The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode 2.12

“First, let’s clean up the field. Skia, can you use wind magic to gather the crops in one place and burn them? Village Chief, if you could bring seeds or seedlings to plant in this field, that would be very helpful.”

“I can do that. I’ll gather them in the air and burn them. That way, we won’t have to worry about the fire spreading.”

“Y-Yes! I’ll bring them right away!”

Skia and the Village Chief each responded to Mistia. Skia raised his hand, while the Village Chief hurriedly ran off.

“Wind, Air.”

With Skia’s precise magic control, the rotten crops were pulled out one by one. They floated toward the center of the field, gathering into a single pile.

“Flame, Fire.”

Once everything was collected, Skia cast fire magic. With a loud whoosh, the crops instantly went up in flames, turning to ash and scattering in the wind.

After finishing his task, Skia lowered his hand. Solm, who had been watching the entire process, was shocked at how effortlessly Skia controlled both wind and fire.

(As expected of a great spirit…! To use magic outside his own element so easily… But still… With magic on this scale, the amount of mana consumed should be enormous. Yet Mistia remains completely unfazed. She’s exceptional too. Gilbert challenging these two… in a way, that’s impressive.)

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

As Solm was marveling at Skia’s magic, the Village Chief returned, panting.

“Lady Mistia! I’ve brought seed potatoes. Will these do?”

“Thank you for going through the trouble. I will take good care of them. Now then, Skia, Sir Solm, let’s revive this field. We will cleanse the soil and enrich it with nutrients. Please chant these spells: Skia, use ‘Purify, Cure.’ Sir Solm, use ‘Earth’s Blessing, Earth Grace.'”

“Purify, Cure.”

“…Earth’s Blessing, Earth Grace.”

Solm hesitated slightly but cast his spell toward the field. At the same time, Skia released his magic. A soft golden-brown light spread across the field before gradually fading away.

At first glance, nothing seemed to change. It was nothing like the flashy magic Skia had used earlier. Solm clenched his fists, lowering his eyebrows.

“As I thought… I’m useless after all…”

“Please wait. The real work starts now. You’ve used earth wall magic before, right? I’d like you to cast it across the field, evenly spaced.”

“Gilbert told me that earth walls are only for combat.”

“Forget about that for now.”

“…Understood.”

Although still skeptical, Solm turned back to the field and cast the spell he had once been mocked for.

“—Earth Wall.”

At his chant, ten rows of earth walls appeared across the field. As he had mentioned before, they were quite low and hardly looked like walls at all.

Disheartened, Solm slumped his shoulders. Surely, Mistia and the others must be disappointed.

(What’s the point of these childish earth walls?)

But someone’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh! This makes forming ridges so easy! We always struggle with this heavy labor. This is a huge help!”

“…Ridges?”

It was the Village Chief of Fura Village. He beamed with joy, looking as if he might break into a dance. Solm blinked in confusion at the unexpected term “ridges.”

The Chief’s loud exclamation drew the attention of villagers peeking from their homes, wondering what was going on.

Yes, the earth walls that Gilbert had once scorned as “useless” were actually perfect for making ridges in the field.

Gilbert had only ever thought about hunting monsters, so he never imagined another use for them. True, in battle, the spell was weak. But when it came to supporting people’s lives, it was extremely “useful” magic.

Seeing the Chief’s delight, Mistia smiled as well. But the work wasn’t finished yet.

“Thanks to Sir Solm’s wonderful ridges, we can now plant the seed potatoes. This is a simple task, so I will handle it. Wind, Air.”

With a flick of the staff that had appeared in her hand, Mistia lifted the seed potatoes into the air. They floated gently and positioned themselves evenly along the ridges.

“Now, let’s plant them…”

Mistia manipulated her magic, pressing the seed potatoes into the soil. Once again, the Village Chief’s excitement erupted.

“Ohhh! The planting is done in an instant! What a convenient magic!”

With a triumphant fist pump, he shouted his joy.

Hearing his enthusiasm, more villagers left their homes and gathered at the field. Surrounded by the growing audience, Mistia felt a little flustered.

(This is starting to feel like a performance. But I suppose it’s only natural that they’re curious about the field.)

“Sir Solm, for the final step, please cast ‘Bountiful Harvest, Hughe.'”

At Mistia’s words, the villagers all turned their expectant eyes toward Solm.

At this point, he couldn’t refuse. Silently exchanging a glance with her, he raised his hand over the magically prepared field. The air grew still, and everyone held their breath, watching.

Then, after taking a deep breath, Solm hesitated for a moment before chanting the spell Mistia had taught him.

“Bountiful Harvest, Hughe.”

—And what followed was truly astonishing.