During the next few days, Asta spent more time near the forest edge outside Hage Village.
He didn't rush anymore.
Instead, he carefully explored the outer parts of the forest, quietly observing where birds built their nests. The first nest he had found earlier still sat in the branches of the same tree, and he continued taking only half the eggs whenever he visited.
If there were four eggs, he took two.
If there were three, he took one.
Leaving the rest ensured the bird would keep returning instead of abandoning the nest.
But that nest wasn't the only one he discovered.
A few days after the first one, Asta found another nest hidden lower in the grass near a group of bushes. This one belonged to a different kind of bird.
While the first nest belonged to a small brown tree bird that built its home high in the branches, this second nest belonged to a ground bird.
A quail.
The bird had spotted feathers and shorter wings, and instead of flying far it preferred to run through the grass when frightened.
Asta had noticed the difference immediately.
And the moment he realized it, a plan slowly formed in his mind.
Eggs were useful.
But birds were better.
So instead of simply taking eggs every day, Asta began returning to the nests at different times, quietly watching and waiting.
---
That afternoon the forest was calm.
The rain from the previous night had left the ground damp, and the smell of wet leaves filled the air.
Asta stood behind a tree, his eyes focused on the branch where the first nest rested.
Today he wasn't collecting eggs.
He was waiting.
Several minutes passed quietly.
Then he heard the faint sound of wings.
A small brown bird landed on the branch beside the nest.
Asta's eyes sharpened.
"There you are."
He moved slowly, gripping the trunk and climbing carefully. His body was still small, but the past days of training had already improved his balance.
The bird noticed him just as he reached the branch.
It tried to fly away.
But Asta was faster.
His hand shot forward and closed around the bird before it could escape.
The small creature flapped wildly in his grip, chirping loudly, but Asta held it carefully without squeezing too hard.
"Relax," he muttered.
He wrapped the bird gently in a cloth he had brought and climbed back down.
That made one.
---
Before leaving the forest, Asta walked toward the second nest near the bushes.
He crouched down and hid in the grass, waiting again.
This time the wait didn't take long.
The quail returned to the nest, moving cautiously through the grass rather than flying.
Asta had prepared for this one.
Earlier he had twisted plant fibers into a simple loop and tied it between two small sticks near the nest.
The moment the quail stepped forward—
He pulled the string.
The loop tightened around the bird's legs.
The quail flapped its wings and struggled, but Asta quickly grabbed it before it could escape.
Now he had two birds.
One tree bird.
One quail.
Asta placed them carefully inside the cloth bag he carried and stood up.
"Two should be enough to start."
---
When he returned to the clearing where the giant skull rested, the massive bone structure cast a long shadow over the grass.
This place had become his training ground.
And now it would become something else too.
Asta set the cloth bag down and sat beside it for a moment.
Taking the birds directly to the church wouldn't work.
There were too many children there.
If the birds started laying eggs, everyone would want to eat them. With only two birds, the eggs would disappear quickly.
Also, wild birds would panic if surrounded by people.
Instead, he decided to keep them here.
Near the skull.
It was quiet.
And he came here every day anyway.
---
Using fallen branches scattered around the clearing, Asta began building.
First he pushed thick sticks into the ground to form a small circle.
Then he wove thinner branches between them to close the gaps. Flexible vines from the forest helped tie the sticks together and make the structure stronger.
Finally, he added a roof.
Long branches were placed across the top and tied together with vines so the birds could not fly away.
The result looked rough.
But it worked.
A simple bird pen.
Asta placed a flat stone inside the enclosure and poured a little water into a hollow part of it to create a small water bowl.
Then he scattered grass seeds and a few insects he had collected earlier.
Only after everything was ready did he open the cloth bag.
The two birds burst out immediately.
They flapped their wings and bounced around the enclosure, trying to find a way out.
For a moment they panicked, striking the stick walls and fluttering against the vine roof.
But the pen held.
After several minutes, the birds slowly calmed down.
Eventually the quail lowered its head and began pecking at the seeds on the ground.
The smaller tree bird followed a moment later.
Asta nodded in satisfaction.
"Good enough."
---
After eating the eggs he had collected earlier and cooking a few mushrooms the same way he had done before, Asta rested for a short time before starting his training.
He didn't need to think about it anymore.
Training had become part of his day.
He began running around the giant skull.
The cool air brushed against his face as he moved across the grass, his breathing growing heavier with each lap.
Compared to his first day, the difference was clear.
His stamina had improved.
After finishing several laps, he dropped to the ground.
Push-ups.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Twenty-five.
Twenty-eight.
Thirty.
Thirty-two.
Finally his arms gave out.
Asta collapsed onto the grass and stared up at the sky.
"…Thirty-two."
A small grin appeared on his face.
Just a week ago he could barely reach fifteen.
Now he had passed thirty.
Slow progress.
But constant.
Exactly what he expected.
After catching his breath, Asta sat up and looked toward the enclosure beside the skull.
The quail and the small brown tree bird were still pecking cautiously at the seeds.
Asta scratched the back of his head.
"If I catch a few more…"
Then the eggs would come regularly.
And if the eggs came regularly…
Training would get easier.
He leaned back on the grass, watching the birds quietly.
For now, it was only two.
But it was a start.
And if the forest continued to provide nests like this…
The small bird pen beside the giant skull might grow much larger one day.