14-53. Coffee

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

Elijah looked up the basket of cherries he’d just picked. Tura stood nearby, hunched over her cane and wearing an unpleasant frown that left her scaled face even more wrinkled than usual.

“What do you mean?” he asked innocently as he turned away from the coffee tree he’d grown.

“Do I need to make a list?”

“Uh…”

“One, that tree is not native to this jungle. Growing it could have far-reaching consequences on the ecosystem. What do you think would happen if a crate-lizard ate one of those cherries? Hmm?”

“Um…”

“No answer, eh?” she asked, her cane suddenly appearing in one of her hands. She stomped forward and whacked him in the shoulder. “Two, you’re doing it all wrong. You’re like a lamellar ape with a club when you should be like a –”

“I used to be able to turn into one of those. Are they native here? Do you know where I can find them?”

She hit him again.

“Ow. Can you please stop doing that?”

“Can you please stop making so many mistakes?” she demanded in return. “That tree. Look at its roots, eh? Look at its vascular system. Those leaves. Pitiful. Why grow things if you’re not going to do it properly, hmm?”

“This is how the tree grows on my world,” he insisted.

“And you don’t think you could improve it? Give it a little boost, eh? You did it with your little tree in the abyss. Why can’t you do it with this one?”

“I just wanted to grow some more coffee cherries. I didn’t want to create an entirely new species of coffee tree,” he answered, feeling a little defensive. An attitude of constant improvement was one thing, but if nature had already achieved perfection, then there was no reason to change it. Could the coffee be better? Always. But that wasn’t the goal.

“That is your problem, boy. You lack purpose. Every act should be undertaken with the intention of improvement,” she explained. “You want to grow a tree? Make it better. Learn from it. Don’t want to change it? Then don’t. But you can always make it hardier. More energetic. Instead, you just throw your spells at it like a dumb beast. You are better than that.”

Elijah frowned, anticipating another smack from her cane. It didn’t come. Instead of looking angry, she just looked disappointed in him.

“And three, you are meant to be training with Birk.”

“I was, but he was called away.”

“And you still cut your training short?” she asked.

“Uh…I was going to go back and finish?”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

She rolled her eyes. “You realize that I don’t believe you, do you not?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re still sticking with that answer?”

“One hundred percent.”

This time, she did whack him. “Do better, boy,” she chastised. “Now, come with me.”

“Why?” he asked. That morning, he’d spent hours training with her. He still wasn’t great at recognizing the formation of his spells, but he was starting to get the hang of it. He was proud of his progress, right up until Tura reminded him that he’d barely reached the expertise expected of a child.

“Your seeding came in. I thought you might like to see where you rank amongst your peers,” she answered. “Besides, I assume you’re not going to roast those yourself, eh? Come along. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

After that, Elijah followed Tura from the meadow where he’d planted his coffee tree. By all rights, growing it should have been the work of years, but he’d managed it in the space of a few days. It was nothing more than a side project, and not one he’d taken very seriously. He still had plenty of coffee in his Arcane Loop, after all. But the less he needed to dip into his stores, the better.

He could see things from Tura’s perspective, though. It reminded him a little of some advice he’d received as a teenager. Back then, he’d fancied himself a real boxer. Did it matter that he’d never really had a shot at being anything more than a moderately talented amateur? Not really. Not with the optimism of youth pushing him forward.

In any case, his trainer had told him something that seemed applicable to his current situation. He was just warming up when the grizzled old man had told him, “Always do things with intention. Every punch should have a purpose. Don’t just flail around. Don’t equate popping pads with a good warmup. It’s not about noise. It’s not about strength. It’s about precision.”

From that moment on, Elijah had done just that, and the improvement was stark. It wasn’t impactful to put him on another level, but it did teach him the value of intention. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten that lesson.

He needed to remember it if he was going to make the most out of his time in the Empire of Scale.

Tura led him back to her hut. Its primitive construction was a stark contrast to the wonders of the city above. And Elijah couldn’t deny that it gave the place a cozy feeling that Ashakar lacked.

Once inside, he handed Tura the basket of cherries, which she set aside on a scrubbed wood table in the center of the room. Then, she grabbed something from her pocket and handed it over.

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Predictably, it was a crystal.

For whatever reason, the people of the Empire of Scale didn’t use paper. Instead, they used information embedded in crystals. Elijah reached out with a bit of ethera, resulting in a holographic display that looked a lot like a system notification:

“That’s seventy-three levels,” Elijah breathed. That represented an enormous amount of experience, especially to a man who’d spent decades stuck at the precipice of demi-godhood. Even if he didn’t get a single level outside the tournament, he would gain two new abilities in that span.

Of course, there was also that repeated line – or equivalent progress – that stood out to him. When he asked Tura about it, she told him that it was based on the average level in the demi-god realm. For him, that likely meant that he wouldn’t net quite that much numerical progress, due to his high-rarity class. Those tended require more energy for progression, though it was always a bit of a crapshoot.

“There are some high-rarity classes that level extraordinarily quickly,” she stated. “However, they trade that for lower attribute accumulation.”

“So, you’re saying I’m a slow leveler?” Elijah asked.

“Bah. Levels are easy. You should be more excited about the First Fang.”

“What? Why?” Elijah asked. The missive had said that it was a cultivation resource, but from Elijah’s perspective, that didn’t mean it was all that special. There were cultivation resources everywhere.

Before he could really think it through, Tura once again whacked him with her cane. “The First Fang is a tooth taken from a direct descendent of the first dragon,” she explained. “It is ancient beyond measure, and it contains enough meaning and power to fuel any dragon’s cultivation. Your core has stagnated, yes? This is your key to the next stage.”

“Is it really that powerful?”

“Laying a single finger on it will destroy your body.”

Elijah grinned, which earned him another smack.

“You do not look forward to that!”

“I mean, it’s the best way to cultivate.”

“For insane people!”

She tried to hit him again, but he dodged. He was just starting to gloat when something smashed against his head. He fell to one knee.

“Ow.”

“Hmph. Be more sensible.”

He hadn’t even seen Tura move. But then again, she was a deity. Probably at the peak, too. She was so far ahead of him that she might as well have been a transcendent.

Still, he grinned, displaying bloody teeth. “Sensibility does not beget greatness.”

“Bah. Greatness. What does a demi-god know of such things?” she asked, casting a spell to mend the bleeding wound in his mouth. It settled on him like a warm blanket, comforting as much as healing. It was further proof of her deft touch and an example of what he could achieve if he managed to internalize her many lessons.

“I know a bit. I’m always trying to learn more, though.”

She shook her head. “Then learn how to roast coffee properly. Come and help me with this.”

“The way I do it usually takes a few weeks.”

“Bah. Weeks, he says.”

After that, Elijah received a crash-course in magical processing of coffee cherries. He was well aware that there existed multiple methods to get to the seeds inside the fruit. Back on Earth, he’d opted for the long way, which meant leaving the cherries out to dry, then peeling the fruit away.

Tura used the wet method, which was faster even on Earth. However, she did so with the help of magic that Elijah had difficulty tracking. The end result was that a process that should have taken at least a few days ended up taking less than an hour.

He held up a single seed.

“This is stronger than the stuff I grow back home.”

“Of course it is, boy. Did you think my class was for show? This is what I do.”

“Make coffee?”

She hit him.

“Guess not,” Elijah muttered, rubbing the point of impact. “Didn’t even know you guys had coffee around here.”

“Every civilized society has coffee.”

Elijah agreed wholeheartedly.

After the seeds had been separated from the fruit, they moved on to the drying process. It took a little more than an hour – spurred along by Tura’s magic – and during that time, Elijah finally took a look at the seeding.

“Ninety-fourth,” he said.

“Disappointed?” Tura asked, waving her hand over the table where they’d spread the beans. Little wisps of water vapor rose above the surface, creating a diffuse layer of fog.

Elijah shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of expected it, but I still don’t like the idea that there are ninety-three people better than me.”

“Better?”

“That’s what this means, right?”

She laughed. “Of course not, boy. Do you truly believe that the seeding is based purely on power?”

“Uh…yeah? That’s what the testing was for, wasn’t it?”

“Bah. You need to learn to think better, boy. All the mind cultivation in the world can’t help if you choose not to look beneath the surface,” she pointed out. “Most of these people have participated in other tournaments, so the organizers know precisely what to expect from them. You are a wildcard. A complete unknown. Your seeding is solely based on the strength of your evaluation.

“In addition, you are a Druid, an archetype not known for combat prowess, especially outside of their groves. You are not a non-combatant, but many refuse to note the difference,” she went on. “In addition, you are much lower level than the average participant. Those levels matter, whether you wish it or not. In truth, it is a miracle they ranked you so high, even with your evaluation. I suspect that being Prosperity’s son is responsible for that.”

“I see,” Elijah said. “Maybe this can work in my favor, then. Can I bet on myself?”

“Of course you can.”

Elijah could only grin at that. Meanwhile, Tura shook her head in disappointment while grumbling about children and gambling. In any case, the rest of the drying process proceeded in silence. After that, Tura leaped right into roasting the coffee beans, which filled the hut with the delicious smell of coffee.

“I think this might be the most addictive aroma in all the universe,” he said, leaning over the cauldron where the beans were cooking.

Tura gave a little sniff. “It is quite pleasant.”

Just as she announced that it was finished, there came a soft knock on the door.

“I believe it’s for you, boy.”

“Huh? Who would visit me?”

She said something about clueless boys.

Elijah crossed the small hut and opened the door to find Kaelari waiting for him.

“Hello, Elijah,” she said. “I am on a mission to find an appropriate cultivation spot, and I hoped that, as a Druid, you might be able to help me.”

Elijah frowned. “I’m kind of a stranger here,” he admitted.

“He would love to guide you,” shouted Tura. “Go. I’ll finish this.”

Elijah ran his hand through his hair. “Guess you have yourself a guide, then. What kind of place are we looking for?”