In her previous life, Sienna had never dreamed of greatness.
She had not wanted power or fame.
She had only wished to live comfortably and peacefully.
But now she bore Sienna’s memories.
Sienna’s pain.
Sienna’s resentment.
She understood, more clearly than anyone, the hatred House Vale had for the Arcana Empire and for those who had orchestrated their downfall.
Yet hatred alone was useless.
The Spatial Farm was an extraordinary treasure, but it had one glaring weakness.
It lacked offensive power.
It could grow crops.
Store goods.
Transform land.
But it could not strike down enemies.
And in a world where powerful mages and warriors could overturn battlefields with a wave of the hand, that limitation was as dangerous as carrying a chest full of gold while lacking a sword to defend it.
Mirella, if she wished, could kill her with ease.
Compared to true experts, Sienna was no stronger than a newborn chick beneath a hawk’s shadow.
That was why she insisted on remaining low-key.
If the great nobles discovered her ability, they would not hesitate for even a moment.
A strange gift that could turn dead land into fertile earth was more than a treasure.
It was a reason for murder.
Sitting quietly on the grass of the Spatial Farm, Sienna hugged her knees and gazed across the fields.
The silence here was peaceful. But beneath that peace, her thoughts churned like a storm.
This power had appeared suddenly. Anything gained suddenly could also vanish suddenly.
A cloud may cast a wide shadow, but if the wind changes, it disappears without warning.
That uncertainty filled her with urgency.
She had to transform the Black Soil Wasteland into something real and tangible as quickly as possible.
Something that would remain even if the Spatial Farm disappeared.
Only then would she truly feel secure.
After a while, she stood.
With a thought, the water from the spring rose into the air in shining streams. The liquid glimmered like strands of crystal silk beneath the farm’s soft light. Then it spread across the fields as a gentle rain. Droplets pattered against leaves and soil, releasing the rich, earthy fragrance of damp ground.
Sienna watched carefully.
Once the soil was sufficiently moist, she stopped immediately.
Too much water would drown roots as surely as too little would parch them. Even blessings required moderation.
Satisfied, she left the Spatial Farm and returned to her room.
The castle outside was silent.
The slaves had gone to sleep.
No lights burned in the courtyard.
The world seemed suspended between darkness and dawn.
Standing by the window, Sienna looked into the night.
Her heartbeat gradually slowed. Her thoughts settled.
She knew she could not rush.
A tall tower was not built by throwing stones into the air. It was built one brick at a time.
For now, her goal was simple. Feed more than one hundred people and not merely keep them alive.
Feed them well.
Clothe them.
Give them a future.
The weight of that responsibility rested heavily upon her shoulders.
In her previous life, she had only been responsible for herself. Now the lives of over one hundred people were tied to every decision she made. No wonder she had been forced to mature.
Responsibility was a stern teacher. It never raised its voice, yet its lessons carved themselves into the heart.
Eventually, she returned to bed.
Even though she thought she would remain awake, sleep came quietly, slipping over her like a warm blanket.
***
Some time later, a familiar tone rang in her mind.
[Ding! Radishes have matured. Please harvest as soon as possible.]
Sienna’s eyes snapped open. All traces of drowsiness vanished instantly.
She sat upright and entered the Spatial Farm.
The radishes were ready. Their leaves were lush and broad, and beneath the soil lay plump, mature roots.
Nearby, the corn had grown as tall as a man. Golden ears had formed along the stalks, their husks full and heavy.
The sight made her heart race.
Still, she did not touch the corn.
“Not yet. The corn had to fully mature. Once it did, I would have enough seed to plant vast fields.”
Instead, she harvested the radishes, ensuring once again that the leaves and roots were collected separately, and then purchased another bag of radish seeds and replanted them immediately.
Afterward, she walked through the rows of corn. She brushed her fingers across the husks and smiled.
“Just a little longer,” she whispered.
Satisfied, she returned to her room. The eastern horizon beyond the window had begun to pale. The black of night was giving way to soft gray.
Since sleep no longer seemed possible, she got dressed and opened the door.
The early morning air was cool and crisp.
April had arrived, and a slight chill lingered in the breeze.
As Sienna inhaled deeply, the cold air filled her lungs and swept away the last remnants of sleep.
She felt refreshed. Then her thoughts turned to her body.
Sienna had lived as a spoiled noble.
Too much indulgence.
Too much splurging.
Too little discipline.
And after drinking the Water of Nothingness, this body had become even weaker.
Sienna did not intend to die young from poor health.
Even if she could never become a powerful warrior or mage, she could at least strengthen her body.
So she began to jog.
Her footsteps echoed softly across the courtyard stones.
At first, she maintained a steady pace.
But within moments, her chest tightened.
Her breathing became ragged.
Her legs felt heavy.
The weakness of this body was even worse than she had imagined. Still, she gritted her teeth and continued until she could go no farther. Bent over, hands braced against her knees, she drew in great breaths of cold morning air.
Each inhale burned. Each exhale steamed before her lips.
Around the courtyard, slaves beginning their day stopped and stared.
They exchanged bewildered looks.
What was their Young Miss doing?
Running in circles before sunrise?
Had nobles invented a new ritual?
*
Once her breathing steadied, Sienna wiped the sweat from her brow and returned to the castle.
Though she had only run a short distance, her body felt unexpectedly light.
Refreshed.
And Alive.
When she entered, she found Mirella already awake. The older woman looked at her with obvious surprise. “Young Miss?” she said. “I thought you were still asleep.”
Sienna smiled. “Good morning, Grandma Mirella.”
Without further explanation, she went to wash.
Cool water splashed over her face, chasing away the last traces of fatigue.
Then she made her way to the living room, where she sat quietly and waited for breakfast.
After breakfast, the castle once again stirred to life like an old machine whose gears had finally remembered how to turn.
Tiara left first.
Without a word of complaint, she gathered her skirts, tied back her hair, and went to supervise the slaves who were still working near the abandoned dwarf mines.
Some of them were continuing to clear the tunnels, while others had been assigned a new task.
They spread across the nearby slopes in search of trees thick enough to cut into timber, because if they wished to discover where the underground lake connected, they would first need a boat.
In a world where every resource had to be wrestled from hardship, even a single plank of wood carried weight.
Mirella, meanwhile, prepared to inspect the surrounding terrain. To her, the most urgent matter was no longer food for the next few days, nor the condition of the mines, nor even Harold’s absence.
It was the land.
As long as the dead earth could be transformed into fertile soil, House Vale would have a place to sink its roots. And a tree with roots, even if winter strips it bare, can bloom again when spring returns.
Although she did not know the true nature of Sienna’s Spatial Farm, she had already witnessed two miracles with her own eyes.
Eighty thousand kilograms of magical radishes.
Acres of transformed soil.
If one sees a river flow from dry stone, there is no need to ask whether the water is real.
She guessed that Sienna’s strange ability was connected to agriculture. Maybe, indeed, blessed by Demeter.
And because she was wise, she chose not to ask further.
Some gifts from heaven were like seeds beneath the soil. One need not dig them up every day to prove they are growing.
*
Sienna chose to accompany Mirella.
Naturally, Wood and Stone were prepared to follow as they always did, moving with the silent determination of two mountains that had learned how to walk.
But this time, Sienna stopped them.
“Stone,” she said, turning to the broad-shouldered guard, “go and help Tiara watch over the slaves. One hundred people are not a small matter. Even a sturdy fence needs more than one post.”
Stone did not question her.
He simply bowed and left.
Thus, only Wood remained.
The three of them walked slowly along the foot of Iron Mountain.