How about calling it Roundball?

Will it eat me into poverty? Am I even capable of raising it? Aurelian couldn't help but think.

"Wu-ya, wu-ya."

"What does it want?"

Aurelian twitched the corner of his mouth and asked Jeanne.

Jeanne remained expressionless. "It doesn't want me to feed it; it wants to do it itself."

"Holy crap, isn't it afraid of bursting from overeating?!"

Aurelian clutched his forehead, his face a mask of despair as he realized he was sprinting headlong down the path of poverty.

It's already 2020, why haven't I escaped poverty yet!

"Wu-ya, wu-ya."

The white creature suddenly leaped, crashing into the pile of bread.

Jeanne spread her hands helplessly, though a long-absent smile graced her face; she was quite fond of this round, ball-shaped magical creature.

"You should give it a name, after all, you're the one who brought it out."

"A name? This... I'm terrible at naming things. Little White, Big White? What do you think?"

The smile on Jeanne's face vanished. She looked at Aurelian, expressionless.

Aurelian blinked, stunned. Did he say something wrong? Little White and Big White sounded perfectly fine to him.

"My Lord, magical creatures are born noble. Isn't it a bit hasty to choose such names?"

"Then how about Roundball? I think that fits quite well."

"..."

Jeanne could only shake her head; the Lord was beyond saving.

"Then it's decided. We'll call it Roundball."

The white creature—no, it should be called Roundball—was still devouring the pile of bread, completely unaware that its name had just been decided so haphazardly.

In a trance, his vision distorted.

Aurelian found himself back in that dim, dusky darkness, with only that glowing Stone Book floating before his eyes.

"Fate line connected. The Mother Tree, nurtured for hundreds of years, withers in the cold wind. The Overlord with the bloodline of the Savage God turns to dust. You have patrolled the Spruce Forest. Reward: Ice Darling."

His vision went black, and he returned to reality.

Aurelian raised an eyebrow; he couldn't afford to forget the important matters at hand.

Winter would arrive in a few months, and if he couldn't grow food by then, Aurelian figured he might as well take his subjects and run.

Otherwise, when the bitter winter arrived, the long night would follow.

Driven by this sense of urgency, he used his right hand to hoist up the Fuzzy Ball, which was still busy gorging itself.

"Wu-wu."

Because its mouth was stuffed with food, it couldn't even make a sound, and tears welled up in its tiny eyes.

Deep down, it felt a sense of closeness to this massive creature that had grabbed it, a desire to be near him.

"Little guy, from now on, you shall be called Roundball."

"Wu-wu."

"Objections are overruled. It's happily decided. Also, I don't keep idlers here. If you want to eat, you have to work. Otherwise, I'll lock you up and eat in front of you. How about that? Isn't that cruel?"

Aurelian curled his lips, pulling a face he considered quite terrifying.

"Wu-ya."

Roundball swallowed all the bread in its mouth in one gulp.

"My Lord, you've frightened it."

"Uh."

The Roundball before him looked pitiful, blinking its little eyes.

Aurelian twisted his mouth into a mocking sneer.

Heh, women.

He carried the Fuzzy Ball and walked toward the door.

"Let's go, to the farm."

Jumping down from his horse, his feet landing on the cold, black soil, Aurelian looked out into the distance.

It was sunset, and the temperature was dropping at a visible rate.

The serfs working on the farm had mostly already returned to the town.

Hume the fat man followed behind him; he had been summoned here by Aurelian on short notice.

"Mr. Hume, I have found a way to solve the problem of the seeds not growing."

Aurelian lifted the Roundball into the air.

The Roundball's tiny eyes were filled with utter despair, and it could only offer a few "wu-ya" sounds in protest.

"What is this thing? It's so strange. Is it the Master's new pet?"

Fatty Hume squinted his small eyes, leaned in for a closer look, and asked with curiosity.

"It's called Roundball. A pet? Uh, I suppose you could say that, but the issue with the seeds will depend on him."

Aurelian wasn't entirely sure what kind of relationship he had with this magical creature.

A pet? It wasn't quite that simple.

Aurelian looked at the Roundball dangling in his hand, his face twitching.

This guy was playing the victim.

He was certain of it; this guy was absolutely playing the victim.

Perhaps thanks to the bloodline nourishment, a vague and indescribable connection had formed between Aurelian and the Fuzzy Ball, allowing Aurelian to sense the creature's emotional fluctuations and thoughts.

"Really? That's amazing. Can this little thing really pull it off?"

Hume was stunned, speaking in disbelief.

"We'll know once we try."

Aurelian smiled faintly and walked forward, carrying the Roundball.

Fatty Hume hurried to keep up, his body wobbling with every step.

After walking a short distance, Aurelian finally stopped at a suitable plot of farmland, pulled a handful of wheat seeds from his pocket, and dangled them in front of the Fuzzy Ball.

"Roundball, it's up to you. If you can really do it, how about I have the chef make you a huge pile of cookies?"

Aurelian spoke to the Fuzzy Ball in his hand with the tone of someone trying to lure a young girl.

"Wu-ya."

"A thousand is out of the question. One hundred at most."

Aurelian bargained, his tone unyielding.

Watching this scene, Fatty Hume was full of suspicion. Was Master Aurelian talking to his pet? It was truly bizarre.

But once he remembered that this magical creature could solve the problem of seed germination, he felt it was somewhat understandable.

"Wu-ya."

"Fine, deal. Two hundred cookies it is."

Bargaining with a glutton made Aurelian feel his own poverty all the more keenly.

He needed to become wealthy.

"Come on, Fuzzy Ball, let's see if you're worth the price of two hundred cookies!"

Aurelian tossed the Roundball onto the ground, and it let out a "wu-ya" as it rolled a few times.

Then, Aurelian threw all the wheat seeds in his hand down toward it.

Behind him, Hume widened his eyes. Could this creature really do it?

As the wheat seeds drifted through the air, the Roundball opened its mouth, and the seeds actually floated straight into its maw.

"What the hell, Roundball, why did you eat them!"

"Wu-ya."

The Roundball chewed them in its mouth and swallowed them with a gulp.

Aurelian was completely bewildered. What was this? Was it not even sparing the seeds?

"Master, look."

Fatty Hume hurriedly reminded him from behind, his eyes fixed on the Roundball without a single blink.

"Hm?"

Aurelian looked closely and discovered that the Roundball had closed its eyes, its body trembling incessantly.

"What is it doing?"

Aurelian suddenly found himself unable to understand, though the scene felt strangely familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.