After school, the kids walked home. Roz strode ahead, none of them noticing the white cat slinking quietly behind.
"Hey, Menono, why were you asking about cultivation?" Lumo asked.
"Because my talent core still hasn't fully awakened," Menono said. "I asked Mother why, and she said that when I become a cultivator, my talent core fully awaken… but she didn't tell me how to cultivate, or even what cultivation is!"
"I know!" Zeno suddenly said. "Cultivation means farming! A cultivator is a farmer!"
Everyone turned to stare.
Menono opened his mouth, then shut it.
Lumo smacked his forehead. "You fool. Cultivators are not farmers."
"Ahem!" Rugo said. "Your father teaches me to cultivate every day. Also, he said when I become ten years old, I will reach First Stage: Spiritual Body Stage cultivator."
"Oh! Really?" Menono asked. "Then tell me—what is cultivation?"
"How should I know that?" Rugo replied.
"You are doing it every day and you still don't know?" Lumo said.
"Hmph." Roz huffed. "All boys are idiots."
The boys glared. "What did you say?!"
Roz rolled her eyes. "Listen. In this world, everything—trees, rivers, mountains, even the earth—releases spiritual energy. Cultivation is the process of absorbing that energy into your soul core. Once your soul core fills up, it converts that energy into life force. That makes the cultivator stronger and increases their lifespan."
Everyone stared.
"…How do you know that?" Menono asked.
Roz flicked her hair. "Because I've been going to school longer than you. You probably don't know that every Sunday, the teachers tell us about cultivation."
They reached Menono's home, where his kind mother waited by the gate. The boys rushed forward, talking all at once, telling her everything. Roz waved and walked home.
---
Meanwhile…
A white cat strolled through the grass behind them, yawning.
"Hmph. Stupid kids. Don't know anything about cultivation… and calling me lazy."
He flicked his tail. "At least that girl's got a brain."
Then he stopped and looked straight at you.
"Oh! Hello there. It's me, your most lovable god of fortune, Maswerte."
He sat proudly and licked a paw.
"You're probably thinking, 'How can a cat talk?' Well, in this world, every animal has a ten percent chance of awakening their wisdom. That means we can talk and understand humans."
Maswerte narrowed his eyes.
"And there's one rule you must follow: before killing any animal, ask its name. If it answers, it's awakened—and you must not harm it. Unless it's attacking you. Then… don't hold back."
He stretched lazily.
"We awakened ones usually get along with humans. Some animals don't, though. They form packs deep in the wilds. Fun fact: if one awakened animal joins a pack, others nearby have a fifty percent chance to awaken too. We awaken faster when we're together."
Maswerte winked.
"Also, animals don't have to wait until age five like humans. We're born ready. I'm three years old and My talent is Good Fortune—nothing bad happens near me."
He trotted toward the school gates. "Anyway… enough talk. Let's go see Master."
---
Back at the School
Maswerte jumped onto the teacher's desk. The teacher sat reading.
"Master, why do you always make me follow those kids?"
The teacher didn't look up. "One day, you'll understand."
A loud voice screeched from above. "Lazy cat! Complaining again?! Master should replace you!"
A parrot landed with a flap of wings. Green and black feathers gleamed, his voice sharp and proud.
Maswerte growled. "You ugly bird! Say lazy one more time!"
"You call me ugly?! I'll roast your whiskers!"
"Try it, feather-face!"
They lunged at each other, brawling right on the desk.
The teacher sighed. "Enough."
They froze mid-slap.
The teacher turned to the parrot. "Night Parrot, didn't your eggs hatch?"
"Yep! One of my boys awakened. The others haven't yet."
"And your wife?"
"She's fully awakened. Now she chats with Miss Lily every day."
[Miss Lily – Age 22. A widow with soft pink eyes and hair like cherry blossoms.]
"Don't worry," the teacher said. "Your children will awaken their wisdom in a year or two. But why is your Fire Bird talent still stuck at Second form?"
Night Parrot looked away, scratching his beak. "…I've been, uh, busy with parenting."
The teacher shook his head, grinning like a fox. "Excuses, excuses. From today, you're on the two-meal plan. Want a third? Then flap that Fire Bird talent into the third form. Think of it as… motivational starvation."
Night Parrot flapped his wings in panic. "No! Master, you can't! My kids are always eating my food—if you cut my meals, we'll starve!"
Maswerte flicked his tail. "Ugly bird, dragging your poor chicks into this? Such a bad parent."
Before Night Parrot could respond, the room gate creaked open. Miss Lily stepped in, calling cheerfully, "Anyone hungry? Meal's ready!"
Maswerte's and Night Parrot's eyes sparkled. They were just about to dash toward her when—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The courtyard shook. Windows rattled. Miss Lily froze, ladle suspended mid-air. Night Parrot shrieked, shot upward, and—BONK!—slammed head-first into the teacher's shoulder before tumbling down and latching onto his right leg.
Maswerte didn't move. The teacher didn't even blink.
Miss Lily, recovering from the shock, dropped her ladle and dove for safety straight onto the teacher's left leg. Now both his legs were occupied: one by a panicked bird, the other by a trembling cook.
Night Parrot and Miss Lily shouted together, "MASTER! Tell Shoebill to stop before our eardrums explode!"
From beyond the wall came a cheerful, booming voice—impossible to ignore.
Shoebill, only ten years old, stood in the middle of the training yard, wings folded, face calm as a monk's. Rare, endangered, and apparently determined to go extinct by noise complaints alone.
"Testing my new sonic strike!" Shoebill bellowed. "Is it loud enough?!"
Miss Lily shouted back, "LOUD ENOUGH TO WAKE THE DEAD!"
Night Parrot squawked, "WHAT?!"
Miss Lily groaned. "Forget it!"