A middle-aged woman, her figure bearing the weary marks of a hard life yet her face radiating a gentle, benevolent warmth, was hurrying toward them. This was Simon's mother, Ms. Thelma. A sweat-soaked towel was still draped casually over her shoulder, and her gait felt heavy, the undeniable testament to a morning spent in grueling, backbreaking toil. Anxiety etched deep lines onto her forehead as she gazed toward Asher Ryder's plot of land. To the best of her knowledge, the newcomer, Ewan, was out there struggling alone against the unforgiving, arid earth.
"Mom!" Simon sprang to his feet, waving his arms frantically to catch her attention.
By the time Ms. Thelma reached them, she was breathless, her chest heaving with exertion. She glanced at the vast expanse of the field, then shifted her gaze to Ewan with a look of concern: "I was so worried you two wouldn't finish watering before nightfall. If this soil dries out again and hardens, tilling it becomes a nightmare. Simon, why are you just standing there like a statue? Hurry up and help your bro..."
Her words caught in her throat, hanging in the air unfinished. She rubbed her eyes vigorously, convinced that her vision was playing tricks on her in the fading light or that the exhaustion finally got to her.
Before her lay a scene that defied all agricultural logic. More than half of the previously arid, cracked field was now a deep, rich dark brown, thoroughly saturated with moisture. Yet, strangely, there wasn't a single water yoke, hose, or irrigation canister in sight. Instead, a peculiar, round object, glistening translucent green and trembling like jelly, was leisurely gliding back and forth across the surface of the field. Wherever this gelatinous creature passed, water sprayed forth in a fine, controlled mist, mimicking a miniature high-tech shower head, distributing moisture with mathematical precision.
"What... what on Anvia is that?" Ms. Thelma stammered, her trembling finger pointing directly at Bubbly.
Simon beamed, his chest puffing out with pride as if he were the inventor of the marvel himself. He explained with gleeful enthusiasm: "Mom, that's Ewan's Slime! It knows how to water the crops. Isn't that cool? And see that yellow lump over there? That's Shiny. It's about to burrow underground to plow the field for us!"
Ms. Thelma stared at Ewan, her expression shifting from sheer astonishment to a profound sense of reverence. For farmers who had spent their entire lives selling their backs to the sky and their faces to the earth, witnessing a power that could effortlessly replace the grueling physical toll of manual labor was nothing short of a seismic psychological shock. It was like seeing a primitive tool suddenly replaced by advanced Empire technology.
"Good heavens... Is this a Talent?" Ms. Thelma gasped, her voice wavering with emotion: "What a blessing. Oh, Ewan, I was so worried you wouldn't be accustomed to hard labor, but who knew you possessed such incredible capability? This is truly a gift."
Ewan scratched his head bashfully, his smile a bit stiff and awkward: "Please, Ms. Thelma, you're overpraising me. I'm just... making use of a few minor abilities I picked up. Luckily, these little guys are obedient and listen to me."
As he spoke, he looked at the mother and son standing before him. He suddenly realized how genuinely kind and enthusiastic they were. It was simple: to them, he was merely "the guy living with Asher Ryder". They didn't know his background, his lineage, or whether he was competent or useless, yet they had still rushed over, ready to sweat and toil to help him with the watering and tilling.
This realization stirred a quiet, poignant emotion within Ewan. His mind drifted back to the father of this body, a man who headed a colossal family in the Empire that cared only for profit, status, and cold, hard credits. In that world, affection was measured in utility, and support was a transaction. Here, it was given freely.
He let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh before speaking again, hoping to repay their kindness: "Have you finished watering your fields, Ms. Thelma? Do you need to do more tomorrow? Shall I tell Bubbly to go over and give everyone a hand? It won't take long."
Upon hearing this, Ms. Thelma waved her hands frantically, her face pale with panic: "No, no, absolutely not! How could we trouble you like that? We have plenty of hands over at my place. We just need to dedicate a bit of time to watering. It's no trouble at all, really."
Ewan opened his mouth to persuade her, but Ms. Thelma had already grabbed Simon's arm, pulling him away. "If the soil here is done, then Simon and I will be heading back. We still have to cook dinner for his brother and my husband. If you have free time, come over to our house to play. Just ask Asher, he'll show you the way. Come hang out with Simon so he doesn't get lonely."
Having said her piece, Ms. Thelma practically dragged Simon away, moving with a sense of urgency as if she feared Ewan might bring up the topic of lending Bubbly again.
Her reaction left Ewan standing there, bewildered. He rubbed his temples, unable to comprehend the situation. Why would they refuse help that would save them hours of backbreaking work?
Perhaps it was simply because Ewan was new here that he didn't fully grasp the cultural nuance of Lunaris Vale. The people of this region held 'Talents' in the highest regard. To them, it was something they heard about in legends but never touched. Occasionally, they might glimpse someone possessing a Talent, but those were always high-ranking figures from the Capitalis or distinct V.I.P.s. To them, this kind of ability wasn't easily obtained; it was equivalent to a precious treasure, a resource not to be squandered on common soil. They simply didn't dare to accept such a favor casually, fearing they might owe a debt they could never repay.
Ewan couldn't quite figure it out at the moment, but he didn't let it weigh on his heart. If they didn't want him to use Bubbly to help, then he would strive to build a water wheel instead. If a water wheel could be made functional, it would still save them a significant amount of labor in hauling water from the river, and perhaps that mechanical aid would be easier for them to accept than a mystical creature.
With that settled, Ewan dismissed the awkward encounter from his mind. He turned back to survey his field, where the multi-colored mochi-like creatures were diligently working away. The breeze of the countryside swept past, carrying the scent of damp earth and the fragrance of wild grass. As a soul that had existed for ten thousand years, having weathered countless storms and tribulations across realms, he had finally found a sense of tranquility here, amidst these simple, honest people and these tiny Slimes.
He gently patted Bubbly on the head as it crawled near his feet, a thought echoing softly in his mind: Perhaps, the life of a farmer here isn't so bad after all.