun later, the TV showed the vampire hunter kicking down a door. He watched as Belmont charged headfirst into another hopeless battle. Tired, beaten, and bloodied ¡ª but still carrying on like a champ. I¡¯d trade places in a heartbeat. His phone buzzed. Another rejection email. ¡°After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that¡­¡± ¡°Bullshit.¡± He turned the phone over and finished the last of the bao bun. He reached for another. ¡°Mmmh. At least you never let me down, you sweet bundle of joy.¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Later¡­ The city was loud. Cars. Crosswalk beeps. Pigeons plotting something shady from their perch on a power line. He clutched the warm bag to his chest as though it were filled with long-lost treasure. Just a few more blocks, and the sweet taste of peanut-filled bao buns would be ripe for eating. But as with all good things¡­ plot-kun had other ideas. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s actually you, isn¡¯t it?¡± He froze. No. Please, God, no. Please let that be for someone else. He turned - slowly, cautiously - like a man who had entered a boss battle without stocking up on healing potions. There she was. Maya Tanaka. Same ponytail. Same sharp eyes. Same confident vibe that made him feel like a Wi-Fi signal trying to connect to a network ten leagues out of range. She stepped closer, blinking against the car headlights passing by. ¡°It is you, from high school. You remember me, right?¡± He nodded way too fast. ¡°Y-yeah¡­ Maya.¡± ¡°That¡¯s me!¡± she grinned. ¡°It¡¯s been a few years now, hasn¡¯t it? What are you up to these days?¡± ¡°I-uh¡­ just got some bao buns.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. You were¡­ are¡­ obsessed with those things. Did you get the peanut ones?¡± ¡°Fresh out of the oven! Heh-heh.¡± She glanced at the bag. ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± She adjusted her bag over her shoulder. ¡°Well, it was great to catch up. I gotta run or I¡¯ll miss the bus. Take care, alright?¡± She was already halfway down the street before he remembered to breathe. I swear, I get pity points every time I talk to her. He stepped forward onto the crosswalk, face burning a new shade of red, somehow brighter than the stoplight that had just turned green. He stepped forward.
And Then¡ª A screech. A deep humming roar. Ten tons of metal. Speed. Everything sideways. He never saw her coming. Not Maya. Not destiny. And definitely not Truck-Chan. At least¡­ I still have my bao buns¡­ ¡­I think? Then: black. Chapter 2 - The Afterlife is Surprisingly Well Lit An ethereal expanse stretched out as far as the eye could see.
What the heck was that!? I feel like I just got trampled by a herd of sentient metal...
His thoughts echoed, as though spoken aloud into a vast, empty sky. A blinding light shone down from above, forcing his arms up to shield his face. He squinted around, eyes slowly adjusting.
This place gives serious loading screen vibes¡­
As the glare faded, he realized he was sitting on... something. A barely-there floor? It felt solid, but looked like clear glass on white fog. Then ¡ª his stomach growled. He looked down. His hands were empty. No bao buns.
Am I gonna have to buy dinner again? I only had enough left for one meal...
¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got much bigger problems than that, buddy,¡± a sultry voice echoed from every direction at once. ¡°Satan?¡± he said flatly. ¡°Excuse me? Why would you immediately think that?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m no expert, but I¡¯m pretty sure I just died ¡ª and there¡¯s no way a NEET like me made it to heaven, right?¡± ¡°You¡¯re half right, I suppose,¡± she mused. ¡°This isn¡¯t technically ¡®heaven.¡¯ It¡¯s the realm of the gods.¡± She wasn¡¯t what he expected a goddess to look like. No glowing wings. No choir of light. No elegant robes flowing with divine energy. Instead, she wore a cloak that looked like it was stitched from midnight and bad decisions, loose and carefree like she¡¯d forgotten she was supposed to impress anyone. Her hair spilled over one shoulder in messy waves ¡ª dark, with streaks of purple that shimmered when the light caught just right. Her eyes? Mischief. Pure and weaponized. Gold irises with a faint glow, as if they¡¯d seen every possible outcome and still found it hilarious. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. She had a grin that said she¡¯d either change your life or ruin your week ¡ª possibly both in the same sentence. And when she spoke, her voice carried the warmth of a joke you weren¡¯t in on yet. Playful. Teasing. Sharp enough to cut through silence and expectation alike. This was Nyxara ¡ª trickster goddess, cosmic wildcard, and chaos in vaguely human form. ¡°Realm of the gods?¡± he echoed. ¡°Wait¡­ did I finally ascend to godhood!?¡± Uncontrollable laughter erupted around him. ¡°That¡¯s so precious!¡± the voice gasped. ¡°You think you could be a god!? HAH!¡± His face dropped ¡ª just like his rejection emails ¡ª except this one stung worse. ¡°Listen, kiddo,¡± the voice said, softening. ¡°You died. Splat. Old world: gone. But lucky for you, I¡¯m in need of someone to do me a favor. So¡­ I¡¯m offering you a second chance.¡± ¡°A second chance at... my old life? Because hard pass. That sucked.¡± ¡°No, idiot. A new life. In a whole new world. Magic, monsters, quests. You know ¡ª the good stuff. And, I don¡¯t know¡­ maybe some okay-looking people.¡± His eyes lit up. ¡°Whoa¡­ Magic? Like, real magic? A fantasy world? Do I get powers!?¡± ¡°One power,¡± she said, matter-of-fact. ¡°To start you off. We don¡¯t have time for you to go through the whole ¡®growing up and grinding stats¡¯ thing, so this¡¯ll help you catch up.¡± ¡°Just one? Can I choose?¡± ¡°Hm¡­ I suppose I can let you choose something. But within reason. No immortality, no infinite mana, no ¡®snap my fingers and I win¡¯ nonsense. The other gods already think I¡¯m irresponsible.¡± She said it like it was a minor inconvenience. ¡°Alright, alright¡­¡± he muttered. ¡°One power. Not broken. Gotta think...¡±
I could go with Appraisal. Works in anime, right? ¡­But what if it doesn¡¯t level up? What if it¡¯s just¡­ boring? I need something useful. Something cool. Something that could maybe impress a girl¡­ Not that I¡¯d ever talk to one... Maybe my power should be talking to girls. NO. Focus!
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Or maybe time didn¡¯t exist here. Then, it hit him. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± he said, jumping to his feet. ¡°The power I want is ¡ª Matter Manipulation!¡± ¡°Oh...¡± The voice sounded intrigued. ¡°Very interesting.¡± A pause. ¡°Very well then,¡± she said. ¡°But in return for giving you a new life, a new power, and your memories¡­ you¡¯ll owe me a favor. One I¡¯ll call in later ¡ª when you¡¯ve settled in a bit.¡± ¡°That sounds like a deal to me, lady! Put me in, coach!¡± The light around him pulsed ¡ª blinding, electric, overwhelming. His body vibrated like it was being shredded and rebuilt all at once. Once more: black. Chapter 3 – Dropped, Powerless, and Slightly Hungry His eyes blinked as they adjusted to another bright light¡ªthis one fading quickly to reveal a vast canopy of treetops. Sunlight filtered through vivid green leaves in what appeared to be a forest. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and took in his surroundings.
So, this is it? A new world? Huh¡­ doesn¡¯t look all that different.
He patted himself down. He was still wearing his hoodie and jeans.
No cool new clothing, I guess.
Emptying his pockets, he found his phone, headphones, and wallet.
Battery at 72%? And no service!? Aww, man!
Looking around, he quickly realized there was nothing else¡ªno gear and, worst of all, no bao buns.
Wait a minute¡­ I get isekai¡¯d and they don¡¯t even give me starter gear!? This sucks!
He stood up and brushed off the dirt and dust from the forest floor. Soon, he made his way to the nearest tree. ¡°Okay, time to try out my new awesome powers! Matter Manipulation!¡± He stretched out his hand toward the tree, palm gently pressing against rough bark. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, feeling a spark of power well up from his core, flowing down his arms and out through his hand.
This feeling¡­ this¡­ POWER! I can feel it coursing through me!
But as he opened his eyes, the huge tree barely shuddered.
¡­ What? Are you for real!? Is that really it?
The back of his palm began to glow faintly as a magic circle appeared. Text formed above it like a hologram: [Matter Manipulation]: Lvl 1 ¨C EXP [1/10] He grinned.
Oh, I get it now¡­ It¡¯s like an RPG! The more I use it, the more it levels up!
The text faded and then changed to display his mana: [Mana]: Lvl 1 ¨C Remaining: [0/10]
I feel¡­ very¡­ tired¡­
His body weakened; his eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed onto the forest floor.
Later¡­ He awoke to a dim forest lit by moonlight, the once-blinding brightness replaced by soft shadows. Rubbing his eyes, he noted the eerie silence, broken only by the distant howling of wolves.
Oh no, this isn¡¯t good¡­
He looked at the back of his hand¡ªonce again, it glowed, and text formed above it: [Mana]: Lvl 1 ¨C Remaining: [5/10] He realized mana was a limiting factor. If this was truly like an RPG, then the larger the object he manipulated, the more mana it would consume.
Alright, I got it! Let¡¯s start small. First, I need something to defend myself if those wolves decide to attack. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
He reached for a small branch lying on the forest floor¡ªlight enough for him to grip. ¡°Here it goes. Matter Manipulation: Create a Spear!¡± The stick began to glow as its form started to change. Its crooked natural curves became slightly straighter and slimmer, and its tip grew just a little more pointy. [Matter Manipulation]: Lvl 1 ¨C EXP: [2/10] [Mana]: Lvl 2 ¨C Remaining: [10/20] He stared at the barely pointy stick and muttered: "And after all of that, I get a slightly pointy stick!? At least I didn¡¯t pass out this time. Looks like I actually leveled up my mana! Now I have more to work with." The howling of wolves grew closer.
I¡¯m gonna have to do something if I want to survive. What if, instead of a weapon, I find a way to defend myself? Next up¡ªa shelter!
He placed his palm on the ground and focused once more. ¡°Matter Manipulation: Shelter!¡± Then: Black. For a moment, the text on the back of his hand glowed brightly: [Mana]: Lvl 2 ¨C Remaining: [0/20] When the glow faded, he lay motionless¡ªunconscious on the forest floor.
Later (Again)¡­ Sunlight began to pierce through the forest canopy as he stirred awake. Still tired and groggy, his stomach growled fiercely. He looked around and noticed, next to him, a small sandcastle¡ªbarely bigger than his hand and poorly constructed.
This is it¡­ This is how I die¡ªnext to a sandcastle with a twig as a sword.
Just as resignation threatened to overwhelm him, he heard a distant sound. Flowing water. ¡°Water! That¡¯s perfect!¡± he thought. ¡°I read that you can survive for days if you stay hydrated!¡± He stood abruptly and followed the sound. As he pushed through thick brush, the noise grew louder¡ªnot just a river, but a waterfall. Eventually, he emerged into a clearing with a huge cliff face and water crashing down into a roaring river. Rushing to it, he cupped his hands and drank deeply.
Slurp¡ªahhh, so refreshing! This is the best water I¡¯ve ever tasted!
Next to the river, he discovered small bushes laden with blackberries.
Score! I really hope these are edible!
With shaking hands, he grabbed handfuls of berries and devoured them, savoring each mouthful. But just as he began to feel full, his stomach rumbled again¡ªthis time with sharp pain. He bolted to the nearest tree, squatting behind it. ¡°NOOO! THE BERRIES WERE¡­¡± he grumbled.
Later (Yet Again)¡­ After expelling the contents of his stomach, he looked around with a defeated expression. This was turning out to be much worse than his old life. He would give anything to go back, to sit in his room and eat his precious bao buns. Before he could wallow too long, he heard a squelching sound in front of him. Looking up, he saw a small blue slime just a few meters away.
Oh no. These things are probably super hostile. I bet it¡¯s going to try and absorb me! Quick, think!
Panicking, he scanned his surroundings. His hands dug into the dirt as he closed his eyes and focused. ¡°Matter Manipulation: Trip Hazard!¡± The ground responded by pushing up roots into small, rounded shapes, creating a trap designed to catch a foot.
Genius! And this time it actually worked! My power did what I wanted¡­ wait a second¡­ The slime doesn¡¯t have feet! AWH CRAP!
He stepped back, clutching his barely pointy stick, then felt his foot hit a root from his own trip hazard. He tumbled backward, his stick flying high into the air, its nearly pointy end facing downward as it soared.
¡°Killed¡­ by my own trap and weapon. Goodbye, cruel world. I won¡¯t miss you¡­¡±
His final thoughts raced through his mind as he heard another squelch and a tiny, high-pitched screech. Lifting his head, he saw the blue slime, now decimated by the falling stick. The stick lay embedded in the ground, pieces of jelly scattered around it.
I did it¡­ I beat the ferocious beast!
Joy surged through him¡ªhe had conquered his enemy, however feeble, and saved his own life. The back of his hand began to glow again: Level Up! New Level: 1 ¡ú 2 [Matter Manipulation]: Lvl 2 ¨C EXP [0/20] ¡°Wow! I actually leveled up!¡± he marveled. ¡°I bet I can finally make all kinds of amazing things now. I¡¯m going to be the most powerful mage in all the world! Just watch me¡ªMatter Manipulation: Build a Castle!¡± Then: Black. Chapter 4 – Slightly Stronger and Slightly Less Hungry
It¡¯s been four days since I came to this world. It¡¯s been a wild ride so far, and things don¡¯t seem to be getting easier. But I have been getting stronger. With more practice, I¡¯m starting to see hope at the end of a very, very long, dark tunnel. Man, it really does look like a long tunnel¡­
So far, mana seemed similar to stamina. By pacing himself and taking time to rest, he found that he could sustain it for longer periods. And here was the genius part of his training:
If I need firewood, I first manipulate the wood to drain it of moisture ¡ª that gives me water to drink, and it makes the wood super dry, so it burns better! Then I reshape it again for more EXP. Double win!
Over time, his [Matter Manipulation] had climbed to Level 3. He proudly held up one of his creations ¡ª a small dirt cup.
Well, it somewhat resembles a cup... if you squint long enough.
An audible sigh escaped him. A dim glow came from his phone screen: Battery: 50% ¡°Halfway gone, huh? I guess keeping this diary on my phone won¡¯t last for very long, eh, Pointius Maximus?¡± he said, tilting his head toward his almost-pointy stick. He¡¯d become oddly attached to it since using it to slay the mighty blue slime. ¡°Well, I guess I should get started with the day. Breakfast was barely edible, which is way better than my last few meals of ¡®burnt to a crisp.¡¯ So that¡¯s progress!¡± He stood up and surveyed his makeshift camp ¡ª surprisingly functional after four days. A leaning frame of logs draped with large leaves formed his shelter. A small fire pit was surrounded by stones to retain heat. A one-foot-high dirt wall stood nearby.
Any tiny invaders would take at least a few seconds longer to climb over that.
¡°Alright, let¡¯s review mana regeneration,¡± he said, talking to the stick, which now stayed holstered through a loop on his belt. ¡°Eating roasted berries gives me 2 mana per big handful. Napping gives me 1 mana per hour. Overexerting myself gives me a temporary exhaustion debuff that slows recovery. Conclusion: mana regen = eat ¡ú sleep ¡ú repeat.¡± After a short walk, he arrived at the river. He knelt down and drank deeply, then began to strip. ¡°We¡¯ve got to stay clean, Pointius Maximus! It¡¯s important not to smell like a hobo in case we meet someone. I mean, if I saw a hobo in the wild, I¡¯d run the other way!¡± He stepped into the cold water slowly. ¡°Oh man, this is cold! Maybe I should¡¯ve asked for the power to heat large bodies of water. Then I could¡¯ve made a hot spring¡­ and it would attract all the beautiful ladies¡­ and¡­¡± He paused, wincing. ¡°Okay! You¡¯ve been alone for four days. That¡¯s all. Get a hold of yourself, man!¡± He had designated training zones now ¡ª piles of sticks, stones, and leaves arranged for repeated practice. First, he dried the wood, then reshaped it into different forms: pointy sticks, sticks with holes, bent sticks ¡ª none of it impressive, but the effort mattered. He even worked with rocks. His magic wasn¡¯t strong enough to do much with them, but little by little, he could chip away at them ¡ª creating real rock dust. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it This went on for several more days. Nights were the hardest. Even with the fire lit, his mana regenerating, and a full belly, the silence always crept in. He¡¯d lie beneath his leaf shelter and stare at the sky.
I used to dream about this, you know. Escaping my jobless life. Waking up in a fantasy world. Getting powers. Becoming someone important¡­ But I didn¡¯t think it would be this¡­ lonely.
Then it happened. [Mana]: Lvl 3 ¨C Remaining: [18/30][Matter Manipulation]: Lvl 5 ¨C EXP: [5/160] ¡°Let¡¯s go! Level 5 in Matter Manipulation! It¡¯s taken a ton of hard work, but we finally did it, my brave stick friend! And as promised¡­ it¡¯s time to upgrade you.¡± He approached the pile of sticks ¡ª his personal armory. Pointius Maximus sat proudly on top. ¡°Here we go. By combining several sticks, there should be enough matter to¡­¡± He placed both palms on the pile. A warm glow spread as the sticks began to merge, intertwining and reshaping themselves into something new. When it was done, he held a short wooden sword ¡ª clearly defined, cleanly pointed, and ¡ª dare he say it ¡ª majestic. ¡°We did it! We actually did it!¡± The sword glowed on its own. Text floated above it: [Pointius Maximus] Wooden Sword ATK: 5 DEF: 1 SPD: 0.5 ¡°Wait¡­ are those attributes? Did I just make something this world recognizes as a real weapon!?¡± He pumped his fist. ¡°HELL YEAH!¡± His celebration, however, was short-lived. A low growl echoed through the trees. ¡°¡­Oh crap. I think I pissed off the wolves.¡± A single wolf emerged from the underbrush ¡ª head low, eyes locked. He raised the sword and braced for impact. The wolf lunged ¡ª fast, too fast. In a blur, it passed by him. But¡­ he wasn¡¯t hit. He spun around, heart racing ¡ª and saw the wolf, standing behind him with a deer¡¯s throat in its jaws. It had tackled a buck mid-pounce and was now dragging the fresh kill toward him. ¡°¡­Oh. You¡¯re a good boy, aren¡¯t you?¡± The wolf¡¯s tail wagged. ¡°You want me to cook this? Are you hungry, boy?¡± The wolf dropped the deer and panted excitedly. He dragged the carcass back to camp and lit a small fire. Then, grabbing a log, he reshaped it into a crude wooden knife. ¡°Okay, boy. I¡¯ve got zero experience here. Let¡¯s see if I can get something edible without ruining all of it.¡± It took hours, but he managed to remove the hide and skewer a few chunks of meat over the fire. Soon¡­ black smoke. ¡°OH CRAP! Burnt it again!¡± The wolf huffed in disappointment, tail slowing to a thump. Then, without hesitation, it trotted to the rest of the carcass and began eating raw. ¡°Wait! I can do better! Just let me try one more¡ª¡± But it was too late. He sat with the last skewer of charcoal deer, watching the wolf lie content next to a fully stripped skeleton. ¡°I guess that¡¯s fair. You did hunt it after all.¡± He took a bite of his burnt meal. ¡°Still¡­ It''s nice to finally have meat again. Even if it is burnt to a crisp.¡± He lay down under his shelter, the warmth of the fire crackling beside him. The wolf curled up nearby, its breathing slow and steady. He smiled. Genuinely.
Maybe¡­ just maybe¡­ things are about to get a little bit better.
Chapter 5 – Friendship, Firewood, and the First Step Forward The campfire had burned low as the sun began to rise, leaving behind warm coals and a few flickering embers. He leaned back against the trunk of his ¡°bedroom tree,¡± chewing on the last (burnt) bit of dried meat from the day before. The wolf lay a few feet away, watching him ¡ª not quite curled up, not quite alert. Somewhere between a relaxed guard dog and a curious toddler. He stared back. ¡°Well¡­ we¡¯ve been traveling together for, what, a couple of days now? And I still don¡¯t know what to call you.¡± The wolf tilted its head.
It always does that when I talk. It¡¯s adorable. Like it¡¯s trying to figure out if I¡¯m stupid¡­ or just entertaining.
¡°I can¡¯t keep calling you ¡®hey, wolf,¡¯¡± he said, scratching the back of his head. ¡°That¡¯s rude. You need a name. Something noble. Something cool. Something that says, ¡®this is my fluffy murder companion.¡¯ Right, boy?¡± The wolf huffed softly ¡ª not aggressive, just exasperated. He raised an eyebrow. ¡°What, you don¡¯t have any suggestions? Okay, fine. Let¡¯s workshop this.¡± He stood up and began pacing like a man in a deep creative crisis. ¡°Fang? Too edgy. Bandit? Too clich¨¦. Mr. Floof?¡± He paused. ¡°Actually¡­ kinda love that one.¡± Another head tilt.
It¡¯s judging me. I can feel it.
¡°Alright, how about something cool and mysterious?¡± he said. ¡°You always sneak up on me, you move like smoke, and your fur¡¯s darker at night¡­¡± He tapped his chin. ¡°¡­Shadow. Yeah. That works.¡± The wolf blinked. ¡°You like that?¡± he asked. The wolf gave the faintest wag of its tail ¡ª so subtle he almost missed it. ¡°Awesome. Shadow it is, then! My loyal sidekick! My silent partner! My brooding beast of the woods!¡± The tail stopped wagging. Another huff, louder this time, and looked away with a flick of its ears. He froze. ¡°¡­Wait. Are you offended by ¡®brooding¡¯? Or ¡®beast¡¯? Are you¡­ not a boy?¡± Another loud huff. She laid her head down in the grass and stared at him ¡ª unimpressed. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°¡­Well, too late now,¡± he muttered, crossing his arms. ¡°You should¡¯ve spoken up earlier, dude.¡± She let out a long, theatrical sigh. He turned back toward his shelter. ¡°Alright, boy¡ªGirl¡­¡± Her tail wagged slightly.
¡°My Matter Manipulation reached level six yesterday, and I can finally create these!¡± he said proudly, holding out a few new tools. In one hand: a canteen for water. In the other: a small leather pouch made from the deer hide he¡¯d cut a few days back. Around his waist, a newly formed belt secured the pouch and supported his slightly pointy sword. ¡°I think we have what we need to finally make our way out of here. I need to find out if this world actually has civilization. It¡¯d be pretty grim if I was the only person around.¡± He paused, glancing at Shadow. ¡°¡ªUh, not that you¡¯re not great companionship, girl. It¡¯d just be nice to have someone who could talk back, you know¡­¡± He mumbled under his breath. ¡°Maybe even someone cute?¡± Shadow tilted her head again, this time with what he could¡¯ve sworn was an eye roll. ¡°Well, what are we waiting for!? Adventure awaits, Shadow!¡± She jumped up with a slight wag of her tail, clearly excited to finally get moving. He chose a direction and started walking ¡ª no map, no real plan ¡ª but after some time, he realized he was following the same river he¡¯d used for water and bathing.
That¡¯s odd¡­ but now that I think about it, I guess I read somewhere that following a river can lead to civilization. Could I have subconsciously known to do this?
As the thought passed, he noticed Shadow up ahead. Could she have been leading him all along? ¡°Hey, Shadow. Do you know where we¡¯re going? Did you lead us this way?¡± Shadow looked back nonchalantly, and once again, he was sure she rolled her eyes.
Could it be that this wolf is actually smarter than me? Damn it.
They walked for what felt like hours. The terrain varied: thorny brush, rocky inclines, muddy slopes ¡ª but it was also peaceful. Birds chirped. The forest smelled earthy and alive. He hadn¡¯t noticed how nice it was just to be somewhere quiet without dying every few minutes. But then... the breeze picked up. The crisp air that once felt refreshing had turned sharp and biting. ¡°Uhh¡­ Shadow? I think there¡¯s a storm coming. Take a look at those clouds. We need to find shelter. Fast!¡± Shadow¡¯s tail gave a flick ¡ª almost like a nod. Soon, the storm was upon them. Lightning lit the sky in stark flashes. Thunder rolled like the heavens were cracking open. Rain pelted them in heavy sheets, soaking through his hoodie within seconds. ¡°There!¡± he shouted, pointing toward a muddy cliff face with a narrow overhang. ¡°That looks like our best shot!¡± They darted toward it and barely squeezed under the ledge ¡ª huddling together beneath the rocky outcrop, trying to shield themselves from the wind and rain. ¡°I guess we picked a real winner of a day to leave camp, huh, girl?¡± he muttered through chattering teeth. ¡°Then again, winds like this probably would¡¯ve flattened my old shelter.¡± The words had barely left his mouth when a thunderclap boomed directly overhead. The overhang trembled. He looked up. ¡°Shadow¡­¡± The cliff cracked. ¡°LOOK OUT!¡± He lunged toward her, grabbing her by the scruff just as the ledge gave way. The sound was deafening ¡ª like a wave of rock and mud collapsing all at once. He felt himself being pulled. Felt the ground vanish beneath his feet. Felt the crushing weight of mud crash down over him. And then... Black. Chapter 6 – The Shape of a Name Sunlight beamed from a deep blue sky. It was another beautiful day in a seemingly serene world. But the land below told a different story. Dried mud covered the area like scars from a battle. A patch of it began to shift, cracking and breaking as a figure pushed through. He pulled himself from the debris with a grunt, exhausted and aching. His face shifted from disoriented to terrified. ¡°Shadow!? Come on, girl¡­ Please be okay!¡± He frantically scanned the area, clawing at the mud with wild desperation. And then he saw them ¡ª two small, pointed, fluffy ears poking up through the sludge. ¡°SHADOW!¡± He ran to her and began digging with everything he had. ¡°Please, Shadow¡­ Please don¡¯t leave me alone again!¡± Tears streamed down his face as he worked. As the mud cleared, a shape emerged. Not a wolf ¡ª but a girl. A small, humanoid figure. ¡°What the heck¡ª?¡± he muttered, confused. ¡°Whatever¡­ I need to keep digging. This girl needs help too!¡± With effort, he pulled her out of the mud and laid her carefully on the ground. Pressing his ear to her nose, he held his breath. A soft exhale. ¡°She¡¯s alive!¡± He dragged her unconscious body to the river, washing away the layers of mud and dirt. It wasn¡¯t until most of the grime was gone that he finally took a moment to look at her properly. She was small. Fragile. Young. But unmistakably not human. Wolf ears sat atop her head. A tail draped across her legs. ¡°¡­Shadow?¡± Hours passed. They were now in a makeshift shelter ¡ª his best construction so far. His [Matter Manipulation] had improved dramatically since he first arrived in this world, and it showed in the wooden framework and leafy insulation around them. A small fire flickered beside her, casting a soft orange glow across her sleeping form. He sat by her side, watching. Hoping. Days passed. He worked tirelessly to build the new camp, keeping Shadow warm, fed, and safe. He crafted new tools: a stone-tied axe, a crude but functional shovel. His old wooden ¡°sword¡± had been upgraded again, now with sharpened stone embedded along the edge. [Pointius Maximus] Stone Sword This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ATK: 7?DEF: 2?SPD: 0.5 [Matter Manipulation]: Lvl 8 ¨C EXP: [25/1280] ¡°I¡¯m making good progress,¡± he muttered one night, holding the sword by the fire. ¡°Took long enough, but hey ¡ª a wooden sword wouldn¡¯t have helped much if I ever needed it.¡± He chuckled nervously, glancing at Shadow. That night, something changed. She stirred. Is she¡­ finally waking up? He rushed to her side, gently lifting her head to help support her as she sat up. Her golden eyes fluttered open. Her tail gave a tiny wag. Then her eyes widened. She looked down at herself ¡ª and screamed. In a flash of light, her body reverted into her wolf form. The scream turned into a soft whimper, and a moment later¡­ she shifted back again. ¡°Be careful,¡± he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°You don¡¯t have much energy. You¡¯ve been out for days. Take it easy. Here ¡ª I got you some water.¡± He handed her a cup. She took a careful sip, her eyes never leaving his. Then, curling her legs to her chest and wrapping her tail around them, she looked down. ¡°I¡­ you¡­ don¡¯t hate me?¡± she asked softly. ¡°Hate you?¡± he echoed. She flinched at his tone. ¡°Of course I don¡¯t hate you. You¡¯re my travel companion.¡± She looked up at him, confused. ¡°But¡­ you know what I am now. Nobody likes Beastkin.¡± Beastkin¡­ That must be a race in this world? How could anyone not like that? It¡¯s super cute! ¡°I¡¯ve never met a Beastkin before,¡± he said. ¡°But if others are like you, how could I not like them?¡± She blinked, eyes wide. ¡°You¡­ really mean that? You don¡¯t think I¡¯m a freak because of my ears and tail?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Not at all.¡± He reached out slowly and placed a hand atop her head. She flinched, then relaxed as his hand gently stroked her ears. ¡°I think your ears and tail are the most adorable things I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± he said. ¡°And now that I can actually talk to you¡­ I¡¯m glad. I¡¯ve been alone out here for so long. Having someone to talk to again? It¡¯s nice.¡± Her cheeks flushed. Her tail slowly began to wag behind her. ¡°I was watching you for a while before we met,¡± she admitted. ¡°There was something about you that felt¡­ kind. I guess I was right. You¡¯re so kind, Mr¡­ um¡­¡± She paused. ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¡ª I don¡¯t know your name.¡± He blinked. He hadn¡¯t thought about that. Do I use my real name? No¡­ this is a new world. A new life. I should start fresh¡­ He thought for a moment. Images of his favorite character, Trevor Belmont, flashed through his mind ¡ª along with the bao buns he missed so dearly. ¡°Bao¡­mont. Baomont¡­¡± He nodded. ¡°My name is Travis Baomont.¡± She smiled warmly. ¡°Baomont¡­ Mr. Baomont. It¡¯s very nice to meet you. And¡­ Thank you. For saving my life.¡± He smiled back, continuing to gently pet her head. This time, she leaned into his hand. ¡°Oh, right,¡± he said. ¡°Now that you can talk¡­ I should probably call you by your real name, huh?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I like the name you gave me,¡± she said shyly. ¡°It¡¯s a really good name. And if you gave it to me¡­ that makes it special.¡± ¡°Really? Well¡­ alright then. Shadow it is.¡± They sat together in quiet peace. Shadow slowly curled up again ¡ª this time in his lap. As the fire burned low and the stars twinkled overhead, the night passed without incident. Birds began to chirp. The first light of dawn crept through the shelter. They both yawned and stretched, glancing at each other with sleepy smiles. A new trust had taken root. I think my adventure in this world just got a whole lot better¡­ Chapter 7 - Where the Tracks Lead Shadow¡¯s ears twitched as light brushed her cheeks, and with a soft sigh, she stretched ¡ª tail curling, legs tucked, arms over her head like a sleepy cat. When she opened her eyes, she blinked at the figure across the fire. Baomont was preparing for the day, sitting cross-legged with a stick in one hand and what looked like a half-sharpened rock in the other. He was clearly trying to make something useful. Instead, it looked like a spoon that had been insulted one too many times and decided to become a weapon out of spite. ¡°Oh! Morning,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°You seemed to sleep well for someone who already spent several days sleeping.¡± Shadow blinked. ¡°You slept well for someone who talked in his sleep all night!¡± ¡°I¡ªwait, I do not.¡± ¡°You were mumbling something about bao buns and betrayal.¡± ¡°¡­I stand by it.¡± She giggled softly, pulling herself upright and adjusting her oversized cloak ¡ª one Baomont had managed to patch together from salvaged deer hide. After a few minutes of stretching and checking the perimeter, the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm ¡ª their first true morning as bi-pedial companions. Baomont cooked breakfast (if heating dried mushrooms on a rock counted as cooking), while Shadow tested her balance on two feet again. Her energy had mostly returned, though she still moved cautiously. ¡°Here,¡± Baomont said, offering her a flat bark plate. ¡°Chef Baomont¡¯s signature: charred shroom slivers with a hint of mystery dust.¡± Shadow accepted it with both hands and a mock-bow. ¡°Truly, a delicacy of the forest.¡± They ate in silence for a while. Then: ¡°You sure you¡¯re up for light work?¡± he asked. She nodded. ¡°I¡¯m not good at sitting still for too long.¡± ¡°Then great. Time to put those hands to use ¡ª unless you¡¯d rather go back to the good ol¡¯ days of carrying sticks in your mouth.¡± Her face flushed slightly. ¡°That was a practical solution at the time.¡± He held up his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Hey, no judgment. You were very efficient. But now that you can walk, we get double the productivity!¡± She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Over the next few days they took it slow. Shadow wasn¡¯t fully recovered yet, so Baomont limited their activity to gathering food, wood, and materials near the river. He gave her space, but also watched her closely ¡ª the way her ears perked up when she found something interesting, how her tail swayed lightly when she was content, or how she reflexively turned into a wolf again when startled. He found it oddly¡­ charming. They shared chores, shared meals, shared stories. Baomont didn¡¯t talk much about where he was from ¡ª at least not yet ¡ª but he did his best to keep her smiling. Bad jokes helped. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve never heard the tale of Sir Pointius Maximus the Second, noble blade of stone and glory?¡± ¡°Was that the rock that chipped itself on a pebble yesterday?¡± ¡°¡­Tragic casualty of war.¡± She laughed. Genuinely. And each time she did, he felt a little more like he belonged here. By the third day, Shadow had recovered enough to start moving without wobbling. She was still cautious, but her tail wagged more freely and her eyes had lost that cloudy exhaustion. She¡¯d even stopped flinching every time a twig cracked. Baomont watched her inspect a cluster of berry bushes like a field scout mapping terrain. ¡°You''re getting faster,¡± he said, as he approached with a bundle of kindling. ¡°If you keep this up, I¡¯ll have to rename you Speedius Maximus.¡± ¡°That name sounds ridiculous.¡± ¡°So do most things, if you say them too fast,¡± he smirked. Shadow grinned faintly, her nose twitching as she sniffed at the berries. ¡°They¡¯re safe. These ones taste bitter, but they won¡¯t poison us.¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Spoken like someone who¡¯s had a very unfortunate berry experience,¡± he said with a raised brow. She looked away. ¡°I might¡¯ve¡­ once or twice.¡± ¡°Solidarity,¡± he said, patting his stomach. ¡°Trust me. I know that journey.¡± Later, as they sat by the fire, Baomont used his Matter Manipulation to carve a few new water flasks out of bark and resin. Shadow sat nearby, watching the flames. ¡°Are you really sure about leaving this place?¡± she asked quietly. He paused. ¡°Yeah. I mean¡­ It''s comfortable here, sure. But it¡¯s not enough. We need to find people. Towns. Roads. Something.¡± Her ears flicked. ¡°People aren¡¯t always good.¡± ¡°I know,¡± he said softly. ¡°But sometimes they are. And even if they¡¯re not¡­ I still want to understand this world. I can¡¯t do that hiding in the woods forever.¡± She was quiet for a moment. Then, ¡°You talk like someone who¡¯s seen a lot¡­ but you don¡¯t know much about here. Like... at all.¡± Baomont chuckled and leaned back, hands behind his head. ¡°That obvious, huh?¡± She nodded slowly, watching him. ¡°I¡¯m from far away,¡± he said. ¡°Really far. Let¡¯s just say... I didn¡¯t grow up around forests full of magic wolves and slime monsters.¡± Her gaze didn¡¯t shift. ¡°You¡¯re not lying,¡± she said. ¡°But you¡¯re hiding something.¡± He glanced at her. ¡°I¡¯m not ready to tell that story yet.¡± ¡°¡­Okay,¡± she said at last, curling her legs close. ¡°Just don¡¯t lie to me, Baomont. I¡¯ve had enough of that from other people.¡± He looked at her ¡ª really looked ¡ª and nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± The trees thinned as they walked, revealing stretches of dirt and stone scattered with dry leaves and moss. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in patches, warming their shoulders. Shadow¡¯s wolf form trotted just ahead of Baomont, tail flicking in rhythm with her steps. Then she stopped. Baomont nearly walked into her. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked. She raised her nose, sniffed the air, then pointed with one paw. There, half-buried in a patch of dry mud, was a footprint. Human? Definitely booted. Baomont crouched beside it, brushing some of the dirt away. The tread was still defined ¡ª heavy, thick-heeled, not recent but not old either. ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± Shadow murmured, shifting back into her girl form as she crouched beside him. ¡°A trail¡­ faint, but fresh enough to follow.¡± He looked at her. ¡°What do you think? Bandits? Travelers?¡± ¡°Could be either,¡± she said quietly. ¡°But they¡¯re human.¡± Baomont stood slowly, brushing his hands off. ¡°We should follow them. It might be a sign of civilization.¡± Shadow didn¡¯t move. ¡°...You okay?¡± Her ears lowered. Her tail curled inward. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do this,¡± she admitted. ¡°Humans¡­ where I come from¡­ they¡¯re not kind to people like me.¡± Baomont turned to her fully. ¡°What do you mean?¡± She hesitated, ¡°Beastkin are treated as property. Slaves. Pets, if they¡¯re lucky. If I get recognized¡­¡± Her voice trailed off. Baomont¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Is that what happened to you?¡± She nodded, eyes downcast. ¡°I escaped. That¡¯s why I led us this way ¡ª away from where I came from.¡± A moment of silence passed between them. Only the wind rustled the trees. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said softly. She shook her head. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be. You didn¡¯t do it.¡± ¡°No, but¡­ if we¡¯re going to keep traveling, I need to know you¡¯re safe.¡± He looked at the footprints again. ¡°Would anyone recognize you?¡± ¡°Not out here,¡± she said. ¡°I was kept in the east. I don¡¯t think they¡¯d follow me this far. Still¡­¡± Baomont rubbed his chin. ¡°Then we¡¯ll do what we have to. If anyone asks, we¡¯ll say¡­¡± He trailed off, then looked at her apologetically. ¡°We¡¯ll say you¡¯re mine.¡± Shadow blinked. ¡°Not like that,¡± he added quickly. ¡°Not really. Just as a cover. If people think you¡¯re already ¡®owned¡¯ ¡ª they won¡¯t try to take you. Right?¡± She nodded, slowly. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not a lie they¡¯d question. And it might work.¡± ¡°You okay with that?¡± She looked up at him. Then gave a small, sad smile. ¡°If it means I can stay free, then yes.¡± He offered his hand. ¡°Then let¡¯s keep walking.¡± She took it, and they stepped off the trail together, following the footprints into the unknown. They followed the trail for hours. The forest gave way to worn grass, and the dirt beneath their feet gradually became more compact ¡ª less wild, more traveled. The boot prints became clearer, and new signs began to appear. A faded wheel rut. The faint edge of a stone wall, crumbled with age. A rusted iron nail half-buried in the soil. Baomont adjusted the pouch on his belt and looked ahead. A breeze blew, carrying with it the scent of smoke ¡ª not fire, but the kind that clings to rooftops and hearths. Shadow¡¯s ears perked up. ¡°There,¡± she said, pointing toward a ridge in the distance. Baomont squinted past the trees. Beyond a low hill, he saw it ¡ª rooftops, chimneys, stone buildings nestled into the landscape. Smoke rose gently from several of them, and the faint sound of distant movement reached his ears. A town. Not large. Not grand. But real. His heart beat faster. After all this time ¡ª signs of people. Of structure. Of answers. He took a step forward, but stopped when he heard it: ¡°Are you new here?¡± The voice came from behind them. Calm. Curious. Unfamiliar. Baomont froze, turning his head slowly. Shadow stood still beside him, ears angled back, tail stiff. Chapter 8 - A Tour, A Tavern, and a Fist to the Face Baomont froze. The voice was soft, curious, and close ¡ª too close. Shadow, in her humanoid form, stepped instinctively beside him, tail low and ears angled back. He turned slowly. Behind them, standing at the edge of the path with a curious tilt of her head, was a girl. About their age, with short brown hair tied in a loose side braid, a simple travel cloak, and a satchel slung over one shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with interest, not suspicion. Her tone had been light. Friendly. ¡°You¡¯re definitely new,¡± she said again, stepping forward with a smile. ¡°I would¡¯ve remembered seeing a guy with that hairstyle and a companion with ears that fluffy.¡± Baomont blinked. ¡°Uh¡­ thanks?¡± ¡°Not an insult!¡± she laughed, waving her hands. ¡°I mean it. You two kind of stand out. Most travelers come through with carts or wagons, not leather belts and¡­ is that a bark canteen?¡± Shadow glanced up at Baomont, lips twitching in what might¡¯ve been amusement. ¡°Long story,¡± Baomont replied. ¡°We¡¯re just passing through.¡± ¡°Well, welcome to Greendale!¡± the girl beamed. ¡°It¡¯s not big, and the tavern smells like pickled everything, but the bread¡¯s warm and the roofs only leak a little. I¡¯m Mira.¡± ¡°Baomont,¡± he said, giving a small nod. ¡°And this is Shadow.¡± Mira¡¯s eyes flicked to Shadow, who gave a slight bow of her head ¡ª silent but alert. ¡°Nice to meet you!¡± Mira chirped. ¡°You¡¯re not from the east, are you? You don¡¯t talk like them.¡± Baomont shook his head. ¡°Far away. First time in this part of the world.¡± ¡°Lucky me!¡± Mira clapped her hands together. ¡°I love meeting new people. You have no idea how rare that is in a town where the most exciting thing is the seasonal beet competition.¡± ¡°¡­Beet competition?¡± Baomont asked. ¡°It¡¯s intense,¡± she said with a straight face, then grinned. ¡°Anyway! You¡¯re in luck ¡ª I¡¯ve got the morning off, and I happen to be an excellent tour guide. Wanna see the town?¡± He hesitated. Shadow looked up at him, eyes cautious but not opposed. Baomont nodded slowly. ¡°Sure. Just... maybe go easy on the beet facts.¡± ¡°No promises!¡± Mira turned and began marching toward the town. ¡°Come on. It¡¯s not far.¡± The dirt path wound gently into the heart of Greendale. It wasn¡¯t much of a town ¡ª more like a collection of weather-worn stone buildings, wooden homes with thatched roofs, and the occasional crooked chimney puffing smoke into the blue sky. But there was a warmth to it. A rhythm. Chickens scratched at patches of grass, a dog barked lazily from a porch, and the distant ring of a hammer echoed from somewhere deeper in town. Baomont took it all in quietly. Shadow stayed close to his side, her tail still but not tucked ¡ª alert but calm. Mira walked ahead, pointing things out as they passed. She gestured to a faded sign painted with a steaming mug and what might have once been a loaf of bread. ¡°That¡¯s the inn ¡ª you can¡¯t miss it, it¡¯s the only building with three full floors. Watch your head on the staircase though, it leans a little to the left.¡± ¡°And over there¡¯s the smithy. Old Man Feron runs it. Grumpy as a gorgon but sharp as his blades. If you need anything forged or fixed, he¡¯s your guy ¡ª just don¡¯t haggle. He nearly clomped a merchant¡¯s head once with a horseshoe.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ comforting,¡± Baomont muttered. Mira giggled. ¡°It¡¯s Greendale charm! You get used to it.¡± They rounded a bend and stepped into what passed for a market square ¡ª five stalls, two carts, and one bored-looking man trying to sell pickled radish in jars the size of barrels. Baomont raised an eyebrow. ¡°Let me guess. Beet competition champion?¡± ¡°Oh no,¡± Mira said with mock seriousness. ¡°That¡¯s radish Ron. The beet family¡¯s on the other side of town.¡± Shadow gave a quiet snort. Baomont wasn¡¯t sure if it was a laugh, but it was adorable all the same. As they passed a produce stand, Baomont slowed, noticing a row of small coins in a shallow dish ¡ª copper, silver, and one that shimmered faintly like polished obsidian. Mira caught his glance. ¡°You haven¡¯t used local currency before, have you?¡± ¡°Not exactly,¡± Baomont said carefully. ¡°No problem. It¡¯s simple ¡ª copper, also known as gleams, is for cheap stuff, silver for anything important, and obsidian coins are rare. They''re called shadestones. Mostly used by nobles or guilds.¡± ¡°And gold?¡± Shadow asked softly. Mira tilted her head. ¡°We don¡¯t really see gold here. Maybe in the cities. Most folks never touch it.¡± Baomont nodded slowly, filing that away. They wandered further ¡ª past the town¡¯s notice board (mostly requests for firewood, pest control, and one scrawled ¡°lost goat¡± flyer), a small stone chapel with no clear deity symbols, and a general goods shop with a sun-bleached awning and cracked display window. Mira bounced from spot to spot like like she was a tour guide extraordinaire, excited to share everything ¡ª and Baomont let her. Every name, price, and side comment painted another corner of the world in his mind. So this is what normal life looks like here. People. Commerce. Simplicity. It feels real. He didn¡¯t even notice how far they¡¯d walked until Mira turned and clapped her hands together. ¡°And that¡¯s our humble Greendale! Not bad for a town that smells like pickles, right?¡± Baomont chuckled. ¡°Not bad at all.¡± Shadow gave a small smile, just enough to be seen. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Mira led them back toward the square with a spring in her step. ¡°You two should totally stop by the tavern tonight. It¡¯s stew night ¡ª first bowl¡¯s free for travelers, and they do this awful thing with stringed instruments that¡¯s somehow still charming.¡± Baomont smiled faintly¡­ but his hand drifted to his belt pouch. He opened it. Empty. Not just coinless. Utterly barren. ¡°Uh¡­ about that stew,¡± he said. ¡°Do you know if the free bowl covers a ¡®very hungry person and his hungry friend who may or may not eat enough for three people¡¯?¡± Mira blinked. ¡°You don¡¯t have any coin?¡± ¡°Not a single¡­ what did you call them? Copper clink?¡± ¡°Gleam,¡± she corrected. ¡°Copper gleams. And you won¡¯t get very far without coins, though just a few coppers is plenty.¡± Baomont scratched the back of his neck, thinking. There was that notice board¡­ firewood, right? He looked around. ¡°Hey. That firewood request we saw earlier ¡ª is that something we can get paid for?¡± Mira¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Yeah! It¡¯s always up. Winters hit hard here and the local logger moved two towns over. But you¡¯d need a lot to get anything decent. Like a full cart.¡± Baomont nodded. ¡°We can do that.¡± Shadow tilted her head. ¡°You can make that much firewood?¡± He grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve been practicing.¡± They turned to a nearby produce stall run by a wrinkled old man with a straw hat and a vaguely suspicious glare. Baomont approached with Mira and Shadow in tow. ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± Mira said politely. ¡°Could my friends borrow your cart for a bit? They¡¯re collecting firewood to turn in at the board.¡± The man eyed Baomont, then Shadow, then Mira ¡ª then the coin dish Baomont wasn¡¯t holding. ¡°¡­Bring back half the haul,¡± he grunted. ¡°Dry. Clean. No barky garbage.¡± Baomont gave him a confident nod. ¡°You¡¯ll get the good stuff. Promise.¡± The man grunted again ¡ª either approval or indigestion ¡ª and waved them off. Soon after, they rolled the cart toward the edge of the nearby woods. It was quiet there, but not eerie ¡ª just the soft stillness of a forest in early autumn. Birds chirped lazily overhead. Baomont stopped at the base of a large tree. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Let¡¯s see if level eight can handle this.¡± He placed both hands on the trunk. Matter Manipulation: Process Tree ¡ª Dry Firewood. The glow from his palms pulsed outward, golden lines swirling across the bark like veins. The tree shuddered. Leaves fell. And then ¡ª with a creaking sigh ¡ª it deconstructed itself. Bark slid away, moisture drifted off as steam, and the wood split into clean, uniform pieces of firewood. Dry. Stackable. Perfect. Shadow¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Whoa,¡± Mira breathed. ¡°That¡¯s... really good.¡± Baomont dusted off his hands. ¡°Took me three days to make a cup. Now I can dismantle a tree. I¡¯m basically nature¡¯s worst nightmare. Shadow, remind me to put ¡®professional lumberjack¡¯ on my adventurer r¨¦sum¨¦..¡± Shadow simply gave him a blank expression. They began loading the cart. Mira helped stack. Shadow arranged them with alarming efficiency. Might not be glamorous, but it¡¯s something. We¡¯re not just surviving now. We¡¯re contributing. And for the first time since arriving in this world, Baomont felt like maybe ¡ª just maybe ¡ª he was starting to get the hang of it. The trip back to Greendale wasn¡¯t as breezy as the walk out. The cart creaked with every step. Each wheel groaned under the sheer mass of firewood now packed tightly inside ¡ª a pile taller than Baomont and twice as wide. He and Shadow each pushed from one side while Mira walked ahead, occasionally turning around to offer helpful advice like: ¡°Try not to hit that rock!¡± Or: ¡°If the wheel falls off, I¡¯m not fixing it!¡± Baomont gritted his teeth and shoved harder. So this is the real fantasy grind: manual labor and back pain. Sweat ran down his back. His boots slipped in the dirt more than once. Shadow, now in wolf form, tried her best to help by dragging one side of the cart with a rope in her teeth. They finally rolled into the town square with the grace of a collapsing tent. The stall owner blinked when he saw them. ¡°¡­I was expecting a bundle,¡± he said slowly. ¡°Not an entire grove.¡± Baomont wiped his forehead and gestured to the perfectly chopped, dried, and ready-to-stack logs. ¡°All delivered, as promised.¡± The man nodded, somewhat impressed. ¡°Not bad. Real good work. Tell you what ¡ª this¡¯ll fetch double the standard. Don¡¯t get hauls like this in a week, let alone a morning.¡± He handed over a small leather pouch, the faint clink of coins inside more satisfying than any treasure chest Baomont could¡¯ve imagined. He peeked inside. A mix of copper gleams¡­ and a few silver ones too. Jackpot. Mira led them around the corner and through a squat wooden door under a weathered iron sign that read: The Sputtering Kettle. The inside wasn¡¯t fancy ¡ª and honestly, it smelled like three kinds of stew battling for dominance ¡ª but it was cozy. Warm. And surprisingly homely. Lanterns cast flickering gold light across the wooden beams. A fire crackled in a corner hearth. Long tables were crowded with townsfolk laughing, shouting, and raising mugs high. A duo of musicians on a small stage ¡ª one on a stringed instrument that was definitely out of tune, the other tapping rhythm on a barrel ¡ª provided a melody that was more enthusiasm than talent. Baomont took it all in with a slow breath. Shadow stayed close but no longer tense, scanning the room with cautious curiosity. ¡°This is¡­ kinda great,¡± Baomont muttered. Mira beamed. ¡°Told you. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s ours.¡± They found a table near the corner, just close enough to the fire to feel its warmth. Baomont took a seat with a groan, his legs sore from the haul. Shadow sat beside him, back straight, tail tucked neatly to the side. Mira plopped into her chair like someone who belonged. Baomont raised a hand and flagged down the innkeeper, a round woman with flour-dusted sleeves and sharp eyes. ¡°Three bowls of stew,¡± he said, ¡°and a round of whatever counts as celebratory around here.¡± The woman raised a brow at him. ¡°¡­We¡¯re paying,¡± he added, and jingled the pouch. Mira blinked. ¡°Wait, you don¡¯t have to¡ª¡± ¡°We¡¯re treating you,¡± Baomont said. ¡°For helping us with the cart. And the tour. And the firewood guy who probably would¡¯ve said no if you hadn¡¯t stepped in.¡± Mira flushed and shrugged. ¡°Okay¡­ but only if you let me get dessert.¡± ¡°Deal,¡± Baomont grinned. Time slipped by like ale through a leaky mug. The trio ate until their bowls were dry and scraped. The stew was simple ¡ª potatoes, chunks of meat, something green he chose not to identify ¡ª but it was warm and not charred, and Baomont couldn¡¯t remember the last time a meal hit so well. They laughed. They talked about everything and nothing ¡ª how Mira wanted to become a proper mage (¡°I¡¯ve only singed my eyebrows twice¡±), how Shadow could apparently tell the age of meat by smell alone, and how Baomont once tried to build a chair out of sticks and accidentally made a crown instead. ¡°Still sat in it,¡± he muttered. ¡°Best throne I ever had.¡± As the night wore on, the trio found themselves drawn into the tavern''s rhythm. One of the musicians managed to fix his tuning halfway through a song, and the crowd erupted like it was a miracle. A few people danced. Others shouted drinking songs. Someone juggled onions. Mira clapped along to the music, then grabbed Shadow¡¯s hand and dragged her into the loose crowd. Baomont followed, uncertain at first ¡ª until one drink turned into two, then three. By the fourth mug, he was singing badly and dancing worse. Shadow didn¡¯t say much, but she smiled freely, her tail flicking with the beat. At one point, someone gave her a flower crown. She kept it on all night. Baomont toasted three separate strangers and gave a heartfelt speech about stew being the glue of civilization. It was warm. Loud. Ridiculous. And it felt like home. Until someone bumped into him. Hard. Baomont turned and found himself staring at a broad-shouldered man with half a beard and a full mug of spilled ale soaking his vest. There was a long pause, then, a fist met his face. Everything went black. Chapter 9 - Shelter on the Edge The first thing Baomont felt was pain. Specifically, the dull throb radiating from his jaw ¡ª a persistent, pulsing reminder that someone¡¯s fist had become very well-acquainted with his face the night before. The second thing he felt was warmth. Not fire, but something soft pressed gently against his side. When he finally cracked one eye open, blurry sunlight filtered in through a small window. He was in a simple room, tucked into a wooden bed with a wool blanket over him. The soft murmur of voices and the creak of floorboards below told him he was still in the tavern. Above him, a familiar pair of golden eyes peered down. Shadow. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, a wooden bowl of steaming porridge in her hands. Her ears flicked at his stirring. ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± she said softly. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± Baomont groaned, reaching up to rub his jaw. ¡°Did I win?¡± She tilted her head. ¡°You didn¡¯t even throw a punch.¡± ¡°Sounds like me,¡± he muttered, then blinked. ¡°Wait, this isn¡¯t the floor. How¡¯d I get here?¡± ¡°Mira and I dragged you up the stairs,¡± Shadow replied, handing him the bowl. ¡°Mostly Mira. She¡¯s stronger than she looks.¡± He took the bowl with a grateful nod and blew on the surface. It smelled sweet ¡ª oats and honey. Comfort food. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. ¡°For the rescue. And the porridge.¡± She looked away, brushing her bangs aside. ¡°You¡¯d have done the same for me.¡± They sat in silence for a moment as he ate. The porridge was warm, thick, and healing in ways that went beyond flavor. Eventually, he spoke again. ¡°Last night was¡­ wild.¡± Shadow nodded slowly. ¡°I didn¡¯t know humans could be that noisy. Or happy.¡± ¡°Or drunk,¡± he added. She smiled faintly, but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°It was nice. Being part of something. Even just for a little while.¡± He looked at her. Her posture was relaxed, but her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, fingers twitching slightly. Even now, in the quiet, she was braced for something to go wrong. ¡°You were amazing, by the way,¡± he said. ¡°Out there. Dancing, smiling¡­ You looked free.¡± Shadow¡¯s cheeks flushed, and she lowered her head. ¡°I¡¯m not used to being around people like that,¡± she admitted. ¡°They seemed nice. But it¡¯s hard to forget what most people are like when they see someone like me.¡± Baomont nodded slowly, setting the empty bowl aside. ¡°Well¡­ they didn¡¯t see a beastkin last night,¡± he said. ¡°They saw you. And they liked you.¡± She didn¡¯t answer, but her tail flicked lightly ¡ª thoughtful but uncertain. A sudden commotion broke the calm. Voices ¡ª loud and sharp ¡ª echoed from the street below. Shouts, footsteps, the clatter of a wagon wheel being kicked or dropped. Baomont and Shadow both looked toward the window. Shadow was already halfway to it, moving with quiet speed. Baomont followed, leaning over her shoulder to peer through the small, smudged glass pane. Down in the town square, a group of men stood in a loose formation. Five of them, dressed in dusty traveling cloaks and thick boots. Their clothes were stiff, patterned with red trim and silver clasps ¡ª unfamiliar, but formal. Their gear looked less like that of travelers and more like enforcers. Each man held a parchment in hand. One unrolled his and turned it toward a nearby vendor. The old man leaned forward, squinting. Shook his head. The strangers moved on, approaching another stall. Baomont squinted. ¡°What are they holding?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t see from here,¡± Shadow said, her voice tight. But her posture had gone rigid. Her ears pressed back, and her tail curled tightly around one leg. Baomont glanced at her. ¡°You okay?¡± Her breath hitched. ¡°I know that uniform,¡± she whispered. ¡°They¡¯re from the east. Slavers.¡± Baomont¡¯s blood chilled. She took a step back from the window, eyes wide with dread. ¡°If they¡¯re here¡­ They might be looking for me.¡± Before Baomont could respond, the door burst open with a bang. He jumped in surprise, but Shadow reacted instantly ¡ª dropping low, hands splayed and fingers curled like claws, her posture taut and ready to strike. Mira stood in the doorway, breathless and visibly shaken. ¡°They have a picture of her,¡± she said, voice urgent. ¡°They¡¯re showing it to everyone. Asking questions. They¡¯re definitely looking for Shadow.¡± Shadow took a shaky step back from the door, her hands still curled like claws, breath short and rapid. ¡°They found me¡­¡± she whispered. ¡°No time,¡± Mira said quickly. ¡°They¡¯re heading this way ¡ª I ran ahead as soon as I saw your picture. We have to go. Now.¡± Baomont snapped into motion, grabbing his gear. He turned to Shadow. ¡°Get your stuff, we¡¯re leaving!¡± She nodded, grabbing her cloak and a small bundle of food and gear they had set aside near the bed. The heavy clatter of boots echoed faintly from the floor below. Mira glanced behind her. ¡°They¡¯re asking the tavernkeep if she¡¯s seen anyone ¡®unusual.¡¯ That¡¯s not going to buy us long.¡± ¡°Back door?¡± Baomont asked. ¡°This way,¡± Mira said, already moving. She led them quickly down the hall, away from the main stairs. They passed a pair of startled maids near the linen closet. Shadow stayed low, her hood pulled tight, ears pressed flat. Baomont walked close behind, ready to throw his body in front of anything that moved too fast. Mira threw open a side door and gestured them through a narrow hallway that reeked of bread and damp stone. At the end was a crooked wooden door with a rusted latch. She pushed it open, revealing a narrow alley behind the tavern. ¡°Go!¡± They slipped out into the chill of late morning. Sunlight streamed over the rooftops, and the sound of town life continued ¡ª oblivious to the tension threading through their escape. They crept along the alley wall, ducking behind stacked crates and a loose-hinged fence gate. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Then came the shout. ¡°There! That¡¯s her!¡± Baomont didn¡¯t wait. ¡°Run!¡± They ran. Baomont¡¯s boots pounded the dirt. Mira kept pace surprisingly well, her cloak fluttering behind her. Shadow shifted mid-stride ¡ª fur overtaking flesh in a flash of light ¡ª and bolted ahead on four paws, ears sharp and focused. Behind them, the slavers gave chase. Three, maybe four ¡ª boots thundered over stone and shouted commands rang out. They were gaining ground. They cleared the last line of buildings and hit the treeline, darting into the forest¡¯s shade. Branches whipped past. Roots threatened to trip every step. Shadow weaved through the underbrush effortlessly. Baomont? Not so much. ¡°I am... not built... for sprinting!¡± he gasped. ¡°Then slow them down!¡± Mira shouted. ¡°Right!¡± Baomont skidded to a halt, turned, and dropped to one knee. He pressed both palms into the dirt. Matter Manipulation: Tangle Root ¡ª Spread and Trap! The ground rippled. Vines and roots burst up from the soil in thick, twisting coils. The first slaver hit them head-on and went down hard, legs tangled mid-stride. The second tripped over the first. The third saw it too late. They yelled. Cursed. One even shouted for fire ¡ª but they were stuck. For now. Baomont turned and ran. Up ahead, the terrain sloped. Steeper. Rockier. The trees thinned ¡ª too much light, too little cover. ¡°More are coming!¡± Shadow barked back in her humanoid voice, having shifted again just long enough to speak. ¡°Two flanking from the left!¡± Mira spun, skidding to a halt. ¡°I¡¯ve got this.¡± She planted her feet, raised her staff, and closed her eyes. The crystal at its tip pulsed with light. ¡°Arcane Skill: Magic Missile!¡± Three shimmering bolts of light erupted from her staff and streaked through the air, howling like compressed wind. Each missile found its mark with satisfying force ¡ª knocking the slavers back into trees or flat onto their backs. Baomont slowed just enough to gape. ¡°Okay! That¡¯s cheating!¡± Mira grinned, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. ¡°Basic magic! I only nearly passed out once practicing it!¡± The slavers didn¡¯t follow after that. Or if they did, they were slower. Cautious. The three of them kept running until the trees began to thin¡­ and suddenly, the forest gave way to open sky. They stumbled into a cliffside clearing, grass and stone underfoot, wind sweeping through the open air. Ahead, the land dropped sharply off the edge ¡ª a sheer cliff, overlooking a vast expanse of green, stretching out toward distant hills. ¡°We can¡¯t go further,¡± Baomont said between breaths. ¡°This is it.¡± They had run out of road. But they were alive. Baomont stood at the cliff¡¯s edge, panting, hands on his knees. Wind tugged at his cloak and tousled his hair as he stared out at the open sky. The forest stretched far behind them. The land ahead dropped into a wide, breathtaking valley. Green hills rolled into the distance, broken only by scattered woods and the faint shimmer of water reflecting sunlight. Shadow stood beside him in wolf form, her breathing shallow but steady. Mira leaned against a nearby tree, clutching her staff with shaking hands. ¡°We made it,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Barely,¡± Baomont muttered. He looked around the clearing ¡ª open space, solid ground, trees that hadn¡¯t yet been twisted by his magic. ¡°We¡¯ll rest here for the night,¡± he said. ¡°We need shelter.¡± Shadow tilted her head. ¡°You sure you¡¯re not going to pass out again mid-spell?¡± ¡°No promises,¡± Baomont said. ¡°But this time¡­ I think I¡¯ve got it.¡± He walked toward the treeline, stopping before three thick trees standing in a loose formation. ¡°Okay,¡± he whispered. ¡°Let¡¯s see what level nine can do.¡± He placed both hands on the first trunk. The others followed, watching in silence. Matter Manipulation: Structure Form ¨C Wooden Cabin. Full Conversion. Moisture Extraction. Wall Shape. Beam Lock. Let¡¯s go. A soft pulse of golden light radiated from his palms. The glow traveled through the trunk and then burst outward, rippling into the neighboring trees. Bark peeled and twisted. Branches split and reshaped. The air shimmered with steam as water was pulled free and evaporated instantly. Wood bent and folded as if obeying unseen hands ¡ª forming flat walls, corner joints, thick beams, even a pitched roof with minimal gaps. It wasn¡¯t perfect, even if it wasn¡¯t pretty. But it was a cabin. A real, standing, weather-resistant structure. Baomont wobbled slightly, hands on his knees again. ¡°Okay¡­¡± he gasped. ¡°Definitely¡­ level nine.¡± Shadow stepped forward, blinking in amazement. Mira actually clapped. ¡°This is amazing!¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone shape this much with raw skill before!¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting better,¡± Baomont said, forcing himself upright. ¡°And I used to be proud of sandcastles.¡± Night fell gently over the clearing. The cabin¡¯s fire crackled in a simple stone-lined pit outside the door, casting warm flickers across the rough-hewn walls. Inside, bedrolls had been spread, cloaks hung to dry, and silence had mostly taken hold ¡ª the kind of silence that settled between people who¡¯d run too far, fought too hard, and finally had time to breathe. Shadow sat beside the fire, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her tail curled tight at her side, twitching occasionally. Baomont sat across from her, leaning back on his elbows. Mira was beside him, half-asleep but still listening. For a while, no one said anything. Then Shadow spoke. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever see a place like this. Quiet. Safe. Even for a night.¡± Baomont looked over at her, but didn¡¯t speak. He waited. ¡°I ran away,¡± she said. ¡°From a nobleman in the East. He wasn¡¯t just a slaver ¡ª he used us. Beastkin. For experiments. Magical ones.¡± Mira sat up straighter. ¡°He believed we were¡­ adaptable. That our mana responded differently. He tested spells on us. Pushed our bodies until we broke. Some of us didn¡¯t make it.¡± Her voice stayed soft, even as her hands tightened around her arms. ¡°I pretended to be broken. Weak. I waited. And then¡­ one night, I escaped.¡± She looked up, meeting Baomont¡¯s eyes. ¡°I never expected to get far. And even when I did, I thought¡­ maybe it was better to just keep running. Alone.¡± Baomont leaned forward. ¡°You¡¯re not alone anymore.¡± ¡°You should be,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m putting you in danger. As long as I¡¯m with you, they¡¯ll come after us. You should go your own way.¡± ¡°No.¡± The word came fast. Firm. Shadow blinked. Baomont sat forward fully now, his hands resting on his knees. ¡°You were the first person I met in this world. The first person who didn¡¯t try to sell me something or kill me or run away from me. You stayed with me. You watched over me. You saved me.¡± He exhaled slowly. ¡°You¡¯re the first friend I¡¯ve had in¡­ I don¡¯t even know how long. Maybe longer than I want to admit. So no. I¡¯m not letting you go. You¡¯re not a burden. You¡¯re home.¡± Shadow¡¯s lips parted, but no words came. Her eyes shimmered faintly. Then Mira spoke. ¡°If you go off on your own, they will find you. You don¡¯t have to protect us by leaving. Let us help you.¡± Baomont nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll stay hidden. This spot is isolated. No roads. No signs.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go back to town,¡± Mira offered. ¡°I can bring food. Supplies. Listen for news. If anyone starts sniffing around, I¡¯ll warn you.¡± Shadow looked between them, overwhelmed, then slowly smiled. Just a little. ¡°¡­Okay,¡± she whispered. The fire had burned low. Shadows stretched long along the edge of the clearing as the stars blinked to life, scattered like secrets across the sky. They took turns keeping watch. Baomont took first, seated near the fire with a sharpened stick in his hands and the steady rise and fall of sleeping breaths behind him. Shadow curled near the cabin¡¯s door in her wolf form, tail tucked and finally at peace. Mira slept inside, cloak pulled around her, her staff resting beside her pack. When the horizon began to pale with early light, Mira emerged from the cabin, stretching with a yawn and rubbing her eyes. ¡°Your turn already?¡± Baomont asked. She gave him a sleepy nod and took a seat next to him, warming her hands by the embers. For a moment, neither said anything. Then, she tilted her head. ¡°Last night,¡± she said quietly. ¡°You said something. About¡­ coming to this world.¡± Baomont tensed slightly but didn¡¯t turn to look at her. ¡°I caught it,¡± Mira continued. ¡°I don¡¯t think Shadow did. But¡­ what did you mean?¡± He was silent for a moment. Then he exhaled through his nose and leaned back to look at the sky. ¡°One day,¡± he said. ¡°When the time is right ¡ª I¡¯ll tell you. Both of you.¡± Mira studied him for a moment, then nodded. ¡°No rush. But I¡¯ll be waiting.¡± Baomont smiled faintly. ¡°Yeah. I know.¡± The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the trees in gold. Mira stood, brushing off her cloak. ¡°I should get going. I¡¯ll head back to town, gather what I can. See what people are saying. I¡¯ll be back in a few days ¡ª hopefully with good news.¡± Shadow, now awake and back in her humanoid form, stepped out of the cabin. She and Mira exchanged a brief, quiet smile. ¡°Stay safe,¡± Mira said. ¡°Both of you.¡± ¡°You too,¡± Baomont replied. She disappeared down the path, her staff tapping lightly against the ground as she went. Baomont and Shadow stood together in the growing light, watching the trees sway in the morning breeze. There was danger ahead. But for now, they had a home. And each other. Chapter 10 - We Don’t Run This Time Time passed ¡ª not in weeks or seasons, but in the quiet rhythm of small victories. Each day at the cliffside camp began with sunlight streaming through the trees and the soft crackle of firewood, followed by the scent of breakfast (usually foraged, occasionally edible). Baomont¡¯s shelter ¡ª once a slapped-together box of twigs and desperation ¡ª had evolved. Walls thickened, gaps sealed. Logs stood straight and smooth, dried perfectly through his Matter Manipulation. He reinforced the door with shaped stone anchors. The roof no longer leaked when it rained. He even built chairs. They weren¡¯t pretty ¡ª one leaned, one creaked, and the third had mysteriously vanished within a day of being made (¡°I think the wind took it,¡± Shadow offered), but they worked. That was enough. Shadow had become the camp¡¯s best scout and forager. She mapped the surrounding forest in her head, laid traps, tracked deer, and even started experimenting with drying herbs and meat. They had storage now. Shelves. Beds ¡ª real ones, made of woven bark, moss padding, and leaves layered over cured hide. Shadow insisted on helping with every single one. Mira arrived every few days, pulling a small cart behind a donkey she introduced as Pickle. ¡°Why Pickle?¡± Baomont had asked. ¡°Because that¡¯s what I was eating when I met him,¡± she¡¯d answered cheerfully. Each time she came, she brought supplies ¡ª cloth, tools, spare rope, news from town. In return, Baomont loaded her cart with neat stacks of firewood. ¡°Perfectly dry,¡± she said, inspecting one batch. ¡°Better than anything I could chop.¡± ¡°I aim to please,¡± Baomont replied, then quietly reshaped a knot in the wood just to show off. Pickle remained unimpressed. Evenings were the best part. They sat around the fire ¡ª Mira recounting awkward town gossip (¡°Radish Ron got into a shouting match with the well again¡±), Shadow whittling sticks into surprisingly decent spoons, and Baomont reshaping logs into benches or tweaking the layout of the cabin walls. The world outside the clearing still loomed large. The threat still lingered. But here, for now, there was peace. And for once¡­ it felt like something was being built. Not just a shelter. Something stronger. A real home. Mira didn¡¯t return after three days had passed. Or by five. By the seventh, Baomont and Shadow had started getting nervous ¡ª not for her safety, but for their dwindling spice supply and Mira¡¯s absence of ¡°town gossip¡± updates, which Baomont had reluctantly admitted to enjoying. Then, on the eighth day, she returned. Pickle trotted wearily up the trail just as the sun dipped behind the trees, pulling the cart through the underbrush with Mira guiding the reins. But the camp looked... wrong. Bones littered the perimeter. Dozens of them. Sun-bleached, picked clean, some stacked neatly, others strewn across the ground as if part of some bizarre defensive ritual. Antlers leaned against the outer wall. A deer skull sat perched above the cabin door like a tiny, judgmental guardian. There was no sign of life. Mira slowed. ¡°What the...?¡± She stepped off the trail cautiously, one hand on her staff, eyes scanning the trees. Her boots crunched on a ribcage. ¡°Baomont? Shadow?¡± No answer. She crept toward the cabin, pushing the door open. Inside, the fire had long since gone cold. In the center of the room, on opposite sides of a cleared-out bear hide rug, lay Baomont and Shadow. On their backs. Snoring. Their stomachs were noticeably rounder than usual. A plate with a half-finished venison roast sat nearby, untouched. A rack of drying jerky filled the room with a sweet, smoky scent. ¡°¡­Are they dead?¡± Mira muttered. Shadow snorted mid-snore and rolled over, a bone clutched in her arms like a stuffed animal. Baomont¡¯s foot twitched as he muttered something unintelligible about sauce. Mira sighed, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. A few minutes later, Shadow stirred. Her nose twitched. Then her eyes blinked open. ¡°¡­Mira?¡± she croaked. Mira raised an eyebrow. ¡°I leave you two alone for one week, and you turn into meat hoarders.¡± Baomont groaned, dragging an arm over his eyes. ¡°We didn¡¯t mean to trap the entire herd.¡± ¡°We were trying to reinforce the snares,¡± Shadow added, sitting up slowly. ¡°And then¡­ they just all showed up.¡± ¡°So we adapted,¡± Baomont said, half-proud, half-defensive. ¡°Like resourceful, hungry survivors.¡± ¡°You built a meat fortress,¡± Mira said. ¡°¡­A delicious one,¡± Baomont replied. Another week passed. The deer feast was long behind them. Mira had resumed her visits, bringing stories, tools, and fresher supplies. Baomont and Shadow spent their time reinforcing the camp: raised walls, a lookout perch, and even an alarm line made of clinking hollowed deer bones. Things felt¡­ stable. Which, naturally, couldn¡¯t last. It was nearly dusk when Mira returned again ¡ª but this time, she wasn¡¯t smiling. Pickle galloped into the clearing at full speed, cart half-loaded with supplies and clattering noisily behind him. ¡°Mira?¡± Baomont stood up from his make-shift workbench, brow furrowed. She jumped down before the cart even stopped moving. ¡°Trouble,¡± she said breathlessly. ¡°Big trouble. The town ¡ª Greendale ¡ª it¡¯s under attack.¡± Shadow appeared at his side almost instantly. ¡°Who?¡± Mira¡¯s eyes were wide. ¡°The slavers. Same ones. But more of them this time ¡ª way more. They hit fast. Half the town¡¯s on fire. Some people are already heading this way. I ran ahead.¡± Baomont¡¯s fists clenched. ¡°They came back.¡± Mira nodded grimly. ¡°They¡¯re looking for Shadow. It¡¯s because they couldn¡¯t catch her last time. This must be some sort of retaliation.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Shadow went silent, her tail curled tight behind her. ¡°But people fought back,¡± Mira added quickly. ¡°The townsfolk ¡ª they didn¡¯t just run. They tried to hold them off¡­ but it wasn¡¯t enough.¡± Baomont exhaled, hard. His voice was calm, but his eyes were steel. ¡°Then we¡¯ll fight too.¡± They moved quickly. Baomont began shaping wood and stone with laser focus, his hands glowing with the familiar light of Matter Manipulation as walls grew taller and thicker. He reinforced the cabin, turned tree trunks into barricades, and carved crude stakes to line the outer perimeter. Mira and Shadow gathered supplies. Wood, branches, loose stones. Anything they could carry. Shadow hauled bundles with wolf-form efficiency, Mira dragging armfuls of foraged logs behind her with sheer stubbornness. When Mira returned from one trip, Baomont was standing near the center of the clearing, eyes narrowed as he planned. ¡°If we ring the edge with logs, I can shape them into a defensive wall. Not pretty ¡ª but strong.¡± ¡°We can make fire traps too,¡± Mira offered. ¡°If I enchant a few logs with heatburst runes and we channel flame into them, it¡¯ll scare off anyone who gets too close.¡± Shadow padded up, dropping a pile of stone at his feet. ¡°I can scatter tripwires and traps around the edge. Same style I used for the deer.¡± Baomont grinned. ¡°Let¡¯s make this place impossible to approach.¡± As the sun fell behind the cliff, the first townsfolk arrived. Exhausted, injured, soot-stained, and bleeding ¡ª but alive. They came in small groups, carrying what little they could salvage. Children clung to their parents. Friends helped wounded neighbors. Baomont stepped forward to meet them, just as a familiar figure approached: the tavern keeper from Greendale, her apron torn and ash streaked across her face. ¡°We¡¯ve brought who we could,¡± she said. ¡°And we heard what you¡¯ve done here.¡± Baomont nodded solemnly. ¡°We¡¯re not letting them take anyone.¡± She placed a hand on his arm, firm. ¡°They said they want the girl. The one with the ears.¡± Shadow stood behind him, watching. ¡°We said no,¡± the tavern keeper continued. ¡°We said if they wanted one of us, they¡¯d have to take all of us.¡± The sun had dipped below the horizon, but the camp glowed with firelight ¡ª not from panic, but preparation. Every corner of the clearing had been fortified. The walls stood higher now, reinforced with interlocking wood and stone. Spike traps lined the slope. Simple shelters had been shaped for the townsfolk, who now moved with quiet resolve, tending to wounds, helping the children, sharing food. And waiting. Waiting for the inevitable. They didn¡¯t wait long. From the treeline, the first sound came: boots crushing dry leaves. Then more ¡ª marching in formation. Shadows shifted between trunks, and a voice called out: ¡°Greendale vermin,¡± it sneered. ¡°Hand over the beast.¡± Baomont stepped up onto a raised log platform, the wind tugging lightly at his cloak. He looked down into the forest, at the glint of armor and torchlight. ¡°You¡¯re not welcome here,¡± he called back. Another voice, deeper, closer. ¡°We don¡¯t want the rest of you. Just the creature. Give her up, and we¡¯ll let you all live.¡± Shadow stood beside him, hood pulled low, her hands resting near bone daggers baomont had made for her. Mira stood to his other side, staff glowing faintly in the dark. ¡°No,¡± Baomont said simply. There was silence for a beat. Then the voice came again ¡ª mocking, almost amused. ¡°She¡¯s just a slave. A runaway dog. You¡¯re risking all these lives for that?¡± Baomont didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°She¡¯s not a dog. She¡¯s not a slave. She¡¯s our friend. And if you think we¡¯ll hand her over to people like you¡­ try us.¡± From the line of trees, the torches advanced. The voice snarled, no longer amused. ¡°So be it.¡± Slavers stepped forward. Dozens of them with weapons drawn. The slavers charged. Baomont didn¡¯t hesitate. He slammed both palms down onto the wooden platform beneath him, eyes glowing faintly. Matter Manipulation: Trigger Growth ¨C Vine Trap! From beneath the camp¡¯s floorboards, a rumble. Then ¡ª vines exploded upward, thick and writhing, snapping through the wooden slats. They coiled around boots, knees, torsos ¡ª entangling half a dozen slavers in an instant. Men shouted, blades swung wildly as they tried to cut themselves free. Mira, already standing just behind him, thrust her staff forward. ¡°Fire Rune: Ignite!¡± The ground beneath the front-most slavers flared with glowing red glyphs ¡ª and erupted. Controlled blasts sent dirt flying, flame licking at boots and cloaks. Screams echoed as a few men stumbled backward, trying to put out the fire. And then came Shadow. She leapt from the top of the wall, a streak of silver and shadow, shifting mid-air into her wolf form. With terrifying grace, she crashed into the front line, fangs bared. She moved like a blur ¡ª biting, clawing, leaping between targets. Two fell before they even saw her. The townspeople roared. From the barricades, they hurled stones, sharpened sticks, firewood, even entire tree trunks. Anything they could throw ¡ª they threw. The air filled with improvised weapons and the thump of impact. Baomont held his ground, arms raised, guiding the vines like a conductor. Matter Manipulation: Harden Bark ¨C Defensive Wall Reinforcement. Wood grew thicker, denser, around the camp¡¯s outer edges. Spikes formed along the tops of the walls. Mira¡¯s staff pulsed again ¡ª this time launching glowing blue bolts into the attackers. ¡°Arcane Skill: Magic Missile!¡± They flew like comets, slamming into slavers left and right, tossing bodies back into the dirt. But then ¡ª a shout. A cry. Shadow. She let out a sharp, agonizing yelp as a slaver¡¯s mace collided with her ribs. She hit the ground hard, her body rolling across the dirt. She didn¡¯t get back up. Her form flickered ¡ª wolf fading into humanoid. She lay there, curled and still. ¡°Shadow!¡± Baomont¡¯s heart seized. He dropped everything, vaulting off the platform and down into the chaos below. ¡°Wait¡ªBaomont!¡± Mira called, reaching for him too late. He hit the ground running, sword in hand for the first time. Two slavers turned toward Shadow, their eyes gleaming with triumph. Then they stopped. A light flared. From the back of her hand. It glowed ¡ª just like his had, back when he first arrived. Floating text shimmered above her skin. Her body rose slowly. [Job Class Earned: Assassin] [New Skill: Shadow Step] [New Skill: Backstab] [New Skill: Assassinate] [Agility Level Up: 8 ¡ú 10] Her outfit changed ¡ª soft leather replaced her torn cloak, bracers appearing around her wrists, a hood drawn up over her newly armored shoulders. A belt of knives, tools, and throwing spikes settled at her hips. She opened her eyes. Then she vanished. A ripple of black shadow burst outward, and in a flash, she was gone from where she stood. And then ¡ª She was everywhere. Shadow Step after Shadow Step ¡ª a blink of movement, a glint of silver, a gasp of surprise. One after another, slavers collapsed to the ground, clutching wounds they never saw coming. Her movements were fluid, silent, precise. She wasn¡¯t running anymore. She was hunting. Baomont stared in awe for half a second too long, before a slaver rushed him. He raised his sword ¡ª Pointius Maximus ¡ª and braced. The blade clanged against the attacker¡¯s axe, pushing back with more strength than he expected. He wasn¡¯t skilled, not yet ¡ª but the sword held. He swung again, this time catching the slaver across the leg. The man stumbled. Baomont drove his shoulder forward and knocked him to the ground. Guess it¡¯s my turn to fight. Together ¡ª Baomont, Mira, Shadow ¡ª and the townspeople behind them, they pushed back the last wave. The surviving slavers, bloodied and burned, turned and ran. The clearing fell still. Smoke drifted from scattered runes. Vines curled back into the dirt. Shadow reappeared beside Baomont, panting, her new cloak fluttering in the breeze. Mira walked over, singed but smiling. Baomont lowered his sword. ¡°We did it,¡± he said. They had won. Chapter 11 - A place to Begin Morning came slowly. Soft light spilled across the clearing, casting gold on the freshly packed dirt and smoke-streaked sky. The fires had long since died, but warmth lingered in the way exhausted bodies lay curled under cloaks and furs ¡ª some in cabins, others in makeshift tents or against walls that hadn¡¯t existed even a day ago. Baomont woke up face-first in a patch of moss. His entire body ached. Muscles he didn¡¯t know he had protested as he pushed himself upright, groaning. ¡°Ow. Ow¡­ okay. Still alive. That¡¯s something.¡± Shadow was nearby, curled up in wolf form, tail flicking gently as she dozed in the corner of the cabin-turned-command post. Mira was sprawled on a pile of bedding, one hand still gripping her staff, her hair looking like it had lost a battle with several small tornadoes. Baomont sat back and just¡­ breathed. Victory didn¡¯t feel grand. It felt quiet, but well earned. He stood, stretched, and immediately regretted it. As if summoned by pain and sorrow, Shadow stirred. She shifted mid-stretch, fur giving way to skin and clothes in a soft shimmer of light. ¡°Morning,¡± she mumbled. ¡°Is it? My back says otherwise.¡± Baomont groaned back ¡°You should¡¯ve stretched before the battle,¡± she said with a smirk. ¡°You sound like Mira.¡± ¡°I do not!¡± Mira groaned from the floor without lifting her head. Baomont chuckled. ¡°Glad to see we¡¯re all alive and still insufferable.¡± Shadow lazily trudged toward the door, peeking out. ¡°Looks like some of the townsfolk are already up.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see how they¡¯re doing,¡± Baomont said, grabbing his cloak and wincing as he slung it over his shoulder. ¡°Assuming we can walk without falling over.¡± Outside, the rebuilding had already started. Children darted between tents, carrying firewood or buckets. Someone was hammering. Smoke curled from several campfires. One of the town guards from Greendale waved from atop a hastily built watch platform. The tavern keeper handed out flatbread and thick stew from a bubbling pot. As Baomont approached, a small child tugged on his coat. ¡°Are you the king of the cliff?¡± Baomont blinked. ¡°What?¡± The kid nodded solemnly. ¡°You have a big house and you made the walls.¡± ¡°¡­I guess that does sound kinda king-like,¡± he muttered. Shadow leaned in close. ¡°Should I start calling you ¡®your highness¡¯ now?¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t.¡± Mira appeared with a cup of something hot. ¡°Too late, my liege.¡± Baomont groaned. ¡°I regret everything.¡± The rest of the morning passed in a kind of peaceful chaos. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Some townsfolk were clearing the field of debris. Others were mending tents, salvaging wood, or patching clothes. Tools passed from hand to hand without question. People laughed ¡ª tired, relieved laughter ¡ª the kind that only came after surviving something you didn¡¯t think you could. Baomont helped where he was able¡ª reshaping broken logs, smoothing stone edges, carving out a proper path through the clearing. It was during one of these tasks, reshaping a bent support beam into a door frame, that the tavern keeper approached him. ¡°You¡¯ve got a talent,¡± she said, folding her arms. Baomont glanced up. ¡°For what? Making sticks straighter?¡± She smiled faintly. ¡°For building. For keeping people safe.¡± He wiped his hands and leaned back. ¡°I just did what I could.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± She looked around at the clearing. ¡°A lot of us don¡¯t want to go back. There¡¯s nothing left of Greendale but smoke and soot. But here¡­¡± Her gaze swept the perimeter ¡ª the walls, the cabins, the people working together. ¡°Here, we¡¯re already starting to feel at home, like a fresh start.¡± Baomont went quiet. The idea was obvious, but still surprising. ¡°You want to stay,¡± he said. She nodded. ¡°If you¡¯ll have us.¡± Shadow and Mira stood nearby, listening silently. Baomont looked between them. Mira gave a small, confident nod. Shadow just stepped forward and bumped her shoulder against his gently. He looked back out over the clearing ¡ª at people rebuilding, not just surviving. At walls that hadn¡¯t existed before his hands made them. At fires that warmed, not burned. He exhaled slowly. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s stay.¡± Weeks passed. Then months. The seasons shifted slowly, but the cliffside clearing changed faster. Where once there had been fire pits and patched tents, now stood walls, shaped from thick stone and reinforced with vines so tightly wound they felt like mortar. Walkways and bridges wove between trees. Watchposts dotted the perimeter. Smoke from hearths curled into the sky, not as warning ¡ª but as welcome. Baomont worked every day. His Matter Manipulation skill had grown sharper, stronger. What once drained him after building a sandcastle-sized hut now let him shape stone buildings with clean lines and proper corners. He built homes. Storage sheds. Forges. Paths. And slowly¡­ he built trust. People began to ask him what to do. Where to build. How to reinforce a roof or angle a wall for the wind. At first, they called him ¡°builder.¡± Then ¡°boss.¡± Then ¡ª as a joke ¡ª ¡°mayor.¡± And somewhere along the way¡­ it stopped being a joke. His own cabin had changed too. What had started as a rough, one-room box was now a proper home ¡ª a stone manor, by local standards. A wide wooden porch, chimney smoke curling lazily, glass windows (a luxury Mira bartered for), and a small plaque above the door carved with a symbol Shadow made up: part paw, part flame, part hammer. Inside were three rooms: one for Baomont, one for Mira, and one for Shadow (though she still preferred to sleep in the rafters some nights ¡ª ¡°elevated perspective,¡± she claimed). Mira taught beginner magic to local kids in the afternoons. She also enchanted the door to squeak when Baomont tried to sneak out to work too early. Shadow had organized a scouting team. Three townsfolk with sharp eyes, fast feet, and ¡ª unofficially ¡ª the best dried meat recipes in the region. Baomont built. One evening, the three of them sat on the edge of the cliff again ¡ª which had now become their back yard ¡ª just like that first night after the battle. Below them, lights glowed warmly from dozens of little windows. The town hadn¡¯t been named yet. But it was theirs. Mira leaned back against a rock, arms folded behind her head. ¡°Still not sure how you convinced us to stay here.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Baomont said. ¡°You just¡­ didn¡¯t leave.¡± Shadow stretched out beside them, tail swishing lazily. ¡°You built something worth staying for.¡± Baomont looked out across the valley, the breeze pulling gently at his hair. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d end up here,¡± he said. ¡°Not as a fighter. Or a leader. Definitely not a mayor.¡± ¡°And yet,¡± Mira teased, ¡°here we are. All that¡¯s left now is to build a throne.¡± ¡°Pass,¡± Baomont muttered. ¡°Chairs are hard enough.¡± They all laughed. The stars blinked into view above. And somewhere deep down, Baomont knew this was only the beginning. Chapter 1 - Threads of Providence The divine chamber shimmered back into existence. A place beyond time, where stars hung suspended like beads on invisible strings and celestial maps spiraled through the air in layered projections. At its heart hovered the fractured world ¡ª a living mosaic of lands and oceans, cracked and pulsing like a wounded heart. New scars glowed faintly red, throbbing like infected veins. Threads of dark magic stitched across kingdoms, spreading like rot beneath the skin. The Council of Gods had convened again. A dozen thrones floated in a perfect circle, each one shaped from the domain of its god: roots and vines wove Deera''s seat, dripping dew from antler-shaped curls; molten rock and steel comprised the Forge God''s jagged throne; swirling clouds and starlight wrapped around the Moon Matron''s crescent dais. Silence reigned ¡ª heavy, tense, and crackling with restrained power. "It spreads," rumbled the Sun God, his golden armor glowing with a steady pulse. "Another kingdom now traffics in chains. The beastkin are being culled like livestock." Deera, Goddess of Beasts, lowered her head. Her usually serene eyes now blazed with a quiet fury. "I begged restraint. I warned of this." "Their greed blinds them," growled the Forge God. "The noble houses grow fat on labor stolen and power bought with blood magic." The Moon Matron exhaled a ghostly breath. "It is not just greed. Something darker festers beneath. The rifts widen. The veil weakens." With a gesture, the image of the world zoomed in on a cracked mountain range. A red haze pulsed at its core ¡ª unnatural, flickering like a flame underwater. "This is no accident," whispered the Arcane Goddess, her eyes shimmering with galaxies. "Sorcerers now summon what they do not understand. Creatures not born of this realm slip through." A ripple of unease passed through the council. "We should act," said the War Goddess, rising. Her spear of light sparked with anticipation. "Choose a kingdom. Arm it with divine fire. Purge the corruption." "And which kingdom would that be?" asked Deera, voice taut. "The ones that burn my children for sport? The ones who feast while villages starve?" "We empower the strong," the War Goddess snapped. "Strength is order." "Strength without compassion is tyranny," Deera replied, and her words echoed like thunder. From her throne suspended upside-down, Nyxara finally laughed. The Trickster Goddess sipped from a cup that shimmered between smoothie, wine, and stardust. "You''re all so dramatic." Eyes turned to her. She twirled one finger, and the map shifted ¡ª pulling into a tiny speck of green along a cliffside. A camp. A growing cluster of structures. Figures moving. "While you posture and moralize, someone is already building." The Sun God narrowed his eyes. "Baomont." "My little wild card," Nyxara said, smiling like a cat in the sun. "He survived your trials. Saved a town. Defied slavers. And now, he builds." "With no army. No allies. No divine blessing," the War Goddess said. "Not yet," Nyxara murmured. "But he''s got something better. Loyalty. A cause. And perhaps... a spark." Deera leaned forward. "I have seen the beastkin girl with him. She is not broken. Not bitter. There is gentleness in their bond. It is rare. It is... hopeful." The Forge God grunted. "Hope won''t stop a demon." "Maybe not," Nyxara agreed. Her smile widened. "But what if he builds something new? Something untouched by the rot in the old kingdoms?" The Sun God frowned. "It will take years. Decades." "And what is time to us?" Deera asked softly. "Let the mortals rise anew. Let us not repeat the sins of old." A pause. Then, one by one, the gods began to speak again ¡ª voices divided. Some calling for swift action. Others whispering for patience. The council splintered, not into war, but into quiet fracture. And above them all, the fractured world turned. Nyxara sipped her drink again and watched the flicker of a faint sigil beginning to form above Baomont''s camp. "Providence doesn¡¯t always crown the mighty," she whispered. "Sometimes... it crowns the hungry." The wind carried the scent of ash and fresh-cut timber. Baomont stood on the cliff¡¯s edge, hands on his hips, overlooking the stretch of scorched earth where the townsfolk of Greendale had begun rebuilding. The cratered remains of their old homes were a day''s walk behind them ¡ª swallowed by smoke and silence. But here, on this ridge, new walls were rising. Slowly. Unevenly. But rising. A skeletal frame of a longhouse groaned as beams were hoisted into place with ropes and curses. Nearby, children chased each other around stacked stones. An older woman barked orders while stirring a pot over a fire. Shadow, in her humanoid form, carried a basket of freshly cut herbs while Mira argued with a carpenter about nail angles and roof slopes. This small community was slowly becoming something. Baomont exhaled and stepped away from the edge. He passed the beginnings of a stone wall ¡ª his latest project, shaped with Matter Manipulation and brute patience ¡ª and rubbed his wrist. His mana had grown, but even now, every stone took a toll. Still, he could feel the progress. He wasn¡¯t just surviving anymore. He was shaping the land. Shadow noticed him and waved. He waved back, only for her to immediately scowl and point at a loose support beam behind him. ¡°Fix it before Mira sees!¡± she shouted. ¡°Already on it,¡± Baomont muttered and hurried to obey. It wasn¡¯t until he was halfway through stabilizing the beam that the air changed. He paused, hand still glowing with magic. A chill danced down his spine. Not cold ¡ª not quite. More like being watched. Like a breath on the back of his neck that wasn¡¯t really there. He turned. No one. Just the breeze. The town. The horizon. Then something shimmered in the dirt beside his feet ¡ª only for a second. A flicker. A ripple of gold, like a symbol trying to etch itself into the world. Baomont blinked. Gone. ¡°What was that¡­?¡± he muttered, staring at the spot. Behind him, a bird cried overhead. Somewhere out of sight, children laughed. Tools clinked. Life moved on. But Baomont stood still a moment longer, the glow of magic on his hand slowly fading. He didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d seen. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He didn¡¯t know that gods had watched him build this place. He didn¡¯t know that a sigil had begun to form ¡ª faint, divine, and dangerous. But somewhere in the back of his mind, a word whispered itself into existence. Providence. The day faded into gold. Evening crept over the ridge with a painter¡¯s patience ¡ª tinting rooftops in amber, stretching shadows across dirt paths, and setting the horizon ablaze with one last burst of color before twilight. The clatter of tools gave way to the low murmur of voices and the smell of cooking fires. Baomont stretched his arms behind his back with a long groan. "Another day, another beam hoisted," he muttered. Shadow, beside him, brushed sweat from her brow. ¡°Another meal earned, at least.¡± ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Mira chimed in from behind, her arms wrapped around a basket of kindling. ¡°I spent the entire morning convincing that old builder to stop measuring everything with his ¡®gut instinct.¡¯¡± ¡°You mean his belly?¡± Baomont grinned. ¡°I mean he used it as a leveling tool,¡± she said, exasperated. They laughed ¡ª the kind of tired, content laughter that only came at the end of honest work. By the time they crested the path to their home, the stars had begun to twinkle in the deepening sky. It was no longer just a cabin. What had once been a small wooden shelter clinging to the cliffside had grown. The foundation was stone now ¡ª sturdy and smooth, carved through magic and muscle alike. The walls rose higher, supporting a second floor with small windows and a steep-angled roof. Decorative flourishes peeked out in places: a vine-carved arch above the doorway, lanterns of glowing crystal, and the faint shimmer of protective wards woven into the entry. Inside, the space had been divided into rooms ¡ª a sleeping loft, a storage space, even a narrow library in progress. But no matter how far the construction had come, it was always the hearth at the center that pulled them together. The tavern keeper had outdone herself again. A thick stew simmered on the fire, full of root vegetables and meat, rich with herbs. Warm bread lay wrapped in cloth beside it. The aroma made Baomont¡¯s knees weak. They ate. They joked. They traded stories overheard from passing travelers or gossiped about whose chicken had gone mysteriously missing this time. And when bellies were full and conversation faded, the trio ended the night the way they often did ¡ª not in separate rooms, but curled together on the cushions near the fire. Shadow leaned against Mira, her tail tucked close. Baomont laid back with one arm behind his head, watching the firelight flicker on the stone ceiling. Outside, the wind howled gently past the cliff. Inside, everything was still. Until the stillness... unraveled. Baomont blinked. The firelight melted into darkness ¡ª not snuffed out, but lifted, like paint peeling off a canvas. The floor vanished. So did the walls. His body felt light again, weightless, drifting. Not asleep. Not fully awake. The inbetween. Colors folded and warped. Threads of gold and silver hung suspended in the void. Symbols swam in the air, unreadable and familiar all at once. He turned, or perhaps simply existed, in a new direction. There stood Nyxara, arms crossed, smile playful and maddeningly smug. ¡°Welcome back,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve built more than walls, you know.¡± Beside her, a softer presence stepped forward ¡ª Deera. Her form radiated a gentle glow, antlers crowned with vines and blossoms. Her eyes held an ancient sadness, but also curiosity¡­ and hope. Baomont opened his mouth to speak. But then two other presences flickered into view ¡ª drawn like threads pulled taut into the same weave. Shadow. Mira. Both stood at his side, no longer sleeping, but aware. Mira looked around, startled. Shadow¡¯s ears flattened in unease. ¡°¡­What is this place?¡± Mira whispered. Baomont glanced between them, then back to the goddesses. He didn¡¯t know either. But something told him they were about to find out. Shadow¡¯s ears twitched first. She took a hesitant step forward, eyes fixed on Deera. Her tail curled slightly around her legs, her stance guarded, but not hostile. ¡°¡­I know you,¡± she said quietly. Deera inclined her head. ¡°You may feel that way, child. I have walked beside many like you ¡ª in spirit, if not in form.¡± ¡°No,¡± Shadow murmured, brows furrowed. ¡°I know your presence. I¡¯ve felt it before. When I was small. In the woods. There was this grove¡­ peaceful, untouched. My mother said it was sacred. That the spirits watched over us.¡± She blinked. ¡°Wait. You¡¯re¡ª You¡¯re the Goddess of Beastkin.¡± Deera¡¯s gentle smile deepened. ¡°And you, little one, are one of my wild-hearted. I am proud you have survived.¡± Shadow¡¯s breath hitched. Baomont stepped beside her, one hand lightly resting on her shoulder. ¡°And this one,¡± he added, motioning toward Nyxara with a half-smirk, ¡°is Nyxara. Goddess of trickery, smoothies, and putting people in strange dreams without warning.¡± Nyxara waved a hand. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± Mira¡¯s eyes widened as she looked between them. ¡°Okay, wait ¡ª back up. What is this? A dream? A¡­ shared hallucination? Why are we all here?¡± Shadow squinted. ¡°Wait¡­ are we in your dream?¡± she asked Baomont. He frowned. ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve had weird dreams before, but they usually don¡¯t involve actual gods and two people watching me sleep-talk.¡± ¡°Maybe we¡¯re in my dream,¡± Mira offered. ¡°You¡¯re all just really elaborate metaphors for my social anxiety.¡± Nyxara rolled her eyes. ¡°Mortals. Always trying to logic their way out of divine moments.¡± The space around them shimmered. Stars folded in on themselves, revealing radiant threads of magic connecting each of them like strands of fate. ¡°This,¡± she said, ¡°is a shared dream. A convergence of souls invited into a realm between realms ¡ª shaped by thought, guided by power.¡± ¡°In simpler terms,¡± Deera added gently, ¡°we brought you here.¡± Baomont folded his arms, his voice now cautious. ¡°Why?¡± Nyxara¡¯s smile faded ¡ª only slightly. ¡°Because it¡¯s time you understood what¡¯s at stake.¡± With a flick of her wrist, the void bent. The floating world returned, rotating slowly, glowing faintly with cracks of red and black magic. Cities smoldered. Rifts pulsed across continents. Symbols of kingdoms burned and flickered. ¡°The divine council,¡± she began, ¡°has fractured. The gods no longer move as one. Some believe the solution lies in force ¡ª backing the strongest empires with divine blessings. Others seek to burn it all down and rebuild from ash.¡± Deera stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute. ¡°Nyxara and I¡­ we have chosen another path.¡± Shadow¡¯s tail flicked. Mira stayed quiet, watching intently. ¡°We are backing you,¡± Deera said, turning her gaze to Baomont. ¡°And the two who stand beside you.¡± Baomont blinked. ¡°Me? Why?¡± ¡°Because you have no crown,¡± Nyxara said, ¡°no bloodline, no entitlement. Just grit. Curiosity. And a deeply annoying habit of doing the right thing even when it¡¯s hard.¡± ¡°You have loyalty,¡± Deera added. ¡°You protected those who needed it. You treat even the broken with kindness.¡± ¡°We believe,¡± Nyxara continued, ¡°you can build something new. A kingdom not born from conquest, but conviction. Not ruled by fear, but fairness. Something strong enough to stand against the darkness ¡ª and the kingdoms already crumbling into it.¡± Shadow¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°Like the ones that enslave Beastkin?¡± Deera¡¯s expression grew pained. ¡°Yes. Especially those.¡± Baomont looked between them. ¡°You want me to build a kingdom? To fight¡­ that?¡± He gestured at the cracked world. ¡°With what? A half-built village and two amazing friends who are barely recovered from a slaver attack?¡± ¡°Not overnight,¡± Deera said. ¡°But brick by brick. Soul by soul. Strength will come.¡± ¡°Support will grow,¡± Nyxara added, smirking again. ¡°And don¡¯t worry ¡ª I¡¯ll send you some weirdos to help. They always show up.¡± Mira finally spoke, her voice quieter now. ¡°And what if we fail?¡± Nyxara¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°Then the world burns a little faster.¡± ¡°But,¡± Deera said firmly, ¡°we believe in you. And we will guide you ¡ª in dreams, in fate, in whispers through the leaves.¡± Baomont took a slow breath, staring at the vast illusion of the world. ¡°¡­Guess I better start drawing up blueprints.¡± Shadow leaned against him, tail curling toward Mira, who gave a small, determined nod. Nyxara raised her glass of not-quite-wine. ¡°To the foundations,¡± she said. ¡°To the kingdom,¡± Deera echoed. And just like that ¡ª the dream unraveled. The firelight returned. Baomont sat bolt upright, gasping softly. Across from him, Mira stirred. Shadow opened one golden eye, already awake. ¡°¡­Okay,¡± Baomont whispered, voice steadying. ¡°Let¡¯s build something worth dreaming about.¡± Chapter 2 - Dreams and Foundations Baomont blinked awake to the sound of crackling fire. For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling above ¡ª now made of stone instead of rough wooden planks, and arched elegantly to match the rest of the manor''s reinforced design. Warm morning light poured through the window, casting golden lines across the walls. Shadow stirred beside him, tail flicking under a shared blanket, and Mira mumbled something incoherent from the other side of the hearth, her limbs tangled in the thickest pillow she could find. Baomont sat up. ¡°Did¡­ did you two have the same dream I did?¡± Mira shot upright. ¡°With the goddesses?¡± Shadow blinked at them both, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. ¡°It was real, wasn¡¯t it? That wasn¡¯t just a weird dream.¡± Baomont exhaled. ¡°We all saw the same place. The chamber of stars. The world map. Deera. Nyxara.¡± Mira nodded, wide-eyed. ¡°And they told us¡­ we¡¯re supposed to build a kingdom?¡± Shadow¡¯s expression was distant, thoughtful. ¡°I remember Deera¡¯s voice. I¡¯ve heard it before. When I was young¡­ in my dreams. I never understood what it meant. But now I know. She¡¯s the goddess of the beastkin.¡± ¡°And Nyxara,¡± Baomont said, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°She¡¯s the one who brought me here. She''s... complicated.¡± ¡°You mean you¡¯re the chosen one?¡± Mira asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°More like... the picked-at-random one,¡± he muttered. ¡°She said something about placing bets.¡± Mira laughed, but then quieted again. ¡°So that dream¡­ it was shared?¡± Shadow nodded. ¡°It felt so real.¡± Baomont added, ¡°They told us the gods have fractured. Each one is backing different kingdoms now.¡± Mira frowned. ¡°So we¡¯re being backed by two goddesses... but we¡¯re just three people.¡± Baomont looked thoughtful. ¡°Not just three people. We¡¯ve got a growing town. People who chose to be here. If what they said is true, and we¡¯re meant to become a force for good ¡ª then we have to try.¡± Shadow bit her lip. ¡°But why us? Why you?¡± Baomont was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood up and walked over to a small box on the mantle. He pulled out a thin, black rectangle. ¡°This,¡± he said. ¡°Is part of it.¡± He pressed a button. The screen lit up. 14% battery remaining. Mira and Shadow both leaned in. ¡°What is that?¡± Mira whispered. ¡°It¡¯s called a smartphone. From my world.¡± Shadow tilted her head. ¡°Is it magic?¡± ¡°No. Technology. We had machines, satellites, communication devices, all without mana. This thing could call someone across the planet, show moving pictures, let you read books, or find food in your area.¡± Mira blinked. ¡°That sounds like powerful magic.¡± Baomont smiled faintly. ¡°It¡¯s different. But it¡¯s also dying. This phone¡¯s almost out of charge. When it¡¯s gone¡­ it¡¯s gone.¡± Shadow reached out carefully. ¡°You must¡¯ve come from a very strange place.¡± ¡°I did,¡± Baomont admitted. ¡°And I hated it. But being here¡­ it¡¯s not just a second chance. It¡¯s a responsibility. Maybe I was brought here because I know what it¡¯s like to live in a world that needs saving.¡± They were quiet for a while. Then Mira broke the silence. ¡°So. What now?¡± Baomont¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Now? We build. We protect what¡¯s growing here. And we prepare for what¡¯s coming.¡± Shadow nodded slowly. ¡°Then let¡¯s get to work.¡± The sun had barely climbed above the horizon when Baomont, Shadow, and Mira stepped outside their stone manor. Greendale¡ªthough it hardly went by that name anymore¡ªwas beginning to show signs of real life. What had once been a scattering of refugees and campfires was evolving into a settlement with order and momentum. Villagers were already up and about, tending to chores and calling greetings to one another. Wooden scaffolds clung to the sides of half-built buildings. The sound of hammers, axes, and laughter echoed in the morning air. Children chased each other between cabins. Smoke curled from new chimneys. A newly dug irrigation trench glimmered in the sunlight, directing water from the nearby river through parts of the settlement where crops had just started to sprout. A craftsman carved wooden beams beside a growing workshop while his daughter arranged tools with precision that spoke of practice. Across from them, the tavern keeper shouted instructions as she helped organize a supply line to a new communal kitchen. In the distance, two villagers herded goats toward a pen built along the cliffside¡ªsome of the animals bleated in protest, as if they¡¯d grown used to the lawless freedom of the wilds. Baomont crossed his arms, smiling faintly. ¡°When did this place start feeling like a town?¡± ¡°It still smells like a camp,¡± Shadow replied, sniffing the air with a wrinkled nose. ¡°But I guess it¡¯s trying.¡± Mira walked a few paces ahead, holding a parchment filled with scribbled building notes and supply requests. ¡°That¡¯s because we¡¯ve been too focused on survival. But now, people are thinking longer term. They¡¯re asking about schools, trade, gardens. One guy even asked if we could start minting our own coin.¡± ¡°That¡¯s... ambitious,¡± Baomont said. ¡°He was serious,¡± she replied. ¡°Had sketches and everything.¡± Shadow looked around and tilted her head. ¡°They¡¯re building because of you, you know.¡± Baomont shook his head. ¡°They¡¯re building because they want to live. I just gave them a place to start.¡± They passed a newly marked area where a group of villagers were discussing plans for a proper watchtower. Baomont paused there, placing a hand against one of the trees marked for harvesting. With a breath, he activated his magic. The bark shimmered, then peeled away cleanly. Moisture drifted off in a haze, and the trunk reformed itself into cut boards. A stack of perfect planks dropped neatly to the ground. The watching villagers broke into applause. Baomont gave a small bow. ¡°One resource miracle, coming right up.¡± As they moved on, Mira leaned closer. ¡°We¡¯ve been talking¡­ about leadership. About giving this place a proper name. And maybe even assigning roles.¡± Baomont raised an eyebrow. ¡°You mean like a mayor?¡± ¡°Or a council,¡± she said. ¡°Or something. Right now it¡¯s all informal. Everyone looks to you, but we¡¯re growing. We¡¯re going to need structure.¡± ¡°Great,¡± he muttered. ¡°Just what I wanted¡ªpaperwork in a fantasy world.¡± ¡°Comes with the territory, future King,¡± Shadow teased, tail flicking playfully. Baomont sighed but smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s not crown anyone just yet. We¡¯ve got roads to lay, walls to build, and apparently¡­ governments to form.¡± They reached the cliffside, where a group of villagers were reinforcing the outer edge with wooden stakes and stone supports. Beyond it lay the wilderness¡ªvast, green, and unknown. ¡°Alright,¡± Baomont said, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work. If we¡¯re really going to build a kingdom¡­¡± He looked back at the bustling village behind him. ¡°¡­we¡¯ll start with making a home worth defending.¡± The sound of distant hooves and snapping twigs turned more than a few heads that afternoon. Baomont stood near the main path, discussing wall reinforcements with a stonemason, when Shadow¡¯s ears twitched sharply. She turned, eyes narrowing toward the forest edge. ¡°I hear someone coming,¡± she murmured. Moments later, two figures stepped into the clearing ¡ª elegant, poised, and visibly armed. The first was a tall elven woman clad in muted greens and leathers, a longbow slung over one shoulder and a quiver heavy with arrows on her back. Her sharp eyes scanned the village with quiet calculation. At her side walked a younger man, equally elven, his armor more rugged and his hand resting on the hilt of a curved blade. They paused at the edge of the village clearing. ¡°We mean no harm,¡± the woman called out. ¡°We¡¯re not here for conflict. Only warning.¡± Baomont stepped forward, Shadow and Mira close behind. ¡°We¡¯re listening.¡± A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The woman gave a small nod. ¡°I¡¯m Aerilaya. This is my brother, Thalien. We¡¯ve been tracking a group of bandits heading west. They¡¯ve set up camp not far from here. We believe they intend to raid your town.¡± ¡°How many?¡± Baomont asked. ¡°Fifty, maybe more,¡± Thalien replied. ¡°They¡¯re ragged, poorly organized ¡ª but desperate. Hungry. Dangerous.¡± Mira¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°How long do we have?¡± ¡°Two days, maybe less. We came ahead to warn you.¡± Baomont exhaled slowly, then looked at the villagers gathering behind him. ¡°Then we don¡¯t have much time.¡± Aerilaya glanced around. ¡°You have defenses. That¡¯s good. But these people¡­ most of them look like farmers and craftsmen.¡± ¡°We¡¯re better than we used to be,¡± Baomont said. ¡°But we¡¯re not soldiers.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll help,¡± she said. Thalien nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll stay. Teach your people what we can.¡± And they did. Over the next two days, the village transformed again ¡ª not with buildings or walls, but with purpose. Aerilaya took to the archers, or at least those willing to become them. With the help of the blacksmith and woodworker, she shaped a dozen new bows and taught the villagers how to fire in volleys. Shadow even joined in, assisting with balance and posture, occasionally catching an arrow mid-air to hand back with a disapproving grunt. Thalien moved through the town like a storm ¡ª tough but patient. He drilled the strongest villagers in swordplay, teaching footwork, formations, and how to use reach and terrain to their advantage. They weren¡¯t warriors, not yet. But they were willing. Baomont worked alongside them, refining walls with stone reinforcements using his magic. He created a shallow trench beyond the main gate, then lined it with sharpened stakes. At night, Mira gathered supply counts and morale, running messages between teams and helping mark out safe zones and supply caches. Even the children got involved, filling buckets of water and weaving cords for makeshift traps. By the evening of the second day, the town stood ready ¡ª tired, untested, but no longer helpless. Atop the ridge, Baomont stood beside the elves, watching the treeline. ¡°They¡¯ll come with nightfall,¡± Aerilaya said softly. ¡°Then we¡¯ll be ready,¡± Baomont replied. Shadow, crouched nearby in her wolf form, let out a low growl. And from the forest below, a fire lit. The bandits were coming. Dusk settled over the cliffs like a velvet curtain, and with it came the smoke. Not from the village hearths ¡ª this was thicker, darker, rising in uneven tendrils from the treeline below. Baomont stood at the edge of the newly reinforced barricade, sword at his side, watching the forest like it might breathe. Shadow crouched nearby in her beast form, eyes glowing faintly in the fading light. Mira stood behind the first firing line, a bow in hand and a pouch of runes at her belt. Then came the sound. Boots. Dozens of them. Cracking twigs. Heavy steps. Murmurs. And finally ¡ª the firelight. Torches bobbing like angry stars as the bandits emerged, ragged shapes against the dark. They looked worse than expected. Tattered armor, improvised weapons, some with no shirts at all beneath their cloaks. But there were many ¡ª too many ¡ª and they moved with desperate purpose. From behind the wall, a cry rang out. ¡°HOLD!¡± Baomont raised his voice. ¡°This is your only warning! Leave now and no one gets hurt!¡± The bandits paused ¡ª then from their group stepped a hulking man with a bent axe and a crooked nose. His voice rasped like gravel. ¡°You¡¯ve got food. We don¡¯t. Hand it over ¡ª and maybe we¡¯ll leave the place standing.¡± Mira gritted her teeth. Shadow growled. Baomont¡¯s reply was firm. ¡°We¡¯ll feed the hungry. We won¡¯t feed raiders.¡± The bandit leader snarled. ¡°Then take it!¡± He raised his weapon ¡ª and the charge began. They surged forward, torches held high. But before they made it halfway: ¡°FIRE!¡± Arrows rained from the ridgeline. Dozens, loosed in a perfect volley. Aerilaya¡¯s archers didn¡¯t miss ¡ª nor did the traps. Rope snares caught ankles. Pits opened beneath feet. The first row of bandits stumbled, fell, screamed ¡ª the second row slowed, panicked, and some turned to run. Thalien charged from the side with a flank of villagers wielding sharpened poles and farm tools reforged into crude halberds. Baomont joined them, manipulating the ground to rise and trip clusters of attackers, vines slithering up to bind legs and pull weapons from hands. Shadow leapt into the fray like a phantom ¡ª not killing, but disabling. Her strikes were fast, surgical ¡ª hamstrings, knees, weapons knocked from hands with terrifying precision. It wasn¡¯t a massacre. It was discipline. Controlled, strategic. The village fought back. Within ten minutes, the bandits had stopped charging. Within twenty, they were retreating ¡ª or kneeling. The leader, bloodied and winded, raised both hands and dropped his axe. ¡°Mercy!¡± he cried. ¡°Please ¡ª we surrender!¡± Aerilaya held an arrow nocked, aimed directly at his chest. ¡°Why now?¡± ¡°We''re not¡­ monsters,¡± he gasped. ¡°We were villagers once. Town called Brelshaw. Burned down. Slavers torched everything. Took our homes. Our families. We¡¯re just¡ªjust trying to live.¡± A silence fell. Baomont looked at him, at the others kneeling behind ¡ª starved faces, worn hands, people more broken than cruel. He turned to Mira, then to the villagers. ¡°You could¡¯ve asked for help,¡± Mira said, voice bitter. ¡°We tried,¡± the bandit leader muttered. ¡°No one listens to the desperate unless they¡¯re holding a blade.¡± Baomont exhaled slowly. Then said: ¡°Lay down your weapons. You want a home? Then earn it. We won¡¯t turn away good hands ¡ª but we won¡¯t let you raise them against us again.¡± One by one, the bandits ¡ª former villagers ¡ª dropped their weapons. Some cried. Others simply collapsed from exhaustion. That night, the fire that burned was not from war, but from welcome. Later that Night The fires crackled with a gentler heat. Tables, makeshift benches, and even clean patches of grass became resting places as the once-raiders ¡ª now wary guests ¡ª sat shoulder to shoulder with the townsfolk of Greendale. Food was shared. Water passed around. Bandages traded hands with nods instead of words. At the edge of the gathering, Baomont stood with Shadow and Mira, facing the bandit leader ¡ª or rather, the former one. He looked younger in the firelight. Less like a warlord, more like a man who¡¯d aged too fast. His arm was bound in a sling, eyes still cautious. ¡°You can call me Garron,¡± he said after a long pause. ¡°I¡­ wasn¡¯t always like that. I was a carpenter. Before everything burned.¡± Baomont nodded slowly. ¡°Baomont. These are Shadow and Mira.¡± Garron gave them a brief nod. ¡°Your people didn¡¯t have to spare us. I won¡¯t forget that.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not here to build a kingdom on fear,¡± Baomont replied. ¡°We¡¯re building something better. If your people want to stay ¡ª truly stay ¡ª we¡¯ll need to build trust, too.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll make sure they understand,¡± Garron said. ¡°They just want safety. A roof. A future. If they need to swing hammers to earn it, they will.¡± Shadow tilted her head. ¡°There¡¯s still damage. Fields that need tilling. Roads to clear. Homes to build. We can use help.¡± Mira added, ¡°And new blood means new skills. Some of your people must know farming, crafting, trading. We¡¯ll figure it out.¡± Garron looked over his shoulder. Children ¡ª some no older than ten ¡ª sat quietly near the flames, their clothes worn, their eyes too quiet for their age. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said again. ¡°You won¡¯t regret it.¡± The Next Morning The camp buzzed with energy. Under Thalien¡¯s direction, a section of forest was being cleared methodically ¡ª not for wood alone, but for space. Simple grid paths were marked with rope and stone. Aerilaya worked with Mira to organize teams: one for food preparation, one for shelter building, one for defense training. Baomont stood at the cliff¡¯s edge, watching smoke curl from a line of newly dug firepits. ¡°You¡¯re really doing it,¡± said Mira, stepping up beside him. ¡°You¡¯re making a genuine kingdom here.¡± ¡°No,¡± Baomont said softly. ¡°We¡¯re still small, but with determination and kindness, we can build a place free of evil.¡± Shadow approached with a basket full of foraged herbs. ¡°The healer from Garron¡¯s group says she can make salves and poultices. She¡¯ll teach others too.¡± ¡°Another step forward,¡± Baomont said, smiling. Mira gave him a sly glance. ¡°You know¡­ at this rate, someone might start calling you a lord.¡± Baomont groaned. ¡°Oh no. Don¡¯t start that.¡± ¡°Too late,¡± Shadow teased. ¡°Lord Baomont has a nice ring to it.¡± He rubbed his temples. ¡°You¡¯re all conspiring against me.¡± They laughed ¡ª not because the world was safe, but because, now, it felt hopeful. In the distance, new voices joined the chorus of work ¡ª young and old, once strangers, now neighbors. The foundation was being laid. And somewhere in the skies above, unseen by mortal eyes, a faint symbol shimmered ¡ª the sigil of providence taking shape. Elsewhere. Beyond the Veil. Starlight shimmered across the void as divine silhouettes stood once more at the edge of the world. Nyxara lounged lazily atop her crescent-shaped seat, upside down and sipping a cosmic smoothie that flickered between mango and mischief. Her golden eyes gleamed as she peered down at the mortal realm ¡ª at a cliffside that now hummed with warmth, sound, and steady hammering. Deera stood beside her ¡ª quiet, regal, her gown woven from mist and moss, crowned with branches that glowed faintly with dawnlight. Her expression was calm, yet softened by something more tender. ¡°They¡¯ve taken in the ones who tried to harm them,¡± Deera said, voice gentle as a summer breeze. ¡°And offered them shelter.¡± ¡°They¡¯re weird like that,¡± Nyxara replied, grinning. ¡°It¡¯s adorable.¡± Deera gave her a side glance. ¡°You¡¯re not worried they¡¯ll be betrayed?¡± ¡°I¡¯m always worried.¡± Nyxara slurped from her drink. ¡°That¡¯s half the fun.¡± They watched as Baomont lifted a stone with one hand and steadied a beam with the other, sweat on his brow. Shadow barked orders from a rooftop, tail wagging. Mira waved a parchment wildly in the air, pointing and yelling at someone to stop putting the outhouse there. ¡°But¡­¡± Nyxara added, her voice dipping into something softer, ¡°they¡¯re figuring it out. And they¡¯re doing it with heart.¡± Deera nodded. ¡°The sigil is forming.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t be long now,¡± Nyxara murmured. A pause. Then Deera whispered, ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll survive what¡¯s coming?¡± Nyxara tilted her head. ¡°That depends.¡± ¡°On what?¡± ¡°If they keep choosing each other. Even when it gets hard. Especially then.¡± The fractured world turned slowly beneath them ¡ª still bleeding in places, still cracked. But here, at the edge of a cliff, something new was blooming. Nyxara smiled ¡ª not mischievous this time, but quiet. Hopeful. ¡°Let the other gods have their thrones and armies,¡± she said. ¡°We have a village¡­ with good soup and better people.¡± Deera¡¯s eyes sparkled faintly. And together, they watched the light of a rising kingdom flicker to life ¡ª small, but growing. Chapter 3 - Pillars of Purpose The morning began not with birdsong or peace, but with argument. Two villagers¡ªone an older carpenter, the other a younger woman who had joined just last week¡ªstood near a partially finished fence, gesturing animatedly. ¡°I was told this plot was mine,¡± the carpenter insisted, arms crossed, voice clipped. ¡°You were told to help with it,¡± the woman snapped back. ¡°We need gardens, not private fences.¡± Baomont rubbed his temple from a few paces away. The sun had barely cleared the horizon, and already the air was heavy with tension. Nearby, Mira was calming a cluster of children arguing over tool use, while Shadow stalked toward a half-collapsed storage shed with her tail twitching¡ªclearly about to chew someone out. This wasn¡¯t chaos. Not yet. But it was heading that way. Baomont exhaled. The town had grown. Too fast, maybe. What had once been a rough camp was now a small settlement¡ªand with people came the need for structure, not just shelter. That night, they gathered in what used to be their main room¡ªnow more of a common hall, added to the side of the stone house. The walls bore faint tool marks where Mira had attempted enchantments. A handmade map of the growing area was pinned beside a basket of mismatched utensils. Functional chaos. Baomont sat at the center, legs pulled up under him. Shadow perched on a low bench, one arm resting on the backrest like she owned it. Mira leaned over a notepad, tapping a quill against her lip. The elves, quiet and watchful, stood near the fire. While they were initially only passing through, what they saw of the town, the dedication of the people and Baomont¡¯s ability to build with his power, gave them a reason to stick around for a while longer. ¡°We need to talk,¡± Baomont said, finally. ¡°About all of this.¡± Mira glanced up. ¡°You mean the part where we¡¯ve started becoming a real town and nobody knows who¡¯s in charge of anything?¡± ¡°Yeah. That part.¡± Shadow tilted her head. ¡°The people trust us¡ªfor now. But that won''t last if they keep bumping into each other with no direction.¡± The elven warrior nodded. ¡°Villagers need leaders. Lines. Not to be ruled¡ªbut to be guided.¡± Baomont stared into the fire. ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up to be king. I¡¯m barely figuring this out myself.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a king,¡± Mira said. ¡°But you are a centerpoint. That¡¯s different. We all orbit something here, and right now, it¡¯s you.¡± Baomont looked uncomfortable. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I know what I¡¯m doing.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Shadow said. ¡°Because people who think they do usually mess everything up.¡± That earned a chuckle from Mira and a smirk from the elves. ¡°So what do we do?¡± he asked. ¡°There¡¯s food to manage. Housing. Guard rotations. Disputes. We¡¯re inventing a society from scratch.¡± ¡°Then let¡¯s not invent it alone,¡± Mira said. ¡°We build a council. Not just us, but a few others. People with steady hands and clear heads.¡± The elven archer stepped forward, arms crossed thoughtfully. ¡°You¡¯ll need someone the villagers already trust. An elder. Someone from the old town.¡± Baomont nodded slowly. ¡°Elder Rowan. The man who runs the drying shed. People listen when he speaks.¡± ¡°And he listens when others do,¡± Shadow added. ¡°That¡¯s more important.¡± Baomont looked around the room. Tired eyes. Calloused hands. A circle not of rulers, but builders. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°A council. We each take on responsibility for something specific. And we choose a few more to join us¡ªpeople already leading, whether they meant to or not.¡± ¡°Sounds like work,¡± Mira said. Shadow leaned back, eyes closed. ¡°Everything worth doing usually is.¡± Baomont leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ¡°Alright, if we¡¯re forming a council, then we need to figure out what jobs need doing.¡± Mira raised her hand like a student. ¡°We already have loose clusters forming. There¡¯s a group that¡¯s taken over farming, one that''s basically running the kitchen and food storage, and the blacksmith¡¯s been organizing the builders and craftspeople.¡± ¡°That¡¯s three pillars right there,¡± Shadow added. ¡°Food, construction, and supplies.¡± ¡°Add defense,¡± said the elven warrior. ¡°After the bandits, people want protection. Some are already training together in the evenings.¡± Baomont nodded. ¡°Then we¡¯re looking at¡­ Agriculture, Craftsmanship, Defense... and we probably need Trade too. If we¡¯re ever going to connect to the outside world.¡± The elven archer stepped forward. ¡°And law. Mediation. Someone to settle disputes without emotion.¡± Everyone glanced around the room. ¡°I think Elder Rowan could handle that,¡± Baomont said. ¡°He¡¯s calm, wise, and doesn¡¯t take sides.¡± ¡°Then that¡¯s five,¡± Mira ticked off on her fingers. ¡°Elder Rowan for law. I¡¯ll take Trade¡ªI know people, and I¡¯m not too bad at charming a good deal.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll oversee defense,¡± said the elven warrior. ¡°If you¡¯ll have me.¡± ¡°Gladly,¡± Baomont said. ¡°Craftsmanship makes sense for Feron,¡± Shadow suggested. ¡°He¡¯s been leading the blacksmiths and carpenters whether he wanted to or not.¡± ¡°And the old couple with the berry farm could speak for agriculture,¡± Mira added. ¡°They¡¯ve got experience, and people respect them.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± Shadow asked Baomont. He hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be the one giving orders.¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be,¡± Mira said. ¡°But we still need a voice that keeps everything balanced. Someone people trust to speak for the big picture.¡± ¡°The tie that binds,¡± the elven archer said. ¡°Every council needs one.¡± Baomont looked around the room. The fire crackled quietly, casting flickering light over their tired but determined faces. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°Then I¡¯ll be that voice¡ªfor now. But this only works if we¡¯re all equal. This isn¡¯t a throne.¡± Shadow smiled faintly. ¡°No crown, just a seat at the table.¡± ¡°I like that,¡± Mira said. ¡°Let¡¯s build something that lasts. Something fair.¡± The elf warrior gave a short nod. ¡°Then tomorrow, we make it official. We gather the town. We explain the council.¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Baomont felt the weight of it settle in his chest¡ªnot a burden, exactly, but something solid. ¡°Let¡¯s hope we¡¯re up for it.¡± Shadow reached over, brushing her fingers briefly against his hand. ¡°We are.¡± Mira had began pacing near the fire for the at least ten minutes, mumbling to herself, occasionally throwing in a frustrated sigh for dramatic effect. Baomont raised an eyebrow. ¡°You okay over there, or are you arguing with the fire spirits?¡± ¡°I¡¯m naming the town,¡± she declared, spinning on her heel. ¡°It¡¯s important. People will be saying it for generations! Or at least for the next few years until some merchant mispronounces it and ruins everything.¡± Shadow tilted her head. ¡°You¡¯ve narrowed it down, I assume?¡± ¡°Oh yes,¡± Mira said with a grin. She looked to Baomont. ¡°And I want the name to reflect that. Not you directly, because I know how you¡¯d hate it. But something that nods to what you¡¯re building here.¡± Baomont smirked. ¡°Alright. Hit me with what you¡¯ve got.¡± ¡°Okay, so¡ªsome are a little dramatic, but hear me out,¡± she said, counting on her fingers. ¡°We¡¯ve got: ¡°Velmora?¡± Shadow repeated. ¡°What does it mean?¡± Mira gave a small shrug. ¡°Made it up. But it sounds like something beautiful and sturdy at the same time. I was thinking of ¡®valor¡¯ and ¡®memory.¡¯ A place founded by courage and meant to last.¡± Baomont was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled. ¡°Velmora.¡± Mira smiled back. ¡°You like it?¡± ¡°I do.¡± Shadow nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Velmora. I could see people calling it home.¡± The coming of the next day brought more than sunrise ¡ª it brought structure. The square at the center of the town buzzed with activity. Workers continued shaping stone foundations and carrying timber; new fences were being laid out, and paths between buildings were gradually turning into real streets. But at the center of it all, posted proudly to a newly raised bulletin board, was a parchment bound in twine and pressed with a handmade wax seal: a circle enclosing a stylized flame, hammer, and pawprint. It was Mira¡¯s seal ¡ª and her decree. Baomont stood before it, arms crossed, Shadow at his side. A few townsfolk paused to read aloud from the neat, looping script. Mira, standing beside the board with a look of barely restrained glee, smoothed the edges of the parchment and cleared her throat. ¡°Ahem! May I?¡± she asked. Baomont nodded, amused. Mira read aloud, her voice strong and clear.
? The Founding Decree of Velmora ? By the order of its free people and under the guidance of Providence, Let it be known that on this day, the growing settlement upon the cliff ¡ª once a camp, now a home ¡ª shall henceforth be known as Velmora, a refuge for the free, the brave, and the just. To ensure balance, fairness, and the prosperity of all who call Velmora home, we hereby establish the Velmora Council, a governing body formed of trusted leaders and capable hands. Each is to serve not by bloodline or coin, but by merit and trust, chosen for their service to the people and vision for a better future. Council Roles: Let this council lead not as rulers, but as stewards. May Velmora never forget its roots ¡ª not forged in conquest, but in unity, freedom, and firelight. Signed: Mira Dewacre, on behalf of the people of Velmora ¡°So long as one heart remains free, Velmora shall stand.¡±
When she finished, the square was quiet for a moment ¡ª then scattered applause broke out, soft but earnest. ¡°High Steward?¡± Baomont said, smirking sideways. ¡°You¡¯re the one everyone looks to,¡± Mira replied, brushing off invisible dust from her sleeves. ¡°Might as well give it a fancy name.¡± Shadow leaned close. ¡°Captain of the guard, huh?¡± Mira raised an eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re not already doing it.¡± Baomont stepped forward and touched the parchment, fingertips tracing the last few words. ¡°So long as one heart remains free¡­¡± He smiled. ¡°Velmora, huh?¡± ¡°It suits us,¡± Mira said quietly. ¡°Not your name, but shaped by it.¡± He looked over the town ¡ª still forming, still rising. And now, officially governed. The days that followed the council¡¯s formation brought change ¡ª not from top-down orders, but from the ripple of steady, meaningful action. Travis Baomont, High Steward Baomont spent his mornings walking the developing streets, talking with villagers, asking about their needs, hopes, and struggles. He wasn¡¯t one for grand speeches ¡ª but he listened. With a borrowed cloak over his shoulder and his phone tucked away like a relic, he sketched new maps on scrap parchment with Mira by the fire each night, planning walls, roads, and future watch towers. More than once, someone caught him trying to build a bench with Matter Manipulation, muttering to himself when it turned into a shovel. Again. Mira Dewacre, Mage and Planner Mira took to her role with the excitement of a student and the precision of a scribe. She set up a small study space in a stone-walled room now dubbed ¡°The Council Hall,¡± where she began teaching basic reading and writing to eager children ¡ª and a few bashful adults. Scrolls lined the walls, alongside lists of inventory, town plans, and drafted magical notes. In the evenings, she brewed weak potions and tested wards with local help, occasionally singeing her eyebrows (again). Shadow, Captain of the Guard Shadow watched everything ¡ª even when no one thought she was. In wolf form, she patrolled the perimeter, nose twitching at unfamiliar scents. In her humanoid form, she trained volunteers in silent movement, tracking, and defensive stance. She rarely raised her voice, but when she gave commands, even the rowdiest recruits listened. She was protective, patient¡­ and at times, fierce. Yet every night, she curled up beside the fire like it was the one safe place in the world. Aerilaya, Lead Scout and Diplomat Aerilaya was almost always missing ¡ª though rarely far. Her boots barely left tracks as she ranged beyond the borders, returning with maps, notes, and the occasional bag of edible roots. She spoke with merchants and travelers, even flagged down a few passing traders and helped barter for seed stock. Her quiet confidence slowly earned her a reputation, and soon, people turned to her when whispers of diplomacy or distance crept into the conversation. Thalien, Master at Arms Thalien turned an old storage barn into a training yard. With little more than old wood, blunt swords, and raw effort, he began shaping the next generation of defenders. He ran drills before dawn, sparred with villagers until they dropped from exhaustion, and personally crafted training blades for every child over ten. ¡°Everyone learns to defend someone,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°Even if that someone is just yourself.¡± He laughed rarely ¡ª but when he did, the whole yard heard it. Elder Rowan, Keeper of Justice Elder Rowan sat at the stone bench beneath an old cedar in the square. He didn¡¯t move much, but his eyes missed nothing. People came to him with disputes ¡ª over land, livestock, and once, a stolen pie ¡ª and left feeling heard. His voice was calm, firm, but never cruel. Children listened when he spoke. Adults too. When Baomont had doubts, he went to Rowan. Not for orders ¡ª but for guidance.
Together, they laid the foundation. Not of a kingdom of banners and gold ¡ª but one of firelight, sweat, and shared breath. One stone, one word, one oath at a time. Chapter 4 - Weaves and Wonders The fire crackled gently in the hearth, casting a warm golden light over the stone walls of the main room. Cushions were strewn across the floor, a half-finished meal resting on a wooden tray nearby. The chill of early spring clawed at the windows, but inside, the house felt alive from the quiet laughter of three people who were learning what it means to live in good company. Baomont leaned back, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. ¡°Hey¡­ can I ask you two something?¡± he said. ¡°When I level up, there¡¯s this¡­ screen, or window that pops up. It floats above my hand. I¡¯ve been calling it a ¡®menu¡¯ in my head, but I just realized I never asked¡ªdo you see something like that too?¡± Mira blinked from where she was curled in her chair, a book half-draped over her knee. Shadow perked up from the floor, where she lay in her wolf form, tail flicking lazily near the fire. ¡°You mean your Status Weave?¡± Mira asked. ¡°My what-now?¡± Mira sat up straighter, now fully alert. ¡°You¡¯ve been using it and didn¡¯t even know what it¡¯s called?¡± Baomont shrugged. ¡°I figured it was some kind of magic menu. You¡¯re telling me this is normal?¡± Shadow shifted into her humanoid form in a shimmer of light, now sitting cross-legged by the fire. ¡°Everyone in this world has one,¡± she said softly. ¡°We¡¯re born with it. It grows with us. Like a thread woven into the world¡¯s magic.¡± Mira nodded. ¡°It¡¯s the foundation of almost everything¡ªskills, leveling, learning spells, even professions. You access it with focus and intent. Some call it a Soul Ledger¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Baomont lifted his hand and focused. The golden thread shimmered to life, blooming into his Status Weave. ¡°Well¡­ mine¡¯s definitely weird.¡± [Status Weave: Travis Baomont] Name: Travis Baomont Race: Human Age: 23 Sex: Male Class: None (Unassigned) Title(s): Affiliation: Town of Velmora
?? [Core Stats]
Stat Name Value Description
STR Strength 8 Physical power and lifting ability
AGI Agility 11 Reflexes, speed, and finesse
END Endurance 10 Stamina and resistance to damage
INT Intelligence 14 Spell capacity and magical theory
WIS Wisdom 12 Mana control and awareness
CHA Charisma 9 Mana control and awareness
LCK Luck ??? Unreadable / Glitch Detected ??
??? [Skills] Matter Manipulation ¨C Level 8 A rare and adaptive skill that allows the user to deconstruct and reshape physical matter. EXP: 103/1280 Basic Survival ¨C Level 4 Woodworking ¨C Level 3 Cooking (Campfire Tier) ¨C Level 2 Improvised Combat ¨C Level 3
?? [Traits & Abilities]
?? [Titles]
?? [Quest Log: Divine Mandate] (Hidden)
He turned it toward them. Mira leaned in and squinted, gasping. ¡°Wait. You already have a title? Marked by Providence?¡± Shadow tilted her head. ¡°And you¡¯re a Level 8 Matter Shaper? That¡¯s¡­ really high for someone with no background.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Baomont blinked. ¡°Is that good?¡± Mira gave him a look. ¡°You¡¯re a month in and already beating most apprentice mages in their third year.¡± Baomont¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Huh. No wonder I¡¯ve been feeling drained after practice¡­¡± He looked to them. ¡°What about yours? Can I see?¡± Mira gave a playful grin and summoned her own Weave. Shadow hesitated, then joined her. Three glowing panels hovered in the air between them, casting a soft light over their circle. ¡°Wow¡­¡± Baomont leaned forward. ¡°You¡¯ve got way more skills than I do.¡± ¡°Different classes, different growth,¡± Mira said. ¡°I¡¯ve been training since I was ten.¡± Shadow¡¯s panel was sleek, streamlined ¡ª just a few core stats, but high agility and a couple of ominous-looking skills. ¡°Assassinate?¡± Baomont raised a brow. ¡°I earned it during the fight,¡± she said, brushing a lock of hair behind one ear. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡± Mira¡¯s Weave shimmered with spell names and runes, one marked Dormant. ¡°¡®Touched by Stars¡¯?¡± Baomont asked. Mira blushed. ¡°I got that after the shared dream with the gods. I think it¡¯s connected to something celestial, but it hasn¡¯t activated yet.¡± They compared stats, chuckled at their titles ¡ª Baomont¡¯s glitchs raised more than one eyebrow ¡ª and asked questions about each other¡¯s growth paths. ¡°So,¡± Baomont said, ¡°this is like an RPG. You all just¡­ grow through using your skills?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what this, RPG is, but that¡¯s exactly right!¡± Mira said. ¡°Practice, effort, discovery. Sometimes quests. Some people unlock things just by making the right choice.¡± ¡°Or wrong one,¡± Shadow muttered. They grew quiet for a moment, watching the floating panels. ¡°This world is more connected than I thought,¡± Baomont said. ¡°It¡¯s not just magic¡­ it¡¯s structured. Measured. Like it¡¯s waiting for something.¡± Mira gave a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s waiting for people like us to shape it.¡± Baomont dismissed his Weave with a flick of thought, then looked to them. ¡°Then let¡¯s not waste the chance.¡± As the fire burned low that night, the three of them lay in quiet comfort. Shadow had returned to her wolf form and curled by the hearth, her breathing soft and steady. Mira dozed with her book still open on her chest, hair falling across her cheek. Baomont stayed awake a little longer, watching the last embers pulse and crackle. He felt it again¡ªthat weight. Not exhaustion, not doubt. Something heavier. A calling. A need to act. Time passed in soft rhythms ¡ª footsteps over packed earth, the clinking of tools, laughter carried on the breeze. Velmora was no longer a makeshift village cobbled together from what was left behind. Instead it was coming into it¡¯s own. The town sprawled with well thought-out streets, space left for future expansion, knowing the ultimate goal is to grow as big as they could. Stone paths connected homes and workshops. The tavern, rebuilt with reinforced timber and an expanded hearth, had become the beating heart of the town. Gardens flourished beneath hand-dug irrigation channels. The forge¡¯s chimney puffed steadily each morning, and children played in the town square under the watchful eye of Elder Rowan. Mira was often seen crossing town with scrolls tucked under her arm, exchanging lessons and plans with apprentices. Shadow oversaw drills with the guards in a practice field carved into the hillside, her commands sharp, her praise rare but genuine. Thalien ran sword training near the edge of town, while Aerilaya came and went like the wind ¡ª returning from scouting runs with game, news, and sketched maps. And Baomont¡­ Baomont stood atop the old cliff, watching it all. The manor they¡¯d once slept in like refugees was now their center of governance. A proper home. A symbol of everything they¡¯d built. But he knew something was missing. The council gathered in the meeting hall ¡ª once a storeroom, now fitted with a proper table carved from forest oak, and chairs built by the craftsmen of the town. Baomont stood at the head, map scrolls spread before him. ¡°I¡¯ve made a decision,¡± he said. ¡°The town is thriving. People are safe. We have food, water, shelter ¡ª and each other.¡± He paused, glancing at each of them. ¡°But it¡¯s not enough. We¡¯re just one village, tucked into the hills. The world out there is hurting. Fragmented. Dangerous. If this place is going to become something greater ¡ª a kingdom, even ¡ª we can¡¯t do it alone.¡± Mira¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°You¡¯re planning to leave.¡± Baomont nodded. ¡°Not for good. Just long enough to find others. People who are lost. Those who want to build something better. Scholars, mages, craftsmen. Families. Refugees.¡± Thalien leaned forward. ¡°You¡¯ll need to be cautious. There are still dangers in every direction.¡± Aerilaya reached into her satchel and unfurled a series of hand-drawn maps. ¡°We¡¯ve been scouting. These regions here and here¡±¡ªshe pointed to valleys north of the ridge and an open trade road west¡ª¡°might hold old villages or wandering caravans. Some haven¡¯t been visited in years.¡± Baomont studied the map. ¡°I¡¯ll need supplies. A route.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll have both,¡± Mira said quickly. ¡°And I¡¯ll start work on a coded ledger so you can record what you find.¡± Shadow, who had been silent until now, finally spoke ¡ª her voice taut. ¡°Then I¡¯m coming with you.¡± Baomont turned to her, his face softening. ¡°Shadow¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a request.¡± He stepped closer. ¡°You¡¯re Captain of the Guard now. You¡¯ve built something here. These people trust you.¡± ¡°I trust you,¡± she said. Her eyes shimmered. ¡°And I know how dangerous it is out there.¡± ¡°I need someone here to keep them safe while I¡¯m gone,¡± he said gently. ¡°Someone I trust more than anyone else. That¡¯s you.¡± Shadow looked away. Her fists clenched at her sides. ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± he said. ¡°I promise.¡± A long silence passed. Then, slowly, she nodded ¡ª not in surrender, but in resolve. ¡°I¡¯ll keep this place standing until you return,¡± she said. ¡°You better come back with good stories.¡± Mira gave Baomont a strained smile. ¡°Try not to get punched in the face this time.¡± ¡°No promises,¡± he said with a smirk. Elder Rowan, quiet until now, gave a soft chuckle. ¡°Then may the stars guide your step, High Steward. And may your path lead more hearts to Velmora.¡± Baomont glanced at the banner hanging above the table ¡ª hand-painted, still drying. A symbol of their growing home. He exhaled slowly. The next journey was about to begin. The morning air was crisp, touched with the promise of early spring. A thin mist clung to the lower slopes of Velmora, the newly laid stone path winding through the main gate still damp with dew. Baomont stood near the threshold of town, his pack fastened, cloak draped across one shoulder, and his stone-forged sword slung along his back. He looked back one last time at the people gathering behind him. Mira stood with her arms crossed, trying and failing to look indifferent. Thalien and Aerilaya stood just behind her, both giving quiet nods of respect. Elder Rowan leaned gently on his cane, eyes kind and steady. And Shadow¡­ She stepped forward, eyes fixed on his. ¡°Come back with a story,¡± she said. Baomont gave her a lopsided grin. ¡°Only if it¡¯s a good one.¡± Then, without warning, Shadow threw her arms around him. The impact was soft but fierce. Her grip tightened, pressing her cheek against his chest, tail curling behind her. Baomont¡¯s arms slowly wrapped around her. And then¡ª A pulse. A faint glow shimmered from where their hands rested ¡ª hers at his side, his on her back. A warm golden hue radiated from the backs of their palms. Brief. Subtle. But unmistakable. They both blinked and pulled back slightly, each staring at the other¡¯s hand. Baomont¡¯s smirk returned. ¡°Well,¡± he said, brushing his thumb across the light as it faded. ¡°This¡¯ll come in handy later.¡± Shadow raised an eyebrow, but this time¡­ she already knew. A faint shimmer passed before her eyes ¡ª not visible to anyone else, just that subtle flicker of system text. She focused inward, and there it was. She blinked. Her breath caught for just a moment ¡ª not in fear, but in quiet awe. She could feel it now. The link. A tether that stretched gently between them, unseen and yet undeniably real. A bond forged not by magic alone, but by trust. He hadn¡¯t said it aloud, but his smirk told her everything. ¡°I see,¡± she said softly, her expression warming. ¡°Then I guess you¡¯ll never be too far away.¡± He tilted his head, mildly surprised. ¡°You saw it too?¡± She nodded. ¡°I always knew you were clingy.¡± Baomont laughed, then pulled her into one last squeeze before stepping back. ¡°Just¡­ be safe,¡± she murmured. ¡°I always am,¡± he lied. He turned to the others and gave a final wave. ¡°Velmora¡¯s in good hands. Try not to burn it down while I¡¯m gone.¡± Mira shouted after him. ¡°No promises!¡± And with that, Baomont stepped past the gate and down the road, his silhouette growing smaller in the morning light. Behind him, the faint glow from Shadow¡¯s hand faded ¡ª but the system message remained tucked safely away in her stats. She looked down at her palm one last time and smiled. Warmth. Comfort. And now, connection. Even across great distances¡­ they would never truly be apart again. ¡°What was that? Just now? You both got a new skill, didn¡¯t you?¡± Mira asked inquisitively to Shadow ¡°You¡¯ll see soon enough,¡± Shadow replied with a smug appearance.