It took a couple of days to get back to normal—or as normal as I could manage after such a strange negotiation/argunt with the system. Mahya and Al asked several tis what happened, but I brushed them off with a vague “Just trouble with a project.” And no, I didn’t need help—just peace and quiet to figure things out.
Mahya wasn’t buying it. She hovered. Lurking just close enough to be noticed, watching, waiting, ready to jump in the mont I cracked. I could feel her emotions pressing against —loud, insistent, impossible to ignore. Worry edged with frustration and stubborn determination.
“You sure?” she asked—for the fifth ti that day.
“Yes,” I said, dragging the word out as I turned a page in my book—one I wasn’t actually reading.
She shifted her weight, arms crossed, foot tapping against the floor in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
“I could help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“I could still help.”
I closed the book with a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Mahya.”
Her frustration spiked, a sharp, exasperated pulse that crackled against my awareness. “You’re acting weird,” she said flatly.
“And you're annoying,” I shot back.
She huffed, shifting closer. Her concern wrapped around , thick and tangible, pressing against my senses.
“You’re avoiding sothing,” she said, tilting her head slightly, eyes narrowing as she studied like a puzzle.
“I’m working through sothing.”
“Could work through it faster if you talked about it.” She crossed her arms tighter, shifting her weight like she was gearing up for a more extended argunt.
I t her gaze. She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t an I was about to spill my guts.
She stared down, arms still folded, her presence vibrating with a mix of worry, concern, care, irritation, and that particular brand of Mahya persistence that never knew when to quit.
Finally, she let out a long breath and shook her head. “Fine. But you owe a promise.”
I raised a brow.
“That you’ll ask for help when you’re ready,” she said, jabbing a finger at for emphasis. “No sulking in silence, no waiting until it’s too late.”
I rolled my eyes, but nodded. “Fine.”
She narrowed her eyes, like she was debating whether to push further. Then, with a reluctant wave of acceptance laced with lingering concern, she finally backed off.
For now.
The next day, she cornered again—literally, stepping into my path with arms crossed and a determined set to her jaw. “Need help?”
This ti, I was smarter. Instead of arguing, I sidestepped. “You wanted to go to the cultivators’ world to get a driving cart. What happened with that plan?”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s not going to work. I know what you’re doing.”
I put on my most innocent expression, tilting my head just slightly for effect. “? I’m not doing anything. I just rembered you wanted a cart. So… when are you getting one?”
She didn’t blink. Just stared down, eyes locked onto mine like she was trying to peel back my skull and read my thoughts directly.
I held my ground.
Her gaze stayed sharp for another few seconds, but then her shoulders slumped, and she let out a long, frustrated sigh.
“If you don’t tell what’s wrong, I can’t help you—and it’s driving crazy.” She threw up her hands and took a step back, pacing in agitation. “You always help ! I want a chance to repay the favor! Is that too much to ask?”
She spun back toward , hands clenched at her sides, and her emotions crashed into like a wave—concern, helplessness, and sheer stubborn determination.
“I an, you do so much for . You go along with all my ideas, even when they inconvenience you or involve world-hopping to collect random stuff! You never say no. Well, you pretend to, at first, but we both know that’s just you being you.”
She exhaled sharply, her voice tightening with frustration.
“But now? I can see sothing is seriously wrong. And you won’t let help. It’s—” She let out a low, exasperated growl, pulling at her braids. “—driving crazy!”
Exasperated Mahya was a very cute Mahya.
I snickered.
She shot a death glare.
Before she could decide whether to strangle or lecture , I just pulled her into a hug.
She huffed against my chest but didn’t pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around —and then started repeatedly banging her head against my shoulder.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“You. Are. So. Annoying,” she muttered between hits.
I just grinned and held on tighter.
She leaned her head back to look at , her sharp gaze locking onto mine. “So, what are you trying to figure out?”
Yeah, I knew she wouldn’t let it go. It wasn’t in her nature.
Lying to a friend felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t tell her the truth either. The words stuck for a mont before finally settling on, “I’m trying to understand the Guidance.”
She blinked. Then tilted her head, squinting at like I’d just announced I was taking up competitive beehive juggling. “What for? Did you get tired of your sanity?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, it’s magic, and I like to understand magic. Besides, you’re always saying wizards are crazy—so what sanity do I even have to lose?”
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Mahya smirked. “Oh, so you’re embracing it now? Good. Acceptance is the first step.”
I shoved her away with a death glare of my own.
It affected her about as much as water affects a duck. Not at all. She just grinned wider, completely unfazed. But she finally dropped the "what’s wrong with you" interrogation. Minor victories.
After two days of chewing on my argunt with the system, I let it go. There was nothing I could do to change it, so what was the point?
I was still curious about what happened to the cart idea, so this ti, I went looking for Mahya.
I found her in the woodworking workshop, sleeves rolled up, a chisel in one hand and a asuring tool in the other. The scent of freshly cut wood mixed with sawdust hung in the air, and the rhythmic sounds of carving and sanding filled the space.
Six n sat around two tables, focused on their work, each shaping wooden poles.
I stepped closer, watching for a mont before asking, “What are they making?”
Mahya glanced up, brushing a stray wood shaving off her arm. “Shield formations.”
“I thought you were done with the wall platforms.”
She set her tools down and leaned a hip against the table. “We are. Now I’m teaching them how to create shielding for the carts.”
“What about the dogs? Will it shield them too?”
She sighed, running a hand through her braids, leaving a streak of sawdust behind. “Sadly, no.” Her lips pressed into a thin line before she continued. “But we have so ideas about armor from beef hides.”
Mahya strode over to one man—a broad-shouldered guy with a thick beard. She watched for a mont, then reached out, adjusting his grip. “Not like that. Angle it here,” she said, tapping the wood with her knuckles.
The man nodded, adjusting his stance, and Mahya gave a satisfied grunt before dusting off her hands and making her way back to .
She stopped in front of , arms crossed. “You need sothing?”
“Yeah, you didn’t answer . What happened with the cart idea?”
Mahya arched a brow, crossing her arms. “Oh, so it wasn’t just an attempt to change the subject? You actually wanted to know?”
I shifted my weight, rubbing the back of my neck. “Both?”
Mahya laughed, then gave a playful shove. “I knew it! Anyway, I’ll wait for spring.”
I frowned. “What do you need a cart for?”
“I want to copy how they built it and see if I can Magitech it to work on crystals or cores.”
“Why not build a new one from scratch with your design?”
She made a face. “Too much work.”
I gave her a pointed look. “Yeah, but you want the Magicaneer class for free, so shouldn’t you start working on building stuff from scratch or sothing?”
She tilted her head back and forth, as if weighing the idea. “I thought about it, but it’s too big a project. All my work with lting and shaping tal is for that class and geared toward my spaceship. A self-driving cart is not currently on the nu.
Then she poked in the chest. “Why do you care about the cart?”
I swatted her hand away. “When you go there, I want you to bring more of their enchanted items. I need examples to figure out how they do it so I can build Rue a flying sword.” I scratched my head, reconsidering. “Well, for his size, it probably needs to be a flying surfboard.”
Mahya burst out laughing and punched playfully in the arm. “So why didn’t you go get the cart and the rest? You were already on a shopping run.”
“The ti skip and the hail.”
Mahya nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, the hail is awful.”
After leaving Mahya’s workshop, I made my way to the clinic. The place was empty except for Rima, who sat hunched over a table, scribbling furiously in her notebook. Her lips moved slightly as she wrote, completely absorbed in her work.
“Busy?” I asked, leaning against the doorway.
She jumped so quickly that the notebook nearly flew out of her hands. “No!” She straightened, eyes bright with excitent. “Are you ready to teach another spell?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not today. But yes, a lesson—just of a different kind.”
Her brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “What kind?”
“Self-defense.”
She blinked. “But we figured out how to do that with magic.”
I crossed my arms. “Magic won’t work in every situation. Everything we ca up with only works if you can touch soone. What if a monster cos at you? Are you planning to pet it?”
Rima shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “No!” She shook her head quickly.
I nodded toward the door. “Co on.”
She hesitated montarily, then closed her notebook and followed outside.
I found a good spot at the foot of the hill and set up a target. Once everything was ready, I handed Rima a crossbow.
She took it carefully, gripping it like it was so ancient artifact that might explode if she breathed on it wrong.
“We’re starting with this.”
She frowned, looking down at the weapon with uncertainty. “But I don’t know how to use one.”
“That’s the point.” I gestured for her to hold it up properly. “This isn’t a spell you can cast. It’s a weapon, and a simple one at that. You don’t need strength, just technique.”
She bit her lip, adjusting her grip. “And what if I miss?”
“Then you reload and try again. Now, let’s review the basics."
I stood behind her, guiding her hands into position. She stiffened at first, then relaxed as I adjusted her stance.
“Keep your feet planted, shoulder-width apart. Don’t lock your elbows—if you tense up too much, your aim will worsen.”
She adjusted.
“Now, look down the sights. Find your target.”
She squinted at the wooden dummy I’d set up.
“And when you’re ready—pull the trigger.”
Her fingers tightened, her breath caught, and with a soft thunk, the bolt shot forward—and completely missed the target, embedding itself in the dirt a few ters away.
She groaned. “I knew I’d be terrible at this.”
I grinned, patting her shoulder. “That’s why we practice. Now, reload and try again.”
Rima trained for a couple of hours, gradually improving with each shot. At first, her hands trembled slightly as she reloaded, and her stance wobbled whenever she fired. But by the ti we wrapped up, she was landing four out of five shots on the target—frustration giving way to growing confidence.
She lowered the crossbow with a satisfied huff, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “I still think magic is easier,” she muttered, rolling her shoulders.
I chuckled, reaching into my pocket. “Maybe, but you won’t always have the ti or mana to cast a spell. Speaking of which—here.”
I held out a black ring, the polished surface catching the light.
Rima blinked at it. “What’s this?”
“ManaWell Band. It improves mana regeneration and lowers spell cost by twenty percent.”
Her eyes widened, fingers hovering just above it like she was afraid to take it. “That’s… really good.”
I shrugged. “And you’re going to need it.”
She finally took it, turning it over in her palm. Her brows knitted together before she glanced up at . “Are you sure? This is sothing you can use… and it’s too valuable.”
“It’s a well-done gift for the training.”
Rima hesitated for a mont longer before finally slipping the ring onto her finger. She glanced down at it, running her thumb over the smooth band, as if trying to convince herself it was real.
“Thank you, John. Really.”
“You’re welco.”
It was already late afternoon, but I had ti to knock off two more items from my to-do list, and both were in the sa place—Roda’s office.
I walked in, pulled a silver pendant from my pocket, and placed it on her desk. The dim light caught on its polished surface, the cool tal glinting against the worn wood.
She glanced up from her paperwork, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “What’s this?”
“A gift.” I leaned back against the chair, watching her reaction.
She picked it up, turning it over in her fingers, tracing the smooth edges. Her eyes lost focus, and she stilled for a mont, staring down at the pendant. Then, with a quiet exhale, she clasped it in her palm and looked up at . “Thank you, John.”
I shrugged. “Figured you’d put it to good use.”
I was glad we had run the silver dungeon in Lumis two more tis. One pendant had gone to Cloud, and now I had another for Roda. Even if I did have so pack-rat tendencies, eventually, every item found its intended ho.
Roda watched , patient but expectant, waiting as I sorted my thoughts.
I finally leaned forward. “Now, onto another matter.”
Her brow lifted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“You have two options,” I continued. “I can make tal balls that purify water, or I can teach soone how to make them. If you want to teach it, you’ll need to provide one spell scroll of Clean and one of Purify for that person to learn from. Which do you prefer?”
"If you're willing to teach, I’ll be grateful," she said, inclining her head slightly.
"Yeah, just tell who."
"I’ll send soone to the clinic tomorrow."
With that settled, I took my leave, stepping out into the fading evening light. Business handled, it was ti to head ho and cook dinner. Ho was now one of the newly built additions to the keep—sturdy, warm, and, most importantly, equipped with a lockable door.
I unlocked the outside door, stepped into my house, and barely had ti to set my things down before Rue plopped his massive head onto my lap, staring up at with big, expectant eyes.
“Let guess. You’re starving.”
He lifted his head and nodded solemnly. “John is very smart.”
I laughed, ruffled his fur, and headed to the kitchen to cook dinner. Rue trotted after , tail wagging, looking pleased with himself.
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