I worked methodically, my hands moving with a dexterity I hadn’t possessed twenty-four hours ago.
The weeds—thorny, stubborn things that had plagued me for years—came out of the earth with ease. With every pull, a jolt of warmth shot up my arms, settling in my chest.
[Gathering has reached Level 2.]
[Nurturing has reached Level 2.]
I paused to wipe sweat from my forehead. It wasn't exhausted sweat; it was the good kind. The productive kind.
I took the packet of tomato seeds I’d found in the shed—expired three years ago—and scattered the remaining four into the dirt. I watered them with the glowing liquid from my watering can.
[Soil Upgrade: Mortal Soil (Grade 1) -> Mortal Soil (Grade 2)]
[New Feature Unlocked: Catalogue]
I took a deep breath, ready to pull another weed, but as I reached for a dandelion, I felt a resistance. Not in the plant, but in me. I felt full. Stuffed. Like I’d just eaten Thanksgiving dinner and someone was offering me pie.
[Qi: 10/10 (Capped)]
"Okay," I whispered, straightening up. My back didn't crack. "Limit reached."
I went inside, washed the dirt from my hands, and sat on my couch. I opened my laptop. The Wi-Fi was spotting in and out, but after a minute of buffering, my email loaded.
One new message.
From: Dave (Boss)
Subject: URGENT - WORK SUSPENSION
Team,
Due to the ongoing Awakening Event, all operations are suspended until further notice. To be safe, we are entering strange times once again. Stay indoors. Stay safe.
I stared at the screen. The last time I got an email like this was March 2020. But back then, they just told us to download Zoom. Suspension meant the shareholders were terrified. It meant the economy had stopped breathing.
I checked my bank account. The number was low. I felt the familiar claw of anxiety in my gut—bills, debt, rent. I forced it down. If the world was ending, they probably wouldn't be sending collections agents anytime soon.
I texted my parents.
Me: You guys okay?
The response came ten minutes later.
Mom: We are fine! Dad is watching the news. The retirement community is gated. They say the mutations here are mostly just the alligators. Stay inside, Kaz. Love you.
Me: I'm fine. Hunkering down. Love you too.
I closed the laptop. The adrenaline that had carried me through the evening finally evaporated. I slumped sideways on the couch, too tired to walk up the stairs, and was asleep before my head hit the cushion.
I woke up to sunlight hitting my face.
For a second, I thought it was a normal Saturday. Then I saw the bookshelf pushed in front of the front door.
I got up and went to the back window. The garden was thriving. The four new tomato seeds had already sprouted into six inch seedlings overnight. But as I looked at my patch, my eyes drifted to the fence.
It was rotting. If Barny came back, he would walk through that fence like it was wet tissue paper.
"I need walls," I said. "Who cares about a healing tomato if I get eaten by a Golden Retriever?"
I opened my menu. The [Catalogue] tab was flashing.
[Available Recipes - Mortal Soil (Grade 2)]
- Heavenly Bamboo: Grows rapidly. Stalks possess the tensile strength of iron. Used for crafting.
- Cost: 5 Qi + Bamboo Seeds.
- Heavenly Tomato (Grade 2): Heals moderate injuries, restores energy, purges impurities. Permanently increases consumer’s base Constitution.
- Cost: 10 Qi + Tomato Seeds.
- Heavenly Moss: Passive generator. Creates 0.1 Qi per hour in the garden atmosphere.
- Cost: 5 Qi + Moss Spores.
I stared at the options.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
My heart wanted the tomato. A permanent constitution boost? That sounded like exactly what a thirty six year old office worker needed. And the moss... passive income for Qi? That was the dream.
But I looked back at the fence. A gap in the wood revealed the neighbor's yard.
"Bamboo," I decided. "I need the bamboo."
I looked at the cost.
Bamboo Seeds.
I checked the shed. I had tomato seeds, a half dead bag of potting soil, and a rusty trowel. No bamboo. No moss.
"I have to go out," I said to the empty kitchen. The thought made my stomach turn over. "Great."
I moved the bookshelf barricade aside. It scraped loudly against the hardwood. I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.
I stepped onto the porch. Barny was gone. The neighborhood was... quiet. Too quiet.
It was a mess. Streetlights lay shattered on the pavement. A few cars were overturned. A fire hydrant down the street had been kicked over, spraying a weak fountain of water into the gutter.
But the houses were standing. The roofs were intact. Civilization hadn't collapsed.
I walked to my car. I turned the key, holding my breath. The engine sputtered, then caught.
I turned on the radio.
"...Governor Killstone has declared a state of emergency," the AM anchor crackled. "The National Guard is mobilizing. Special Response Teams are deploying to high impact zones. If you are in a safe area, remain there. If you need assistance..."
They were moving fast. Faster than the pandemic. The government was terrified.
I pulled out of the driveway. I drove slowly, weaving around the debris.
I saw my neighbors. Mr. Boofle was standing on his lawn with a shotgun, staring at the sky. A group of teenagers were filming a squirrel that had grown antlers. Further down, I saw looters smashing the window of a liquor store, but they looked nervous, constantly looking over their shoulders.
It was the awkward phase of the apocalypse. The laws still existed, but nobody knew if the police were coming.
I merged onto the main road and headed for Pro Depot.
When I arrived, the parking lot was a shantytown. Tents were pitched on the ground. People were cooking on portable grills. A man with a megaphone was standing on the hood of a truck, screaming about the End Times and the need to repent before the Qi consumed our souls.
The store itself was a fortress. Security guards were everywhere, wearing tactical vests I’d never seen at a home improvement store before.
I grabbed a cart. The wheels rattled as I pushed it inside. The tension in the air was physical—everyone walked fast, eyes down, clutching their purchases.
I bypassed the lumber aisle, which was being stripped bare by frantic men loading plywood. I headed for the Garden Center.
It was chaotic, but less so. Most people were focused on generators and batteries.
I found the seed rack. It was still mostly full.
"Bamboo, bamboo," I muttered, scanning the packets.
I found them.
Fargesia rufa.
Clumping bamboo. I grabbed every packet on the hook. Twelve of them.
Then I paused. I looked at the rest of the rack. Corn. Squash. Potatoes. Herbs.
I didn't know what I would need later. I didn't know what the [Catalogue] would unlock next. And I really, really didn't want to come back here.
I swept my arm across the rack, dumping dozens of packets into my cart.
"This is going to cost a fortune," I thought. I did a rough calculation. About two thousand dollars.
I pulled out my credit card. "If the banks crash, it's free," I reasoned. "If they don't, I’m screwed anyway."
I pushed the cart toward the checkout.
Just as I reached the front lanes, a shout erupted near the returns desk.
"You can't tell me what to do! I'm Awakened!"
I looked over. A man in a torn flannel shirt was glowing with a rocky aura. He slammed his fist into a display wall, punching clean through the drywall and sending plaster dust flying. He looked strong. Terrifyingly strong.
"I'm a god!" the man roared, raising his fist again.
Two security guards stepped forward. They didn't look impressed.
"Sir, stand down," one said calmly.
The rock man swung.
The guard moved. It was a blur. He flowed around the punch. He caught the rock man's wrist with one hand and slammed a palm into his solar plexus with the other.
The sound was like a car door slamming. The rock man folded in half, gasping, the glow fading from his skin instantly. The second guard zip tied his hands before he hit the floor. They dragged him toward the back offices like a sack of mulch.
I gripped the handle of my cart.
I looked at my seeds.
Why couldn't I get that? I thought. Super strength? Speed? Martial arts? I got... gardening.
I felt small. I felt like a guy buying vegetables in a world of superheroes.
I paid for my seeds. The cashier didn't even look at me.
I loaded the car, checking my mirrors constantly. The drive home was tense, every shadow looking like a monster, every dog looking like Barny.
When I finally pulled into my driveway, I let out a breath.
I hauled the bags to the backyard. I locked the gate. I locked the back door. I shoved the bookshelf back in place.
Then, I walked out to my sanctuary.
I stood in the center of the Mortal Soil. I held the packet of bamboo seeds in my hand. I had 10 Qi. I had the supplies.
The envy of the rock man and the super guards faded, replaced by the quiet of my land.
"Alright," I said, ripping the packet open.
I wasn't a fighter. I was a gardener.
"Time to build a fortress."