After a few more practical demonstrations, Levi concluded the tutorials with the old village chief. The experiments confirmed it: within his territory, the fundamental properties of his world, like the way water behaved, now applied to its citizens. They were now 'biological entities' under his system's influence.
With the lessons finished, Levi got down to business.
"If you wish to stay here permanently," he began, his tone serious, "you must reach the rank of [Resident] within a year. Once you do, you will be able to craft these kinds of tools yourselves."
The village chief's eyes widened, his expression grave. "My lord, do you mean that as long as we become residents, we can also wield this magic to create tools?" he asked, immediately translating Levi's words into his own understanding.
"That's one way of looking at it," Levi said, seeing no need to correct him. The meaning was close enough. "However, as my people, although you will never lack for food and shelter, you will be required to perform a certain amount of labor each day."
He continued, "Aside from children, anyone at the [Resident] rank and below must work for at least six hours a day. Oh, you might not know what six hours is. For you, it's about half a day's work."
"That… that short?" The old village chief frowned, not in objection, but in disbelief. "My lord, you are too generous…"
Not only had this lord taken them in, providing shelter and food beyond their wildest dreams, but he was even willing to share the secrets of his power. And the price was merely to work—and for such a short time at that. This sudden happiness was enough to make a man's head spin.
Six hours. In their old lives, most villagers toiled from sunrise to sunset, their meals and rest taken in the very fields where they worked. The idea of "clocking off" after a set number of hours was an alien concept.
"I know the work might seem dull," Levi said, speaking from his own perspective, "but this is a requirement if you wish to stay."
The old chief almost laughed. Dull? Compared to the backbreaking, often fruitless labor of their past, this was a paradise.
"Once you are promoted to a rank above [Resident], you can reduce this time," Levi continued. "If anyone is unwilling to accept this, they are free to leave. But be warned, once they depart, they will lose their status here and will be unable to use anything in this place."
"My lord, I would not leave this place even if death itself came for me," the old village chief declared, his voice thick with emotion. "I swear I will do everything in my power to contribute to the Free City-States until the very end of my life."
"Let me finish," Levi said, holding up a hand to gently calm the man's fervor. "I won't force a type of work on you. You can choose the tasks you are most interested in for your daily labor. As your reputation level increases, the professions you can undertake will also expand. At the same time, you'll unlock the ability to craft more things, just like me."
To illustrate his point, Levi opened his hands and, with a subtle shimmer of light, crafted a wooden hoe out of thin air.
"I think I understand," the old village chief said, his mind racing as he summarized the implications. "You mean, as long as we perform this simple labor, we can gradually learn more of your magic. The things we can do with that magic will increase, and we can even use it to pursue the work we are most interested in?"
"Yes," Levi nodded, impressed. "That's more or less the meaning." This old man had a real knack for extracting the key points and an even greater talent for localizing his system's terminology. It was better to let him explain it in a way the others would understand.
After confirming the chief understood everything, Levi gave him his next instruction. "I've taught you the basics. From now on, you will be the one to tell the others what to do. This task also counts as a contribution to the territory and will earn you reputation."
"I understand, my lord."
The old village chief accepted the command and hurried away. He gathered the villagers—no, the citizens—and began to explain. He demonstrated how to work the land, how to use the hoppers, how to breed animals, and how to plant trees.
After the practical lesson, he explained the territory's rules for promotion.
"The lord possesses a wondrous magic!" he announced, his voice ringing with conviction. "With it, he can see every contribution we make to this land. As long as we contribute enough, we can earn the right to share in the very magic he wields!"
"Ooh—!" A collective gasp of amazement rippled through the crowd. It took them a long while to fully digest the news.
When they finally understood, the impact was profound. Every single contribution they made would be seen and counted. Their merit could never be stolen, their good deeds never overlooked. The lord's eyes were the ultimate measure.
For a few of the more ambitious, a fire ignited in their eyes. They rolled up their sleeves on the spot, ready to begin. The path to power was no longer a matter of birth or favor, but a clear, attainable ladder of work and reward.
For most, however, the feeling was simply one of overwhelming relief. After experiencing the horrors of wandering and starvation, a stable home was more than they had ever dared to hope for. As long as their families could eat their fill and live in peace, that was satisfaction enough. Everything else was secondary.
For now, this group of citizens just wanted to live a simple, quiet life. Half a day's labor felt like a luxury, a dream they could live in forever.
But this way of thinking was a fragile foundation, built on the memory of hardship. It would not last forever.
When people no longer lack for material needs, they begin to seek spiritual fulfillment. When a life is threatened, one yearns only to live. When starving, one craves the coarsest bread. But give a man an endless supply of bread, and soon he will begin to desire something more.
Needs progress in tiers. As the citizens lived and thrived, their bodies and spirits would recover. And with that recovery, higher aspirations would inevitably bloom.
At that time, even without a mandatory labor requirement, they would vie with each other to work. Not for survival, but for purpose.