Chapter 214

They might be considered a range, but the mountains were more sparsely placed and modest in height. Nevertheless, they hindered the passage of travelers seeking an unobstructed route to the north. Most notably, these gentle slopes impeded the central flow of the Tenon River, which streamed down from the northern part of Grandia, passing through the central plains.

Thus, some areas, Taren included, found themselves between the middle stretches of the Tenon and Luther rivers, reaping none of the benefits these vast waterways should provide. Their people faced difficulties in agriculture and farming—up until the previous year.

Grumble, thrum, thrum.

Kwakwakwa, kwakwakwakwa.

Ssssssss.

The mighty torrent of a waterfall began to lessen, transforming into thick drops of rain.

And just when the downpour seemed to wane…

“Indeed, it’s quite remarkable.”

From atop the dam’s floodgate, words of awe escaped Logan’s lips as he watched the gates close.

Below the renowned Three Peaks of the Taren region, a dam had been constructed by piercing through the mountains. Aptly named the Tenon Dam, it controlled water volumes with simple lever operations—a clear advancement compared to the dams of the Macline plains.

“We Dwarves broke sweated day and night, channeling the water from the Tenon River through tunnels beneath these three peaks! It’s only natural that our efforts yield such results.”

“Hmm. Well, alright. Release everything you’ve brought.”

At his command, the hundred Dwarves present, including Hamar, flinched. Although bound by a magical oath, they were acutely aware of the fortunes that the contents of their large sacks—comparable in size to their own torsos—held.

“Are we really going to dissolve it in the water? It’ll simply melt away.”

“If you’re not concocting massive quantities of mana potions… Although, even potions require some processing. Are you truly certain about this?”

Clayton, who had come in support of Logan’s decision, now appeared hesitant to carry out the task in reality. The pulverized magical stones they brought were worth tens of millions of gold.

“We’ve ground them into powder for transport, haven’t we? If left untouched, they’ll naturally assimilate within days. It’s better to just scatter them now. Come on, what are you waiting for? Pour them in!”

With eyes closed tight, the Dwarves, prompted by Logan’s words, opened their sacks one by one.

– Mana particles are faintly dispersed in nature, and magical stones, produced under special conditions, gradually meld back into the natural environment upon exposure.

– The assimilation of magical stones into nature accelerates as their volume decreases, particularly in humid conditions.

Any knowledgeable person would recognize these facets of magical stones. The dwarves knew their transported powders were devaluing by the second.

Soon, the shimmering blue dust within the sacks cascaded into the gathered water behind the gates.

The dust was more than pure mana crystallized from the forces of nature.

Twinkling, it disappeared into the water as if melting away.

“Aaah… What a waste.”

“It’s heartbreaking…”

Those who knew the value of what they were witnessing couldn’t help but sigh in desolation.

Yet one man looked on differently.

To Logan’s eyes, the dissolved mana in water continued to spread a faint yet enchanting blue light.

“Now, open the floodgates again. Let these waters spread across the farmlands.”

A satisfied smile graced Logan’s face. He had employed a method of enhancing growth through the water imbued with magical stone, a technique unexpectedly borne from a past life accident in the Empire. Precisely, the result of a terrorist attack—a carriage loaded with magical stones was raided by the Grandian Liberation Front.

Independent fighters, including Louis, had released a plethora of magical stones into the Tenon River, preferring their loss to letting them reach the Empire. Almost half mineral, half energy, the stones quickly dissolved in the river water, seemingly incurring immense losses for the Empire. That was until the following harvest on the river plains yielded an unprecedented bounty, the mechanics of which remained unexplored until now.

‘Dissolved magical stones in water, once absorbed by the soil in sufficient quantities, enhance the growth of all vegetation for at least a decade without dispersing…’

Logan might not know the exact volume of stones once spilled into the Tenon River, but he was aware of its effects from a year’s worth of mining.

Although the details of the Empire’s subsequent agricultural method remained a secret, and Logan from that time had no means to discern the ideal concentration of magical stones, the eyes of his current self could see mana.

Thrum.

Ssssss.

Watching the mana-infused water filter into the land, Logan could discern the optimal saturation point.

‘Stop pouring when the mana concentration ceases to increase.’

He observed a faint blue light begin to radiate splendidly from the lands soaked with this magical water. The sight, visible only to him, was beautiful—a magnificent display of nature’s energy spreading across the earth. The beauty of the process alone was overwhelming.

“One by one, keep pouring! Then, we’ll move on to the Luther Dam!”

Two dams were transforming Taren’s wastelands into arable land. Logan was determined to continue the work, shuttling back and forth between the dams and pouring in the magical stones until the fields of Taren shone bright enough.

To others, these efforts seemed merely a senseless squandering of resources. Logan’s satisfaction with the project would only cease more than a month later.

* * *

“Don’t the crops seem to be growing unusually fast?”

“Yeah, you think so too?”

“Hey, you lot. It’s all in your head, all in your head!”

“But it doesn’t feel like it’s just in our heads.”

“Must be the excitement of Taren Town coming to life—with new homes and lands emerging. I, too, step lively on my way to work. But to think you can feel the wheat growing—that’s a bit much, mate!”

“…Really?”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Smirk.

In the early hours, no longer night but not quite morning, Logan silently smiled upon hearing the farmers’ chatter on their way to the fields.

‘The tasks requiring my personal attention in Taren are almost complete.’

Now, it was time to return to Macline Town. Taren would manage well enough with those left behind unless it became necessary to move the base of his domain there later.

Just then, Logan’s contemplation was interrupted by a voice laden with confusion.

“I learned today that mana can really be fixed in the soil. How did Your Highness…?”

Clayton confirmed that the farmers’ murmurs were not mere fantasies.

“The Empire has taught me.”

“What? The Empire, already?”

With a half-truth, Logan steeped Clayton in further bewilderment, smirking as he led his knights and soldiers back to Macline Town.

Fortnight after completing the magical stone infusion at Macline Dam, Logan’s father, from whom he hadn’t heard since his return to the Empire, arrived in town with ‘a person’.

“Hahaha! This fella, he’s become a superhuman?”

Despite the hardships that seemed to have taken a toll on his robustness, Logan’s father greeted him with laughter.

“I was fortunate, Father.”

“Fortune? Becoming a superhuman, and the youngest on the continent at that?”

The title brought broad smiles to everyone but Logan, who felt a twinge of discomfort for usurping the honor rightly belonging to his brother. So, he quickly changed the subject.

“And the person behind you is…?”

“He’s Burdell. One of the ones you mentioned. A hunter of magical beasts, indeed.”

Padrick laughed, motioning toward the stoic man wrapped in beast skins despite the summer heat.

‘Out of the three, only one came as expected. But thankfully, that one is Burdell.’

Without knowledge of Logan’s thoughts, Burdell lightly bowed in greeting.

“I am Burdell. It’s an honor to meet a superhuman. But why on earth were you looking for me?”

The brown-haired, blue-eyed man leveled a steady gaze at Logan, completely unruffled.

‘A top-tier force user archer. Definitely.’

Logan felt the undeniable talent of the ‘Phantom Archer,’ having seen only from a distance in his previous life.

“In the empire’s northern magical forests, tales of a hunter with the ghostly skill to shoot spread as far as here. Welcome to Macline, Burdell. Make yourself comfortable. I promise you the highest honors.”

The accomplishments of the unique Ghost Archer Burdell in battle were so legendary they were often dismissed as exaggeration to those who never witnessed them directly. Archers typically weren’t regarded as noble warriors but mere soldiers.

Yet Logan had firsthand experience with Burdell’s incredible prowess in his past life.

He vividly remembered the sheer terror as red-tinted arrows seemingly appeared out of nowhere across the plains, decapitating his comrades one after another.

‘Alone, surviving, I cried in madness, searching for the enemy.’

When Logan learned those arrows had flown from a hilltop 3km away, he was astounded and terrified.

In reflexive recollection, Logan’s killing intent flared.

“Ugh! Logan?!”

“Ah!”

Padrick exclaimed in surprise at his son’s sudden mood shift, but Burdell reacted with rapid precision. Instantly gliding backward, his hands already clutched a sleek black longbow, and a black arrow twisted on the string quivered, aiming at Logan, glowing with refined red energy.

The austere expressions on Burdell’s face revealed his shock as he confronted the superhuman aura head-on.

Though the fault was his, Logan sighed lightly, allowing a wry smile to form.

“That was my mistake. A terrible memory involving a bow surfaced… My apologies. You can put down the bow. Or shall we test each other’s skills right here?”

“Ah…!”

The intense stiffness that had overtaken Burdell’s expression softened with recognition.

He had only then remembered he was within the heart of Macline, having agreed to take refuge within its folds.

“I’m sorry. Due to a rough life, I subconsciously react to killing intent…”

“It’s fine. Your swift response was impressive. I didn’t mean to test you, but if you hadn’t reacted, I would have been disappointed.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

“No, it is I who should apologize for initiating it.”

The atmosphere quickly returned to one of cordial warmth.

A superhuman archer who had proven his worth as a mercenary during the Empire’s war, earned a high nobility title, and was recognized for his exceptional tactical value on the battlefield—Burdell, the Ghost Archer—joined Macline House that day.