In the heart of the Evergreen Forest, Yukio stood with his arms outstretched, mana flowing cleanly through his body.

  “Wind Sphere!”

  A tightly compressed orb of air formed in his palm before shooting forward.

  BOOM!

  The spell ripped straight through a thick tree trunk, shredding bark and sending splinters flying. The tree groaned before collapsing with a thunderous crash.

  Yukio stared for half a second.

  Then,

  “YES!!”

  He spun around, fists raised triumphantly.

  “I DID IT! I ACTUALLY DID IT!”

  He ran in a small circle like a kid who’d just discovered fire, laughing loudly.

  Inside his mind, he spoke proudly.

  “Vae, you’re seriously the best. That upload you gave me? Worked like a charm.”

  Vaelora’s voice rang out, bright and pleased.

  “Of course! I’ll do anything to help you, Yuki! I’m just really glad your brain didn’t go boom.”

  Yukio froze mid-step.

  “…Wait. What?”

  Vaelora immediately changed tone.

  “Oh! Nothing! Don’t worry about it! Just keep training, you’ll be fiiiiine!”

  “…Vae.”

  Silence.

  “VAE?”

  Still nothing.

  Yukio groaned internally.

  I KNOW you can hear me! Don’t you dare ghost me after saying something like that!

  Before he could spiral further, a hand landed on his shoulder.

  “Good job, Yukio.”

  He snapped back to reality.

  Kaede stood beside him, smiling proudly as she looked at the fallen tree.

  “You’re actually casting spells properly now. That wasn’t half-baked luck either.”

  Yukio scratched his cheek, grinning sheepishly.

  “Yeah… feels weird, but in a good way.”

  Kaede crossed her arms.

  “Well, save the celebration. It’s already afternoon.”

  She jerked her thumb toward the deeper forest.

  “Didn’t you say you wanted to gather herbs today?”

  Yukio’s eyes lit up.

  “Oh! Right, yeah, of course! Let’s go!”

  He grabbed his bag and started forward immediately.

  Kaede snorted.

  “Still way too energetic…”

  From under a nearby tree, Michibiki watched the two of them, resting her chin on her hand.

  “…I wonder what kind of trouble he’s about to get into this time.”

  She sighed softly, already standing up to follow.

  Whatever it was, one thing was certain.

  Yukio’s growth had begun accelerating.

  And fate was already paying attention.

  The forest path narrowed as the sunlight dimmed, tall trees blocking most of the sky above. The air grew cooler, almost serene.

  Yukio suddenly stopped.

  “This is it.”

  Kaede blinked.

  “This is what? Another ‘trust me’ moment?”

  Yukio ignored her and knelt beside a patch of low plants tucked beneath a massive oak. Soft silver-blue petals shimmered faintly, almost glowing as the light shifted.

  “Moonpetal,”

  Yukio said proudly.

  “Only grows in shaded areas where moonlight touches the ground at night.”

  Michibiki crouched beside him, studying the flowers.

  “They’re absorbing ambient mana… and storing it. Interesting.”

  Kaede crossed her arms.

  “So… sparkly weeds?”

  Yukio carefully harvested a few petals, placing them into a pouch.

  “Sparkly weeds that retain moisture, repair damaged skin, and reduce scarring.”

  Kaede froze.

  “…Reduce scarring?”

  Yukio smirked.

  “And dryness. And roughness. And fatigue.”

  She looked down at her calloused hands.

  “…Okay, keep talking.”

  Michibiki smiled faintly.

  “I thought so.”

  Yukio continued gathering herbs, moving deeper into the grove.

  “Once I mix these with Softleaf Moss and Clearwater Sap, it’ll create a stable cream. No magic required to use it. Just apply it daily.”

  Vaelora’s voice chimed in his mind, amused.

  A beauty product that regenerates skin, boosts confidence, and smells nice. Excellent choice, Yuki.

  Yukio mentally nodded. Candessa’s going to lose her mind.

  Kaede cleared her throat.

  “So… this Moonpetal Dew thing…”

  Yukio raised an eyebrow.

  “Does it work on… battle scars?”

  He smiled.

  “Especially those.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Kaede turned away quickly.

  “Hmph. Fine. Maybe I’ll try it. Once.”

  ---

  Yukio straightened up, brushing dirt from his knees.

  “Alright, that should be enough Moonpetal for the first batch.”

  Michibiki looked at the small pouch in his hand… then at the wide patch of glowing herbs still surrounding them.

  “…Enough?”

  She repeated flatly.

  Before Yukio could respond, Michibiki calmly stepped forward and crouched down.

  Her hand flickered.

  One moment, the Moonpetal patch was full.

  The next,

  Whoosh.

  Entire clusters of Moonpetal vanished into thin air.

  Kaede blinked.

  “…Where did they go?”

  Michibiki stood back up, dusting off her hands.

  “Pocket inventory.”

  Yukio stared.

  “You… you took all of it?”

  Michibiki nodded.

  “If this cream works the way you’re describing, Candessa will want mass production. No reason to come back later.”

  Yukio laughed, securing the pouch at his side.

  “This one’s already going to change the market.”

  Somewhere far away…

  Candessa sneezed.

  Vaelora’s voice hummed approvingly in Yukio’s mind.

  Smart girl. Thinking long-term profits already.

  Michibiki turned and started down the forest path again.

  “Next is Softleaf Moss. I'll scan the area.”

  Kaede sighed.

  “Of course you will.”

  Yukio followed, grinning.

  Looks like the Moonpetal Dew Cream wasn’t just happening, It was happening big.

  The deeper they went, the thicker the forest became.

  Michibiki slowed, her eyes glowing faint blue as mana rippled around her pupils. She raised a hand, signaling them to stop.

  “Softleaf Moss is up ahead,”

  She said calmly.

  “But… there’s a problem.”

  Kaede tilted her head.

  “Let me guess. Something annoying?”

  “The area’s infested,”

  Michibiki replied.

  “Giant spiders.”

  Yukio stiffened.

  “…Spiders?”

  His voice dropped an octave.

  “Here? Why here?”

  Kaede glanced back at him, grinning.

  “What’s wrong, Yuki? Don’t tell me the big hero’s scared of bugs.”

  “I’m not scared,”

  He said quickly. Then hesitated.

  “…Okay, maybe a little.”

  He took a deep breath, clenching his fists.

  “It’s fine,”

  He muttered.

  “There’s money to be made.”

  Vaelora’s voice purred in his head, amused.

  That’s the spirit, Yuki. Fear fades. Profit remains.

  They stepped into a wide clearing.

  Webs stretched between trees like ghostly curtains. Thick-legged spiders crawled over bark and stone, their eyes reflecting dim light.

  Yukio immediately ducked behind Kaede.

  “Why are they so BIG?!”

  Kaede burst out laughing.

  “Hey! Don’t use me as a shield!”

  She tried to shove him off, but Michibiki had already moved forward.

  “I’ll handle this.”

  She raised her hand, mana condensing into a radiant orb.

  “Light Spell: Astral Radiance.”

  The sphere flashed, and beams of pure light shot outward in every direction.

  In seconds, the clearing fell silent. The spiders dissolved into motes of light, webs burning away like mist under the sun.

  Michibiki brushed her hands together.

  “Done.”

  Yukio peeked out from behind Kaede, blinking.

  “…That was it?”

  Kaede snorted.

  “You hid for that?”

  Michibiki turned slightly.

  “Softleaf Moss is safe now. Gather what you need.”

  Yukio exhaled, straightening up.

  “Right. Cream ingredients secured.”

  He knelt by the base of a tree where thick, velvety green moss clung to the bark.

  “…Worth it,”

  He said firmly.

  Even if spiders were involved.

  Michibiki walked up to the tree without hesitation.

  She placed one hand against the bark.

  Then another.

  The moss vanished in neat sections, stripped clean from the trunk and surrounding roots as it flowed into her pocket inventory. She stepped to the next tree and did the same, moving efficiently until the entire area was bare.

  Yukio stared.

  “…You really don’t believe in moderation, huh?”

  Michibiki shrugged.

  “Efficiency.”

  Kaede snorted.

  “At this rate Candessa’s going to think we robbed the forest.”

  Yukio stood and dusted off his knees.

  “Alright, last ingredient. Clearwater Sap.”

  They moved deeper, following the sound of running water until they reached a narrow stream cutting through stone. Pale-blue trees lined the banks, their bark slightly translucent, glowing softly from within.

  Yukio smiled.

  “Yep. This is the place.”

  Michibiki didn’t wait. She pulled out a stack of empty glass bottles exactly one hundred and set them neatly along the roots. With careful precision, she collected the sap as it slowly dripped from the bark, sealing each bottle before placing it into her inventory.

  A few minutes later, she stood up.

  “Done.”

  Kaede blinked.

  “Already?”

  Michibiki nodded.

  “We have more than enough for multiple batches.”

  Yukio let out a satisfied breath.

  “Perfect. That’s everything.”

  He glanced toward the path back to town, excitement bubbling under his calm expression.

  “Let’s head back. I still need to actually make the cream.”

  Vaelora’s voice hummed softly in his mind, pleased.

  The first step toward your little empire, Yuki.

  Yukio smiled.

  “Yeah,”

  He said, turning to follow the others.

  “Time to cook.”

  And with full inventories and bigger plans, the trio started back toward Primordia.

  ---

  The workshop was never meant to be used like this.

  At first glance, it was a modest stone room tucked beneath the inn, one long worktable, a copper still, alchemy burners, shelves stacked with herbs, oils, and empty ceramic containers. Normally, it saw light use. A batch here. A test there. Slow, careful work.

  Tonight, it became a factory.

  Yukio stood alone in the center of it, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back with a loose string, eyes sharp despite the hour. The door behind him closed softly, sealing away the faint sounds of Kaede and Michibiki sleeping upstairs.

  He exhaled.

  “Alright,”

  He muttered.

  “No interruptions. No explosions. Let’s do this properly.”

  A shimmer of pale violet light bloomed beside him.

  Vaelora emerged as she always did graceful, half-formed, her body composed of flowing arcane sigils and soft luminescence. Her expression was calm, observant, almost amused.

  “You are attempting mass production,”

  She said.

  “With tools designed for artisan work.”

  Yukio shot her a sideways look.

  “I’m aware.”

  “This will exhaust you.”

  “Also aware.”

  She tilted her head.

  “Then why proceed?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he moved to the table, laying out ingredients with methodical precision: refined aloe gel, moonleaf extract, stabilizing salts, mana-neutral oils, and the core catalyst the modified restorative base he and Kaede had perfected earlier.

  As he measured, he spoke quietly.

  “Because Kaede believes in this. Because Michibiki trusted us. And because if we can pull this off, it changes things.”

  Vaelora studied him in silence.

  “…Very well,”

  She said at last.

  “I will assist. But I will not carry you.”

  “Wouldn’t ask you to.”

  The first hours passed smoothly.

  Yukio activated Vaelora’s magic through his hands, her mana threading seamlessly into his own like a second nervous system. Together, they expanded the process multiplying reactions without destabilizing them, stretching a single successful batch into five, then ten, then twenty.

  Where once he would stir by hand, Vaelora created rotating mana currents inside the vessels. Where temperature fluctuations might ruin consistency, she anchored the heat at a precise threshold, unwavering.

  Still, the strain mounted.

  Sweat beaded at Yukio’s temples. His breathing grew shallow. Every spell required focus, and focus demanded energy, mental, emotional, and physical.

  By midnight, the first crate was complete.

  Fifty small containers, neatly sealed, their pale cream faintly glowing with restorative mana. Yukio stared at them for a moment, chest rising and falling.

  “One down,”

  He whispered.

  Vaelora’s voice softened.

  “You could stop now. Resume tomorrow.”

  He shook his head.

  “Momentum matters.”

  The second crate came slower.

  His hands trembled as he poured. His vision blurred at the edges, forcing him to blink hard to refocus. Vaelora adjusted automatically, compensating for his faltering precision, reinforcing his spellwork before it collapsed.

  “You are approaching unsafe thresholds,”

  She warned.

  “I’m fine.”

  “That was a lie.”

  “…I know.”

  By the third crate, it was fully night.

  The world outside was silent. No footsteps. No voices. Just the hum of mana, the crackle of controlled flame, and Yukio’s quiet muttering as he recalculated ratios on the fly.

  His back ached. His shoulders burned. His head felt too heavy for his neck.

  And still he worked.

  By the fourth crate, his fingers were numb.

  By the fifth, his magic faltered for the first time.

  A container cracked, cream spilling across the table in a useless smear. Yukio froze, staring at it as if it were an accusation.

  “…Damn it.”

  Vaelora intervened instantly, stabilizing the remaining batch.

  “One loss,”

  She said.

  “Acceptable.”

  Yukio clenched his jaw.

  “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It happened because you are human.”

  He laughed weakly.

  “You say that like it’s a flaw.”

  “In moments like this,”

  She replied gently,

  “it is a limitation.”

  He wiped his face, straightened, and kept going.

  By the sixth and seventh crates, dawn crept closer.

  The sky beyond the high window lightened from pitch black to deep indigo. Yukio’s eyes were ringed with dark circles now, his movements slower, more deliberate.

  Every spell felt like lifting stone with his mind.

  Vaelora stayed close, anchoring him when his consciousness wavered, feeding him just enough clarity to keep him upright without dulling the cost.

  “This is not sustainable,”

  She said quietly.

  “Neither is giving up.”

  The eighth crate finished as the first birds began to stir outside.

  The ninth nearly broke him.

  His knees buckled once, catching himself on the table. His vision doubled. His mana reserves screamed in protest.

  Vaelora’s glow flared, pressing against him like a steadying hand on his back.

  “Yukio,”

  She said, voice firm now.

  “You will collapse if you continue unchecked.”

  “Just… one more,”

  He breathed.

  “One more crate.”

  She hesitated.

  Then she did something rare.

  She lent him more.

  Not power but structure. She guided his spellwork with absolute precision, reducing waste, eliminating inefficiencies, smoothing every motion until the process felt almost automatic.

  The final crate came together in near silence.

  Fifty containers. Perfect seals. Uniform glow.

  Ten crates total.

  Five hundred units.

  The sun breached the horizon as Yukio sealed the last lid.

  Light spilled through the window, painting the workshop gold.

  Yukio stood there for a long moment, swaying slightly, staring at the neatly stacked crates lining the wall.

  Then he laughed.

  It was quiet at first. Breathless. Almost disbelieving.

  “I’m done,”

  He said hoarsely.

  He dragged a hand through his hair, dark circles stark beneath his eyes, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.

  “…I’m actually done.”

  Vaelora regarded him, her expression unreadable.

  “You exceeded what you should have survived,”

  She said.

  Yukio grinned, eyes half-lidded.

  “Story of my life.”

  His legs finally gave out, and he sank into a chair, head falling back as the morning sun warmed his face.

  Upstairs, Kaede and Michibiki slept on unaware that while they dreamed, Yukio had turned an idea into something real.

  Something tangible.

  Something that might change everything.