The morning light slid over the fields in quiet ripples, touching the dew on the corn leaves until they sparkled like tiny mirrors. Ronald stretched beside the fence, yawning loud enough that Brontus gave him a side-eye.
"Don't look at me like that," Ronald said, scratching his neck. "Some of us aren't blessed with built-in alarm clocks."
Before Brontus could grunt a reply, a shadow rippled across the ground. It wasn't large this time—no great wings blotting the sky—just a small blur that drifted down and landed neatly on a fence post.
It was a crow, black as ink, but its feathers shimmered faintly as if they hid all the colors of fire, wind, water, earth, and lightning. And when it tilted its head, Ronald saw five eyes—two on each side, one in the center—each one a different shade: red, blue, brown, white, and yellow.
The little bird gave a cheerful caw, then spoke in a perfectly normal, almost amused voice.
"Good morning, farmer. Sorry about yesterday—I had to pop off for a quick chat with the local goddess. She's delightful, by the way. Loves her tea."
Ronald blinked. "…You talk?"
"Obviously," the crow said, fluffing its wings. "Name's Corvo. Well, technically 'Corvo, the Chaotic Crow, Traveler of the Greater Omniverse,' but that's a bit long for introductions."
He hopped down from the fence, and with a shimmer, the air folded. A second later, standing in front of Ronald was a man with messy black hair, feathers woven through it, and the same five-colored eyes. He wore a traveler's coat patched with mismatched cloth, like he'd been to every world and never bothered to match the seasons.
"Hope you don't mind if I crash here for a few days," Corvo said. "I'm on vacation."
"Vacation?" Ronald echoed.
"Yes! Every few centuries I take a little break. Sightseeing, meeting new people, petting strange animals—your farm fits the vibe perfectly."
Maphala mooed softly in agreement, and Corvo turned toward her with a grin. "Ah, a divine bovine. Lovely horns! You moisturize?"
She blinked slowly, as if uncertain how to reply to that, and Brontus snorted in amusement.
---
Over the next few days, Corvo simply… hung around. He shrank to the size of a normal crow when he wanted to nap on the roof, then changed back to a man when helping Ronald carry lumber or check seedlings.
He chatted easily with everyone—telling Ripple about rivers that sang in other worlds, sharing jokes with Sol, and occasionally trading riddles with Aeris, who found him "oddly fluffy for someone so ancient."
Ronald couldn't help but like him. There was something easygoing about the being—powerful, sure, but never overbearing.
One evening, as the sky burned orange, Corvo perched on the fence again, watching the fields sway. "You know," he said, "for someone who got tossed into a new world, you're doing rather well."
Ronald smiled faintly. "Trying to, anyway."
"Well, since you're staying, you'll need a proper name. Old worlds, old names—they get left behind."
He hopped closer, his many-colored eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "From now on, in the language of travelers, I shall bless you with a title. Corvus Amicus—'Friend of the Crow.'"
Ronald blinked, surprised. "You're giving me a title?! He was tremendously shocked.
"Why not? We're friends now, aren't we?" Corvo chuckled. "And friends share good fortune."
A soft warmth settled in Ronald's chest as the system chimed quietly:
> [Title Gained: Corvus Amicus – Favored by the Wandering Crow]
Grants passive luck increase and affinity with celestial beings.
---
The next morning, the animals woke to find Corvo sketching glowing runes in the dirt.
"I've got a little gift for all of you," he said, tail feathers twitching as he worked. "Something simple—won't hurt, might tingle."
Light spread through the farm like wind through wheat, touching every creature. The system flared briefly:
> [New Technique Unlocked: Grand Astral Refinement Art (Modified)]
Passively absorbs ambient mana and cosmic energy.
Once a week, a random stat increases slightly.
Brontus rumbled in approval. Maphala blinked, feeling the mana hum through her. Ripple splashed excitedly in his pond.
Ronald whistled low. "You can just hand out techniques like that?"
Corvo winked. "Perks of being overqualified. Don't worry—it's safe. Think of it as a self-watering soul garden."
He fluttered his wings and added, more softly, "I used to be like you, you know. A reincarnated man once called Alexander. Went through my own ceremony, became something else. Now I travel the multiverse for fun."
"You mean multiverse, like other worlds?"
"Bigger," Corvo said with a grin. "The omniverse. Infinite worlds upon infinite worlds. Most of them just need a friend once in a while."
He hopped down from the fence, turning back into a small crow and landing on Ronald's shoulder. "So, I figured I'd start here."
Ronald laughed quietly, the sound mixing with the soft rustle of corn in the wind. "Well, friend, you picked a good spot."
Corvo gave a pleased caw. "Then my vacation's going splendidly."
And as the evening deepened, the little farm glowed softly under the starlight—one farmer, a handful of divine beasts, and a mischievous cosmic traveler sharing stories while the world turned quietly around them.