The Highland morning bit at Robert's cheeks, a crisp wind slicing through the air as he stood before the citadel crystal. Its translucent glow fractured the dawn into shards of soft light, dancing across the frost-kissed ground. Beside him, a rough-hewn table groaned under the weight of Hamish's haul; fruits, vegetables, and herbs sprawled in a riot of color, each piece begging for Albion's magic to awaken it.
Behind him, the settlement core pulsed with a low, insistent hum, its energy prodding him to optimize, to build. Not yet, he thought, shoving the pressure aside. For now, he claimed this quiet, hands hovering over a pile of carrots, mana tingling at his fingertips.
Villagers trickled in, clustering like wary deer, their murmurs of awe and unease rippling through them. They kept a respectful distance, yet curiosity tugged them closer, eyes wide on the crystal's glow. A burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard broke from the pack, his weathered face creased with skepticism. "So, you can really work all that magic, eh?" His voice carried a spark of hope beneath the doubt.
Robert glanced up, mid-infusion, a carrot glowing faintly in his grip. "Yeah," he said, a wry smile tugging his lips. "I've got a decent grip on it. But it's Albion's essence doing the heavy lifting, giving us a fighting chance."
A matronly woman edged forward, flour streaking her apron like battle scars. "Those apples you grew before, they were unreal. Think you can juice up our crops? This rocky soil's killing us."
He lifted the enchanted carrot, its orange sheen pulsing in the light. "That's the goal," he replied, voice steady. "Albion's vitality weaves into them, turns dirt into gold, makes them more than they were." If I don't botch it, he added silently, feeling the mana waver.
Murmurs of approval rose, punctuated by chuckles as he fumbled a leek, nearly dropping it into the dirt. The bearded man grinned. "Not so graceful, are you, mage?"
Robert rolled his eyes, grinning back. "Magic's no textbook trick, trust me."
The matron patted his arm, warm and firm. "Even wizards stumble, lad." Laughter swelled, and for a heartbeat, Robert felt human, not the oddity tethered to a crystal, but one of them.
With a final pulse of mana, he infused the leek, its glow steadying. He wiped his hands on his trousers, turning to the crystal. "Alright," he called, voice carrying, "let's see what our overeager friend thinks."
The crystal flared, chiming with smug precision. "Input recognized. Seeds and enchanted produce registered. Optimizing resources for Legendary Production Site deployment."
"Not so fast," Robert muttered, folding his arms. "Did you suck down those dungeon crystals Hamish dragged back?"
A pulse answered. "Affirmative. Acquired crystals integrated. Power levels sufficient for large-scale agricultural initiation."
"Good," Robert said, nodding. "Pick a spot for the food zone."
The crystal's glow sharpened. "Activating Legendary Food Production Area protocol. Confirm?"
"Yes, initiate," he growled, wincing at its cold tone.
Villagers pressed closer, eyes alight with hope. The crystal sang, tendrils of glowing energy lancing into the earth. Soil churned, dark and rich, rows unfurling like a war map drawn by unseen hands. A scent, wild honey laced with blooming flowers, teased the air, sharp and sweet.
"Construction advancing," the crystal droned. "Irrigation enhancements detected. Allocate mana?"
Robert sighed, exasperated. "Of course you want more."
The matron smirked, oblivious but cheeky. "Always does, eh?" Her guess sparked a laugh from Robert, her confidence bolstering him.
"Back up, folks," he called, rolling up his sleeves. Mana surged in his chest, a restless tide. He summoned water magic, hands weaving a shimmering stream toward the crystal, feeding its voracious appetite. Its light flared, a satisfied hum vibrating through the ground.
"Mana accepted," it chimed. "Enhancements active. Additional input optimizes yield."
"Naturally," Robert gritted, pouring more mana, teeth clenched as his legs trembled. A boy's whisper cut through. "Look, it's glowing brighter!"
His strength faltered, knees buckling. The crystal pulsed. "Irrigation optimized. Completion in twenty-five minutes."
The bearded man steadied him. "You alright, lad?"
"Yeah," Robert gasped, waving him off. "Just catching my breath."
The matron's hand warmed his shoulder. "You're giving us life, Robert. Thank you."
Her words steadied him. "Let's see this grove finish," he said, squaring up.
The ground shuddered one last time, and the villagers gasped. An orchard erupted along the dig site's eastern edge, soil shimmering like molten gold, trees rising with smooth, pale trunks. Leaves gleamed emerald, edged with silver that danced in the breeze. A sweet fragrance saturated the air, thick with promise. Branches sagged under apples, pears, and plums, each fruit aglow with an otherworldly richness. Strawberry bushes thrust up between them, berries oversized, with fist-sized strawberries, gem-like blueberries, and raspberries that sparkled like rubies.
At the center, a white-stone path wound to a majestic tree, its spiraled trunk towering above the rest. Albion apples and golden fruits, lit from within, adorned its branches, each leaf pulsing with magic. Beyond the grove, the air shimmered with faint motes of light, drifting like fireflies born of mana. Wildflowers erupted spontaneously along the edges, their petals a riot of violet and gold, while small animals—rabbits and finches—emerged from the forest, drawn by the vitality radiating from the land. The earth itself seemed to hum, a living pulse that softened the Highland's harshness.
The villagers stood, slack-jawed, touching the bark with trembling hands. "Heaven help me...It's Eden!" the bearded man whispered, voice thick. A grizzled farmer with leathery skin and a crooked nose stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the grove. "Pretty sight," he growled, "but hows it taste? Color signals toxin." His tone matched Langston's, and the two exchanged a nod, a small faction of dissent forming.
Pride flickered in Robert, until he spotted Langston, arms crossed, scowling apart. Here comes the rain, he thought, resisting the urge to hurl a rock at that sour face. "Unnatural monstrosity," Langston muttered. "Could poison us all if it spreads." The farmer grunted in agreement, and Robert clenched his fists, itching to prove them wrong. Instead, he summoned a flicker of Aetheric Weaving, crafting a small, glowing hoe from hard light. He handed it to the farmer. "Test it yourself. See if it's poison or promise."
The farmer hesitated, then took the tool, its weight surprising him. Robert turned to the hopeful crowd. Let them stew. This grove was life, a marvel to feed and lift spirits. Their faces glowed with possibility, though the future remained untested.
As the villagers marveled, Robert felt a tug in his core. The crystal's hum shifted, too eager, too hungry. It's pulling more than I gave. He stepped closer, Insightful Vision flaring. Mana streams coiled wildly, siphoning from the grove into the crystal, threatening to overcharge. The ground cracked with a sharp snap, roots along the orchard's edge withering, and the air grew heavy with static, prickling his skin. Gasps rose from the crowd as the farmer dropped the hoe, stepping back.
No rules say I can't stop it. Risking a breach, he thrust his hands forward, Unweaving the excess flow. The air crackled, mana snapping back like a taut rope breaking. The crystal flared, then dimmed, its chime stuttering. The cracks sealed, roots regrew, and the static faded, but Robert staggered, mana drained, legs weak. The grove stabilized, its glow softening.
The bearded man rushed over. "What happened?"
"Saved it from burning out," Robert panted. "Had to break the script."
The matron's eyes widened. "You're mad and brilliant."
Langston sneered, and the farmer muttered darkly, but the villagers' cheers drowned them. Robert grinned, exhausted but triumphant. Albion's dream lives.
Amid murmurs of wonder and the dissenters' grumbling, Robert stood at the threshold of this splendor, heart pounding. What have we built? he wondered, the weight of it settling deep.