Chapter 62
Written by Bayzo Albion
"All this splendor... underground. I figured the depths were just crypts and purgatory."
"This village is one of the wealthiest in the region," one twin said with evident pride, though a hint of sorrow shadowed her words, echoing softly in the cavernous space.
"Though," the other added, "most of our resources flow to the Empire."
"Which one?" I narrowed my eyes, a flicker of curiosity sharpening my focus.
"The Garden Empire."
"And how much goes to them?"
"About seventy percent of total production," the first replied, holding my gaze steadily, her expression a mix of resignation and defiance.
"Seventy?!" I barked, the number hitting like a slap. Anger surged hot in my veins, clenching my jaw. "That's outright robbery! What do we get in return?"
"Protection," she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "And tariff-free trade across the Empire."
"And if we refuse?"
A wry smile tugged at her lips, but it was laced with pain, her eyes darkening like storm clouds. "Then the elite legions march in. They'll turn us into slaves—politely, methodically. Until we convince ourselves it's for our own good."
Something twisted inside me—rage, rebellion, or sheer disgust at being puppeted from afar. My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into palms, and for the first time, a resolve crystallized: If I'm the head of this village, I won't dance to their tune.
"Dream number one: Become the slave of a stunning empress. We have to make that happen... someday," my inner voice drawled lazily, dripping with sarcasm that masked deeper ambition.
"By the way," I said aloud, as if responding to it. "I need you now. Forbidden Cloning Technique. Maximum level. Activate."
The air beside me shimmered like heat over pavement, magic pulsing through the space. Glowing cracks spiderwebbed across the floor, and in a burst of golden haze, he emerged—my clone. Identical in form, but with a different face, his eyes shadowed by a heavier burden, his presence carrying the weight of unresolved darkness.
"I feel... real," he breathed, clenching his fists and running a hand over his chest, as if testing the solidity of flesh and bone. His fingers traced pulsing veins, confirming the rush of blood beneath. "But why give me a body? You don't trust me."
"What's there to fear?" I smirked, though my heart beat a little faster. "We're in paradise. Death's off the table—only lessons to learn."
"But..." He frowned, his form flickering slightly, as if debating his own existence.
"I'll stay here," I cut in. "You head home and build the Mirai Empire. It's our project. Our dream."
"You sure?" He squinted, his shadow wavering like candlelight in a draft.
"How could I not trust myself?" I smiled, but weariness crept into it, a subtle crack in the facade. "Out of a hundred battles with my own demons, I've lost ninety-nine. But that one win? It changed everything."
He chuckled hoarsely, almost bitterly. "Better an enemy like a lion than a friend like a jackal." He nodded curtly. "Fine. I'll teleport out."
His body dissolved into a cascade of golden sparks, magic scattering like fireflies, dusting my skin with fleeting warmth. The scent of ozone hung in the air, sharp and metallic, a reminder of power expended.
"At least my head's quiet again," I muttered, relief washing over me like cool water. "For now."
The twins exchanged a glance, sensing the shift in the air but wisely saying nothing. We pressed on through the farms, the vibrant underground world unfolding around us, a hidden empire of its own waiting to be claimed.
I continued my leisurely inspection of the farm, weaving past enclosures and shimmering ponds, my eyes lingering on the animals' contented behaviors. They appeared well-fed, groomed to perfection, and utterly at peace—as if they instinctively knew this place was a sanctuary, impervious to any threat. This artificial underground haven wrapped them in an illusion of paradise, and they embraced it fully, without question, their gentle movements a testament to the serene bubble that enveloped them.
"Let's head down further," I suggested, spotting a wide tunnel at the hall's far end, its arched stone ceiling intricately carved, with steps descending into shadow.
We ventured into the dimness. For about five minutes, we climbed down the stone staircase, each footfall echoing softly, as though the earth itself was listening intently, holding its breath. Finally, we stepped onto a firm, slightly damp brown path. The soil beneath our feet was loose and springy, almost tender—like it had been cultivated not just for labor, but for the sheer pleasure of walking barefoot, inviting and forgiving under every stride.
The first thing that struck me was the air. Down here, it was different—thicker, more saturated. The scent of moist earth mingled with fresh foliage and a subtle, ethereal hint of magic, blending into a heady cocktail that coated my lungs. It was heavy yet surprisingly comforting, filling my chest with a warm weight, like wrapping myself in a plush blanket on a chilly evening. This place breathed on its own—slow, rhythmic, profound—as if the very ground pulsed with life.
At the heart of the chamber flowed a river, its banks lined with tall stands of rice, sugarcane, and other water-loving crops that swayed gently in the humid breeze. But the water wasn't ordinary; its flow was contained by a translucent magical barrier that throbbed softly, like a living heartbeat, guiding and restraining the currents with precise, unyielding grace.
All around, in what seemed like chaotic disarray at first glance, grew potatoes, wheat, corn, and dozens of other plants, their leaves rustling in a symphony of growth. But upon closer inspection, the "chaos" revealed an invisible order—a deliberate harmony where each stalk reached toward its own unseen sun.
The secret lay in the light. Dozens of mirrors and lenses embedded in the walls and ceiling captured and refracted sunlight from the surface above. The beams splintered and transformed, refusing to fade into oblivion. Instead, they danced with purpose, like determined wanderers piercing the eternal gloom, bathing the crops in a golden glow that mimicked the warmth of midday.
"You wouldn't happen to know the main flaw in this setup, would you?" I asked, surveying the lush abundance but sensing an underlying deficiency, like a puzzle missing a crucial piece.
"It's all about resources," one of the twins replied evenly. She paused, catching my contemplative stare, then continued with a scholarly tone that carried the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "Resources are the foundation of any civilization. Whether it's a village, a city, or an entire empire, everything hinges on what you can grow, extract, and refine. The more resources you control, the greater your power—because true strength demands not just willpower, but sustenance, magic, and raw materials to fuel it."
"So, to grow stronger, one doesn't just train—they have to... consume?" I probed, absorbing her words like a sermon, the implications sinking in and stirring a restless curiosity within me.
"Exactly," she nodded, her eyes steady and knowing. "Power isn't merely muscles or spells; it's a constant burn of fuel. Crave potent magic? Pay with mana, drawn from food, rest, and your very life force. Seek endurance? Invest tons of nourishment and years of grueling effort. Everything comes at a cost."
"Then even a simple workout is like an investment?" I narrowed my eyes, piecing it together.
"And not a cheap one," she smirked, a cynical edge creeping into her expression, sharpening her features in the diffused light. "Especially for breakthroughs. Some guzzle rare potions, others devour the flesh of magical beasts, and a few..." Her voice dropped to an intimate whisper, drawing me in closer, the air between us thickening with unspoken implications. "...absorb others entirely. Everyone has their method. But the core is always the same: resources."
I held her gaze, finding no trace of innocence there—only the stark, unflinching knowledge of how the world truly operated. Deep down, a realization stirred: this village concealed far more secrets than its surface suggested, layers of intrigue buried as deep as these farms themselves.
For a moment, I fell silent, attuned to the drip of water echoing off the walls and the subtle rustle of leaves, as if the underground garden itself yearned to hold me captive a little longer, its verdant whispers urging me to linger.
"I think that's enough for today. Time to head back to the palace," I said at last, straightening slowly and turning to the twins. "Care to join me?"
"Of course," they replied in near-perfect harmony, their light smiles mirroring each other like reflections in still water, promising companionship that went beyond mere guidance.
We retraced our steps along the soft path, the damp earth springing resiliently underfoot. Their scent trailed behind them—a fruity, sweetly tantalizing aroma with a faint spicy undertone that teased the senses, lingering like a seductive promise in the humid air. It evoked another facet of existence... one where carnal pleasures weren't mere luxuries but integral to power itself, as vital a resource as grain or the hearts of beasts.
Their bodies, their breaths, their desires—they could nourish me just as profoundly, fueling a different kind of strength. And perhaps... tonight, I'd allow myself to unwind. Even gods needed respite sometimes. A respite that could transform into renewed vigor, a cycle of indulgence and empowerment.
They walked ahead, their movements synchronized and fluid, and I already knew: this evening wouldn't end with talks of resources, but with a far more intimate lesson, one etched in touch and surrender.