By noon, the magic stone-powered stone pavement was being expanded further out to connect to the lake district. We set up signs for future establishments—a magic academy, barracks, a smithy hub, and even a theatre.
Kael came running with a rolled scroll. "The first batch of 300 new residents from the mainland just arrived. More to come by dusk. They brought artisans and healers."
"Perfect," I said, tapping the Guardian Screen. "I'll requisition more housing kits and mana supplies."
Our land was no longer a secret. It was becoming a dream, a new life carved from ashes and iron. And I would lead it brick by brick. "Let's build a future they can be proud of," I said quietly to Felix, watching the hammer rise and fall, the walls go up, and the people begin again.
In two days, as our construction progressed and the streets were filled with the hammering and voices of determined workers, the first wave of nobles and adventurers arrived. Twenty carriages gifted by the king rolled through the mana-infused gates. The nobles stepped out—robed in finery, jewelled swords at their hips. The adventurers wore rugged gear and keen expressions.
They were led on a tour by Kael and Elvie, passing through our workshops, the bakery, and the now-bustling marketplace.
One tall noble with a curled moustache approached me. "Lord Dirk, I must say, your carriages and... steel steeds are quite the marvels. Might I purchase one of your—what did you call them? Motorbikes?"
"Or the larger ones," another chimed in. "HUMVEEs, yes? Those would be perfect for transporting goods... or men."
I raised my hand, silencing the growing requests. "No."
They blinked.
"I promised the king I wouldn't sell war-related wares. These vehicles are for defence. My people's safety comes first."
A murmur spread among them. "However," I continued with a smile, "I am unveiling a new line of products—plastic wares from my homeland."
I waved to Elvie, who pulled back a sheet revealing colourful stacks of plastic plates, utensils, basins, durable storage crates, and even lightweight boots and winter jackets.
"These are light, strong, and easy to clean. Perfect for travellers, merchants, and households alike."
The adventurers stepped forward, lifting the items and marvelling at the material.
"What is this made of? It's lighter than metal."
"Plastic," I replied. "A product from the north, my homeland. Doesn't rust. Won't splinter. And it's affordable."
"How much for a winter coat like this?" asked a female archer.
"5 gold," Elvie answered with a grin.
The excitement shifted. Nobles and adventurers began browsing, bartering, and purchasing crates of household goods, eager to bring home something revolutionary.
I stood by the platform, watching it all unfold—life, the growth, the colour. My town was alive.
*****
Half a year later, the town had undergone a complete transformation. Nearly all the buildings were completed—solid stone shops lined the main road, their windows lit with mana-glow. New inns, schools, and even a small theatre had risen. The population had swelled to over 10,000.
A second town square was being planned near the southern border. The roads had expanded, all paved with our signature mana-infused bricks. Every home had a private garden, many already bearing fruits and herbs.
The nobles began visiting more frequently, not just to gawk at innovation, but to invest.
One noblewoman said during a trade dinner, "You've created more than a village here, Lord Dirk. This is a beacon of civilization."
A merchant from the northern duchies added, "Your economic model is reshaping trade routes. Towns are trying to mimic what you've done."
Still, many returned disappointed when I refused to sell them weapons or combat vehicles.
"But Lord Dirk, with your machines, we could secure our borders," one baron protested.
"And perhaps use them to threaten your neighbours," I replied flatly. "I will not sell war. But I will sell peace, comfort, and progress."
They couldn't argue with the results. The plastic wares were a massive hit. Nobles ordered entire sets of winter gear and storage containers for their estates. Farmers bought basins, crates, and cutting tools. Even the adventurers left with lighter packs and better supplies.
The new economy gave jobs to everyone—builders, weavers, tanners, cooks, and teachers. Trade caravans flowed like rivers, and every home glowed at night with mana-powered lanterns.
And so the town thrived. Peacefully. Purposefully.
And the people knew my name.
One peaceful afternoon, as the hum of construction filled the air and laughter echoed from the children playing near the newly finished fountains, I heard the familiar chime of the system.
[New Quest Available: Hatch the Magical Pet Egg. Accept? Yes | No]
I frowned. The egg. I had almost forgotten it—safely nestled within the crystal vault below my manor, pulsing faintly every night since I found it in that hidden dungeon.
I tapped Yes without hesitation.
[Quest Accepted: Hatch the Magical Pet Egg. Estimated time to hatching: 6 hours. Requirement: Proximity of master and magical contact.]
That evening, under the glow of the twin moons, I descended to the vault alone. The egg, resting atop a velvet pillow, shimmered with a deep violet hue. Fine cracks began to appear across its glossy surface.
Suddenly, a hum of magic radiated from the shell. I reached out instinctively, placing my palm gently on the egg.
CRACK!
With a flash of purple light and a burst of mana, the egg split open—and out tumbled a small lizard-like creature no larger than a loaf of bread. It blinked up at me with glowing amethyst eyes and let out a soft chirp.
Then, as if compelled by fate, it scurried onto my arm and coiled around my wrist like a living bracelet.
[System Notice: Congratulations! You are now bonded to a Divine-Class Familiar: ??? (Identity Hidden)]
The small lizard nuzzled against my skin, letting out a tiny flame that fizzled harmlessly. I raised an eyebrow.
"A lizard?" I muttered. "Cute... but you don't look like a pet."
As I stood, the runes across the vault pulsed—and for a fleeting second, I saw a vision flash before my eyes: titanic wings, a roar that cracked mountains, and a world bowed before a being cloaked in divine fire.
Then the vision vanished.
The creature blinked up at me again, innocently licking its tail.
I whispered, "What... are you?"
[System Note: The familiar's true identity will be revealed in time. Treat it well. Its power is beyond comprehension.]
I tucked the small creature against my chest, wrapping it in a scrap of my cloak. As I ascended back into the manor, I couldn't help but smile.
Back in the great hall, Kael raised an eyebrow. "You're glowing."
"It's just warm in the vault," I lied, as the small creature let out a tiny snore.
The lizard curled beneath my collar like a sleeping ember, tiny breaths puffing warmth against my neck. I tried to act normal, strolling through the manor halls with practised ease, but the hum of divine energy radiating from my chest made every torch flicker in my passing.
I found Elvie and Ella in the main strategy room, poring over the town expansion plans while sipping mugs of warm mana tea.
Elvie glanced up first. "Dirk. You're... glowing."
Ella tilted her head. "No, seriously, is that a spell, or did you finally eat one of your own mana cakes?"
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. "I need you two to promise not to freak out."
They both exchanged wary glances.
"I just completed a new quest," I said, lowering my voice and tugging at the fold of my cloak.
The little creature peeked its head out, blinking at them with glowing amethyst eyes.
Ella dropped her cup.
Elvie stood abruptly. "That's... a drake?"
"No," I said slowly. "I think it's something more. The system says its identity is hidden, but when it bonded to me... I saw something. Wings the size of mountains. Fire that looked alive. The world bowed before it."
"Gods above," Elvie whispered, walking closer. "Let me see it."
The creature uncurled and looked up at her. Then, to everyone's surprise, it opened its tiny mouth and chirped a sound that echoed like a sacred bell. A breeze swept through the room, although every window was closed. Elvie's silver hair fluttered like a flag in the wind.
"That's no ordinary drake," she murmured. "There are legends—ancient divine beasts, dragons so old and powerful they vanished into myth before even the gods began whispering about them."
"It called me its master," I said. "I didn't command it. It chose me."
Ella knelt in front of it and offered her hand. The creature sniffed her fingers, then gave a small approving lick.
"So it's friendly?" she asked, half-joking, half-awestruck.
"Too friendly," I muttered. "It tried to drink from my soup earlier."
Elvie was staring, not at the creature now, but at me. "Dirk. This changes things."
I nodded. "I know."
"If the nobles catch wind of this—"
"They won't," I said firmly. "Not yet."
Ella looked up, concern flashing across her eyes. "What are you going to name it?"
I glanced at the lizard now perched on my shoulder, tail flicking contentedly, and said, "Flare."
The creature let out a happy trill.
"It understands," Ella said in awe. "It knows."
I sat down beside them, the seriousness settling into the room again. "I don't know how long we have before this thing's true identity is revealed. But if it really is divine... then someone out there will want it. Or worse, fear it."
Elvie nodded gravely. "We'll keep it secret. Just between us."
Ella winked. "If it wants soup, it can share mine."
*****
The next few days were... strange.
Wherever I walked, crops grew slightly faster. The weather shifted when Flare sneezed. The mana in the air felt thicker, heavier—like the Realm itself was watching.
Even Kael noticed. "You smell... divine," he muttered one morning during training.
I just shrugged. "New cologne."
But deep down, I could feel it. Power was growing. Flare was growing. And the Realm was changing because of it.
And I knew—this creature wasn't just a pet.
It was a sign.
Something far greater was coming.
It began three nights after Flare's hatching. The sky over our territory turned violet, streaked with shimmering cracks of gold like lightning frozen mid-strike. I stood alone on the manor's rooftop, Flare curled around my arm, glowing faintly. The air pulsed with power—ancient, unknowable. And then the whisper came. Not through ears, but deep in my bones.
"One awakens... the other stirs."
I staggered back. "What—?"
Flare raised its head, eyes flaring with radiant purple. I saw flashes—not visions, but memories not my own. A desert of black glass. A dragon ten times the size of any mountain, wrapped in obsidian flames. Beneath it, armies knelt in worship. And above it all, words carved in fire across the heavens:
"When the Divine slumbers no more, the Abyss shall open its eye.
One bearer of light. One of shadow.