Rebooting...

For the first time since his dramatic arrival in this bizarre world, Zane stood face-to-face with the villagers he was supposedly in charge of. Using "lord" to describe his role felt generous—he was less a ruler and more a title holder with no authority, budget, or clue what he was doing.

The village was modest, with a population of about 137. Most were elderly or children, leaving just 22 able-bodied adults to carry the load. Among the men, there were five—three of whom were now his designated rabbit-slayers. That left two men Zane hadn't yet roped into his schemes, and they were probably hiding in their homes praying to whatever gods existed that he wouldn't notice them.

As Zane, Sylphie, and the trio entered the village square, a growing crowd gathered. Ron and Vlad dragged carts overflowing with grey rabbit corpses, their faces flushed with exertion. The villagers stared at the carts, mouths agape, their expressions a mix of awe and confusion.

Zane adjusted his shirt dramatically, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, raising his voice as though addressing a stadium. "Your Lord Zane has returned, and—"

"Master," Sylphie interrupted, tugging on his sleeve. "I don't think they're listening."

Zane paused, squinting at the villagers. She was right—they weren't paying attention to him at all. Their eyes were glued to the carts of rabbits, their whispers growing louder.

"Fine," Zane muttered, crossing his arms. "Let them gawk. I'll save my grand speech for later. Maybe I'll even charge admission."

The villagers eventually snapped out of their stupor and began offering Zane a mix of greetings. Some were warm, others perfunctory at best, and a few felt more like a legal obligation than genuine gratitude. Zane smiled and waved anyway, mentally noting who seemed to like him and who might be first in line to sell him out for a loaf of bread.

Soon, the square was bustling with activity. Groups of villagers got to work processing the rabbits, their movements swift and practiced. Zane watched with morbid fascination as they skinned and gutted the animals with the efficiency of seasoned butchers.

One pile of cleaned rabbits was set aside to be smoked and preserved—a process familiar to Zane. A smaller batch was reserved for tonight's celebration, an event Zane assumed was less about him and more about the rare opportunity to eat actual meat.

"Master!" Sylphie's cheerful voice broke through his thoughts.

She approached him with a small pouch, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. "Here's the thing you requested."

Zane took the pouch, opening it to reveal several small, blue beads no bigger than marbles. They shimmered faintly in the sunlight, their smooth surfaces gleaming like polished gemstones.

"So, this is a mana core?" Zane asked, holding one up to examine it.

Sylphie nodded eagerly. "Yes, Master! These are the cores we found in the rabbits. They're small, but they still have value!"

Zane turned the bead over in his hand, intrigued. He'd learned from Sylphie that mana cores were a key part of the ecosystem—a sign of a monster's evolution. The stronger the monster, the larger and more potent its mana core.

"Even rabbits have magic, huh..." Zane muttered. "So these fluffy little nightmares are magical, but I'm not. No wonder my family punted me out here."

He sighed, the realization hitting harder than he'd like to admit. Shaking it off, he focused on the practical side of things. "So, you're saying we can sell—"

Before he could finish, a familiar black screen popped into view, floating in front of him like an unwelcome popup ad.

"Vista?" Zane blinked, the mana core still pinched between his fingers. The screen displayed a rotating 3D model of the core, accompanied by glowing text:

Description: Mana Core

MP: 30/30

Status: Programmable

"Programmable?" Zane repeated aloud. His brow furrowed as he stared at the screen.

The moment the word left his lips, something happened. A flood of information surged into his brain, an overwhelming torrent of knowledge that felt like someone had connected his skull to a high-speed data line.

"OH GOD," Zane groaned, clutching his head. "It's like binge-watching a decade of infomercials in thirty seconds—MAKE IT STOP!"

"Master?!" Sylphie yelped, dropping the pouch in her panic.

Zane swayed on his feet, his knees buckling as his vision blurred. Vista's screen flickered, displaying a new message:

Searching database for suitable programming language…

Selected: Basic Rune Language.

Transferring knowledge…

10%... 20%...

Before Sylphie could catch him, Zane crumpled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

"Master!" Sylphie cried, shaking his shoulder.

Zane groaned weakly, his voice muffled. "Tell Vista... to ask me first... next time..."

Sylphie looked up at the villagers, who were now staring at the scene with a mix of confusion and mild concern.

"Is he... okay?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"I think the Lord might be broken," Tim muttered, poking Zane's leg with his spear.

"He's not broken!" Sylphie snapped, glaring at Tim. "He's just... uh..." She glanced at her master. "He- he's... oh yeah in sleep mode... that's what master calls it."

Zane let out another groan, raising a weak hand. "I'm not a computer, Sylphie... but nice support."

And with that, he fainted again, leaving Sylphie and the villagers to wonder what on earth had just happened as Vista's screen turned off with a final message, "Rebooting"

---------

"Don't blow up!" Zane jerked awake, his heart racing as the remnants of a bizarre dream faded from his mind.

He blinked groggily, realizing he was back in his makeshift bed of hay. The dim light of early dawn filtered through the cracks in the walls, and Sylphie was slumped in a chair next to him, her head bobbing slightly with each sleepy breath.

Rubbing his temples, Zane muttered, "What the hell was that…" His head was still throbbing, flashes of the unfamiliar language from earlier dancing in his mind. Slowly, he got out of bed, careful not to wake Sylphie, and stepped outside to clear his thoughts.

In the cool night air, his memories began to piece themselves together. That language—it wasn't just some weird post-trauma hallucination. He could see it, feel it, like a new instinct burned into his brain. Dropping to his knees in the dirt, Zane began scribbling on the ground with a stick, his hands moving almost automatically.

The letters and symbols flowed from him with a fluidity that surprised even him. "I don't remember installing an AI auto-update function on Vista," he muttered, scratching his head. He stared at the strange script, tilting his head like he was trying to decode an abstract painting. After a moment, his lips curled into a grin.

"Eh, who cares? Free upgrades are free upgrades."

Zane kept at it, drawing more symbols and muttering to himself. "So… it's kind of like a simplistic programming language," he murmured, his excitement growing. His hands moved faster as he pieced things together, one connection leading to the next like a domino effect.

"Master?" Sylphie's concerned voice broke his concentration. She stood in the doorway, clutching her shawl as she squinted into the moonlit yard. "Are you okay? You weren't in bed…"

Zane didn't even look up. "Grab me a mana core," he said, his tone urgent but distracted.

"Master?"

"Quick," Zane insisted, waving a hand dismissively as he continued scribbling furiously in the dirt.

Sylphie hesitated for a moment before hurrying back inside. She returned with the pouch of mana cores, holding it out to him. "Here, Master…"

"Thanks," Zane said absentmindedly, snatching the pouch without breaking his focus. He spilled a few of the cores onto the ground, selecting one and holding it up to the moonlight as if inspecting a diamond.

The minutes turned into hours as Zane worked, the symbols in the dirt multiplying into intricate patterns. He was completely engrossed, muttering to himself as he connected ideas in his mind. "That makes sense… Oh, that's clever… Wait, no, that's stupid—why won't it—oh, right, I forgot the stupid apostrophe!"

Sylphie watched him silently, her concern deepening. She'd never seen him like this. The Zane from before was bitter and distant, barely even acknowledging her unless it was to bark orders. But this Zane… he was a whirlwind of energy, curiosity, and muttered nonsense.

She couldn't decide if it was an improvement or a sign that the fall had permanently scrambled his brain. Either way, she was starting to worry. If he kept acting like this, she might have to contact the family. The thought made her stomach churn.

Shaking her head, Sylphie decided to do what she could. She went back inside and returned with an oil lamp, lighting it with a soft murmur of magic. Holding it up, she illuminated Zane's work.

"Here, Master," she said softly, placing the lamp nearby.

"Thanks," Zane muttered, barely registering her presence. "Can you bring me a sturdy stick from inside? And my knife."

Sylphie nodded and hurried off again, returning with the requested items. Zane took them without a word, immediately setting to work. His hands moved with purpose as he began carving runes into the stick, occasionally muttering under his breath.

"I see…" he said, narrowing his eyes. "That doesn't make sense, but okay… Wait, why won't it—oh, come on, I just—" He let out a frustrated groan, smacking his forehead. "Of course, I forgot the apostrophe. Again. What am I, a beginner?"

Sylphie tilted her head, watching him with a mix of fascination and confusion. She didn't understand a word of what he was saying, but his intensity was oddly captivating.

The night wore on, the distant sounds of the villagers' celebration fading into silence. Zane worked tirelessly, his focus unshakable as he carved, wrote, and occasionally cursed at the dirt. Sylphie stayed by his side, holding the lamp steady as the moonlight began to fade.

Finally, as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, Zane leaned back with a triumphant grin, holding up the stick like it was Excalibur.

"Finally!" he declared, his voice hoarse but victorious. "I'm done."

Sylphie blinked at him, her brow furrowing. "Master… what is that?"

Zane stood, brushing dirt off his pants as he admired his handiwork. "Sylphie," he said, holding the stick up dramatically, "allow me to introduce the first-ever Zane Mana core-enhanced Torch. Or ZMET for short."

Sylphie stared at him blankly. "…What does it do?"

Zane grinned, twirling the stick in his hand.