Marcel's voice filled the study, calm as always. He read out the Willowdale
report with his usual precision: the weakened northern fence, the cracked
warehouse pillars, the sagging watchtower roof after the last rainy season.
Behind him, Boris stood with notes in hand, scribbling quickly, his face tense.
I stared at the flame flickering on my desk. It should have been just
another small-town report—minor repairs, nothing more. Yet my heart stumbled
when the name Willowdale was mentioned. Usually it was just a name on paper:
wheat harvests, tax records, repair lists. But this time, it felt different.
Three months had passed since the news of Elara being swept away by the
river. Three months since I forced myself to believe the intelligence
reports—reports even reinforced by the Heavenly Valior Technique, the qi
cultivation method I had created myself. If they had found nothing, then
nothing remained. That was logic. But the heart does not always bow to logic.
The shadow of Caelora came back to me. My nineteenth birthday, when nobles
and commoners celebrated side by side without barriers. Music and light blended
together. Yet only one moment clung to me: Elara stepping forward, offering a
simple greeting with a faint smile. In her gaze, I saw Laraswati—my wife from
the old world. It was not pain I felt, but longing that refused to fade.
I exhaled slowly, then said, "We're inspecting Willowdale."
Marcel bowed. Boris wrote it down, his hand trembling for a moment.
Willowdale greeted us with dusty roads and the scent of dried wheat.
Children stood by the roadside, some hiding behind their parents, others waving
shyly. I raised my hand in salute. Small cheers rose—simple, genuine.
The moment my boots touched the ground, I spread my qi. A thin wave rippled
outward like mist, crawling through the earth, sensing every hidden intent. No
malice, no traps—only the steady heartbeat of a quiet town.
And then I saw her.
A young woman with a basket of wheat. Her hair tied in a simple bun, her
face unassuming—yet enough to steal the breath from my chest. Too much like
Laraswati.
I lit the Oculus. Soft crystal light flickered, revealing clear data:
— Elara Riverbend
— Status: Disguised as Clara
I extinguished it at once. Yes, it was Elara. Remiel had never given me a
false tool. But if she chose this disguise, I would not tear it apart. I walked
on, my expression steady, as if nothing had changed. Yet within, the ache of
longing for Laraswati burned brighter than ever.
The inspection continued. The fence truly was weak, the warehouse pillars
cracked, the watchtower in need of new supports. I gave short, firm
instructions. Marcel recorded them, Boris tried to mimic my precision.
Then—qi resonance bounced back at me. A strong vibration, dense, rising from
beneath the earth. I stopped, activating the Oculus again.
— Anomaly Detected
— Source: Pure Mana Waves
— Detail: Out of range
I stored the note in my mind.
Before leaving, I summoned the village elder. An old man walked slowly with
a bamboo cane, his eyes clouded with age yet still carrying a spark.
"Since when has this ground trembled?" I asked.
He bowed deeply. "Since our ancestors came, Your Majesty. They called it the
earth's echo. Sometimes the ground shivers as if breathing. Some say it's a
blessing, others a curse. Once, a family dug too deep… the soil collapsed, and
they vanished. Since then we only farm, leaving the earth's secret untouched."
I studied him quietly. "How do you live with such fear?"
He gave a frail, bitter smile. "We learned not to challenge the earth. Wheat
grows, the river gives water—that is enough. We never dared to ask for more."
I placed my hand on his shoulder. "You've guarded this story well. From now
on, let me be the one to bear it."
His eyes glistened. "I trust you, Your Majesty."
In the weeks that followed, I returned—this time with the Development
Council and mages from the Magic Tower. We stood in the fields, spreading qi
and mana together. The resonance pulsed, steady, pure, deep.
One middle-aged mage stepped forward, his breath heavy, face pale. "Your
Majesty… these are mana stone veins. The purity of the waves leaves no doubt."
I fixed my eyes on him. "How certain are you?"
"With the full knowledge of the Tower, a hundred percent. But…" He
hesitated. "If mined recklessly, the mana surge could bring half this town
down."
I nodded slowly. "That is why I called you here. We must turn this into a
blessing, not a curse."
I gathered the people of Willowdale in the town square. The evening wind
stirred whispers of unease. Faces full of questions looked up at me.
"My people," I began, my voice carrying across the square, "this land holds
the earth's treasure. Willowdale will become the center of mana stone research.
For your safety, you will be moved to a new city near Caelora."
Murmurs of confusion rose. An elder stepped forward. "Will our homes remain,
Your Majesty?"
I looked at him gently. "Not a single home will be lost. Three hundred and
twenty-nine houses will be rebuilt. The difference is that your plots will be
smaller, for land is tighter in a large city. Two meters here will become one
meter there. But your new homes will be stronger—stone roads, clean wells, an
organized market. Your children will grow closer to the heart of Valoria."
A young woman's voice came from the crowd. "And our fields, Your Majesty?"
"You will receive land on the city's edge," I answered calmly. "Smaller in
size, but with better irrigation. The kingdom will ensure your harvest never
falls short."
Silence lingered, then whispers shifted into sighs of relief. Some children
cheered, imitating the adults who finally smiled.
The Development Council began work that very night. They listed each family,
name by name. Three hundred and twenty-nine homes in total. The new city would
rise near Caelora—smaller plots, yet sturdier houses with the facilities of a
growing hub.
I stood at the edge of the fields, watching my people plan their future.
From afar, my eyes caught Elara. Head bowed, still disguised as Clara, just
another village girl. I let her be.
The longing for Laraswati only grew deeper. Each glance at Elara pulled me
back to a world I had lost. It wasn't pain—it was yearning that refused to be
silenced.
I closed my eyes. Longing was not the enemy. It was a voice that could not
be quieted. And I, the king chosen to protect Valoria, could only carry it in
silence.