An outpost at the edge of the Swamp Forest.
Compared to the storm and clamor brewing in the Gray Mist Lake dungeon, this place was far more tranquil.
Bright sunlight spilled down through the sparse canopy, casting shifting patches of dappled light across the soft, damp black earth.
"Bang, bang, bang..."
A Slime sat limply at the edge of an unfinished low wall, earnestly swinging an oak branch like a diligent little craftsman as it built the outpost's final wall.
Beside the outpost lay a newly cleared flower bed, planted with daisies, wild lily-of-the-valley, several clusters of unknown little purple flowers speckled like stars, and butterflies and bees drawn in by the fragrance.
The flower bed was not large, yet it brimmed with life, like a freshly washed multicolored velvet rug stitched onto the edge of the deep-green forest.
At that moment, Arthur knelt on one knee beside the flower bed, carefully planting a pale-blue flower before watering and fertilizing it.
His movements were clumsy, yet extraordinarily earnest, as though he were carrying out a devout ritual.
After finishing everything, he slowly rose to his feet and gazed at the brilliant colors bathed in sunlight. Only after a long while did he come back to himself. A warm current seemed to quietly rise from where his heart, long since stilled, should have been.
Tranquility... satisfaction...
Words that belonged to the living were now imprinted upon his senses with such clarity.
Perhaps... His Majesty had been right.
Protecting this vitality, witnessing life sprout from the soil and bloom—farming itself was also a trial.
Just then, the clamor of clashing weapons drifted over from beyond the Swamp Forest, interrupting his thoughts.
Arthur turned to the Earthwork Slime atop the wall, which was still diligently building the outpost with "bang, bang, bang," and