At first, there was nothing. Just the soft rustling of trees and the sound of Alice's distant strikes against the dummy. But he filtered all that out.
He imagined the farmland.
He remembered digging the soil, planting the seeds, watching the first green shoots appear. He had touched the land, fed it his mana, and guided it to grow. That bond had been real. It had to count.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
His breathing slowed. Sweat beaded down his forehead, not from exertion but from pure concentration.
A faint tug brushed against his mind. It was like a thread leading somewhere invisible.
"I think I can feel it," he murmured.
"Good. Now hold onto it."
He did. The connection was weak, like trying to feel something through layers of cloth. But it was there.
