Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

The child desperate, reverted to his recently recovered but still unpolished language by saying, “I wove it, my insect made it. You take me, I’ll show you to the insect.”

Cautious by nature, the child had always picked simple-minded angels like Little Sky to trade with. Even eyeing the food, he knew how to choose, willing to abandon two bags to secure one. However, his actions had long attracted attention.

Now, he was willing to lead Ange and his companions back, obviously trusting that they would not harm him.

After several twists and turns, they arrived at a secluded cave. The entrance to the cave was cleverly hidden in a niche at the end of a dead end.

Anyone who glanced into the dead-end and withdrew without venturing further would have a hard time finding the; entrance.

Entering through the opening, they quickly arrived at a semi-open pit. Half of it was covered, and the other half exposed to the sky. The child lived under the covered part, safe from aerial view, even if an airship flew overhead.

It was secret, well-ventilated, and sunny. In Dark City, it was a mansion.

Several plants in sundried clay pots stood in a row on the floor of the pit. In between the pots and the wall there was an additional long shelf; atop one small area of the shelf, watched over by several plump white insects gnawing on green leaves.

Seeing these insects, Negris exclaimed, “You’re also an insect keeper, a devotee of Hermorthos.”

The child replied in confusion, “I am? an insect keeper, who is Hermorthos? Torto?”

“Uh, then what’s your name?” Negris asked. It had taken him this long to remember to ask for the child’s name.

“Clay.” Clay replied. As he spoke, he moved to the pile of miscellaneous items in the corner and helped up a thin woman.

“M? my mother.” Clay introduced to the group, then quickly poured a bowl of water for the thin woman to drink.

The thin woman shriveled and turned her gaze away fearfully, her body receding farther back. Both mentally and physically she appeared unwell, with the sole exception concerning when she heard Clay’s voice, at which point she would table towards Clay with a surprised expression.

After giving his mother water to drink, Clay started to get busy, first cracking the beans with a tool to separate the shell and the kernel.

Not wanting to waste the casings, he carefully collected them while testing the dryness of the kernels by chewing on one. Once he confirmed it was dry, he turned it into powder, mixed it with water to make dough.

While he was busy, Clay spoke, “Mother? is not well, doesn’t talk, but she can command the silkworm baby to weave, so that’s what I call them: weaving silkworms.”

Negris looked at Clay’s mother, finding her features rather refined. She must’ve been a beauty in her prime. But now she appeared extremely malnourished and mentally disturbed. He could tell she must have suffered severe mental harm.

Her reaction was only towards Clay, her gaze sometimes resting on him, but devoid of any focus when then looking at the sky or the ground. She never focused on Ange or the others.

Negris sighed, a pretty woman living with a child in such a place, it wouldn’t be surprising for her to have suffered any hardship.

Clay was quick and did well, soon he announced, “I already have the dough. Could you please watch over my mother? Just ignore her.”

“Wait, where are you going to bake the bread?” Negris asked.

Rogge had the answer, “In Dark City, a lot of places have rocks that will heat up, the temperature is very high, if food is attached to these rocks they can be cooked quickly. Here we do not have much to start a fire with, if you want to eat cooked food, this is the best way.”

“I see. Never mind, Ange can use magic.” Negris mentioned.

Not only can he use magic, but he also uses micro operations. Ange controlled the Fire Element, accurately turning the bread golden brown, spreading a strong wheat fragrance which made Clay involuntarily swallow his saliva.

The woman who had been curled up in the corner all this time crawled over, wrapped in her worn out rags. Cloaked in the odor of bread, saliva dripped from her mouth.

Clay, watching his mother’s unexpected actions, was a little helpless. His mother had always remained in hide, she would stay away from strangers, and even a live rabbit would scare her into hiding. Was it just because of the food?

Once the bread was ready, Clay handed over about a sixth to Little Sky. Little Sky took the bread and was about to take a bite when Ange slapped him on the head.

“Ouch!” Outraged, Little Sky stuffed the bread back into Clay’s arms and went to sulk in the corner.

This left Clay a little perplexed, could it be that he found his bread dirty?

Negris laughed and elucidated, “None of us are ‘human’ and need to eat, you can eat yourself. You had our share baked, so thoughtful. Had I known about your intention, I would have told you sooner.”

Ah? Not human? Clay took a subconscious look at the adorable Little Sky in disbelief.

Once it was affirmed for the third time that Ange and the others really didn’t eat, Clay tore the bread in half and handed one half to his mother.

Driven by the smell of the bread, Clay’s mother started salivating a long time ago. Hugging the bread tightly she began to chew, loudly, with her mouth smacking.

Clay said with some sorrow, “These years, I really couldn’t feed my mother enough. Thank you for the grain.”

“There’s no need to thank us for this. You earned it with your silk cloth. It is silk, isn’t it? Is it woven by these silkworms?” Negris asked.