The morning fog clung low to the trees, winding between the branches like a sleepy ghost. Sylas sat cross-legged in front of his hut, a frayed scrap of parchment in front of him, scribbled over with inconsistent symbols and half-translated sentences.
He massaged his temples, muttering under his breath. "Why does 'buy' have four forms based on tone and usage? Who created this language—bards on mushrooms?"
> [Language Mastery: 96%]
Status: Near Fluent – Minor gaps in understanding persist.
Sylas had studied for three entire days. Behind him, only the seed patch lay unturned save for a meticulous watering. Even Captain Beak had begun to look listless with the monotony.
But Sylas was not giving up now. He almost grasped people entirely—got the general sense—but there were still gaps in conversations, such as hearing a person mumble through a closed door.
He needed a boost.
Later that morning, Mira visited again, bundled in a small package of herbs. Her appearances were unpredictable, but Sylas greeted them like a starving man greeting bread. She was keen and sharp-sighted, and above all, she spoke clearly. Slowly.
"Cabbage sprout," she indicated, pointing to the thin green spike emerging from the earth. "That indicates your hands are not under a curse."
Sylas smiled. "Good to know. I was afraid the chickens were conspiring something."
She cocked her head, not getting it.
"Ah, sorry. Joke," he said, raising his hands.
Mira smiled weakly. "You talk more. Better. Like child. But not chicken."
He chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
> [Language Mastery: 98%]
Contextual Understanding Improved.
Then it happened.
As Mira gestured toward the herb bundle and spoke slowly, naming each plant—"feverroot," "wormleaf," "springbark"—something clicked in his mind. The words ceased to sound like noise transmitted through water. They fell into place with sense, tone, and texture.
It was as if a stone rolling into its proper groove.
> [System Notice: Language Mastery Achieved – 100%]
You can now speak, read, and comprehend the regional dialect effortlessly.
Skill Unlocked: Multilingual Aptitude (F)
Bonus: +10% Speed of Learning New Languages
Sylas blinked as the words in his head ceased to sound alien. For the first time, he really comprehended Mira's voice—not only what she said, but how she said it.
"Mira," he spoke slowly, "thank you. You've helped me a great deal more than you realize."
She cocked an eyebrow. "That. was flawless."
He stiffened. "I know. Because I get it now."
She smiled. "Good. Then no more excuses for sounding like drunk."
The next few hours were like a door blown off hinges. Sylas drifted through the forest, muttering on and reading the inscribed signs he'd long ignored. It all made sense now—the posted warnings on trees, the inscriptions in his System, even the scratches on his old sack of seeds.
Words weren't just tools anymore. They were keys.
And Sylas intended to use them.
Later that afternoon, he rode into town with something new in his stride—confidence. The guards knew him and waved him through without a word. That alone was like progress.
He strode through the marketplace square as a person who fitted, ears outstretched, absorbing all discourse. Vendors cried about warm bread and charcoal. A little boy begged for treats from his mother. Some elderly man complained about levies and climate.
It wasn't clamour now. It was life.
Sylas came up at the very same seed man who had existed prior. The lady, her name he discovered being Danna, smiled towards him.
"Back again, cabbage boy?" she grinned.
He laughed. "Guilty as charged. I'm looking to branch out into carrots. Perhaps beans if I'm feeling adventurous."
Her eyes grew wide. "You're talking like a native now. Huh. You've been practicing."
"I'm nothing if not dogged."
"You want another sack? Still ten copper."
He paid her the coins, no fumbling, no hesitation. "Include some onion seeds. I'm going to smell in all directions."
She laughed as she filled the pouch. "Careful, cabbage king. You may just become a true farmer."
As he made his way back to his farmhouse, Sylas felt something change within him. It was no longer just about words. It was about belonging. Every phrase he now comprehended drew him one step further into this existence.
And with comprehension came fresh possibility.
> [New Quest Available]
Title: "Foundation of the Fields"
Objective: Plant and harvest three distinct crops.
Bonus Objective: Sell in town market.
Reward: Get Farming Skill (E), Reputation Boost, Cooking Recipes
Accept?
Sylas grinned.
"System," he said. "I accept."
That evening, as the stars swept over the quiet trees and the earth cradled its small sprouts, Sylas sat by his fire and opened one of the little books Mira had loaned him—a simple primer for children.
For the first time, he did not look at gibberish. He looked at a story.
He read aloud to himself, allowing each word to fall off his tongue like it always had.
And in the forest somewhere, a chicken clucked in appreciation.