He spent a while wandering the rest of the space, found nothing new to discover, and returned to his room. He lay still in the quiet, turning the day over in his mind.
He wasn't frightened. If anything, there was a small, shameful spark of relief at the bottom of everything. His life on Earth had been lonely and financially precarious. Here — he was a noble. Exiled and stripped, yes, but still a noble, with land and loyal people and a castle of his own. And the space farm.
Whatever happened, he would be comfortable.
He drifted toward sleep, and in his dream, he built a grand estate and became a lord of peaceful fields, and it was exactly what he had always quietly wanted.
Then a chime pierced the dream: "Radishes have matured. Please harvest soon."
He was awake instantly. He entered the space and found the field transformed — great white radishes had swelled up through the earth, splitting the surface, fat and gleaming.
He ran to the nearest one, pulled it free, rubbed the dirt off on his sleeve, and bit into it without thinking.
Cool, sweet, mildly peppery juice flooded his mouth. He closed his eyes.
That's incredible.
He had always loved white radishes. This one was better than any he had ever tasted — three jin at least, straight as an arrow, perfect pale skin. The space had done something to it.
He grabbed the harvest basket, faced the field, and commanded: Harvest.
The radishes tore free from the earth one by one as though lifted by invisible hands, arcing through the air into the basket — and vanishing as they landed, transferred directly to the storehouse. In minutes, the field was bare, ten acres of clean earth studded with empty holes.
He checked the storehouse. All present.
He didn't sell them yet. Instead he bought another bag of radish seeds and replanted — and the moment the last seed went in, a chime rang out.
"Congratulations — Level 2 achieved. System reward: two bags of cabbage seeds, one acre coverage each."
He made a face. "Two bags that cover one acre each. Stingy."
He returned to his room. The sky outside was barely beginning to lighten — the slaves still asleep, Grimm and the others not yet stirring.
He sat alone and ate the remaining half of the radish he'd pulled. It was still extraordinary.
Then something unusual happened. A warmth spread from his stomach outward — not the warmth of food, but something deeper, as though his whole body had been quietly energized. The last traces of drowsiness vanished. He felt sharp, alert, fully awake.
He touched his nose. No nosebleed. He wasn't overheating. He just felt — good. Genuinely, unusually good.
The Water of Nothingness was supposed to leave lasting fatigue. That's well-documented in Adam's memories. But right now I feel like I could run ten li without stopping.
He looked at the half-eaten radish with new interest.
He put it away carefully in the storehouse. Something to ask Grimm about later.
The sky was brightening. He got up and went to explore the castle.
The outer courtyard was quiet. He crossed it and climbed the wall.
From the top, he could see everything: the castle itself, solid and moss-covered and old; the wide courtyard below with its stacked supplies; the iron gates; the dry moat — fed by a live spring, its water surprisingly clear; the drawbridge, its chains thick as a man's arm, its planks freshly replaced. Beyond the gates, a stone road ran straight into the distance, overgrown with weeds. And beyond the road—
Black earth. In every direction. Flat, still, oil-dark, empty as death.
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
Then the sun broke the horizon.
Gold light poured across the wasteland and caught him full in the face. He felt it in his bones — something rising, something that had nothing to do with being sensible or cautious or low-profile.
"This is all mine," he said quietly. Then, louder: "It's nothing now — just like this sun just rising. But someday — someday I'll make this light reach every corner of the world."
He hadn't noticed them gathering below. Grimm, Merlin, Meg, Blockhead, Rockhead — all standing in the courtyard, looking up at him. And behind them, a hundred slaves, drawn out by the morning — all of them watching the figure on the wall, bathed in gold.