The boy said goodbye to the hunter, who then returned to the high mountains, disappearing into the snowy peaks from which he had come. Left alone once more, the boy continued collecting the special mushrooms, carefully gathering them into small bundles. As evening fell and the sun dipped below the horizon, he stepped out of the cave and took a moment to count his harvest. To his amazement, he had managed to collect enough mushrooms to feed the entire village for an entire month.
But there was a problem. He had no idea how he was going to carry all of them back on his own. Magic was not a strength of the villagers—few, if any, practiced it—so the boy had no magical bags or enchanted tools that could help him store or transport the mushrooms. After thinking for a short while, he made a decision. It would be best to leave the mushrooms safely in the cave and return to the village to call for help. Surely, with a few others, they could return and carry everything back together.
As he began preparing for the journey back to the village, something caught his eye. A faint purple glow was shining from within the cave's shadows. Curious and alarmed, the boy rushed toward the strange light. It was coming from one of the tunnel walls—dim but unmistakable. Drawn by instinct more than reason, he reached out and began scratching at the wall with his hands. As the dust fell away, lines of writing slowly emerged from the stone.
The language was completely unfamiliar to him—unlike anything he had ever seen—but as his fingers traced the strange inscription, he was filled with a powerful sensation. A warm, comforting feeling spread through him. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was strong enough to assure him that this was something rare, something extraordinary. He didn't know what it was, but it felt… right.
Excited and full of wonder, the boy hurried back to the village and brought several of the villagers with him to see what he had found. Together, they returned to the cave, and after investigating the site thoroughly, they made a remarkable discovery. Beneath the large mushroom bed lay a massive cluster of unknown ore embedded in the rock. It glowed faintly with the same purple light as the inscription on the wall.
The villagers quickly realized that they had uncovered something important—something valuable. And so, they began to mine the strange ore. In the early centuries of mining, the work was modest. The villagers did not know many uses for the material, so they relied on it primarily as a fuel source. To their astonishment, even a tiny amount could burn for an entire month, releasing a great deal of heat. It quickly became a treasured resource, even if its true potential remained unknown.
After approximately one hundred thousand years, the Dragon Empire mysteriously collapsed, its reign vanishing from the world without warning. In its place, a new power rose—the Human Kingdom of the Sun. This mighty kingdom was led by a race of superior humans who had arrived from a distant continent. These powerful beings liberated humanity once and for all from the oppressive rule of the dragons, who were utterly exterminated. The remaining magical creatures, unable to resist the superior humans, fled in fear to a distant and weakened continent already inhabited by other magical beings.
Not long after establishing their rule over the continent, the superior humans came into possession of a sample of the mysterious purple substance. The material immediately caught their attention, stirring deep interest and curiosity. Determined to uncover its origin, they launched an extensive search that lasted several years. Eventually, their efforts led them to the remote mountain village where the substance had first been discovered.
Thus began a new era of interaction—a vast and flourishing trade network was established between the Kingdom of the Sun and the village, centered entirely around the magical purple substance. Its value was now recognized on a grand scale, and the once-isolated village found itself playing a central role in a new chapter of the world's history.
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"…and this trade," Tim said in his booming voice, "continues to this day, in the year 1,047,234 of the Sun Calendar."
Tim finished the story. Of course, he didn't know how accurate all the details truly were, but this was the tale that had been passed down in the village for generations. He himself had heard it from Mr. Bloom, who had heard it from old Thomas Kay.
"Yes, young Mrs. Moon?" Tim turned to Laura, who had raised her hand and was pointing.
"Mr. Tim…" she began hesitantly, clearly about to ask a question, but Tim held up a hand to stop her.
"From now on, you will call me Teacher, not Mr. Tim or just Tim," he said, giving the class a slightly stern look. "Please continue."
Laura gathered her thoughts again and asked, "Teacher, what happened to the address you mentioned in the story?"
Tim rubbed a hand over his short but full beard, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Ah, the engraving of the mine," he said. "That's what the special inscription is called. No one has ever been able to decipher it—not in all of the village's recorded history. In fact, one of the early kings of the Empire of the Sun ordered the construction of the very building you are currently sitting in. During its construction, he had the mysterious inscription removed and taken to the capital city."
The students leaned in as Tim continued.
"The inscription was displayed publicly for a time," he said, "but since it was not considered a religious artifact, it was eventually moved into the Imperial Palace itself. No one could ever explain why that particular king decided to take it—not even the great historians of the capital, who surely must have known the full story. But everyone knows one thing: once a treasure enters the royal palaces, it gains a status higher than any sacred object, and it will never return to its original owner."
As Tim spoke of this, his tone darkened, and it was easy to tell that the fate of the village's ancient treasure still angered him deeply.
"This all happened within the first ten years of the founding of the Empire of the Sun," he continued, his voice steady. "And ever since then, the villagers—together with the dragon hunters and the mountain people—used their newly-learned magic to block access to the mine entirely. They wanted to make sure that none of those bloody blondes could ever get in again."
With that final outburst, Tim slammed his hand on the table. The objects on it bounced and scattered from the force, and he quickly began to straighten them with an apologetic mutter.
Whether Tim had planned his little dramatic outburst or not, hands immediately shot up all across the classroom. "Yes, Pekos," Tim said, trying to transition from his previous anger into a wise and composed demeanor. He made a valiant effort to sound natural, but in truth, he failed so spectacularly that it could have been considered one of the greatest failures in the written history of dramatic transitions.
Pekos, a casual and unassuming boy known for his laid-back attitude and way of speaking, calmly asked the question that was on everyone's mind. "How did the villagers create the blockage...?"
But before he could finish, Tim quickly interrupted, "The whole point of this class is to learn about the special power of the village. You'll learn about that later."
The day moved on, and the students spent the remaining hours learning various basic concepts. They were taught many things—not just about mining itself, but also about how not every job in the village was necessarily related to mining. Some roles were completely different, yet all were crucial to the functioning of the village's way of life.
The lessons began in the best possible way, full of interest and excitement. The students learned about the power that emanated from the precious purple ore—the magical material that shaped the very foundation of their village—and how that energy could be channeled in different ways. In most cases, miners worked in pairs, as it was easier to harness and guide the power in unison with another person. This kind of teamwork made the flow of energy more stable and efficient.
However, there were rare and exceptional individuals who didn't require a partner. These people were able to channel the energy alone, with such strength and clarity that working with someone else would actually disrupt the delicate balance of the flow. It turned out, after testing, that Tom and Laura both belonged to this rare group. This didn't come as a surprise to anyone. Both came from the village's oldest and most respected families—families with a long line of relatives who had also been part of that unique category of miners.
The first type, the ones who worked best in pairs, were called "the Flowers." The second type, who could work alone, were known as "the Emanators." The origin of these names had long been lost to time, and no one could say for certain why these changes occurred from person to person. It remained one of the many mysteries of the village.
The only person in the long line of generations who had ever taken the time to record detailed information about these classifications was probably the old Tom Kay. He had always been naturally curious and inquisitive. He had made it his mission to explore and seek answers to the age-old questions that had puzzled miners and villagers for countless years.
In addition to all this, the students also learned that the energy could be channeled not only for mining or powering tools, but also for creating tangible, physical manifestations. For example, it could be used to create energy barriers—solid, glowing walls so thick and powerful that they could completely block the entry or exit of any living being. Because of this, the village was surrounded by a massive barrier, one that enclosed the entire mountain region, stretching even up to the very peaks of the mountains.
The only exit from the village was through a specially constructed gate located a considerable distance from the main settlement. At that single point, the barrier was left inactive to allow controlled passage. Aside from that one location, the barrier encircled the entire area without exception.
The energy from the ore, along with the techniques the villagers used to control it, resembled the magical arts practiced in other parts of the world. However, the outcome produced by the villagers' method was something different altogether. It was a kind of anti-magic—so powerful and unique that no conventional spell or ordinary magic could ever cancel or interfere with it. In fact, even those who had once studied ordinary magic found that once they had begun learning to use the ore's energy, they could no longer return to practicing standard magical techniques.
And yet, despite its anti-magical nature, the purple ore itself could still be used as a source of energy for ordinary magicians who were unaware of its opposite side. To them, it simply seemed like a powerful and efficient magical fuel—while its deeper properties remained hidden.
During their studies, Tom and Laura made several attempts to find out from Tim what could be done about the fact that working together would not be efficient for them. One day, during a break, the three of them sat on a wooden bench just outside the main entrance to the mine. The warm breeze carried the scent of stone dust and fresh earth, and for a moment it seemed like the entire mountain was quietly listening.
"I'm a miner of the same type as you," Tim finally told them, glancing at the two with a knowing look. His voice was calm and steady, as if he had given this answer many times before. "I know exactly how it feels to be in your position."
He leaned back slightly and folded his arms. "But the point about not working efficiently together doesn't mean you're doing something wrong. It simply means that if you try to assist each other directly during the process of channeling energy, you'll actually slow one another down. The flow of energy will clash and create a delay instead of an improvement."
He paused to let the idea sink in before continuing.
"You'll still be a team," he said, tapping the wooden bench for emphasis, "but not in the way most people think of teamwork. Each of you will need to focus on your own task, independently. You'll work side by side, but not on the same exact process. That kind of coordination, when done correctly, can be even more productive than the traditional method of working in synchronized pairs."
Tom was very happy to hear that he would be able to continue working normally, just as he had hoped. The thought that his way of working wasn't wrong, just different, brought him a quiet sense of relief. Laura, on the other hand, was equally pleased—but for a different reason. She was glad to know that, despite the difference in their abilities, she would still be able to stay on the same team with Tom, just as she had always wanted.