[Hello, dear readers. I am sure some of you have noticed the release rate stopped in the last month.
As I was and still am swamped with studying, I was forced to take a break as I had to take some tests.
All in all, I am now back and will upload either two chapters per week or once a week, depending on the availability I possess at the moment.
I hope you have enjoyed my original novel so far, as I am happy to announce the second part of the novel.]
The morning mist clung low to the ground, curling around Gaia's ankles as she stood at the edge of the treeline. Her fingers brushed against the bark of an old pine, rough and resin-slick, as if in farewell.
"Alright, old giant. Time to make room."
With a low hum, she pressed her palm to the trunk. The earth responded first—a soft tremor beneath her boots, then a ripple as roots writhed free from the soil like slow, reluctant snakes. The pine shuddered. Its massive body creaked, groaned, and then, with a final breathy sigh, it toppled sideways, guided gently by twisting vines that cushioned its fall.
Fang watched from the field, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his face."You're getting faster. The last one took you half an hour."
Gaia wiped sweat from her brow, smearing a streak of soil across her cheek."Practice. And maybe this one liked me better."
He stepped closer, black cloak brushing over new-grown sprouts at his feet. The field had doubled since last week. Where once was scraggly brush and rock, now rows of dark, rich soil lay bare, ready for planting.
"Still think we're rushing it?" she asked, tilting her head.
Fang crouched, pressing his palm into the earth. A faint shimmer of purple flickered around his fingers."Not rushing. Pushing. There's a difference."
Behind him, small shadowy shapes flickered—rabbits, half-real, their forms stitched from dark mana. They scurried across the tilled ground, pulling weeds, aerating soil with unnaturally efficient little paws.
"This soil drinks mana like a drunk at a festival, but this is nothing compared to the food we will receive. We should pray to the gods later, say thank you for this last harvest."
Gaia's lips quirked. "That sounds suspiciously thankful for you."
He stood, brushing dirt from his knees. "Don't get used to it." He said with a grin.
Together, they moved through the clearing, marking trees for removal. Fang used his shadows and his new elf shadow soldiers to peel away smaller growths.
branches slithering back like they feared his touch, while Gaia focused on the bigger prey. Tree by tree, they carved open new space, their magics overlapping in quiet, deliberate rhythm.
Just work.
Necessary work.
But easy with magic on this planet.
By midday, the field had grown by another ten rows. The air was thick with the scent of pine sap and fresh soil. Birds kept their distance.
Fang sat on a stump, breathing slowly, while Gaia traced channels for irrigation with practiced magical sweeps of her boots.
Each little move of her feet parted the soil like Moses parted the sea.
"You think Davra will buy all of this?" she asked.
"No." Fang's smile was thin. "But they would be more reliant on us. That's enough. Speaking on Davra, where the hell is Isgram? It has been 3 days now."
From the forest's edge, the shadow rabbits perked their ears.
Somewhere beyond, the wind carried the faintest sound of steel on steel.
The wind whispered through the clearing, pushing the young potato sprouts and bending them like worshippers in a silent prayer. Beyond the patch they had just cleared, the haven's fields sprawled outward, no longer the scrappy garden they had started with, but a proper expanse of cultivated land.
Five hundred meters across, the field had taken on a circular shape—not by accident, but by Fang's design.
The outermost ring held hardy root crops: potatoes, carrots, and dark-blooming mushrooms that thrived in the shade of the trees on the tree line. Closer in, rows of rye shimmered in the morning light, their pale gold stalks swaying with every breath of wind.
Interwoven through it all were channels of water, snaking like veins across the earth. Gaia's magic had carved them with purpose, crisscrossing paths that followed the circle's flow, ensuring every crop drank its fill. Where the channels met, they formed pools, soft movement of frogs kept them alive and that kept the water moving.
The design was elegant in its simplicity.
"I still think you copied this from some arcane summoning circle," Gaia teased as she guided another channel into place with a lazy sweep of her foot.
"I copy from what works," Fang replied. His eyes roamed the field, not with pride, but calculation. "The circle keeps things balanced. Energy flows in, energy flows out. Simple.
"Always the optimist." She chuckled.
Near the heart of the field, the soil itself shimmered faintly. Not magic in the grand, flashy sense—but a residue.
---------------------------------
High above the haven, where mortal eyes failed to see, the clouds churned—not as mindless weather, but as gathering will.
Within the puffy gray, two figures took shape.
One, gleaming with the liquid grace of an illuminated river, his form flowing with every word.
The other, crackling with caged fury, his body a tool of living lightning, each breath birthing distant thunder.
They watched the tiny figures below—Gaia tracing channels in the dirt, Fang weaving death into life.
The water-formed god spoke first, voice a soft deluge, ancient and patient.
"Dear brother, your new son seems distracted. Has he forgotten the meaning of your grand design? My daughters still wait for him."
Lightning laughed, sharp and merciless, flashing teeth of jagged light.
"He has not forgotten. He is preparing for their presence. There's a difference."
"Asu... I hope you're not playing tricks on me. This is something that is typical of my idiotic twin, not you. Their time is short. My daughters are endangered in your territory..."
Below, the wind shifted. A tremor rippled through the air, unnoticed by those who toiled in the field.
Below, the wind shifted. A tremor rippled through the air, unnoticed by those who toiled in the field.
The water god's eyes narrowed, his reflection shimmering in the pooled channels Fang and Gaia had carved.
"You meddled with the balance, brother. Is Osborne aware of your plans for the realm?"
Asu's lightning body dimmed a little, and he turned towards the skies above the clouds.
"He is not aware, and it needs to stay like this for now. I urge you not to notify the other gods yet. Lehava is still processing my plan."
"Will your plan succeed? Do you have what it takes for this new destiny?"
"It will." Lightning flared brighter. "And I have my trust in the boy."
For a heartbeat, the sky held its breath.
Then, with a knowing smile, the storm gods turned their gaze elsewhere, their whispers mingling with the first cold drops of rain.
------------------------------------------------
The first raindrop hit Gaia's cheek, cool and sudden.
She looked up, feeling more drops follow, steady and sure, soaking into the churned earth and darkening the soil. The air smelled of wet pine and rosemary.
"Rain's coming in properly now," she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
Fang stood from the stump, cracking his neck. "Good timing. We're done here anyway."
Gaia nodded, though her eyes lingered on the treeline. The rabbits had stilled, crouched low. Even the frogs had slipped beneath the water, their ripples fading.
"We should head back to the cave," she said. "No sense getting caught out here if it turns worse."
Fang gave a small shrug and started walking. His shadows faded into nothing as he passed, their work finished without fanfare.
"Show mana."
{2700\3400}
"Wow... Gaia, you should write the results of using the mana stones in your book."
Gaia raised an eyebrow, and she used a thin layer of sand above them to block the rain.
"What have you found out by doing this?"
"The consumption of mana is drastically improved, almost 20 percent less."
By the time they reached the edge of the field, the rain had settled into a steady rhythm. Not a storm yet, but heavy enough to demand respect.
"They'll appreciate this at least," Fang said, glancing back at the new-planted rows.
"Surely they will need more food this winter, I wonder where the fuck is Isgram though..."