Scroll 67: The Summoned Army and a Little Water

The midday sun beat down with a gentle warmth over the backyard. It was a tranquil afternoon, brightened by a light breeze that made the nearby leaves rustle.

Sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair in the middle of the cleared lawn was Alaster. His legs were crossed and his back rested comfortably against the chair, his eyes fixed on the pages of a rather peculiar book.

The tome was by no means small; it was as thick as a brick, its corners worn down from heavy use. Most striking of all was its exterior—it bore no title, illustration, or magical symbol. It was completely wrapped in a thick, dark-brown cloth, secured with tight stitching along the edges to hide every trace of its original binding.

To any passerby, it looked like nothing more than an old journal or an unimportant ledger, but to Alaster, it was his Disruption grimoire—the spellbook he couldn't let anyone see.

Alaster turned a page slowly, running the tip of his finger along the parchment. His eyes swept across the intricate lines of text, absorbing every detail with absolute concentration.

His face—marked by sharp features and an almost unreal, symmetrical beauty—remained utterly expressionless. His jet-black hair was combed back in a simple style.

As he adjusted his posture in the chair, the faint sound of footsteps on the grass broke his focus.

Alaster raised his gaze slightly without moving his head. A few yards away, standing near the frame of the back door, was Pina.

The young girl was clutching the hem of her apron with both hands, squeezing it tightly between her fingers. Her cheeks were flushed a soft crimson, and her eyes were glued to her own feet as she nervously shifted her ankle back and forth.

The scene from two nights ago was still fresh in both of their minds. That fierce storm had terrified her so badly that she had sought refuge in Alaster’s room, sleeping in his bed just to feel safe from the isolation.

For his part, Alaster had acted as nothing more than a quiet protector for the orphaned girl. Yet now, under the harsh glare of midday, the air between them was thick with a childhood shyness that made Pina struggle to hold his gaze for more than three seconds at a time.

"M-Master Alaster..." Pina whispered, raising her voice just enough to keep the breeze from carrying it away.

"Yes, Pina?" Alaster replied in a measured, gentle tone. He closed the book carefully, keeping a finger between the pages to hold his place.

"Mr. Norde is here," she said, taking a small step forward while maintaining her distance. "He arrived at the front door a moment ago. He said... well, that he mentioned before that you two needed to talk about an important town matter."

Alaster paused for a second, searching his memory. Between his meditation sessions, his magic studies, and his daily routine, he had completely forgotten the casual remark the village chief had made days prior.

"I see. Thank you for telling me, Pina," Alaster said with a slight nod. "Show him to the living room. I'll be right there."

The girl gave a quick nod, letting out a small sigh of relief when she realized he wasn't going to bring up what had happened the night of the storm. She turned on her heel and hurried back inside.

Alaster stared at the brown cloth covering his grimoire for a brief moment. He slipped a ribbon bookmark between the pages, shut the volume completely, and set it down on the small wooden table beside him, right on top of a messy stack of notes.

Standing up, he dusted off his robes with a couple of gentle pats and walked toward the back entrance.

Inside, the air grew noticeably cooler. He walked down the wooden hallway and stepped into the living room.

Sitting on one of the thick-upholstered armchairs was Norde, the chief of Toel Village. He was an older man with broad shoulders and hands calloused by years of hard labor, featuring a neatly trimmed graying beard and a permanent expression of dutiful concern.

On the coffee table sat two steaming teacups that Pina had already served before quietly retreating to the kitchen.

"Norde. Sorry to keep you waiting," Alaster greeted him, taking a seat in the opposite armchair with a fluid, effortless grace.

"Oh, no, don't worry about it, Lord Al," Norde replied immediately, straightening up in his seat. "I figure you were busy studying magic. If anything, I'm the one interrupting your time."

Alaster lifted his teacup gently, letting the steam brush against his face before taking a small sip. As he listened to the old man speak, a thought crossed his mind:

«The people in this town genuinely think I'm some kind of ancient sage just because I have pointed ears and clear skin. If they found out I'm literally a Temu-version elf—a cheap Earth knockoff who doesn't even know how half this world works—the pedestal they put me on would shatter in a second.»

Outwardly, however, Alaster didn't break character for a fraction of a second. He simply gave a calm nod and set his cup back onto its ceramic saucer.

"Don't worry about it. Pina told me you wanted to speak with me. Did something happen in town?"

Norde let out a long sigh, lacing his fingers over his knees. The crease on his forehead deepened.

"Well, yes, Lord Al. As you know, Toel is a modest village. We're growing step-by-step, but there are a few issues with town infrastructure—old structures—that are becoming a real headache for me and the others. To be precise, I'm talking about the main well in the east district square."

"The large well?" Alaster asked, tilting his head slightly. "Is there a problem with it? Is it running dry?"

"No, thankfully there's plenty of water," Norde clarified with a wave of his hand. "The problem is how we draw the water, and how poorly designed the rim is. It's a deep hole, pretty wide, and the stone wall surrounding it is so low it barely reaches your waist. We've always used the standard wooden axle with a crank, a rope, and a heavy bucket."

Alaster listened intently, picturing the setup in his head.

"And the danger is enormous," Norde continued, genuine worry etched into his face. "We've had some nasty scares already. A few months back, an old man leaned too far over for the rope and nearly tumbled right in. Thank goodness someone grabbed his clothes in time. But the worst part is the children. You know how it is here—it's normal for ten-year-olds, or even younger kids around six or seven, to fetch water to help out at home. That wooden crank is stiff, gets slick from the moisture, and if a child loses their grip, that thing spins backward like crazy from the weight of the bucket. Several kids have ended up with broken arms because of it."

Norde paused, looking at Alaster with hopeful eyes.

"I've been racking my brain for days, but I can't come up with a thing. If we cover the well, no one gets water. If we build the wall higher, the kids can't reach over to tip the bucket without hurting themselves. I thought... well, since you're a wise elf, maybe you know some old magic or a trick your people use to solve this without all the hassle."

Alaster met the village chief's gaze for a few seconds in silence. In his mind, the gears were already turning rapidly.

This wasn't a matter of ancient elven magic, high-tier spells, or sacred rituals. What old Norde was describing was a fundamental issue of fluid mechanics and civil safety that humanity on Earth had solved centuries ago.

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Alaster's lips. He set his teacup down completely and leaned forward.

"Norde, the solution to this problem doesn't require a drop of mana or fancy magic," Alaster said in a relaxed tone. "What you need is something far more practical."

Norde blinked, surprised by the elf's sheer confidence. "Really? And what would that be?"

"Come out back with me," Alaster replied, standing up. "I'll draw you exact blueprints on the patio table for what we need to order."

Over in the village's east district, the sun beat down relentlessly on the dry dirt road. The wind kicked up small clouds of dust around the stone well, where a tiny figure was currently battling gravity and physics.

It was Tiara. The little girl, no older than seven, had her blonde hair tied in a messy braid that draped over her shoulder. She wore a clean pink dress made of soft fabric, though the bottom hem bore a few dirt smudges from the day's chores. On her feet were black cloth shoes that looked remarkably new—a stark contrast to the modest attire of the other villagers.

"Hnnngh!... Ahhh!" little Tiara grunted softly under her breath, letting out small noises of strain.

Her tiny hands were wrapped tightly around the well's wooden crank. Her arms were fully extended and her feet planted on the ground, but her shoes kept slipping on the loose dirt every time she tried to turn the axle a full rotation. The wooden bucket, brimming with fresh water from the bottom of the well, weighed almost as much as she did.

As she applied every ounce of strength in her small body to turn the wood, Tiara's mind drifted into her own childhood thoughts. She thought about how much her life had changed over the last few weeks. Her mother had been so happy ever since they moved into the new house. Even though the well was a bit farther than before and she had to walk more to help with errands, the new house was wonderful. Tiara even had her own room! It made her feel like a big girl—independent and responsible.

She also thought about her older sister, Elise. Elise had left a few days ago with a group bound for the great city of Sibar, but before leaving, she had made an important promise: she would bring back delicious sweets from the capital when she returned.

And in Tiara's innocent mind, she knew exactly who was to thank for all of this. Ever since the elf gentleman, Mr. Alaster, had arrived in town, things had done nothing but get better for her family.

Suddenly, a sharp sting in the palm of her hand broke Tiara's concentration for a split second. The rough wood scraped her skin.

"Ouch!" Tiara squeaked.

That slight slip was all it took. The crank tore out of her grip.

WHIIIIIRRRRRR!

The wooden roller began spinning backward at a terrifying speed, turning the crank into a wooden blur that whipped through the air violently. The rope unwound completely in a matter of seconds until a loud, unmistakable splash echoed from the depths of the hole.

SPLASH!

The bucket had plummeted straight back into the water at the bottom of the well.

Tiara froze, her eyes wide as saucers. Then, taking care not to get too close to the crank as it finally ground to a halt, she leaned her stomach against the stone wall and peeked inside. She peered down, but saw only deep darkness and the distant reflection of water rippling from the impact.

"I have to start all over..." she muttered, her brow furrowing in childish frustration.

She climbed down from the stone ledge, adjusting the skirt of her dress. She inspected her little hands—her palms were red, hot, and slightly scraped from the friction of the wood.

Letting out a long pout, she wiped her hands on her skirt, grabbed the crank once more, and prepared to haul with all her might.

"Do you want me to help you?" a soft voice called out beside her.

Tiara whipped around. Standing next to the well was another young girl named Aurine. She was the same age as Tiara, but her appearance couldn't have been more different.

She had short, messy hair of a peculiar grayish hue. She was barefoot, her feet coated in road dust, and she wore a faded robe covered in patched seams stitched together in haste, its edges frayed from long use.

"Aury!" Tiara beamed, her face lighting up. "Yes, please! It's so heavy today!"

Aurine stepped up without hesitation. Both girls placed their hands on the wooden crank. Tiara placed her hands on the upper grip, while Aurine took the lower section.

"One, two, three... push!" Tiara cheered.

With their combined effort, the crank began to turn much more smoothly. Tiara's small shoes and Aurine's bare feet dug into the dirt. Between stifled giggles, groans of effort, and counting out loud, the roller slowly wound the heavy rope up meter by meter.

CREAK, CREAK, CREAK!

The sound of dry wood echoed as the bucket ascended. Finally, the wooden container crested the mouth of the well, brimming with crystal-clear water. With one final coordinated nudge, they managed to rest the bucket onto the flat stone wall without spilling a single drop.

"We did it!" Tiara celebrated, giving a little hop.

Both girls collapsed onto the grass growing beside the dirt road to catch their breath. Aurine hugged her knees to her chest, breathing heavily.

Her gray eyes drifted toward Tiara. She quietly took in the sight of the pristine pink dress, the fine cut of the fabric, and the black cloth shoes that, despite a bit of dust on the toes, looked brand new and expensive. Then, Aurine looked down at her own clothes: the skirt covered in multi-colored patches and her bare feet caked in dirt.

"Tiara..." Aurine asked in a quiet, curious voice. "How come you have such pretty clothes now?"

Tiara looked down at her dress, smoothing her hand over it to brush away a stray blade of dry grass.

"Oh, my mom bought this for me the other day," she replied with total innocence, smiling without noticing the subtle sadness in her friend's eyes. "I don't really know how it works, but Mom said we have enough money now thanks to my sister Elise's work and the elf gentleman, Lord Alaster. He helped us a lot."

Aurine visibly tensed. She pulled her legs a little tighter against her chest and stared at the dirt, idling with a blade of grass between her fingers.

"I see... I'm glad you have nice things, Tiara," she whispered, almost inaudibly. "It's just... you look like the rich people from the big houses now. I hope... I hope you don't stop being my friend because of it."

Tiara froze. She blinked in confusion, tilting her head as if Aurine had spoken in a foreign language.

"Huh? Why wouldn't I be your friend, Aury? That's silly!"

Tiara scrambled to her feet and patted down the back of her dress with quick slaps of her hands. Seeing Aurine still sitting with her head down, eyes fixed on the dirt, Tiara walked over.

She stole a quick glance in both directions to make sure no adults were nearby listening. Then, she crouched down, pressed an index finger to her chin in a dramatic pose, and spoke in a conspiracy-laden tone:

"Aury, don't be sad. If you cheer up..." she paused dramatically for emphasis, "...when my sister comes back from Sibar with the sweets she promised me, I'll share them with you!"

Aurine slowly raised her head, looking at her in surprise. "Really?"

"Yup! But listen closely," Tiara added, poking a mischievous finger at her. "Only with you! I'm not giving any to anyone else in town."

A wide, conspiratorial smile spread across Aurine's face, her insecurity from moments ago completely forgotten. She scrambled up from the ground, dusting off her legs.

Together, the two girls took hold of the heavy wooden bucket's rope, one on each side. Swaying slightly under the weight, they stumbled down the dirt path with awkward yet cheerful steps, chatting animatedly about the games they would play later at Tiara's house.

A short while later, Alaster and Norde were standing inside the village blacksmith's workshop—the very same burly, bearded craftsman who had sold Alaster his sword a while back.

The workshop smelled of burnt coal, hot iron, and oil. The distant ring of a hammer striking an anvil echoed in the background while the blacksmith held several sheets of paper in his calloused hands, staring at the drawings Alaster had just handed him.

The artisan was frowning deeply, bringing the papers closer to his face and then pulling them back.

"Alright, Lord Alaster..." the blacksmith said, scratching his thick beard with a soot-stained hand. "I can forge this out of iron or bronze, no problem. But I don't have the foggiest idea what it's supposed to be. It's all weird pipes, levers, and shapes."

"It's a mechanism for drawing water," Alaster explained, pointing a finger at the central diagram. "It's called a manual piston pump. If we install this, we can completely seal the mouth of the well with a stone or wooden cover. People won't have to lean over or spin dangerous cranks anymore; they'll just move this lever up and down, and water will flow right out of the spout."

As he gave the explanation, Alaster chuckled inwardly:

«I'm glad I used to be a software developer in my past life. Writing code for industrial software and simulators forced me to study engineering, hydraulics, and general mechanics. The beauty of a world like this is that basic engineering isn't hard if you remember the theory from textbooks. As long as I don't try to build an aerospace rocket, I can replicate almost any practical invention.»

The blacksmith tilted his head and pointed to a cylindrical component near the bottom of the drawing.

"And this round piece inside here? What's that do?"

"That's the most important part—it's a valve," Alaster replied with a faint smile. "It's a simple device that allows water to rise when you push the lever, but closes automatically to prevent it from falling back into the well. That way, the water always flows in one direction."

The blacksmith and Norde exchanged looks of utter amazement. Norde scratched his bald head, thoroughly impressed by the logical complexity of it all.

"Well, well... Mages really do know the stranger kinds of knowledge," the blacksmith muttered. He examined the drawing top-to-bottom once more, searching for something specific. "Though... one thing catches my eye, Lord Alaster. I don't see any slots for a mana crystal or channeling glyphs. How does this thing work without magic?"

"It doesn't require a mana crystal at all," Alaster clarified calmly. "It operates purely on the physical force of whoever moves the lever. It's pure mechanics."

"No crystals or mana consumption?" the blacksmith exclaimed, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, if it's that simple, I can have all the parts ready by tomorrow afternoon. Mind you, since it's custom work and pretty unusual, I'll need payment upfront. That'll be 30 silver coins."

Alaster didn't hesitate for a second. He reached into his pouch, pulled out 30 silver coins, and dropped them directly into the blacksmith's hand.

"Done. I'll be back late tomorrow afternoon to pick up the parts."

Norde watched the exchange in silence, his eyes widening at the sum.

«Thirty silver coins for a few metal pipes! The blacksmith is charging Lord Alaster an outrageously inflated price just because he's a mage... but seeing how pleased the elf is with his idea, I'd better keep my mouth shut,» the village chief thought, keeping his lips sealed.

As evening fell, Alaster returned home. At the entrance, he was greeted by Pina, who served him a small tray with afternoon tea and a couple of crunchy biscuits. Alaster thanked her briefly and headed straight to the backyard to continue his training.

The sky was beginning to turn a soft shade of orange. Alaster walked to the center of the open yard, holding his summoning grimoire in one hand. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused his mana into the ring he wore, checking his reserves: his maximum capacity of 450 points was intact.

He decided to expend 20 mana points to initiate the spell. Extending his free hand forward, he began channeling energy.

On the dirt and grass below, fine lines of brilliant blue light traced a magic circle dense with detailed runes. The air grew slightly heavy from the magical vibration.

Suddenly, right in the center of the circle, space itself seemed to tear. A dark spatial rift, bordered by a bluish glow, opened and closed in the blink of an eye.

CLANG!

With a heavy metallic thud, an imposing creature dropped onto the ground. It was an Armored Sil-Spider—a four-foot-tall armored arachnid encased in dark, steel-like plates that gleamed beneath the twilight light.

Alaster observed the creature while gauging his internal sensations. «This is my second summoned spider,» he thought. He evaluated the strain on his mind and the strength of the contract. He felt absolutely no change or mental fatigue; the connection was as light as if he were carrying nothing at all.

Determined to test his limits, Alaster channeled mana once more and summoned five more spiders in rapid succession. Spatial rifts flickered one after another, dropping the five metallic creatures onto the ground in a series of heavy thuds.

Now, with six armored spiders arrayed across the yard, Alaster finally felt something. It was a slight pressure at the back of his head—equivalent to very mild fatigue, completely manageable.

He was about to summon a seventh creature to push the test further, but stopped when he noticed that the sun had set almost completely, leaving the yard in shadow.

"M-Master Alaster..." a timid voice called out from the back door.

Alaster turned. Pina was peeking out from the doorframe, keeping most of her body hidden inside the house. Only half her face showed, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at the cluster of giant metal spiders occupying the yard.

"D-dinner is almost ready," the girl said, her voice trembling. "It... it would be best if you took a bath before eating."

Alaster looked at Pina's terrified expression and couldn't help but let out a quiet, amused smile.

«Just a cute girl being cute,» Alaster thought calmly as he walked back inside the house.