For the people living in the Eastern Region of the Spirit Plain at this moment, the arrival of spring not only signifies the end of winter and warming weather but also represents the most crucial turning point of a "battle."

Having endured the suppression of a winter season, the reconstruction of the Spirit Plain will once again get on track with the onset of the Revival Month. The days when the ice melts are the days when humans take steps back toward their old homes.

Southern outpost of the Red Maple Reconstruction Camp.

A Druid healer in a white and green uniform sits behind a desk, reviewing a form before him. After glancing at the records on it, the tall, slender young man looks up at the hooded, tall man standing silently across the table.

"From the Eastern Border Region? Voluntarily signed up?"

The hooded man gave a simple nod, seemingly unwilling to speak.

The Druid healer responsible for registration is accustomed to such situations. He has received hundreds of healers; the crystal infection has caused unimaginable trauma to them, trauma that is not only physical—but he believes each healer has a chance to return to normal life. At least, this place will accept them.

"Take off your hood," the healer said, "Don’t be nervous, I’ve seen many like you."

The tall man remains silent but is reasonably cooperative. He reaches to remove the hood from his head and then unties the scarf that conceals his face.

A face covered with black scabs and residual crystals appears before the healer. The scars from the crystal erosion stretch all the way down, even extending into the collar.

"...It’s really a miracle you’re still alive," the young healer remarked, glancing at the scars and crystals for a moment as he shook his head slightly in a tone of lament, "But don’t worry, there are many like you here—the Crystal Cluster pollution left tens of thousands of infected people, but this land still welcomes you all—this is your number plate."

The young healer hands a machine-pressed metal plate to the "healer" in front of him, the metal plate shimmering with fine grid lines and a conspicuous number—32.

"Number thirty-two..." The tall man mutters the number aloud in a hoarse voice, marked by the trauma left from the crystal infection.

"You can write your name on the back if you choose, or you can leave it blank—many healers have given themselves new names, you can do the same. However, the statistics department only recognizes your number, that’s the same for everyone."

The tall man offers no response, only to raspingly ask after a moment of silence, "When do I start working?"

"Don’t worry, someone will take you to your workplace tomorrow morning," the young healer smiled, "In the meantime, you can familiarize yourself with this place, get to know the atmosphere here—"

The sound of machines roaring along with the shouts of workers drifts in from outside the window.

The tall silent man looks out the window, seeing large, tarp-covered vehicles parked in the open space. Workers are cooperatively unloading sacks from the trucks, while uniformed young officials stand nearby, talking with the caravan leaders. Among the unloading workers are both healthy ordinary people and healers with scars and crystal remnants on their bodies.

The healer stands up from behind the desk and moves to the window: "Welcome to the Red Maple Reconstruction Area, everything will get better—as will this land, everything will eventually be rebuilt."

Another large tarp-covered truck drives into the camp, the increasingly warm wind sweeping across the flagpole in the plaza, flapping the straps that hold down the tarp on the side of the truck. More construction workers swarm in, skillfully unloading wooden crates and sacks from the truck.

"This is the last batch of food that could be gathered from the Western Region," the caravan leader says, looking at the last truck, to the young official standing nearby, "I hope it helps."

"It’s already sufficient," the young official from the Administrative Office nodded, "The reserved supplies are enough to last us until harvest season. We’ll be able to resume production before then." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

With strong, muscular arms and a beard, the caravan leader looks ahead with emotion, at those mixed among the ordinary people, still bearing the traces of the Crystal Cluster infection: "In other regions, infected individuals are having a tough time. I’ve seen villages driving infected individuals into the wilderness when crossing the border..."

"They are called ’healers’ here; it’s an order from above," the young official said, "The evil forces entrenched in the land have been eradicated, and the infection can no longer spread. Changing a name is the first step in changing people’s mindset. Of course, we also understand the fear and hostility ordinary people have towards the ’Crystal Cluster,’ so if you encounter healers in the border areas again, you can tell them to come here. Every reconstruction camp here will accept them, we always welcome more labor force."

"I will pass this on—they harbor doubts about the propaganda station from the Administrative Office, but an ordinary person returning from the reconstruction area might gain more of their trust," the caravan leader smiled, but his gaze swept over the trucks parked in the open space, over those gathered reconstruction workers from various places, unable to help but softly exclaim, "It’s truly incredible..."

"What’s incredible?"

"These people, and these goods... The entire Empire is operating solely to rebuild this plain... During the Anzu Era, who could have imagined such a thing?" the caravan leader exclaimed, gently shaking his head, "This is what His Majesty called the ’new order,’ isn’t it..."

The young official from the Administrative Office did not respond but rather looked thoughtfully into the distance, his gaze seemingly piercing through the walls of the reconstruction camp and across the wide, undulating plains...

...

The blue flags on the walls of Sorinburg fluttered in the wind, bringing with it the scent of rejuvenated vegetation. The long corridor of the research center echoed with hurried footsteps as a white-haired druid hurried along, holding up a roll of data: "Neutralizer No. 3 is effective! Neutralizer No. 3 is effective!!"

The middle-aged druid’s shout reverberated throughout the corridor, doors of rooms opened one after another, and the technical staff working inside the facility began to peek out. After a momentary confusion and reaction, cheers finally began to echo throughout the corridor.

The wind breezed through the courtyard outside the corridor, where unusually lush flowers and trees joyously swayed in the early spring season, their branches and leaves rubbing against each other, producing a sound akin to applause.

Near the research facility, beside the test land, Norris slowly stood up with the assistance of his helper. Listening to the sounds from the vegetation, he couldn’t help but look towards the Sorin Giant Tree, seeing that colossal plant swaying its canopy slightly under the brilliant sunlight, countless branches and leaves swaying in the wind, seemingly whispering softly among them.

"Director, Neutralizer No. 3 has proven effective," the assistant’s voice came from beside him, filled with uncontainable excitement and joy, "This means even the most severely polluted land can be effectively purified, and the Plains of the Holy Spirits’ grain-producing area can soon be cultivated again!"

Norris looked at the healthy land before him, his wrinkled face slowly breaking into a smile, and he sighed in relief without concealing it, looking at each agricultural assistant and druid expert around him, nodding continually: "It’s good that it’s useful, it’s good that it’s useful..."

His gaze swept over the faces, some tired, some excited, finally landing on a special clump of flower vines in the corner. The old man slowly walked over and stopped in front of the vines: "Madam Beltira, thank you for your assistance. Without you, we couldn’t have found the most effective purification method so quickly..."

The flower vines swayed rustlingly, as a female figure emerged from the intertwining growth of green leaves and flowers. Beltira appeared in front of everyone, expression indifferent: "Don’t thank me... In the end, I’m merely remedying the mistakes we made ourselves."

"But Neutralizer No. 3 was ultimately completed with your help," Norris shook his head slightly, "Moreover, without your life-catalyzing power, we couldn’t have completed all the sample tests and comparison analyses within just a single winter."

Listening to Norris’ words, Beltira’s expressionless face remained calm.

The one who poisons knows how to detoxify; the Oblivion Association, which once spread curses upon this land, naturally holds detailed information about this curse. And as the "miraculous creation" inheriting the ultimate legacy of the Oblivion Association, she indeed successfully assisted the researchers from Sorinburg in finding the optimal method to neutralize the crystallized pollution in the soil. But to her own mind...

This truly cannot be called a "honor."

"Merely finding Neutralizer No. 3 is not enough; the next challenge is how to mass-produce it quickly," an expert present broke the silence, "For an item to go from research lab to factory takes time, for raw materials to turn into products takes time as well—the spring sowing season will start soon, whether heavily polluted areas can be cultivated again is key to overcoming this crisis successfully."

"Thankfully, the preparation process for the neutralizer isn’t complex, and the existing alchemy factories should all have production capabilities; the key is just to prepare raw materials and modify the reaction cauldrons," another technical personnel said, "If the alchemy factories in both St. Soniel and the Pompeii area start operating simultaneously, it should be timely."

Beltira listened to the people’s discussions, the branches and flowers behind her swaying gently: "If needed, I can help—the ecological pods growing in my root zone can also be used for synthesizing the neutralizer, although the efficiency might not match your factories..."

"Those ecological pods are cultivating seeds needed for spring sowing, which is equally important to us," Norris interrupted Beltira, "Madam Beltira, please trust the power of Cecil industry, the alchemy factory will resolve the upcoming production issues."

Then, the old man smiled again: "Of course, if there’s truly a risk of insufficient production, we will certainly turn to seek your assistance promptly."

Beltira quietly watched the old man before her, watching this elder who possessed no transcendental power, whose very life was nearing its end, yet led thousands of ordinary people like him and transcendent beings willing to dedicate themselves to this endeavor to reverse a calamity, for a moment not speaking.

She slightly closed her eyes, her senses spreading wide, observing everything on this land.

In this Revival Month of warming earth and sky, a breeze blew again across the wilderness plains of the Sorin Region. The wind blew past the colossal canopy of the Sorin Giant Tree, creating continuous waves amid the layers of branches and broad leaves.

The enormous Magic Obelisk positioned atop the Sorin Giant Tree emitted a faint blue glow, calmly operating as it floated in the air. Within the hub monitoring station set on the lower trunk, the Magic Web Terminal directly connected to the Obelisk displayed greetings from distant standpoints above:

"Lu’an Hub to Sorin Hub transmits information, greeting comrades in the reconstruction area—today, the weather in Lu’an City is clear."

Deep underground in the giant tree area, between the sprawling root system, the former Oblivion Association headquarters had been overtaken by vines, roots, and modern civilization. Bright Magic crystal lamps illuminated the once gloomy and oppressive rooms and halls. Under the lamp’s glow, flourishing plants clustered around semi-transparent ecological pods, in which pale yellow biomass solutions enveloped countless organisms—no longer twisted experimental creatures nor deadly divine evil monsters, but ordinary grains and beans rapidly approaching maturity.

This represents the results of an entire winter’s endeavor by Beltira and the Empire’s druids—successfully nurtured individuals from countless catalytic cultivations, seeds that could robustly grow even in areas of mild pollution.

Empire druids dressed in robes, long or short, busied themselves between cultivation containers, observing samples, recording data, screening individuals—quiet, orderly, thoughtful, meticulous.

This made Beltira involuntarily remember past times, recollecting those Oblivion Association believers busily working in the underground ruins.

But everything is evidently fundamentally different.

Technology has ultimately returned to its rightful direction.