She led the horse forward and picked up an iron ingot lying on the ground. Through her torn sleeve, a dark red tattoo snaked down from her elbow, glowing as a white light traveled along the ink and infused itself into the ingot. Geometric vertical lines began etching themselves onto the iron.

The woman concentrated her magic, and a flash of light followed. In the blink of an eye, the iron ingot transformed into a sturdy plow.

The ability to transmute materials with magic—alchemy. And a fairly advanced level at that.

“A plow? That’s something used for farming, isn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

“That’s strange. I heard there aren’t any fields in Gunguk, so what would you need a plow for?”

As she strapped the plow to her horse, the woman glanced at me and asked shortly.

“…A wanderer?”

“Ah, yes. I arrived recently.”

“…There are fields. Golden Mirror is omnipotent.”

At the mention of Golden Mirror, her words lengthened. She spoke with a sudden passion, almost as if she were a lawyer advocating her case.

“…Golden Mirror often creates fields. Wherever he passes, vast farmlands bloom. In fact, the Golden Palace even has juggernauts designated just to harvest all the crops…”

I see. While Gunguk's main income comes from plundering, it wouldn’t be enough to sustain them entirely. Food must be coming from somewhere… so it’s the Golden Palace.

Everything in Gunguk is alchemized by Golden Mirror. Of course, if he could build the Great Wall on his own, there’s no reason he wouldn’t create additional farmland when needed… Wait a moment. As I pondered this, a realization struck me, and I asked again.

“Hold on. So, Golden Mirror isn’t cultivating crops in fields he made… he’s ‘making the crops’ in the fields?”

“…Yes.”

Whoa, hold on a second.

This changes things significantly. Having fields that can produce a modest supply of crops is understandable. But… what if he can produce ‘crops’ at will? If he’s ripening grain with alchemy…?

“Well, that’s… borderline cheating. If they can just produce food endlessly, they wouldn’t need supplies at all.”

“…True.”

“Impressive, but why are you telling me this?”

Meanwhile, she was struggling to strap the plow to her horse. While she had transformed the plow in an instant, the actual process of fastening it was taking far longer. After wiping the sweat from her brow with her suspenders, she muttered softly.

“…Take note, Gunguk soldier.”

I stiffened.

Seeing my cautious reaction, she briefly glanced at my wrist.

The bio-terminal—a piece of Gunguk technology that consolidates a person’s biometric data into an ID. She’d recognized it, of all things.

‘…You don’t understand just how extraordinary Golden Mirror is, or the power you’re up against. You worship someone like Maximilien as your “Sixth General,” yet you can’t even grasp a fraction of it.’

Feigning surprise, I hurriedly adjusted my sleeve. She probably thought…

‘…Too late to cover it up now. Foolish, Gunguk soldier.’

Fine. I’ve shown my hand. Now we’re on even ground.

Because I know who you are, too.

In the lawless land of Gunguk, there are no noble lords in the traditional sense, but that doesn’t mean there’s no hierarchy. Raiders may plunder, but one cannot survive solely through pillaging. Someone must produce essential resources.

To light a small fire to get through the day, with alchemical debris from Golden Mirror scattered everywhere, Gunguk people had to learn alchemy. For most citizens, alchemy was as essential as farming or hunting.

And yet, among them are a few who stand out.

A select few can process the special byproducts of Golden Mirror—unbreakable substances that resist both power and magic.

The woman before me was one of Gunguk’s finest alchemists, someone even Maximilien would look up to, even though she was farming here for now.

“You’re quite perceptive.”

“…Bold, for a spy.”

If I want to pursue a new line of conversation, I’ll need to reestablish some ground rules. Asking basic questions about the Golden Palace or Golden Mirror wouldn’t cut it if I’m just an average raider.

But now that I’ve revealed my Gunguk origins, I can press forward.

“It’s interesting… this soil is unusually soft, and grass grows here. So this was once farmland crafted by Golden Mirror?”

“….”

“And that’s why there’s a camp here instead of in the city? Makes sense. Even with advanced alchemy, food is essential.”

“….”

“But now I’m curious. If Golden Mirror can produce crops… then why aren’t any growing here?”

I tapped my foot against the field and looked around.

There was no nearby water source; all she had to water her field was a small watering can. A thin fence surrounded the area, too flimsy to deter any scavengers that might target her field. Even if it miraculously bore fruit, it would be picked clean by passing raiders before it could ripen. Or Golden Mirror himself might pass by again, turning the field into something else.

Yet, she was here, plowing.

“This soil has been depleted, hasn’t it? Forcing land into farmland like this would wear it out quickly.”

“….”

“So, Golden Mirror isn’t omnipotent? He’s only mimicking creation?”

“…You.”

“Or maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps Golden Mirror could fix the soil if he wanted, but it’s just that… he doesn’t really care about Gunguk?”

With a crack, the terrified horse neighed and charged forward. The plow, once sturdy iron, disintegrated into blackened dust, as if someone had kicked over a pile of ashes. The iron was reduced to particles in her hand, rusting in a way that went beyond mere corrosion.

She made the plow unusable in a heartbeat, then looked at me with a chilly gaze.

“…Creation is harder than destruction.”

“Of course. I’ve built card towers myself—constructing takes effort, but one nudge and it all comes crashing down.”

“…Golden Mirror continues with that challenging work. I don’t know what you Gunguk soldiers think of him…”

‘…While all I can do is break things, he creates everything. Given enough time, he could recreate the entire world. He’s a supreme being.’

Sometimes, people react more strongly to insults toward those they admire than toward themselves. Pressing on that can provoke an honest reaction.

“…I don’t really care what you people do.”

‘…Wage war, plan assassinations. It’s none of my business. Nothing Gunguk does can so much as scratch Golden Mirror.’

Her words were clumsy. If I hadn’t read her thoughts, communication would’ve been a struggle.

“…But if you try to disgrace Golden Mirror…”

‘…I’ll personally dissolve you.’

She wasn’t bluffing.

Simply by releasing her magic, the ground sank. It wasn’t earth magic or any other technique; the ground, once farmland, simply collapsed around her, the soil and pebbles crumbling as if an antlion had made a pit. I might slip if I stepped wrong.

Her unique magic of disintegration was troublesome. Even if I were to steal it, it’d be of no use to me, reliant as I was on tools for many functions.

In that case, let’s lay the groundwork for a potential alliance.

“Well, it’s a shame, but if you’re unwilling, there’s nothing I can do. In return for the information, would you like a tip?”

“…Not interested.”

“It’s about improving crop yield. If you don’t need it, that’s fine.”

She paused. Her face and voice were guarded, but her actions spoke plainly. She looked at me expectantly, so I gave her a light smile and dropped a hint.

“Well, listen up. The most important thing in farming…”

“…Most important?”

“…is persistence. Keep trying and don’t give up!”

“….”

“Oh, don’t glare at me like that. It was just a joke.”

Though, it wasn’t entirely a joke—it really was crucial advice. With a shrug, I elaborated a bit more.

“All crops were once wild plants. Humans selected the best ones and, through generations of breeding, developed better varieties. If we tried that with people, everyone would cry out against it, but with plants, it’s celebrated.”

“…Even with good varieties?”

“Trial and error is key. Even the best crops might not thrive here until you plant them and see how they grow. You won’t know if they’ll fail or succeed, but you have to try as many varieties as possible.”

I doubt she’s farming because of a food shortage. As the head of Gunguk, she shouldn’t be short of funds.

To her, the act of growing a crop would likely mean more than the fruit itself.

“…How do you acquire them?”

“Well, there aren’t any varieties like that in Gunguk, but a neighboring country like ours would have them! We even have companies specializing in crop breeding! We just need a peace treaty!”

Her interest waned as soon as I circled back to peace talks.

“…Same thing, in the end.”

“Well, it’s not just you planting seeds, is it? Who knows if it’ll work, but we should try as many as possible.”

How about my persuasion technique?

But it seemed that my elaborate buildup failed to sway her. She completely ignored me, creating another plow. She called her horse, adjusted the reins, and moved on at a slow pace.

Fine, whatever. You can’t change the mind of someone who’s embraced the farming life.

“Suit yourself. Azi, let’s go.”

Azi bounded over, brimming with excitement.

“Woof! Meat!”

“Did you see me catch any? There’s none. Today, it’s porridge.”

“Woof?! Liar!”

“Well, who told you to jump off? If you’d stayed put, I might’ve added a scrap or two. Now, you can forget about meat entirely!”

“Wo-o-o-of!”

“Hey! I’m not meat! Don’t bite!”