Turn your magic on

A few days later a circle of tribal members gathered around a large fire. At the center of it all was Rice, sitting cross-legged next to a pot that gleamed faintly in the firelight. The pot itself was a testament to Darius's craftsmanship—smooth, sturdy, and perfectly suited for the occasion. Rice stirred the contents with exaggerated care, his expression both serious and theatrical as he addressed his attentive audience.

"Now listen closely," Rice said, his tone as sharp as the knife tucked at his side. "Cooking isn't just throwing things into a pot and hoping it works. It's an art, a science, and occasionally," he leaned in close to one of the students, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "a matter of life and death."

The student—a nervous young man from the Ash Coil tribe—gulped audibly, his eyes wide. "I-I'll do my best, Master Rice!"

"Good," Rice said, pulling back with a grin. "Because if you mess this up…" He leaned in again, his voice low and menacing, "I'll kill you."

The group erupted in nervous laughter as they realized Rice might not have been joking.

The students were a mixed bunch, their backgrounds as diverse as their tribes. There was Rynai, a quiet young woman from the Storm Scale tribe, her sharp eyes focused intently on Rice's every move. Beside her sat Jorrick, a burly man from the Thunderstrider tribe, whose rough hands fumbled slightly with a wooden spoon but whose enthusiasm was undeniable. A pair of siblings from the Sky Vine tribe whispered to each other, their curiosity about the ingredients barely contained.

Even a Stone Hoof tribesman, one of the refugees who had fled after the coalition's victory, had joined the group. His face was lined with the weight of past hardships, but his gaze held a spark of hope as he listened to Rice's instructions.

"Remember," Rice said, pointing his spoon at the group like a conductor's baton, "food isn't just something you eat. It's how you bring people together. It's love, tradition, and—" he sniffed dramatically, "—in this case, a lot of garlic."

Nearby, Ryden leaned against a tree, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched the scene unfold. Opening the booklet, he scanned the latest entries, his eyes widening slightly as a new notification appeared.

Great Achievement!

You have successfully united the scattered tribes of the Central Plains into a cohesive alliance. Effects:

Increased collaboration and innovation among tribes.+20% boost to mana accumulation due to enhanced harmony with spirits and nature.+15% improvement in cultural and technological exchange speeds.

As an additional reward you've been granted an entry into the codex Existentia.

A page of the booklet glowed silver. Blank but Ryden knew of what kind of powers it could bring about.

"Not bad," Ryden murmured, his gaze lifting from the book in his hands to take in the lively scene around him. The air buzzed with laughter and conversation as tribespeople worked and played, their energy filling the clearing with a sense of warmth and community.

"Ryden!" Lucy's voice broke through his thoughts, her tone bright and insistent. He turned to see her sitting cross-legged on a patch of grass nearby, holding up a canvas she'd been working on. Her small hands gripped the edges of the fabric tightly, her expression a mix of hope and nervous anticipation.

"Is this okay?" she asked, her uncovered eye sparkling with curiosity while the other remained shut tight.

Ryden set the book aside and walked over, crouching down beside her. His smile softened as he looked at the painting she'd poured her energy into. The canvas captured the cooking class they'd held earlier in vibrant colors. The fire at the center of the scene glowed with warmth, its light radiating onto the faces of the tribespeople surrounding it. Each figure brimmed with life, their joy almost palpable through the bold strokes and bright hues.

"It's beautiful, Lucy," Ryden said, his voice quiet but full of sincerity. "You've got a real talent."

Lucy's cheeks flushed slightly, but she smiled shyly and turned back to her painting with renewed determination.

Ryden hesitated, his gaze lingering on her face. Her left eye was still shut tightly, a reminder of the injury she'd sustained, every healer in the 12 tribes had said that there was nothing they could do for her eye unfortunately it would remain closed for the rest of her life. Gently, he reached into the pouch at his side and pulled out a small leather eye patch that Darius had crafted. The stitching was rough but sturdy, a testament to Darius's skill and care.

"Hey, Lucy," Ryden said softly, catching her attention again. She looked up at him, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "Hold still for a second, okay?"

She nodded, with careful hands, Ryden placed the leather patch over her injured eye, fastening it securely but gently around her head. When he leaned back to look at her, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You know," he said kindly, his tone light, "you might be the only person in the entire world with an eye patch."

Lucy blinked, processing his words before giggling. The sound was bright and genuine, a moment of pure joy that seemed to light up her whole face. "Really?" she asked, her voice tinged with wonder.

"Really," Ryden replied, his smile growing. "And it makes you look pretty cool, too."

Lucy blushed slightly but smiled, turning back to her work with renewed determination.

Ryden stood and took a moment to take in the broader scene. All around him, the allied tribes were bustling with activity. Some were painting or carving statues under the guidance of Ryden's teachings, their hands stained with pigments or chipping away at blocks of wood and stone. Others were huddled around makeshift writing tables, practicing the characters of the newly developed written language. Children giggled as they ran between groups, occasionally chased by playful spirits.

In the background, Darius worked with a group of apprentices at a line of forges. The clang of hammers striking metal filled the air as plumes of smoke wafted skyward. Spirits hovered nearby, occasionally cooling molten bronze with bursts of water or steadying tools with ethereal hands.

Great Achievement!

Darius has introduced advanced smithing techniques to the allied tribes. Effects:

Improved weapon and tool durability.+10% increase in crafting speed and output.

The spirits themselves seemed to be part of the thriving community. A water spirit playfully splashed at the children chasing it, while an earth spirit helped steady a wobbly sculpture being carved by a young woman from the Ash Coil tribe. Fire spirits danced near Darius's forge, their flames blending seamlessly with the natural fire, while air spirits swirled around Lucy's painting, carrying stray flecks of color where they were needed.

Great Achievement!

Ryden has inspired the creation of art and literature among the allied tribes. Effects:

+15% to cultural unity and morale.Enhanced creativity and innovation across the alliance.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the camp, the trio reconvened near the cooking fire. Rice, still in his element, passed out bowls of stew to the students who eagerly dug in.

"Another successful day, boys," Rice said, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

"Don't get too comfortable," Darius teased, wiping soot from his hands. "There's still plenty of work to do."

As the evening wore on, the flickering glow of the campfires illuminated the tribes gathered close together, their voices a harmonious mix of laughter, songs, and heartfelt conversations. The savory aroma of Rice's stew hung in the air, weaving through the celebration like a comforting thread. Children ran between the fires, their laughter punctuating the occasional howl of a wolf spirit in the distance. The scene was peaceful, joyous even, and yet a quiet weight settled over Ryden as he gazed at it all.

He sat cross-legged beside the fire, his hands resting on his knees. His expression was pensive, his green eyes reflecting the flames as his thoughts seemed to drift aloud. "I wonder if this was the right choice," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the distant chatter. "Giving these people all of our knowledge. Creating spirits and titles… It feels like we've changed everything, but we barely understand the consequences."

Darius paused, lowering his bowl of stew. He looked at Ryden, his features thoughtful as the words settled between them. "I think," Darius began, his voice calm and deliberate, "we have to keep moving forward. We can regret our actions later, but we can't let the fear of making the wrong choice paralyze us. Inaction has consequences too."

Darius turned his head slightly, meeting Rydens gaze as he continued. "Yes, maybe our actions will hurt people. But they could also save people—many more than we realize. And honestly? We're in a position no one else here is. We have knowledge and tools that can shape this world. If we step back now because we're scared, we'll be abandoning the very people we've sworn to help."

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Ryden looked back at the crowd, at the tribes mingling and learning, the spirits flitting through the air. His eyes softened as he watched a group of warriors laughing with newfound camaraderie, their faces illuminated by the glow of the fire. "You may be right," he murmured, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "I guess I just feel like… we have too much power. And little to no understanding of what it truly does."

The two fell into a quiet lull, the crackling of the fire their only companion. Rice, who had been stirring another pot of stew, broke the silence with a frustrated sigh. "If we're in that mushy-feelings stage," he began, his tone half-joking, "then I've got something to get off my chest. I'm still pissed about Eris."

Darius and Ryden turned to him, curiosity flickering in their expressions.

Rice leaned back, resting on his hands as he stared up at the night sky. "I had a clean shot at her," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "A perfect opening. But I couldn't do it. I just… couldn't pull the trigger. Damn it, dude, I don't think I can actually kill a person. Not even someone like her."

Darius shook his head, his expression calm but firm. "That's okay," he said simply. "If someone ever needs to die—like Eris—let me take the shot."

Rice looked at him, his dark eyes wide with a mix of surprise and faint amusement. "Damn, okay, big guy," he said, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "Didn't know you were built like that."

Darius just shrugged, lifting his bowl of stew and taking a slow sip. The firelight played across his features, highlighting the quiet strength that always seemed to radiate from him.

Rice chuckled, shaking his head. "Still," he said after a moment, his tone more sincere, "thanks, Darius. For real."

Darius didn't respond immediately. He set his bowl down, his gaze lifting to the sky. The stars above glimmered faintly, a thousand pinpricks of light against the velvety darkness. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of smoke and earth. After a moment, he spoke, his voice quiet. "Autumn's coming."

The three of them fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of their earlier conversation lingering but not oppressive. The sound of celebration around them began to fade into the background, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. They sat together, each lost in their own thoughts