Raka did not dream.
Or more precisely, if he did dream, he did not remember it. What he knew was that he opened his eyes when the sky outside was still gray the sun had not fully risen yet, but it was bright enough to work.
Enough.
He sat up, stretching his stiff neck from sleeping on a thin mat laid directly on the dirt floor, and began to inventory his thoughts as he always did every morning in his old world.
Today's priority: Water.
Last night, in between organizing food distribution, Mr. Doru mentioned something in a tone far too casual for what was actually a very important topic that there was a faint sound of trickling water sometimes heard from underground in the western part of Kraval, near a large rock the locals called the "Old Stone." Mr. Doru said it with an awkward smile, followed by the sentence, "We thought it was the sound of ghosts, Sir."
Raka thought it was a water source.
He stood up, folded his mat neatly a habit that had not disappeared despite his different body and stepped outside.
________________________________________
Kraval in the morning looked more honest than at night.
If night could hide poor conditions behind darkness and the warm glow of firelight, morning had no mercy. Mud between the tents. Rotting hut walls. Children with wide eyes and cheeks too hollow for their age.
Raka noted everything as he walked.
He had just reached the edge of the settlement when someone greeted him not with words, but with a small stone that landed right in front of his feet.
He stopped. Glanced toward where the stone came from.
On top of a hut with a half-collapsed roof, a Beastman child perhaps eight or nine years old, with small wolf ears standing upright on his head and a furry tail twitching nervously stared at him with a panicked expression. Clearly hadn't meant to throw the stone at Raka. Clearly deciding whether to run or pretend nothing had happened.
Raka looked at him for three seconds.
Then continued walking as if nothing had happened.
Behind him, he heard a very small sigh of relief from atop the hut.
Beastmen traumatized by authority, he noted inwardly. Understandable. Treat them normally—not with excessive pity, not with caution. Normal.
________________________________________
The Old Stone was in the western part of Kraval, just as Mr. Doru had said.
"Stone" was almost an understatement. It was more like a massive rock formation jutting out of the ground like the back of a sleeping giant three times the height of an adult human, its surface covered in thick moss. Around it, the ground felt different under Raka's feet. Denser. Colder.
Raka knelt, placing his palm on the ground.
"Aegis," he called.
"Yes, Host."
"Scan this area. I need to know what's underneath."
"Area Scan feature requires 500 CivPoints. Host currently has 300 CivPoints."
Raka frowned. "Not enough."
"Correct."
"Then I'll use the old method."
He pulled out a small twig from his coat pocket—no idea why it was there, perhaps left behind by Aldric and began tapping the ground around the rock formation systematically. A simple technique he had learned from an old engineer during a field survey for a tunnel project in East Java years ago.
The sound of the ground was different.
At a certain spot, roughly two meters to the left of the Old Stone, the tapping sounded more hollow. Deeper.
There's a space underneath.
Raka stood and began examining the rock formation's perimeter. There was a thin crack at the base, almost invisible under the moss. He brushed the moss away with the twig, knelt closer, and pressed his ear near it.
Faint.
Very faint.
But clear.
The sound of water.
________________________________________
"Find something interesting?"
The voice came from above.
Raka looked up.
Sitting atop the Old Stone formation with one leg dangling casually and her hands braced behind her was a woman who seemed entirely unbothered that she had just caught someone kneeling and listening to the ground. Pointed ears. Long silver hair braided to one side. Clothes that must have once been expensive before a long journey left them wrinkled and muddied at the hem.
Her expression was that of someone used to seeing things from above both literally and otherwise.
An Elf.
"I was wondering," she continued without waiting for Raka's answer, "whether this is a habit of Kraval's new ruler, or if you personally have a close relationship with the ground."
"Field survey," Raka answered briefly. He stood, brushing dirt off his knees. "You're an Elf from Silverwood?"
The woman slightly furrowed her brows the first expression that showed more than mere boredom. "Former. Officially, I've been removed from Silverwood's citizen registry." She jumped down from the rock with a movement too light and precise to seem like effort. "Elyra Dawnveil. And you must be Aldric Voss the bastard thrown into this graveyard."
"Raka," he corrected automatically.
"Sorry?"
He realized his mistake half a second too late. "Just call me Raka. A name I prefer."
Elyra looked at him with an unreadable expression but didn't pursue the name issue further. "Very well. Raka. What are you looking for here? Most people avoid the Old Stone because of ghost superstitions."
"A water source." Raka glanced back at the crack in the rock. "There's an underground river beneath this. Quite large, judging from the sound resonance."
Silence.
"An underground river." Elyra repeated the words, her tone somewhere between skeptical and intrigued. "You're sure?"
"Not one hundred percent. But enough to start digging."
"Digging." She raised an eyebrow. "And you have tools for that?"
"Not yet."
"Manpower?"
"Not yet."
"A plan?"
"In progress."
Elyra stared at him for a few seconds with an expression Raka couldn't categorize but somewhere behind her cold gaze, something moved, like a small gear beginning to turn.
"You know," she finally said, "previous leaders who came to Kraval also had your kind of energy on their first day."
"How many were there?"
"Three. All of them gave up within two weeks."
"Because they didn't have enough data before starting," Raka said. He had already turned and begun walking back toward the settlement. "I already have the data."
Behind him, he didn't hear Elyra's footsteps following. But he also didn't hear her leave.
________________________________________
Mr. Doru listened to Raka's explanation with the expression of a doctor who had just been told that his patient wasn't actually sick just misdiagnosed for twenty years.
"An underground river," he repeated slowly.
"Beneath the Old Stone. I need to dig to confirm, but based on sound resonance and soil characteristics, I'm fairly certain." Raka sat in front of the small fire Mr. Doru had lit to boil water. "Who here has experience with digging or construction?"
Mr. Doru thought. "There are a few Dwarves who used to work in the Ironhold mines before being expelled."
"Their names?"
"The most senior… Brom. Brom Copperfist. But he—" Mr. Doru paused with an expression that suggested warning. "He's a bit difficult to approach, Sir. He doesn't like being ordered. Especially by humans."
"I won't order him," said Raka. "I'll show him something he's never seen before and let his curiosity do the work."
Mr. Doru looked at him with the same expression as last night a mix of skepticism and something more fragile than that. Something that didn't yet seem ready to be called hope.
________________________________________
Finding Brom Copperfist wasn't difficult.
Just follow the sound of curses in Dwarven coming from behind the last tent on the western edge of the settlement. Raka found him crouched in front of a chunk of rusted metal, trying to fix something with tools that were clearly no longer fit for use.
The Dwarf was short—barely reaching Raka's shoulder but with shoulders as wide as a wardrobe and a reddish beard braided into two. His hands were the hands of someone who had worked with metal and stone for decades thick, calloused, yet moving with the precision that only comes from long practice.
He didn't turn when Raka stood behind him.
"I don't take visitors in the morning."
"I don't like visiting either," said Raka. "But I need someone who knows how to dig properly, not just swing a hoe blindly."
"Go ask another human."
"I need a Dwarf. Specifically one who worked in Ironhold mines and knows how to read rock characteristics."
For the first time, Brom stopped. His hands still held the tool, but his movement ceased.
"What for?"
"There's an underground river beneath the Old Stone. I need confirmation and access. If it's real, Kraval has a water source that won't run dry in any dry season."
Brom finally turned. His eyes dark brown, sharp, and full of suspicion honed over years assessed Raka from head to toe in a way that was both very rude and very honest.
"An underground river."
"Yes."
"You've confirmed there's water down there?"
"Sound resonance and soil characteristics are consistent with underground river formations. But I need an expert to confirm based on rock characteristics."
Brom stared at him longer.
"You talk like you're not an ordinary noble."
"I'm not an ordinary noble."
"Hmph." Brom set down his tools. Stood with the ease of someone used to lifting heavy things without comment. "Show me."
________________________________________
Brom needed exactly four minutes around the Old Stone before giving his verdict.
He tapped the rock with his fist a different technique from Raka's but apparently just as effective. He knelt, scooped a handful of soil, and squeezed it. He even licked his fingertip and pressed it into the ground, smelling it.
Raka waited without comment.
"There's water under here," Brom finally said. His voice had changed no longer reluctant, but that of a professional who had just found something interesting. "Not stagnant. Flowing. From south to north, judging by the slope."
"Estimated depth?"
"Four, maybe five meters. Not too deep." Brom stood, dusting his hands. "We can dig a vertical access. But we need proper tools. Ordinary hoes won't be efficient for this rock there's a thin granite layer about two meters down."
"What tools do you need?"
Brom listed a long series of technical mining equipment, most of which Kraval's residents wouldn't understand but Raka understood everything, nodding at the right moments, occasionally adding specifications that made Brom stop mid-sentence and look at him with a new expression.
No longer suspicion.
Something closer to curiosity.
"Where did you learn mining?" Brom asked at the end.
"From many places," Raka answered.
"Hmph." Brom glanced once more at the Old Stone. "I can make the tools from scrap metal in the settlement. Two days."
"One day."
"Two days—"
"I'll help."
Brom gave him a very specific look the look of an old craftsman just invited into collaboration by someone who might not be as bad as he looks.
"Don't hold the hammer wrong," he muttered, then began walking back to his tent.
Raka followed two steps behind.
In the distance, silently, a figure of an Elf stood in the shadows between two huts watching the entire exchange from beginning to end with an expression she herself couldn't decide was interesting or dangerous.
Or both.
________________________________________
That night, when Kraval was once again swallowed by darkness and small fires burned in front of each tent, Raka sat outside his hut with a thin wooden board he used as a substitute for paper—writing with charcoal, drafting plans.
Water — active. Estimated completion 3–4 days. Food — starting tomorrow. Eastern plains need survey. Sanitation — this week. Workforce — Brom for technical. Need more.
"Aegis."
"Yes, Host."
"Any updates on Kraval's condition?"
A notification flickered softly at the corner of his vision.
________________________________________
║ AEGIS — KRAVAL STATUS
║ Day : 2
║ Population : 312 people
║ Kraval IP : 3/100
║ CivPoints : 300 CP
╠═════════════════════
║ Food : ██░░░░░░░░ Critical
║ Water : █░░░░░░░░░ Emergency
║ Health : ██░░░░░░░░ Vulnerable
║ Race Harmony: █░░░░░░░░░ Very Low
________________________________________
"Very unpleasant numbers," he commented inwardly.
"Confirmed. However, an 8 percent increase in the food sector has been detected due to the Host's actions last night."
"Eight percent from zero is still almost zero."
"Mathematically accurate."
Raka almost smiled again. Almost.
He set the wooden board aside and looked up at Kraval's sky. The stars were different from the ones he knew constellations absent from his memory, yet no less beautiful.
An unfamiliar world. An unfamiliar body. 312 lives that never asked for him to come. And I never asked to be here.
But the data exists. The plan exists.
Enough.
He closed his eyes.
"Aegis, wake me before sunrise."
"Understood. Rest well, Host."
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Tomorrow, find out the name of the Beastman child who accidentally threw a stone at me this morning."
A brief silence.
"The reason?"
"He was balancing himself on a nearly collapsed roof. That roof needs to be fixed before someone falls."
This time, the silence was longer than usual.
"…Understood."
________________________________________
On the other side of the settlement, inside a small hut whose walls were covered with old maps and scraps of notes in the Elven language, Elyra Dawnveil lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
She had lived in Kraval for three months.
In those three months, nothing had happened in this place that could be called interesting.
Until today.
"An underground river," she murmured softly to herself.
She closed her eyes.
But her mind did not stop turning.
________________________________________