Back in the plantation, Onyx was helping Mister Rolf move several large, fibrous sacks. He held one with his right arm and hoisted another onto his left shoulder. The old farmer did the same, moving with a seasoned ease that still outmatched Onyx's younger strength.
What the two men were transporting were the seeds Mister Rolf had procured the day before. They dropped their loads next to one of the waiting fields—a plot of dark, freshly turned virgin soil ready to bear the seeds of a future harvest.
As the two stood, resting their arms and catching their breath, Onyx casually asked, "So, what're we working with ?"
To which Mister Rolf also casually replied, "This plantation can grow all sorts of crops. But we have one specialty, and that's the Medica Mystica Herb."
"I see," Onyx replied automatically. A second later, his eyes widened in realization. "Wait, WHAT?!"
The old farmer chuckled to himself, deeply amused by Onyx's delayed, explosive reaction.
The Medica Mystica Herb is one of the most cultivated plants across the realms, yet it remains one of the most valuable. This is because this herb possesses naturally potent healing properties. A single leaf can heal most common wounds and even mend grievous injuries. And When used as an ingredient in alchemical concoctions, it can becomes the cornerstone of many life-saving medicines.
For those in the perilous profession of a Beast Catalyser, having access to such medicines could mean the difference between life and death—for themselves and for their beasts.
However, another important fact to note is that not just anyone could cultivate this plant. It required a high level of skill, as it was notoriously demanding. If even one condition wasn't perfectly met, the plant would wither or simply fail to reach maturity.
This is why Onyx was so shocked. Not only were they going to cultivate such a high-value, critical crop, but the old man’s offhand ability to call it his "specialty" spoke volumes about his true expertise. Onyx had known Mister Rolf had many years of experience under his belt, but he had failed to grasp the true scope and caliber of that experience. The humble farmer suddenly seemed more revering.
Mister Rolf first called forth his beast, Helda, to his side with a soft mental command. Onyx followed suit, bringing Tusk out from his soul sea.
As both beasts materialized, Helda, the great shaggy garden-cow, immediately ambled over to the newcomer. She lowered her massive, horned head towards the little grub, giving him a deep, nonchalant sniff. Having such a colossal, fur-draped creature loom over you would have probably terrified any other being, but Tusk refused to be intimidated. He lifted his head as high as his chubby larval body would allow in a futile attempt to match Helda's sheer scale, clicking his tiny mandibles together in a rapid, vigorous chatter that clearly meant, Don't mess with me! I am big and scary, too!
However his little antics served only to make Helda more intrigued and visibly amused. A deep, rumbling sound, almost like a chuckle, vibrated from her chest.
While the two beasts goofed off, their masters were distracted by the farming plan. Onyx was hesitant at first, his voice laced with worry. "Mister Rolf, are you sure? I don't think I'm qualified to handle something this precious. What if I make a mistake and ruin a whole batch?"
But the old farmer was quick to dispel his worries with a wave of a calloused hand. "Relax, boy. Me and Helda, we'll handle the delicate bits . You and your grub will handle the manual labor , opening the holes, dropping the seeds, covering them. Besides," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I'll tell you exactly how to handle every seed. And I'll be right here to correct you if you stray. A watched apprentice doesn't spoil the crop."
Onyx was convinced. For the next several minutes, he received a crash course from Mister Rolf on the proper planting method: the precise depth, the spacing, the gentle way to cradle the tiny, silver-grey seeds that smelled faintly of mint and ozone. He also picked up other insights like how to read the soil's readiness by its color and smell, signs of beneficial micro-fauna.
Finally done, the two turned to get their beasts and begin.
But immediately They were met with the sight of Helda swinging her great head around in wide, playful circles. And from the tip of one long, shaggy lock of fur draped over her brow, Tusk was hanging on for dear life, a creamy-brown passenger on a furry merry-go-round, emitting tiny, exhilarated chirps.
Mister Rolf stared, his face impassive. "..."
Onyx stared, a mixture of horror and secondhand embarrassment on his face. "..."
After a firm command from Mister Rolf and a sheepish recall from Onyx, order—and dignity—were restored. With their respective beasts now behaving (Tusk looking slightly dizzy but proud), the real work can now begin.
Onyx and Tusk worked together to first dig the holes for the seeds, Onyx being extra attentive to guide Tusk on the right depth and spacing. Close behind them, Mister Rolf and Helda were preparing the seeds. Mister Rolf would first pluck one seed from the sacks, examining it thoroughly. If he found no issue with it, he would close his palm around it for a couple of seconds. Onyx couldn't tell, but Mister Rolf was imbuing the seed with trace amounts of his Flux. The moment he opened his palm again, it was Helda's turn. He brought the little seed close to the beast's snout, and she snorted over it a greenish, wet vapour.
This must be some other ability this beast possesses, Onyx concluded. Even though he couldn't tell what ability or its effect, it was safe to assume it was some sort of ability that helped with plant cultivation.
Once the seed preparation was complete, Mister Rolf would toss it to Onyx, who proceeded to plant it just as instructed before gently burying it.
And once he was done, the cycle would repeat. Despite their coordination, the group worked steadily but slowly. Mister Rolf preferred this rhythm, as he believed that haste makes waste.
The group progressed slowly through the field in focused silence at first, but once they all got into a rhythm and Onyx got used to the process, they relaxed enough for sparks of conversation to ignite.
Onyx spoke first, asking Rolf about his work. The old man was happy to oblige and went on to tell Onyx all he wanted to know, and more.
He first spoke about his history in this field, the paths he took to climb through it, some of his accomplishments and some of his mistakes. As the conversation progressed, Mister Rolf shifted into a lecture on how to excel, sharing the insights and skills he'd developed over many years. He spoke about a myriad of planting techniques, taught Onyx about all sorts of crops and their uses, and even shared information about beasts and specific beast abilities that could assist in this line of work. To an observer, it would look like Mister Rolf was passing on the secrets of his trade to Onyx—which he was.
Mister Rolf was, of course, aware of that, yet he didn't mind. His past experience with Onyx had made the old man quite fond of him. He certainly wouldn't mind having Onyx as something like a disciple. Besides, Mister Rolf personally didn't want his skills to die with him, so having someone he could pass them on to was a relief.
Onyx listened intently to Mister Rolf, memorizing everything he said and even making further inquiries and questions here and there. He did so because he knew that every bit of Mister Rolf's wisdom was worth its weight in gold.
This teacher-and-student duo continued their lecture for several hours as they worked, until at some point the conversation shifted to more personal topics.
Mister Rolf spoke about the family he had raised through his life, how he was lucky enough to marry his childhood sweetheart, after which they reared a beautiful daughter together who would go on to give him two grandchildren who were the light of his life.
He spoke especially fondly of his grandchildren, saying that the reason he hadn't retired yet, despite his age, was because he wanted to save enough wealth for them in case any of them chose to become Beast Catalysers like him. That way, they could have a more advantageous start and rise further than he ever did.
Hearing Mister Rolf talk so fondly about his family made Onyx feel warm inside. But upon hearing why Mister Rolf was doing this for them, Onyx was deeply moved. In a way, it reminded him of his own parents and how, even though they couldn't be there for him, they had done all they could for his sake.
Recalling them and comparing them to Mister Rolf's family, Onyx began to feel a bit cold and hollow inside, his gaze lowering with a slight note of sorrow.
Mister Rolf's old eyes weren't blind to this. He decided to flip the conversation and ask Onyx about his own family.
That was when Onyx's true feelings became clear. He didn't want to talk about it at first, but after some kind pressure from the old man, he reluctantly opened up.
Onyx then told him everything: how he lost his parents and became an orphan, how he and his siblings were split apart, the lonely and harsh upbringing he had to endure, and finally his desire to reunite with his kin.
Learning all this, Mister Rolf was left solemn, not knowing what to say. He now truly understood what Onyx had meant when he said he knew hardship on the day they first met.
However, not wanting Onyx to dwell on this unfortunate past, the old man admitted to him that he enjoyed having him around. Working alongside him, talking with him, and teaching him all meant a lot to the old man—it was like having a son, he admitted with a smile.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"A son?" Onyx muttered, overwhelmed with emotion. Mister Rolf's kind words had warmed a part of his heart that had never known warmth before.
The duo then continued working diligently together, their pace becoming subtly more energetic and the relationship between them becoming unspokenly deeper.
---
Elsewhere, on the periphery of the Pride Rocks Station, the environment was much less forested than near Grey Wood Station, instead being rocky and rugged—unsurprising, given the station's proximity to a mountain range. More interestingly, however, were the many hexagonal stone monoliths scattered around the station's periphery, each around six meters in height, formed of plain grey stone like the rest of the area.
These grey monoliths weren't significant—merely another strange landmark one could find exploring the outer realms. However, they were noticeable enough because of their unique appearance and the way they stood tall above the other rocks to earn the title of "Pride Rocks," and so, in turn, the station built near them.
Climbing the slightly sloped, rocky terrain was a trio of young Beast Catalysers. The figure on the left of the group was a young man draped in jet-black leather armour accompanied by a hooded cape. A white scarf covered the lower half of his face, leaving only stern eyes, seemingly as dark and deep as an abyss, to be seen. The young man's skin was somewhat pale, his hair a strange ashy color. From what little could be seen of his face, hints at a handsome disposition—or at least, that's how it would have been if not for the seemingly permanent scowl.
To the right of the group was a young woman, much less obscure than her companion. Her skin was a milky tan color, and the hair on her head was long and plentiful, woven into a thick long braid that reached the end of her back. Her face was soft and smooth, her nose slightly round, and her eyes a coppery brown colour shining with an alluring light. This young woman wore a white tunic embroidered with patterns of blue, leather sandals, and a hooded cape.
And finally, the last of the trio was the most obscure, her body completely engulfed by her large cape and her face obscured by its hood.
However, that didn't seem to matter to the other two. The trio continued to walk in silence.
After some time, they stood before the palisade of the Pride Rock Station. Once at the gate, they were stopped by a duo of guards standing at attention beside it.
One guard spoke in a high voice, "Halt! Identify yourselves, strangers!"
The trio stopped some distance away. The young woman standing on the right stepped forward and announced, "My name is Athen. These are my two companions, Nox and Rosafey. We've come from the North Star Station."
The guard then asked, "And what brings you here?"
Athen once more answered, "The North Star Station was becoming too tight for development, so we felt the need to move somewhere else. So we came here."
Nothing about what Athen said felt like a lie or out of the ordinary, but the guard couldn't help feeling a little suspicious, specifically towards the overly covered figure of Rosafey. He had a gut feeling that she was hiding something.
He turned to her and addressed her directly. "You, in the middle. What's your name again? Show your face."
The trio fell silent. But before anything could happen, Rosafey slowly lifted her arm towards her head and pulled back her hood.
"The name's Rosafey," the guard's ears heard, while his eyes widened as they were met with the sight of an atrociously beautiful young woman. Her skin and even her lips were a harmonious pale colour, almost as pure as jade. Her hair was a silvery blonde, smooth as silk and cut shortly to the height of her neck, with the ends seemingly dyed a crimson red. Her eyebrows, as thin and delicate as a masterful brushstroke, loomed over two sharp eyes with irises seemingly made of blood-red ruby.
The guard and his partner were completely lost in the sight of this young woman's face. It was almost like they were staring at the face of a masterfully crafted porcelain doll somehow given life—a sight that would make anyone freeze in place with awe.
But before the guards could snap out of it, Athen woke them up, asking, "May we head inside, then?"
"Wha—oh, yes. Yes, you may go in," he responded, still flustered by the sight of Rosafey. He also, for some reason, couldn't remember if there was anything else he should ask the group, so he decided to simply let them through.
And so the trio finally moved past the guards into the heart of the station. As they traversed the streets, Rosafey suddenly heard a voice in her head saying, My lady, now that we have reached our destination, what should be our first move? The disembodied voice actually belonged to Athen.
Rosafey didn't seem surprised by her companion's ability to communicate telepathically. First, we gather intelligence and scout the local scene, she responded before turning her gaze ever so slightly to the right and saying, "Nox, infiltrate this station's command structure and collect any useful information."
Nox hesitated a bit before replying, "As you order, my lady." He then casually separated from the group and headed towards the nearest dark alley. The moment he stepped into the shadows, he seemed to vanish into them.
Rosafey and Athen were now alone. "While Nox is gathering intelligence, we should make our presence known within the local scene to avoid drawing suspicion later on, and also see if there's any useful connections we can establish. Where is the best place to do that?"
Athen didn't immediately answer, instead remaining strangely silent for a minute before responding with, "Follow me, my lady."
She then proceeded to guide herself and Rosafey through the streets of the station with a strange familiarity, as if this wasn't the first time she had visited.
The two young women finally stood before the door of a large tavern. Rosafey didn't question why her confidant would bring her to such a place, only scrutinizing the exterior for a bit before heading in.
Once inside, the two were met with a cacophony of noise: the sounds of patrons talking, laughing, and arguing, the creak of wooden floors, the clang of mugs and dishes, and the muffled sound of music being played from somewhere within the tavern.
As the two walked, many eyes took note of the unfamiliar newcomers, but they paid them no heed, advancing deeper into the tavern and finding a place to sit.
It wasn't long before a middle-aged, kind-faced waitress came to their service. "Well, hello there, sugars. Are you new here?"
Rosafey didn't say anything, letting Athen politely respond with, "Yes, ma'am, we are."
The waitress smiled brightly. "Well, welcome aboard. Now, can I get you two sweet things anything?"
Athen proceeded to order some refreshments for both of them before the waitress went to bring their order.
As the two sat there waiting, more and more eyes began to fall on them—it wasn't every day two lovely ladies came walking through the door, especially Rosafey. The sight of her was already starting to ignite whispers here and there.
This went on for a couple of minutes until, suddenly, from amongst the crowd, a tall figure stepped towards them, carrying a chair. He was a man wearing silver armour with a blue scarf. His face was long, and his hair a bluish dark. He walked towards the two before setting his seat at their table.
He then sat without permission and immediately began addressing them. "Pardon my intrusion, ladies. I don't mean to annoy you," he said, though the cocky smile on his face said otherwise. "I just happened to spot you from across the room, and I couldn't recognise you. You wouldn't happen to be new here, are you?" he asked, rubbing his chin.
Athen then calmly replied, "We are. We have just arrived from the North Star Station."
"I see. And what brings you to our humble station?"
"We seek to grow stronger and ally ourselves with the strongest of Beast Catalysers."
The man's cocky smile widened even more. "Well, then you've come to the right place. This tavern is the gathering spot for the best Catalysers in the station."
"That's great," Athen said with a high tone. "You wouldn't happen to be able to point us to some of them, would you?"
The man then smirked arrogantly and, using his thumb, pointed to himself. "Well, if that's the case, you need to look no further than me. They call me Silver Flash Ginta, fastest blade on this side of the realm."
As this man was boasting, Rosafey turned her head ever so slightly and asked, "Are you now?"
Ginta was slightly taken aback—this was the first time Rosafey had said anything throughout the conversation, and her melodically raspy voice was also very surprising. Once Rosafey brought attention to herself, the man seemed to shift his focus onto her entirely. Her pure skin, her silky hair, her verdant eyes—they all made her too alluring to look away from once you got a good look.
Staring at her, the man was obviously smitten, the sight of her face igniting carnal desires. He didn't waste time pouncing on the opportunity to pursue her.
"That's right," he said. "If you two lovely ladies ally yourselves with me, I can guarantee your development will be a smooth ride. Though..." He paused before leaning on the table and bringing his face an uncomfortably close distance to hers. "...if this young lady here, is willing to be 'more' than just allies, I can guarantee she gets a very special treatment around here."
This words implications weren't hard to decipher. Many of the men observing began to fantasize about such a possibility, their eyes full of envy, clearly wishing to be in that man's place. On the other hand, many of the female patrons rolled their eyes in disgust and gave the young girl looks of sympathy for having to deal with this sloppy womanizer.
Rosafey, however, despite what one would have expected, nonchalantly answered with, "Sure, why not?"
This response caught everyone watching off guard. The man couldn't believe what he heard for a second, but once the fact sunk in, his heart beat hard with excitement—he could never have thought he would be so lucky one day, he thought to himself. But before he could say anything else, Rosafey added, "Under one condition, of course."
The man was stunned for a second but then asked, his cocky smile not leaving his face, "Oh yeah? And what would that be?"
"If you can prove that you're stronger than me," Rosafey replied, her demeanor still nonchalant.
The man was surprised by the condition, but soon thought to himself, So she likes strong men?
"And how can I prove that I am so?" he inquired.
"It's easy," Rosafey replied. "You said you're the fastest blade on this side of the realm, no? Well, I also fancy myself a swordswoman. So, how about a little duel?"
The man hesitated—he obviously wasn't as fine a swordsman as he boasted. But looking at Rosafey's face, he thought, This girl is too pretty and delicate-looking to be a warrior. She must have had a privileged life, practicing swordsmanship in a domestic environment and never experiencing a real battle. He smirked. If that's the case, victory is all but guaranteed.
"All right, then," the man spoke in a loud voice, clearly trying to grab attention. "It's a duel, then. If I win, you become my woman. And if you win—oh, forgive me for asking—what would you want if you win?"
Rosafey shrugged, saying, "You pay for our drinks."
The man barely held back his laughter. He just couldn't believe this girl's antics—challenging him on a whim, then talking confidently like she has a chance. But despite his amusement, he composed himself and asked for a small space to be opened in the tavern for their duel. He was intentionally making Rosafey have this duel in front of the crowd so she couldn't deny the bet later.
Soon, a small circle was made for the two to duel, the eyes of the entire tavern now focused on this surprising event.
As the man stood awaiting Rosafey inside the circle, she slowly rose from her seat and removed her large hooded cloak.
As the cloak came off, silent waves of astonishment filled the tavern. Beneath her cloak was a figure of near-imaginary proportions: slender limbs, a light yet toned physique, flexible-moving hips, and a beautiful, bountiful bosom. Rosafey's body looked like a living statue of a Greek goddess, a porcelain doll that was nothing short of a work of art.
Her attire did nothing to reduce the intensity of her beauty, as her armour consisted mostly of light plating on her chest and shoulders, while the rest was a crimson red, tight-fitting alloy fabric that further served to highlight every detail of her body.
Once her figure was fully revealed, everyone in the tavern was stunned silent, all unanimously sharing a single thought .
Ginta: "Damn."
Every male patron in the tavern: "Damn."
Almost every female patron in the tavern: "Damn."
Rosafey then stepped forward slowly, grasping the hilt of a slender reaper sword in her hand. Just watching this figure advance was enough for almost every man present to start sweating—it was as if the temperature in the tavern had suddenly increased by several degrees.
Ginta himself was struggling to contain himself. If he was attracted to her before, now he was... His heart hammered against his ribs with excitement, his blood pumping vigorously, his saliva almost dripping from his mouth. I can't believe this is happening to me. What luck, what luck! he roared in his head, already celebrating.
Finally, after a couple of very long seconds, Rosafey stood in the circle, ready to face her opponent.
Once standing before him, Ginta swallowed hard and summoned whatever composure he had left. But before they began, he looked at Rosafey and said, "You know what? It would be unfair of someone like me to go against a rookie like you. So I tell you what—if you can land a single hit on me, or disarm me, it will be your win." Ginta, convinced he'd already won, went ahead with this stunt to bolster his reputation and gain the image of a chivalrous gentleman—all empty pretense.
Rosafey thought for a bit about his proposal and casually agreed, saying, "If you say so." Then the two drew their blades and got ready to engage.
Ginta signalled the beginning of the duel. "Ready… set… go!" he shouted.
However, before he could even register his opponent, the swift sound of air being cut resounded four times, followed by the sound of a metallic ding each time for three times, before ending on the fourth slash of air with an ever-so-slight sound of a thud.
At that moment, Ginta seemed to freeze in place all of a sudden. When his eyes finally adjusted, he was looking at the figure of Rosafey already sheathing back her sword!?
The slender reaper blade, no wider than a pinky, was being slowly slid back into its ebony sheath.
"Wh-what?" Ginta muttered, but he couldn't finish his sentence before the sound of three metallic clangs interrupted him, followed by a sudden wet sensation that came from his forehead and flowed down his face, splitting in two across the bridge of his nose.
All of that happened in a single heartbeat. Once thoughts finally caught up, the entire tavern was left silent.
Ginta, still stunned, looked down at his arms to see his blade still in his grasp, reduced to a fraction of its original size, the rest of it lying on the ground in three sundered pieces. Lifting his hand and touching his forehead, he observed the liquid streaming from it to be his blood. A stinging pain finally emerged the moment he came to the realization.
So what actually happened? Well, in a single heartbeat, right after Ginta gave the signal to go, Rosafey split his sword in three using her own before stabbing him in the forehead, giving him a shallow wound. By the time he caught up to what happened, Rosafey was already sheathing back her weapon.
Suddenly, all the previous heat and ruckus that filled the tavern disappeared, replaced by a cold chill and stillness.
Especially Ginta, who just moments ago was already celebrating his victory, was now stunned silent by defeat—a defeat he couldn't even see happening.
His legs buckled from underneath him. Now on his knees, he looked up at Rosafey, his previous lust and desire replaced with shock and fear.
He asked with shaky words, "Who… who are you?"
The young woman before him merely lowered her eyes at him. "The name's Rosafey," she said, her voice pitched to make sure everyone in this tavern—and soon, everyone in this station—would know who she is.
