I woke up the next day, a renewed strength from yesterday's exploring and the work I did on the field. I sat on my bed for a moment, soaking in the morning sun, flashing through from the window.

  A sigh escaped my lips as I stretched and stood up, my gaze landing on the field outside. The field had not yet grown any fruits, some still sprouted. It could be as a result of using magic to plant seeds and flip the soil. Or it could be the richness of the soil... neithertheless, I should not be paying attention to it. Normally it would take the seeds 1 week to sprout,but it had only been a day since I started working on the field.

  In isekai light novels, the main characters are blessed by a god upon entering their worlds with overpowered abilities, strength, and their knowledge from Earth. That can be a factor in my situation, but I wouldn't count on it.

  I sighed, sliding out of bed, my body aching from sleeping on the cold mattress without any covers or blankets. The chill of the morning air bit into my skin, and I rubbed my arms, hoping to shake off the weariness that clung to me. But I felt different. No rushing to work, no more emails from superiors or anything. In this new beginning, I felt like I can do anything by my terms.

  This is a new world of knights and magic, so what's the use of dwelling on my past experience.

  I prepared the fireplace, much like yesterday, the crackle of kindling filling the silence. The warmth from the flames spread slowly, and I ate breakfast alone, the familiar stillness my only companion. The soft clink of my spoon against the bowl was the only sound, and it felt louder than it should have in the empty room. It had been only two days since I arrived in this world. Though I'd expected to feel bored, even after I started working on the field. Still, the boredom creep in.

  In the stillness of my little cottage, I could hear the laughter and chattering of the villagers being carried by the cool morning breeze. Birds chirped merrily overhead, their songs blending with the distant rustle of leaves. It felt comforting, listening to the music the birds sang. It felt refreshing!

  After that, I turned my attention to the field, using my Earth magic to till the soil with ease. There was no need for physical exertion when my magic flowed through the land, making the task feel almost effortless. The land seems to be blessed with an abundant of magic, that's why the crops grow so fast....or it could be a coincidence.

  I continued working in the field, the sun beating down on my skin while the stillness of the air became my only companion. With practiced ease, I used my Earth magic to till the soil, guiding the land into perfect rows before manually planting the seeds. Time seemed to slip through my fingers as the hours passed unnoticed, the sun creeping across the sky as if it were watching over my labor.

  Every now and then, the voices of nearby villagers reached my ears—snippets of casual conversation, the joyous laughter of children, and the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith's hammer echoing in the distance. It was a symphony of life, grounding me in the moment as I worked with purpose.

  “Phew.” I paused, wiping the sweat from my brow as the soothing rhythm of birdsong and the gentle rustling of leaves played in the background. The sounds felt like nature’s way of encouraging me to keep going.

  “I’ll take a break for a while, then get back to work,” I muttered to myself, stretching until my joints cracked in protest. The brief relief was enough to spur me toward a moment of rest before continuing the day’s labor.

  Lunch felt different from the ones I’d had in my previous life. Back then, every meal was rushed—just another chore to complete before diving back into work. But now, I allowed myself to savor it, appreciating the calm and simplicity of the moment.

  After leaving the field, I ventured into the forest, the cool shade a welcome relief from the sun. The air smelled of damp earth and wildflowers as I moved through the underbrush. My search for food led me to a bush laden with small, vibrant berries.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Kneeling down, I inspected them closely, recalling the lessons drilled into me about edible plants. Satisfied they were safe, I plucked one and popped it into my mouth. Its sweetness spread across my tongue, a burst of flavor that felt almost magical. Smiling, I began to gather more, filling my hands until they were full.

  After I was finished, I made my way back to my little cottage, following the well-worn path that cut through the heart of the forest. The shade of the towering trees was a welcome relief, their leafy canopy casting dappled shadows across the ground. The air was cooler here, carrying the earthy scent of moss and the faint hum of insects. Each step felt unhurried, the forest wrapping me in its tranquil embrace.

  But as I reached the edge of the trees and stepped out into the open, the sun greeted me like a blazing furnace. Its heat pressed down on me, harsh and unrelenting, making the forest's coolness feel like a distant memory. Beads of sweat began to form on my brow almost instantly, and I shielded my eyes against the glaring light. The path ahead shimmered faintly, the heat rising from the ground in lazy waves, as if daring me to complete the journey home.

  "Ugh, it's so hot," I groaned, the relentless heat bearing down on me. "But if I want to be self-sufficient, I'll have to endure it." I glanced at the cool forest behind me, a stark reminder of the cool of the forest. I continued walking to the cottage, already exhausted.

  I returned to work, my T-shirt as a makeshift hat, covering my head from the relentless heat the sun brought.

  The Village's perspective:

  At the village’s council hall, a somber air hung over the gathered crowd. The villagers, seated on worn wooden benches or standing at the back, exchanged hushed whispers, their voices a nervous buzz that filled the room. At the front, the mayor stood tall, his expression stern and unyielding.

  The flickering light of the lanterns cast long shadows across the room, amplifying the unease. The villagers’ faces mirrored a mixture of worry and frustration, their murmurs blending into a low hum of discontent. The tension was palpable, an invisible weight pressing down on everyone present, as if the walls themselves were bracing for what was to come.

  The mayor cleared his throat, a sound that instantly silenced the whispers. All eyes turned to him, waiting for the words that would either calm their fears or confirm them.

  Thank you all for attending this village meeting,” the mayor began, his voice steady and calm despite the tension in the room. His eyes swept over the crowd, trying to project reassurance.

  “Did you come up with a solution for our missing livestock problem?” a villager interrupted, his voice sharp and rising with frustration. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

  "I lost a sheep just last night!” another villager chimed in, his tone edged with anger. “And I’ll bet it’s those Goblins again! They’re always sneaking around at night.”

  The murmurs grew louder, a mix of fear and blame filling the air. Some nodded in agreement, while others exchanged uneasy glances. The mayor raised his hand to quiet the growing noise.

  "We will address this together,” he said firmly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “In fact, I bring you some good news.”

  The villagers exchanged curious glances, the tension in the room easing slightly as they waited for him to continue.

  “A group of knights has been dispatched to aid us,” the mayor announced, his voice steady and confident. “They’ll be here by tomorrow morning to investigate the livestock thefts and ensure the village’s safety.”

  A collective sigh of relief rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs of cautious optimism.

  “Knights? Real knights?” one villager asked, his eyes widening.

  “Yes,” the mayor confirmed. “They are trained to deal with threats like this, whether it’s wild beasts or... goblins.” His words hung in the air, resonating with a mix of reassurance and caution.

  The villagers began to relax, a flicker of hope replacing their earlier frustration. For the first time in days, the council hall no longer felt so heavy with fear.

  As the villagers began to disperse, their spirits lifted by the promise of aid, the scene shifted far beyond the village's borders. On a winding road cutting through the dense forest, a group of armored knights rode in formation, their polished steel glinting in the fading sunlight.

  At the head of the group was their captain, a towering figure astride a massive warhorse. His dark cloak billowed with the wind, the sigil of their order emblazoned on his chestplate. His face, partially obscured by his helm, revealed sharp, calculating eyes that scanned the road ahead.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll reach the village,” he said, his voice firm and commanding. “Be prepared for anything. This is more than missing livestock—something darker might be at work here.”

  The knights nodded, their resolve unwavering as they pressed onward, the sound of hoofbeats fading into the twilight.