The first week was a pain—there was no other way to put it.
Even if so many things were now done digitally, there was still too much paperwork!
Permits, contracts, administration, regulations…
Although Gloria was the one whose name appeared on many documents, the responsibilities, duties, and costs all fell on her.
Not to mention the pain of watching the money in her pocket vanish all at once.
In the end, she had to follow Galina's advice and hire a company to fence off the area. Not because it was truly effective, but because if someone stepped into a clearly restricted zone marked as private property, she could invoke the property defense clause and quite literally use whatever she wanted to deal with trespassers.
Then there was the issue of the potion she wanted to use for the terraforming.
If she had to make enough of it on her own to cover all three hectares, it would take weeks!
She could delegate the task and then add the finishing touches, but she lacked the proper facilities for that…
"Then why am I here?" asked Viktor, lying back in a lounge chair with a glass of cold water in hand, under one of the two large tents they'd set up on the land. "I mean, I'm not complaining about getting some fresh air, but I'd prefer it with a little less dust and sand."
At the moment, aside from Faelan, only Vik, Kiwi, and Dorio were present.
"Because I'm about to make a serious effort, and I don't know if I'll need a medic afterward."
"You keep saying that, but I still don't get it, kid."
"He's gonna do some mystical shit," translated Kiwi, lounging in another chair with an iced lemonade in hand. "A big one."
"Mystical shit?" Dorio asked, holding her orange soda.
"Oh, god," Vik muttered, running a hand down his face.
"Yeah, if you're gonna work with us, you'll find out sooner or later," Kiwi glanced at her sideways. "Just get used to it."
Dorio had already seen some strange things during the operation against Vanessa—ripping the bandage off quickly might be the best way here. As for why Sasha, Galina, or Gloria weren't present…
Faelan simply didn't want to scare them.
"I'm starting," he said, walking toward the second tent they had set up to shield from the sun and prying eyes.
Dorio watched Vik and Kiwi sit up straighter and decided to go along with the atmosphere.
Faelan turned his back to them to minimize the residual effects of SCP-166. He took off his glasses and slipped them into his pocket, pulling down his hood—he didn't want to damage his belongings.
"Are those horns?!" Dorio blurted out, pointing at him with her free hand.
"Just stay quiet, questions come later," Kiwi told her simply.
Faelan sat on a large rock he had found and crossed his legs, adjusting his breathing for a moment. He was a little nervous—this was going to be a big step—but he soon centered himself.
Ba-dump.
The change was immediate.
The air that had been blowing around them, full of dust, carrying dirt and a faint scent of rusted metal, stopped completely, forming a perfectly calm zone.
Ba-dump.
Faelan's eyes began to glow as black markings spread across his skin beneath his clothes, like tattoos awakening from a deep slumber. They pulsed with green energy, flowing downward, forming concentrated lines of vitality along branching paths.
Ba-dump.
Faelan's small horns began to grow, forming the full antlers of a mature stag. They looked heavy, imposing, primal—and brimming with ancient power.
When the green light in his eyes reached its peak, there was no white left in them, only a swirling green vortex with an unfathomable depth at its center.
Ba-dump.
He raised his hands, and orange particles of light—along with butterflies formed from his own vitality—began gathering, forming a green stalk with red and yellow flowers in his palms.
Ba-dump.
He tossed the stalk to the ground before him, where it rooted itself with astonishing speed, continuing to absorb particles and energy, expanding outward.
The green butterflies seemed to get a sugar rush, suddenly flying rapidly around the stalk before scattering in all directions.
As the butterflies moved across the terrain, behind them not only grass began to grow—but also flowers, bushes, and trees.
If Faelan hadn't been so focused—worried about whether using so much druidic magic at once might affect his health, and determined not to ruin the effort or break his solemn image—he might have clapped and shouted: Wood Release: Advent of a World of Flowering Trees!
Because unlike the potion, where the greenery grew quickly like it had taken plant supplements but still looked "kind of normal," now everything was growing at an absurd speed.
Dorio even had to jump to the side to avoid a particularly large root that almost wrapped around her leg.
In less than ten minutes, the three hectares of land had been transformed into what looked like a pristine, ancient forest—without any trace of human activity, aside from the small items they had brought with them and the modifications Faelan made along the way.
All strictly within the limits of the fences.
Faelan didn't let himself get completely carried away by the power he was channeling—he made sure there were paths for movement, open fields for setting up the farm (where he had already placed fruit trees and a wide variety of crops), and some cleared areas for constructing buildings like refrigerated storage.
As long as he hired some farmers, transport workers, and security personnel, the company could begin operations.
He even made use of some growing roots as hoes to carve out the course of a river that branched across the entire land, delivering water wherever it was needed. It occurred to him that the reservoir water might not be particularly clean, so he simply made a river with clean, drinkable, pure water.
One less tax to pay.
Additionally, he left some biological security measures behind to welcome any intruders. Because of course there would be intruders after what he did.
Spies. There would definitely be spies or moles among his staff.
Faelan let out a puff of stale air as his horns shrank back to their usual size and he pulled up his hood, then put his sunglasses back on. He turned to look at the group of three.
"Maybe I overdid it a little?" he asked in a playful tone.
It felt good to unleash that much druidic magic all at once—something he realized in hindsight. Apparently, setting off his traps somehow made him feel better.
Not in an addictive way—more like he had a tiny epiphany each time.
"This is a bit more than I expected," Kiwi admitted, snapping out of her daze first as she tilted her head back to follow the height of a nearby tree trunk, thick enough for at least three people to wrap their arms around it. "To hell with it, the Net's gonna blow up as soon as word gets out about what happened here." She paused for a moment before turning to look at her friend. "How are you feeling?"
Vik came out of his own daze too and rushed to check Faelan's physical condition.
"Honestly?" Faelan laughed happily. "Tired, but at the same time, I feel right at home."
The forest he created gave him, in a way, a subtle positive feedback—empowering from the first trap, and deeply comforting from the second.
Later he would need to make some bugs for the forest, like bees to pollinate and make honey, or maybe silkworms. Also, some earthworms to help keep the soil fertile.
He was also a bit dizzy, since he wasn't used to using that much magic at once. It would get better over time—just like how he got used to turning into butterflies.
"That's strange," Vik said, looking at Faelan's vitals. "You're actually doing better now than when I checked you this morning. Just a bit dizzy, but that'll pass if you lie down for a while."
"No comments or questions about what just happened?"
"Kid, I won't say I've seen weirder things—because this takes the cake," Vik said, glancing around at the vegetation surrounding him, even noting how the air now felt cool and slightly humid. "But this? It's pleasant and not trying to kill me, and that's good enough for me. Think you could make a few plants for the clinic? I think it'd give it a classy touch."
"Sure, but you'll have to learn how to take care of them," Faelan said, turning to the third person present. "Dorio, you still with us? Uh-oh…"
Only then did he notice Dorio was hanging upside down from a branch, her ankle caught in a thick limb. Her arms were crossed as she glared at him.
"Put me down. Now."
Faelan touched the tree trunk and extended the branch to release Dorio, who fell with a heavy thump softened by the grass.
"Okay seriously, boss, are you even human?" Dorio asked as she brushed off the leaves and grass stuck to her pants, disguising the slight tremor in her whole body with those movements. "Doesn't matter what kind of implants you've got—nobody can do something like this!"
She eyed the tree that had caught her with suspicion, as if afraid she'd be ambushed again if she let her guard down even for a second.
"Told you. Mystical crap," Kiwi approached with her hands in her pockets. "Only instead of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he turns into butterflies, is immortal, and transforms acres of land into a forest…" She paused, thoughtful, and turned to Faelan. "Fae, can you make rabbits?"
"Feels a little early to eat…"
Though the idea of a forest barbecue was tempting. He could summon the spices with a flick of his hand.
But they didn't have a proper grill!
"I'm serious!" Kiwi poked his shoulder with her finger.
"Yeah, I can," Faelan said, rubbing the spot Kiwi had poked. "Plants, animals, anything you can think of. Think of me as, uh…" He pretended to ponder for a moment. "A druid! Yeah, druid sounds about right with all the stuff I've been doing."
"The druid of Night City," Vik considered the nickname. "Not bad. Definitely stands out in a city where people go by such uninspired names as 'The Ripper.'"
Yeah, they'd heard the nicknames of various gang members—and some were downright embarrassing.
"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" Dorio was holding her head with one hand while waving the other frantically. "Can we rewind a bit? I feel like we're skipping over something kinda important here."
"Forget the barbecue, Dorio! We'll eat when we get back, just be patient."
They had a solid breakfast, she shouldn't be hungry already!
"Who said anything about a barbecue?" Dorio smacked her forehead and turned to look at Vik. "You heard the same thing I did, right? About him—" she pointed at Faelan, "being immortal?"
"Oh, that," Vik nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I already knew."
Dorio felt like she was the only sane one in the room.
"And don't you think that's a little weird?" Dorio insisted.
"Dorio," Vik lowered his face so that his optics could be seen over the sunglasses, giving him a meaningful look. "It's mystical crap. Trying to find a logical explanation is... illogical in itself."
...
"Fine," Dorio took a moment to process everything. "Mystical crap, got it. And that immortality stuff explains how you survived the proximity mine on Vanesa's floor."
"Yeah, but I promise you it hurt like hell!"
Life doesn't seek revenge, only balance.
His third trap: a twisted version of the Wara Wara Paramecia Fruit.
He was already used to SAV making things complicated for him.
His version could "mark" people with a glance, creating a straw doll inside him that would take any damage meant for them. When the proximity mine exploded, a straw doll inside Faelan was consumed to protect him. Simultaneously, somewhere in Night City, a drug addict in a dark alley burst into a mess of flesh for no apparent reason, painting the alley from top to bottom.
It had other functions too, though he was still figuring those out.
In short, as long as he had people marked throughout the city (and by now, he had marked a lot of scum), Faelan couldn't be killed or contained.
Even if someone tried to shoot him when he had no more straw dolls left, he could just look at the shooter, mark him, and the man would become the new doll—essentially killing himself without even realizing it.
There was a catch though: Faelan "felt every death" when a straw doll took his place. For example, in Vanesa's apartment, he felt the pain of being blown to pieces, even though the actual damage was transferred.
In a way, it was a bit like Blackbeard's Dark-Dark Fruit, just without the double pain.
When Dorio finally finished processing everything, he came to the same conclusion Viktor had: Ignore it if it doesn't make sense or you can't understand it.
"Hey," Kiwi gave him a light push to get his attention. "I need the details of what you did. We have to calculate how much staff to hire, where to build the facilities, and inform Gloria about the change."
"Oh, right..."
Faelan explained the rough layout and what was inside.
"You even remembered the vineyard," Vik nodded in approval.
He couldn't sell wine without an apparent source nearby.
"I'll still have to finish the winemaking process myself, but at least I'll save time on things like harvesting and pressing," Faelan clarified. "Also, if anyone asks what happened here, it goes without saying that you don't tell the truth. The official story (which you'll also have to keep just barely confidential to make it believable) is that this is the testing field for developing the prototype of..." He paused, trying to think of a name for the potion. "Substance X-27."
"And why that name?" Vik asked.
"I don't know, it's got letters and numbers—what else does a mysterious substance that can do this need?" He gestured at the forest all around them.
Viktor couldn't argue with Faelan's flawless logic.