Chapter 5: Completion
A Quiet Night of Reflection
The bonfire crackled loudly. Inside, the room was unusually quiet.
It wasn’t that someone had thrown a tantrum and driven others away. On the contrary, most had drunk themselves into a stupor, sprawled in disarray. Only Wenger remained seated, numbly sipping her wine.
Everything felt too sudden. She hadn’t had time to prepare.
After so many years, she no longer burned with youthful passion. She knew most plot developments spelled danger for her.
For players, battles were tweaked for gameplay balance. But for her? Who knew what she’d face in this world?
In the story, the protagonist could speed through with one life. Did she think she could do the same?
Wenger dismissed the thought. However, sitting idly wasn’t her style either.
Entrusting the Patrol
The next morning, she found Kailos in the village. She entrusted the patrol task to his team. Consequently, the group, barely rested, prepared to set out again.
They raised no objections. After all, this was part of the Earl’s orders.
Moreover, under normal circumstances, they’d be escorting the Lady to the capital. A valley patrol was hardly strenuous by comparison.
“I swear by knightly honor to uphold your will!” Kailos pressed a hand to his heart, kneeling on one knee.
Watching them depart, Wenger turned to check on the blacksmith’s progress.
Fenrod set his work aside the moment he saw her. “There won’t be time to step away once things get busy,” he said. “Fuel and ore have arrived in part. It’ll take two or three days to start operations, but once we do, it’ll move fast.”
“Thank you for your effort.”
“No trouble, Lady. It’s only natural to show sincerity in our partnership!” Fenrod slapped his chest, his words as bold as ever.
With the blacksmith’s shop progressing, one of her ascension items was within reach.
Yet, after last night’s revelations, she had far more to worry about.
Village expansion and training a militia for defense needed to be prioritized.
A Changing Village
Wenger, for once, chose to thoroughly explore the village. She noticed many new houses built in recent years. To unfamiliar faces, she offered patient greetings.
“I didn’t realize how much has changed.”
For a Witch, a decade or two was a fleeting moment.
She sought out the village chief to discuss expansion plans. Afterward, she returned to her treehouse. Observing the purple egg briefly, she hugged Peach and began her daily practice.
Drinking a potion, she meditated to refine her spirit. Her body and mind grew weary, yet she felt subtle changes more clearly.
[Health -0.01-0.01-0.01…]
[Poison Resistance +0.01]
[Poison Resistance +0.02]
[Poison Resistance +0.01]
[…]
[Harvest Points +0.01]
[Harvest Points +0.01]
[…]
The sound of accumulating points was muted. Nevertheless, she glanced at the progress during a break, finding small satisfaction.
[Purity] and [Harvest] progressed steadily. However, once the village’s harvest concluded, [Harvest]’s progress would pause for a while.
Wenger re-entered her meditative state. Her perception of the outside world shrank, but her sensitivity sharpened. Even so, she didn’t notice the purple egg, basking in sunlight, tremble slightly before stilling.
Afternoon Respite
By afternoon, sunlight shifted past the treehouse. Wenger rested at a small tea table on the platform, preparing simple pastries.
The news was shocking, indeed. Her disrupted rhythm and quickened pace betrayed her inner panic.
Yet, haste was pointless. Wenger preferred sitting down to plan. Worrying wouldn’t change the situation.
Recalling the game’s plot, she was surprised her memory held up. Details, however, were blurry. Once the Sword Saint died, players rose to prominence in the kingdom. Where was “he” now, she wondered?
Interfering would be like chasing a ghost.
Finding an unknown person in a vast dynasty? That was a joke.
Moreover, risk always came with opportunity. Meddling in the protagonist’s affairs felt like courting death.
Timely information was crucial for tracking the plot’s progress. Knowing key time nodes could help predict major events.
Yet, for Wenger, this world was real. Every event carried countless implications. On one hand, she didn’t want to alter the plot. On the other, small events could prove unbearable for her and others.
The protagonist could go all-out. But what about their allies?
Those like her, unnamed in the main story, weren’t even side characters.
The plot spanned centuries, or at least decades. Players experienced triggered cutscenes, but she might wait decades.
‘So, tell me,’ she thought.
Would nothing happen in all that time?
Compared to later events like the Abyss Eruption or Divine Descent, the initial war might be the least of her worries.
Wenger tapped her head, feeling she’d forgotten something.
She poured herself tea and, for ceremony’s sake, poured a cup for the egg.
Ritual mattered. Perhaps it was a change from becoming female. Or maybe her past life of grueling work left no room for such things. Who knew?
She’d probably drink the egg’s cup later anyway.
‘…So relaxing.’
Truly, fleeing to this life was the right choice. Such comfort was hard to let go of…
Village Updates and Companions
Over four days of focused practice, Rhine and Vey visited her. They updated her on village progress: gathering materials, logging, and planning new eastern expansions.
Vey asked about basic magic details and shared her recent joys and worries. Sometimes, she’d sprawl on Wenger’s bed, reading nearby.
In the end, only Peach stayed by her side, chirping “Popo-popo.”
Wenger patted the soft creature gently. “If you grew a bit bigger, you’d make a great backrest…”
The silver-haired Witch’s innocent words carried devilish intent. Terrified, Peach fled to hide with the purple egg.
As she prepared to sink back into meditation, a faint melody rang in her ears.
[Blacksmith Shop Construction Completed]
[Current “Forging” Skill lv.0]
Things were finally on track. The notification sparked a sense of accomplishment.
With this, the blacksmith’s output could benefit from [Harvest]’s boost. ‘Could I just keep stacking progress like that?’
A Shocking Report
A week had passed since the team’s departure.
Wenger stepped out and noticed startled birds rising from the distant mountain ridge, circling the sky.
Moments later, she stood at the village entrance. The remaining wheat fields swayed like dying candles in the breeze.
Two cavalrymen reined in their horses, stopping just before her. Dismounting, they delivered a staggering report before she could ask.
“Sardin City has fallen.”
Her mental calculations and plans for Maple Whisper Village froze. She replayed the words in her mind, disbelieving.
They’d only left days ago. Factoring in travel time, the scales of victory had tipped the moment she learned of the war at the bonfire feast.
Everything was happening too fast.