By Zephyria Arrived at the Makrir colony.
The shade cast by the giant cacti was a little cool. Though the dense, thick, long thorns made it impossible to lean against them for rest, it seemed like even this was a sweet respite for the children sprawled and slumped in the shade. They all chuckled weakly, perhaps amused that a path they had covered in twenty minutes before now took nearly an hour. Whether it was from walking through the sand that sucked at their feet or the hot, dry climate, I couldn’t tell. Every time the wind blew, the gritty sand that brushed against my skin felt rough and dry, so I brushed off my clothes a few times.
“I recall being told that we just need to step on those thorns and climb up to harvest the Hand of Makrir. Is that right?”
“Yeees… That’s right. Can we rest a bit first…?”
“While everyone else rests, I’ll go pick some. Five?”
“A bit more than that…?”
“…I will help.”
Ivan Holmes, who had been quietly drinking water, swayed as he pushed himself up. The chestnut-haired boy, said to be one of the twins in the Administrative Department, was shy and taciturn but always willing to lend a hand with small tasks. He had previously volunteered to carry logs he could manage or tidy the surroundings when they were building a fire. While it was good that he felt a sense of responsibility, I shook my head, not wanting to drag him, exhausted as he was, to climb a tree.
“We still have a long way to go. We’re not just coming here and turning back… The professor likely intended for each team to have a member from the Swordsmanship Department to handle tasks like this, so I’ll be back shortly. Were there any precautions?”
“Just, don’t fall after climbing too high… And they said that those whose roots are red, not fully blue, have weaker efficacy and their juice is messy to store, so it’s best to pick only the well-ripened blue fruits.”
“Thank you, Young Master Ernhardt… I’ll cheer for you from below…”
Jenny from the Academic Department, who was said to have a talent for memorization, answered clearly, and Marianne from the Department of Magic, looking wilted, gave a weak thumbs-up to add her encouragement. It seemed cumbersome to carry a box up, so I took out a cloth bag of a suitable size from my backpack and climbed the cactus thorns, holding it. If my internal energy cultivation had been deeper, and I had more stored energy, I could have ascended and descended in one go. After leaping a few times, using the thorns as footholds, I reached a recessed section where the fruits were growing. The cacti named Makrir were said to be at least one jang (3m) tall at their smallest, and the large ones grew to more than twice that size. There was also a saying that if the blue fruits, called the Hand of Makrir, were transplanted, they would quickly establish deep roots and grow vigorously even in the most barren land. They were learned to be found only in deserts because their surfaces became soft and spoiled in humid climates. I picked the blue ones, not the red, and put them in the bag. I could pick about two or three usable fruits from one cactus. I leaped from one cactus to another, picking the next fruit. This was better than climbing up from below. Thinking I would need to put other medicinal herbs in the box, I swept about seven into the bag and leaped down in one go.
Whoosh. As I landed on the soft sand, the children, whose eyes were wide open and looking at me, saw me shake the bag and brought their wandering minds back.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No, wow… I thought this during the last sparring session too, but you’re not human, Young Master Ernhardt. You’re like a rabbit.”
“…Usually, don’t people compliment my high realm at times like these?”
“No, but you’re literally flying.”
I waved my hand to stop Marianne from making a fuss and carefully placed the fruits I had picked into the box that needed to be submitted. Ivan, who was helping me organize, hesitated as if he had something to say. When I asked him why, he asked how many years he would have to train in swordsmanship to become like me. In my previous life, I had learned to walk the path of the heavens at the age of five and trained for decades, which allowed me to display such skills with only half a century of internal energy cultivation in this land. Unsure how to answer, I finally managed to stammer out a reply.
“…About twenty years…? No, fifteen years…?”
“…Excuse me, but I believe Young Master Ernhardt is thirteen this year.”
“Hmm.”
Perhaps my explanation wasn’t sufficient, as they all naturally took it as a joke and burst into laughter. After thinking about it, I asked if I could make him able to move like this within five years, but he said it seemed dangerous, which made my heart feel a pang of guilt.
Our next destination was an oasis, located a long way north from the Makrir colony. The petals of the Rogi flower, which bloomed in water heated by the desert’s heat, were said to be able to quell body heat if rolled up and swallowed. Even after a short rest, the children were still young, and it was obvious they were struggling with each step. I worried if I should give them the flower first as soon as we found it. Damian, who had been walking silently like a man, stumbled, and I caught him to prevent him from falling, then declared that I would carry all the luggage. When the children refused, worrying about me, I coaxed them, using my still-healthy body as a reason, and they all nodded in agreement, quite docilely. We agreed to unpack the luggage at a suitable spot and discard anything unnecessary. When I opened my bag, I had to suppress a laugh that escaped me. Half of each bag, which was a considerable load, was filled with snacks. After all, it was an itinerary that repeated at most for about five hours. Some students had even left their sleeping bags, which were just dead weight, in the classroom since they weren’t staying overnight.
“No, when were you planning to eat all this?”
“We were going to eat it together after finishing today’s assignment…”
“Me too.”
“Me too…”
“This chocolate looks like it’s already melted.”
“Ah, no! Marianne, can you freeze this again?”
“Do you think I learned magic just for that? That’s right. Give it here quickly.”
In the end, I burst out laughing. In a place where sand grit crunched with every opening of my mouth, I found myself sitting around with the children, unexpectedly, as if on a picnic, popping snacks into our mouths. Among the snacks, there were many sweet items. They said they had brought so many because they saw I liked sweets, so I couldn’t refuse and readily accepted whatever they offered. Among the snacks was also grape-flavored jerky that Jenny had bought at a stall before. Damian detested it, but it was a delicacy the more you chewed. Damian’s prediction that I would become a heavy drinker when I got older was something I readily agreed with. In my previous life, I could easily finish a bottle of Bamboo Leaf Wine whenever I stopped at an inn. I was curious about Sierren’s taste in alcohol, but it wasn’t time yet. I looked forward to the day I would be old enough to drink wine and spirits freely. I packed the contents of the bags as much as possible, folding the empty bags and putting them into the packed ones. After reducing five bags to three, just like before, I shouldered the heaviest one and carried the other two on one shoulder. Holding the box in my free hand felt just right. After eating and drinking together, the children seemed to have regained their energy and were cheerful. On the walk afterward, they occasionally chatted and laughed.
We walked for a long time until we reached the oasis. After walking for a full hour at the children’s pace, they were all drenched in sweat and looked so dejected that they resembled well-washed loofahs, evoking a sense of pity. As soon as we arrived at the oasis, everyone washed their sweaty faces and hands with lukewarm water and tidied themselves up with handkerchiefs. Their faces were eager to splash around, but they had no spare clothes to change into, nor towels to dry themselves. Most importantly, there was no information about the depth of this artificial oasis or the creatures inhabiting it, so they couldn’t act rashly. It was also difficult to retrieve the Rogi flower petals, as I didn’t have enough martial energy yet to perform water-walking techniques. Though I felt frustrated and had the urge to just dive into the water, I hesitated, feeling that even though this body was young, I couldn’t undress in front of young ladies. Furthermore, Damian’s reasoning was remarkably sound.
“We’re here for an assignment, so we need to understand the examiner’s intent. What we need to prepare for are medicinal herbs to deal with fever, pain, and stomach aches. There’s only one reason to find unprepared medicinal herbs in a place like this desert. It’s to prepare for the possibility that someone in our group gets sick.”
“Wow, that’s a valid point. So?”
“We have a total of five people, so let’s assume at least one, or more, will be injured. Then, would we be able to jump straight into the water when we encounter an oasis in the desert? I believe devising the safest method is the right approach.”
“Hmm.”
“Then we’ll need to make a tool to retrieve the Rogi flowers… Do we have anything suitable among what we brought?” We didn’t bring long sticks. Thanks to rummaging through the bags once earlier, we knew exactly what items we had brought. After thinking, I took out the dagger from the holster I wore on my chest. It would be a lie to say I didn’t regret it, as it was meant for peeling oranges and apples, but since I couldn’t carry an axe, this was the right choice.
“What about that magic-infused, reusable firewood? What if we split it and tie it together?”
“And use a torn handkerchief or the cloth the jerky was in as string?”
“But how are you going to split firewood with a dagger this small?”
It was better to show than to explain. I took out the firewood from a corner of the bag and thrust the dagger vertically into the midpoint of half of it. In the Central Plains, splitting firewood or running errands was the job of servants, but martial artists, since ancient times, were people who felt compelled to cleave anything before them with their swords. Practicing swordsmanship to the point of splitting logs or slicing falling leaves or scattered petals was something I had done a few times in my youth as a boast, so it wasn’t difficult. I roughly assessed the log, which had split in half along the grain, and this time, I stabbed the sword into it again, thwack, thwack. After repeating this a few times, the log, which had been as thick as a man’s thigh, was broken into several pieces about the thickness of two fingers. Among the children who had their mouths agape, Marianne was the first to snap out of it and said,
“…No way, it works.”