Chapter 24 - One Man Believed it first

Ren sat quietly, still staring at the drill, clinging to hope.

He'd tried more than once. Again and again. Turning the handle, adjusting the angle, wiping the sweat from his palms before gripping it tight once more. But not a single attempt worked. The thing just sat there, silent, still.

Not yet.

He glanced around.

The workers were gone, most of them.

Drawn off by the smell of stew boiling in iron pots or the lure of sleep on thin bedrolls. Only a few stayed.

Tobren, standing tall as always, his shoulders squared, as if he could shoulder Ren's burden if he only knew how.

Helric, still clumsy with one hand but solid as stone, his good hand resting on his knee, watching, waiting.

And the guild members… all except Lanton. They stood at a respectful distance. Their weapons sheathed, their eyes quiet. No longer guarding. Just there.

They hadn't left. Not when it mattered.

Ren lowered the drill to the ground and let it rest. His fingers trembled from exhaustion, but he willed the shaking to stop. He stood up, brushing the dust from his pants, and let out a long, slow breath that felt heavier than it should.

"Everyone," he said quietly, voice low but steady. "Come sit with me."

No one hesitated. They came without a word, forming a small circle on the cracked earth. The wind stirred the dry grass, carrying with it the faint scent of smoke from the cooking fires. The sky stretched out above them, endless and clear, as if waiting to see what would happen next.

Ren looked at them. Not as followers. Not as tools. As people. People who had shared his hunger, his fear, his doubt.

"I just realized… I never told you where I really came from," he said.

Tobren raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. Helric's brow furrowed, curiosity flickering across his scarred face. One of the guild members blinked, leaning forward slightly.

"I'm not from this world," Ren said. His voice stayed calm. Steady. "I was summoned. Just like the others, the ones with magic and swords and armor. But I didn't get any of that. No god picked me. No class. No magic. Nothing."

The words hung in the air, heavy and strange.

"I was thrown away by the kingdom. They called me a 'Null.' Left me here to die, like trash tossed to the Wasteland."

The circle stayed silent. Tobren's eyes widened, his jaw tight. Helric opened his mouth, but no words came out. Even the breeze seemed to pause, the grass stilling in the quiet.

Ren managed a small, tired smile.

"Back home, I wasn't a fighter or a hero. I was just a planner. I helped small towns grow. Worked with water systems, roads, food, trade routes. That's all. And that's what I've tried to do here. Not to become a hero. Just to survive. And maybe help some others survive too."

He glanced at the drill lying motionless beside him. Then back at the people who had stayed.

"I believe there's water down there. I don't think this land is cursed. I think it's just forgotten. Like most of us here."

His voice softened, words carrying more weight than volume.

"Maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe I wasn't given magic because I was supposed to do this instead. Build something. Leave something that lasts. That's what I'm thinking."

A home.

A future.

Tobren spoke at last, his voice low. "You should've told us."

Ren shook his head. "I didn't want to be treated different. I needed to prove I could stand with you first."

Helric chuckled, rough and dry. "You didn't just stand. You carried us."

Kaela's voice drifted from where she stood, arms folded, watching. "There's no hero in the records who carried a map instead of a sword. And yet… here we are. Watching things that shouldn't be possible. I don't want to believe it. But I do."

The silence returned. But this time, it wasn't heavy.

It felt like the breath before something starts.

Ren looked at the drill.

"Let's try again. One more time."

As the sun dipped west, long shadows stretched across the land, turning the fields gold and red. They clung to hope, watching his hands reach again for the lever, waiting for the sound of turning metal.

They had to believe.

***

Dinner had passed hours ago.

One by one, they left the fields.

Tobren was too hungry. Helric, too tired. They couldn't wait any longer.

But Ren stayed.

The guild members followed after a while, glancing back at him once, twice, before leaving him alone beneath the darkening sky.

They gathered in the kitchen tent, picking at their food in silence. Their voices stayed low, as if afraid any louder word might break what little hope they still held.

They gave Ren space, space to bear the weight no one else could carry.

More than a hundred souls.

One map.

One man.

The wind pushed at the tent's loose edge. The quiet felt heavy.

Then—

"YESSS!!!"

The cry split the night air. From beyond the tower.

The village froze. Heads snapped up. Eyes went wide. They didn't need to ask.

Ren.

Feet pounded the dirt. Dozens ran toward the sound. They didn't know what had happened. Just that it mattered.

The relic was working.

Water. The drill. It had to be.

Ren didn't even see the crowd. He was still hunched over, hands locked on the lever like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His breath came ragged and harsh. The drill spun, steady, alive.

Sweat dripped down his face. His vision blurred. His body screamed for rest.

His knees gave out.

Tobren caught him before he hit the ground.

Without a word, the old steward lifted him onto his back. Step by slow step, he carried Ren toward the tower.

The villagers moved aside, silent.

A path opened for them, heads bowed in respect no one had to command.

And that…

That was the last thing Ren saw.

A path. Bowed heads.

Then he let go.

And fainted.

***

While Ren slept, the others stayed.

They didn't return to their beds. Didn't leave.

They stood in the cool night, watching the relic hum beside the man who woke it.

Something had changed in them.

How could someone work so hard for people he barely knew?

No family here.

Not from here.

No duty.

And yet he gave everything.

So they moved. No one told them to.

One stepped forward. Took the drill.

Then another.

The relic's magic faded, but they felt it. A rhythm, a pulse beneath their feet.

Not magic.

Purpose.

They waited. Watched. Took turns.

When it stirred, they worked. When it stilled, they waited.

Through the night.

They shared quiet words. Spoke of what might come after. A well, a field, a home where their children could laugh.

And Kaela stood at the edge, arms still folded, listening. And for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe too.

By dawn, their hands were raw.

Their bodies ached.

But inside. A spark. A belief.

Maybe this place could live again.

Because one man believed it first.

And now… they did too.