Chapter 28: My Head Hurts, When Can We Fast-Forward to Tough Talk, Soft Heart, Falling in Love, Getting Married, and Farming…
A Playful Exchange Winger rounded up nearly a hundred swings. A few more on durable items might show results. She tidied the field, grabbing a broken oil lamp from the cabin. Veyi whispered with Peach by the fire. “Got nothing to do today?” Winger asked. “Not nothing, but I can’t always be busy, Teacher,” Veyi said, hiding behind Peach. “Tomorrow won’t make today younger. If today’s unhappy, tomorrow can’t fix it.” She mumbled something else. Winger knew Veyi felt overworked. Her words, though, struck deeper. Winger’s time felt light, allowing rash choices. For others, each day was precious. Was Veyi naive or wise? Her silence made Veyi nervous. Hugging Peach, she prepared to flee. “What’s that about?” Winger asked. “Uh… need me, Teacher?” Winger waved her off. “Play, don’t make trouble. Take the dragon egg.” Veyi scampered away, brimming with youthful energy.
Forging Experiments Winger headed to the mine. She’d modified the cave, separating the rift from tunnels. It wasn’t much, but it ensured safe passage. She considered enhancing the oil lamp. It couldn’t break further. But she felt like gambling. Greed was hard to resist. A silver sword appeared silently. She caught it firmly. It felt right, yet unremarkable. Maybe a useless plot item. The hall’s secrets—monsters, the sword’s origin, hero legends—gained weight. Her head ached. She grabbed her flat hammer, striking the sword. No major flaws, but time’s erosion needed tweaks. Each strike was careful. Sloppy work would waste any enhancement. After twenty strikes, nothing changed. Bad luck, but she wouldn’t admit it. Add special materials? None available. Clang! Clang! Ten more strikes, then a faint gold glow. Just the pitiful baseline. A condensed power settled in the sword. [*+1]
Testing the Sword Winger raised an eyebrow, swinging the sword. Nothing. It changed, yet didn’t. Hidden effects, maybe? Low-level enhancements were subtle. She calmed herself. Only 499 more “baselines” to level [Forging]. A thought struck her. If light taps counted as forging, could she make a [+99] weapon without breaking it? Too fanciful. At the rift’s edge, she practiced swordplay. She meditated, sipping potions to boost [Sanctity]. Her old ideas held, but the alchemy pot’s explosion lingered. She’d try again later. Crafting potions was hard initially. Herbs’ properties and reactions needed mastery. Nothing came easy. She was pretty impressive, though. Farming, cooking, magic, alchemy, forging, carpentry, healing, teaching… Plus, eating and sleeping on time. What a genius! Time flew when focused. She left the mine at dusk.
A Quiet Evening The tunnel’s air was stale. A breeze followed Winger, stirring dust. It never touched her clothes. Night had fallen outside. She craved a free meal. Cooking daily was a chore. Occasional takeouts were nice. The path to the village was worn. Faint light from her palm lit the way, like a glowing stream. Her vision didn’t brighten. Her senses caught varied magic feedback. This frequency shone in her mind. Solutions outdid problems. Reila’s holy light was efficient, visible. Winger’s method was clunky, personal. She’d eat at the church tonight. Humming, she walked alone to the village. The mountain was silent. A fading red sunset clung to the peak. Clouds looked ready to burn. So beautiful. Fire clouds looked like clouds. A cloud-shaped cloud, a perfect ginkgo “tree,” a square four-leaf clover. Bending to pick one, life felt fun.
A Shattered Sky Pausing made everything prettier. Mindset shaped perspective. Winger balanced work and rest. Managing emotions was key to adulthood. The sky tore open. Darkness turned blindingly bright. The earth shook; the heavens wailed. White afterimages faded. A meteor ripped through the sky. It grazed the snow mountain, heading west. Shockwaves rippled, forming white clouds. A low hum followed—fire licking metal. The “meteor” split, still flying west. Blue-green trails fractured the sky. The tear didn’t close. It widened, collapsing. A whale-like shadow flashed, massive. Its mournful cry pierced the ancient sky. The curtain restored itself. Scorch marks lingered. Countless stared, fearful. Reila stood under the church’s orange tree. A decades-old prophecy had come true. The sky shattered, calamity loomed. War would engulf every corner. Laws could no longer shield the land.