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B5—Chapter 53: Returning A Castle… One Stone at a Time
🕑 Added 2025-02-19 15:22:05 +0000 UTCThe morning after the rescue, two familiar idiots stomped in, faces red and puffed up with righteous anger.
One of them jabbed a finger at me. “You drugged us!” he shouted. “What gives you the right—”
“Eight hours! Eight cursed hours!” the other one barked, voice cracking halfway through. “We could’ve died!”
Then the taller one decided he was gonna make a point with his fists.
Bad call.
He barely got his arm up before I stepped forward and buried a punch into his gut. A loud oof escaped him as he crumpled over, wheezing. I let him stay down and made a point of not healing the internal bruising. It was a shame to waste a teaching moment.
His friend backed up a step, eyes flicking between me and his gasping buddy.
Then came the smartest move of the day—he cast Identify.
His eyes lost focus, and a heartbeat later, his face drained of color. He made a choking sound, stumbled back, and grabbed his friend. “S-sorry!” he stammered, bowing so fast I thought he’d knock himself out. “We didn’t—we didn’t mean to—!”
Then he turned and bolted, dragging the groaning one behind him.
Apparently, they’d forgotten that I’d dragged Rom—also known as Lord Romus—their father, out of that dungeon. Somehow, that little detail had slipped their minds when they mouthed off.
I didn’t see them again after that little performance, which honestly suited me just fine. Two days later, Mahya wandered into the clinic, wearing a smug grin.
“You’ll love this,” she said, dropping into the nearest chair. “Roda sent your two fans to the keep.”
I looked up from arranging equipment. “Please tell me she’s not giving them spells.”
She snorted. “Stone haulers. Builders needed help. She needed them out of the way. Win-win.”
I raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the counter. “Let me guess—they didn’t take it well.”
“Not at first,” she said, inspecting her nails as if it were a casual detail. “But their father spelled it out—loudly. They either follow orders, or he asks you to ship them back to Almatai and never speaks to them again.”
I let out a low whistle, shaking my head. “That’ll do it.”
Mahya’s grin sharpened. “They’ve been hauling stones like good little rabbits ever since. No complaints. No tantrums. Just quiet obedience and sore backs.”
I nodded, returning to the stack of vials that needed cleaning. I didn’t have anything against them, per se, but I also didn’t feel like dodging punches anytime soon.
For the next few weeks, my routine settled into a steady rhythm. After making dinner, I’d grab a few hours of sleep before flying to Almatai to feed my core, then to drop off the pilfered stones at the construction site. It wasn’t difficult—at my current level, I could go 48 hours without feeling tired, and a quick hour-long catnap was enough to recharge me.
But I loved my sleep, dammit. That was a holdover from my university and internship days, when sleep was more of a theoretical idea than a daily reality, and I ran on sheer willpower alone. Unless there was a damn good reason, I wasn’t about to give up my hard-earned eight hours—ten, if I was feeling indulgent.
On the fourth night, Lady Myrtus and Topash joined me again to escort another group out of the city. This time, no one argued about the blindfolds. Either they'd been warned beforehand, or this batch was more cooperative.
Eight days into my visits to Almatai, we rescued the third group and learned that the fighting in the city had finally died down—a mage had taken control. No surprise there. I had stripped the place of every weapon I could find, leaving the physical warriors at a serious disadvantage.
The only hitch? Once he secured the central palace, he couldn’t help but notice that the northeast tower had vanished entirely, while the northwest tower had shrunk to a fraction of its original size. His brilliant solution was to post guards. My brilliant solution? Ensure they enjoyed a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep. I’d like to think we were both happy with the arrangement.
By this point, the builders from Sanctuary had fully rebuilt the keep and started on the wall. Roda was nothing if not ambitious. If the stakes driven into the ground were any indication, the wall would be massive. The planned area encompassed the hill with the keep, the adjacent hill, and a vast stretch of land further inland. I estimated it to span about eight kilometers along the riverbank and three to four kilometers inland. Taking it all in, I let out a deep sigh. They would need a lot of stone.
Two nights later, my core finished eating the second tower, and I switched to the residential wing of the palace. The upper floor was reserved for the ruler, the new mage. He moved in and even furnished some rooms, but most were still empty. My core munched on the empty section for two nights. The second night, I gifted three more guards with uninterrupted sleep. On night three, I relocated the mage to an empty room in the servants' wing, and the core munched on most of his bedroom.
The next night, we got another group out of the city. My core finished munching through the master bedroom and another smaller room, leaving that part of the palace one floor shorter.
The following morning, Roda showed up at my clinic, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“I have a question,” she said, her tone flat.
I made a welcoming gesture. “Go ahead.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “Did the stone you’re supplying for the wall come from the castle in Almatai?”
“Yes?”
Her mouth fell open, and she just stared. Ten full seconds ticked by before she finally managed to say, “Why?”
I shrugged. “Well, it’s your castle. So I’m returning it to you. It might be in pieces, but I’d argue it’s even better for construction this way."
Her eyebrows shot so high they practically merged with her hairline. She blinked. Once. Twice. Then, shaking her head, she muttered, “Returning it in pieces.”
A second later, she burst out laughing and hugged me. I figured that meant she was fine with the piecemeal delivery.
Three nights later, with groups of guards snoring away and the mage waking up in the servants’ quarters yet again, he finally gave up on the castle. From the next night on, he completely abandoned it. He did post guards around the perimeter, but that didn’t bother me—I simply let my core feast on the inside, stripping the structure down while leaving the outer walls intact.
During this time, I worked with Rima on general medical education, covering subjects like human anatomy and physiology. I ensured she understood the major systems—respiratory, digestive, nervous, and musculoskeletal—alongside the basics of how they function and what could go wrong. We revisited emergency medicine and first aid, delving deeper into treating wounds, fractures, and burns, as well as more effective techniques for stopping bleeding.
From there, we transitioned into internal medicine, discussing common infections, the differentiation between bacterial and viral illnesses, and the management of digestive disorders such as food poisoning and parasitic infections. I introduced basic surgical techniques, from stitching wounds to removing foreign objects embedded in the body and even draining abscesses when necessary. Since childbirth and infant care were vital knowledge in any community, we covered maternal and child health, including pregnancy care, recognizing signs of labor, and treating common childhood diseases.
Rima had a sharp mind and a natural curiosity, particularly in the areas of infectious diseases and epidemiology. We delved deeper into how illnesses spread, the critical role of sanitation, and even the use of makeshift quarantine procedures to contain outbreaks. However, medicine wasn’t just about the body—it was also about the mind. So, I introduced lessons on mental health, stress management, and coping with grief and trauma.
She didn’t just understand the topic—she felt it. Grief wasn’t some abstract concept to her; it was a part of her. The loss of her husband still clung to her like an old injury that never fully healed.
It took a while before she said yes to the spell. Days of sidelong looks, half-finished sentences, and quiet retreats anytime the subject came up. But eventually, she nodded. No words—just that one, stiff nod.
Casting Emotional Healing wasn’t like healing away a headache. It was messy, and that was a hard day. She sobbed with her whole body shaking, curled inward like she was trying to fold into herself. No words at first. Just the sound of pain finally given permission to breathe.
Then came the anger.
She clenched her fists in her lap, knuckles white. “Why didn’t I get more time?” she whispered, voice tight and bitter. “Why him? Why not me?”
She got up and paced from one end of the room to the other in big, angry strides, then spun on her heel and punched my shoulder. “Why didn’t you come sooner? He needed you. We needed you. The three of you were off traveling and having fun while we were dying."
I didn’t move. Just let it come.
She looked like she wanted to take it back the second it left her mouth, but she didn’t apologize. She just sat down again, wrapped her arms around herself, and whispered, “I’m tired of hurting.”
Some of her fury turned inward after that. Quiet accusations muttered under her breath. Guilt for not saving him. For not being strong enough. For still being here.
And the rest of her anger—most of it—went to the world itself. A world that had gone crazy and killed so many. But despite all of it, she didn’t stop. She let the spell work and let me cast it again and again. Let it hurt. And by the end, she was better.
When I arrived the following day, I stopped in my tracks.
Before, her hair had always been a tangled mess, a curtain that covered half her face. Even in the new clothes, she still looked rumpled and disheveled, as if she had given up on caring. But that day, a different woman stood waiting for me.
Her hair was neatly combed and braided, and her entire face was visible for the first time. She wore a blouse tucked into her skirt, the fabric smooth and clean—everything in its place. But it wasn’t just the outward change—it was her. She carried herself differently, more steadily and grounded. Like someone who had been pieced back together and was no longer on the verge of shattering from a careless word.
Unfortunately, I still couldn’t fully guide her mana, so we shifted focus to environmental medicine—recognizing and treating heatstroke, frostbite, and animal bites.
Since local knowledge was invaluable, I pushed her to explore herbal medicine—learning to identify valuable plants, prepare salves, and recognize toxic substances. After that lesson, I sent her to Al for an hour or two each day, once he was done working with his "ducklings." That arrangement frustrated her to no end. The two kids he was training had already unlocked the Alchemist class, while she still hadn’t gained the Healer class.
But she pushed through the frustration, listening intently as Al taught her to recognize mana concentrations in plants and extrapolate their potential effects based on subtle indicators—without the convenience of the Alchemist class to guide her. It wasn’t easy, but she was determined, absorbing everything she could, one lesson at a time.
She had moments of frustration, but gradually began to think like a doctor.
During this time, Al spent an hour every morning training the guards in traditional sword forms from his home world, then spent most of the day working with his kids before training Rima in the evenings. Mahya ferried at least two groups of workers to the construction site each day in the balloon, keeping the project moving.
By now, all nine batches of spells I had given Lady Almatai were in use, and the wall was rising at an astonishing pace. I had expected magic to speed things up, but even I hadn’t expected just how fast they would progress. In less than a week, the foundation was fully prepared, and after that, the wall climbed at least two stone slabs high each day. Given that the entire structure stretched over 14 kilometers—curving with the land and the hills—the sheer scale of their progress was staggering.
While I kept busy reducing a castle to cut stone slabs for construction, Al and Mahya took turns handling nightly timber deliveries using their Storage and the flying sword to transport the logs. A lot of people were dying of curiosity about how they managed it. Some even tried camping outside the city at night, hoping to catch them in the act.
Whenever that happened, whoever was on duty—Al or Mahya—would simply skip that night’s delivery. Roda shut down those attempts immediately, ensuring they could work in peace.
I, on the other hand, had a harder time dropping off my stone deliveries without being noticed. With over a hundred workers now stationed at the construction site, delivering the stones unseen became a nightly game of cat and mouse. After a week of dodging nosy spies, I got fed up and deposited the stone slabs a full two miles from the wall. That killed their attempts overnight.
Mahya now had three apprentices learning woodworking under her. Patience wasn’t exactly her strong suit, and every dinner turned into a venting session about her students’ lack of progress, mistakes, or general incompetence.
Still, she stuck with it, determined to make it work—even if it meant grumbling about it to Al and me every time we were within earshot.
Rue was still the main guard for the scavengers in the ruined city. With his speed and sharp hearing, he could stop trouble before it started, which freed up some guards to be reassigned to the new construction site. So far, though, he was bored out of his mind—there hadn’t been a single incident worth his attention.
His only consolation? The scavengers quickly figured out that the way to Rue’s heart was through his stomach and ears. They spoiled him with snacks and endless ear scratches, which did wonders for his mood. It didn’t stop him from complaining altogether, but at least it reduced the grumbling.
The wall kept growing, the castle kept shrinking, and Rue kept eating his way into the hearts of the scavengers. One way or another, we were getting things done.
Comments
JJB4345_80_815
Hmmm...
Angela Roberts
It can't stay this smooth can it?
Joran Spans
hmmm
