Chapter 46 – The Autumn Calm
“Sorry Milo, I know I’m overdoing it. But I can’t help it. It’s faster and more efficient for just to do it, than sharing the workload.”
“Yeah, yeah, I never expected you to keep your promise. But I feel like you’ve grown addicted to using that Poison Mist skill. I an you’ve so many else which you could use.”
“Why try to fix sothing which isn’t broken? This Poison Mist skill is an overpowered skill. It lets clear bandit camps with my eyes closed. So why should I use anything else?”
“Leave it, it was my fault trying to put so sense into you. I thought you had beco more mature after that Muckwood incident, but you’re still the sa. You didn’t change at all.”
“Exactly, why change when I’m already perfect?”
“Nobody is perfect, Tyler. No matter how strong. See the enemies we defeated. They were so formidable and so strong. Yet they lost to us.”
“To , you an?”
“Ah—”
“Milo, you should understand that regardless of how bad things get, or how strong the enemy is, there is always a way to win. The world is designed to be like that. It wants to overco all challenges, and win.”
“You still treat the world like a ga, Tyler. But you’re forgetting that for us who have been sucked into the ga, it is no different from real.”
“Blah blah, you and your nonsense always. Anyways let’s continue. I think I see a new region there. See, you can see the tall windmills. Let’s go there next.”
“Okay fine. Keep ignoring like that. But you’re going to regret this one day.”
“Oh, stop jinxing , and paddle the boat. I can see you’re not putting enough effort.”
“Ugh damn it, I’m doing my best.”
As they crossed the gentle sea, the winds shifted. Before them stretched a tranquil coast, frad by golden trees that rustled like parchnt in the breeze. Red, orange, and amber leaves twirled lazily in the air, carpeting the streets in a soft, crackling mosaic.
Heartwood.
The town stood with quiet elegance, its streets cobbled with worn stone, and buildings fashioned of dark timber and golden brick. Towering windmills turned slowly, groaning with age yet full of purpose. Farmlands extended far beyond the town’s edge, golden waves of wheat swaying in unison.
“This… actually looks like a proper human town,” Tyler murmured, stepping onto the dock. “Reminds of an industrial-era countryside.”
They passed a bakery with warm slls wafting out, and Tyler bought a loaf of bread and two muffins.
“Oh man, it’s so much better than the ones Octokitty made,” Milo exclaid, chewing eagerly.
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Tyler couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, Octokitty should just stick to potions. I had grown so accustod to the dry bread she sold, that I thought all food items in this world were supposed to taste bad.”
As they wandered, Tyler looked up at the windmills turning in the breeze. “Milo, do they have any electrical equipnt? Why do they even have windmills?”
Milo looked at him incredulously. “Tyler, you’re really an idiot. Don’t you know windmills are also used to grind wheat into flour?”
“What?”
“Did you think they just slap so wheat into an oven and ta-da, bread? Of course they have to process it first, even in a ga world.”
“Oh,” Tyler mumbled, scratching his chin, dumbfounded.
“Anyway, let’s explore the town and talk with so NPCs. Maybe get a quest or two,” Tyler said.
“I was already on it. See that building there? It’s an art gallery. Let’s check that out first.”
The art gallery had a dignified air. Inside, the polished wooden floors creaked faintly beneath their boots. Paintings lined the walls, each more vivid and colourful than the last.
One showed a stunning sunset over a valley, brush strokes capturing the fading light with tender care. Another depicted a rmaid beneath the ocean—or at least, a hybrid variant. Others displayed surreal forests, majestic beasts, and even dreamlike scenes from forgotten legends.
But one painting drew Tyler in.
It was a dragon—long and serpentine, like those of Eastern myths. Its body flowed across the canvas with grace and poise, cloaked in glimring azure scales that shimred under the light. Its head, adorned with golden horns and a noble beard, looked serene yet commanding. Its deep blue eyes glowed with mystery, as though they held secrets of the world itself. The waves beneath it were rendered in hypnotic swirls, giving the illusion that the dragon might rise out of the painting any mont.
“Hello,” ca a voice. “I’m Pantara, the owner of this gallery. I see you’ve taken interest in that one. But I apologize, it’s not for sale.”
Tyler turned to see a panther-chaleon hybrid watching him hopefully. “Sorry, I’m not buying anything. Just looking.”
Pantara deflated. “Of course. Feel free to browse. All others are for sale, reasonably priced.”
Tyler pointed at the dragon. “What’s special about that one?”
Pantara smiled faintly. “Ah, that’s been in my family for generations. My great-great-great-great grandfather painted it, and it’s stayed with us since. It’s not just a painting, it’s our legacy.”
Milo leaned in. “Why are you suddenly interested in art?”
Tyler blinked. “I don’t know. That one… it doesn’t look like a painting. It feels alive. Like it is observing .”
“The artist really did a fantastic job,” Milo nodded.
Tyler shrugged. “So, do you want anything here?”
“The paintings are good, but I don’t like any enough to buy. Instead—”
“Good. I wasn’t going to buy you one even if you did.”
“Ugh, jerk! Anyway, don’t buy a painting, but can you at least buy a painting set? I’ve got an easel back at the mansion, but I’ve been painting with berry juice like a caveman.”
“How much?”
“Two thousand gold.”
“What?!”
“Two… thousand gold…”
“You serious? We ran out of potions in the last fight, and now you want painting supplies?”
“Umm… yeah?”
“Forget it.”
“But we could spare so gold—”
“Nope.”
“Seriously? The gold you have isn’t even wholly yours. I contribute too.”
“Really? Last I rember, I was soloing camps.”
“What! That’s because you finished them so fast that I didn’t get to do anything!”
“That’s your problem. You’re too slow.”
Milo sulked, staring longingly at the paint set. He cast a final wistful glance at Pantara as they exited.
Outside, Tyler was already chatting with a straw-hatted NPC.
“Hey Milo,” he called. “Think I found the perfect way for you to earn gold for your painting easel.”
Milo’s ears perked. “Really?!!”
“Yep. This NPC has a quest. Reward’s decent too. Want it?”
[Quest Assigned: Murder of Crows]
[Objective: Protect Gilbert’s farm from a group of crows.]
[Reward: 1000 gold]
[Will you accept the quest?] [Yes] | [No]
“YES! I’ll take that!”
Gilbert bead beneath his straw hat. “Those darn crows are after my harvest again. Co evening, they’ll be swarming like locusts. Protect my field, and the reward’s yours.”
As the golden light of Heartwood’s eternal autumn filtered through the trees, Tyler and Milo prepared for their next job—a simple one, perhaps, but for once, peaceful.
They didn’t know it yet, but this was the last calm before the storm.
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