Jumanji stood, eyes fixed on the new horizon that had unfolded before his spirit.
A majestic scene stretched across the expanse, where vast earthen plains dominated by a reddish-yellow hue spread endlessly, as if scorched by ancient fires long before the land could claim them.
Only a few frail trees broke the harsh emptiness, scattered here and there like ghosts clinging to the last breaths of life.
His gaze roamed across the place until it landed on a towering mountain looming on the horizon, not far from him.
It was the most imposing and dominant point in this spiritual farm, which spanned roughly four square kilometers.
Above, a clear sky stretched in deep azure, devoid of a visible sun yet brimming with enough light to reveal the features of existence.
Nearby, a small river bent gently, carving through the heart of the land, its waters flowing with a softness that reminded Jumanji of the "Bansens" rivers he had seen in the bamboo forest.
Despite the beauty of the scene, the farm suffered from a desolate emptiness.
No landmarks broke the monotony of the plains except for some massive brown rocks that inhabited the earth like crocodile scales.
Once the storms of astonishment settled in his chest, Jumanji murmured in a low voice:
"So... this is my spiritual farm."
He hadn't expected to see his land so barren.
After all, he was still above the tribal farm, that lush green paradise teeming with life and overflowing with blessings in every corner, unlike the desolate silence he now faced.
But he quickly dispelled the comparison from his mind.
Such a vast difference was no wonder, for his tribe's farm had reached the fourth level of development and prosperity, while his farm had barely opened its eyes to the light for the first time.
Jumanji began wandering across this small world, feeling the touch of the air and passing breezes.
It wasn't his fleshly body treading the red soil, but his "will" incarnate, venturing into this emptiness, exploring and observing the features of his farm.
He bent his spiritual form and clenched a handful of that reddish soil with his "will."
His expert eyes scrutinized the grains slipping through his fingers.
He had spent twenty years of his life, more than half in bitter struggle cultivating fields and raising livestock on real earth.
His expertise in farming wasn't mere memory; it was an instinct running through his veins.
Slowly, in a tone full of analysis, he murmured:
"This soil… its quality is very poor, almost devoid of spirit. I must find a way to improve it."
He was engulfed in a whirl of thoughts; how could someone new to this spiritual world, governed by mysterious laws, develop this land?
But he quickly shook off the dust of confusion.
A more urgent matter demanded his attention now, a goal surpassing the quality of soil and fertility of the plains.
He had to hurry to see if he was worthy of obtaining that legendary "Leech" before the opportunity slipped away.
In the external world, the old man, the guardian of the farm, watched Jumanji's motionless body with eyes gleaming in anticipation.
The old man's will was astonished as he saw how this boy's farm resisted in a strange act of defiance.
"What's wrong, boy? Has your farm finally awakened?" the old man asked, noticing the signs of revival on the boy's face.
Jumanji slowly opened his eyes, as if the light of the outer world had become unfamiliar, then nodded with dignity:
"Yes… it has awakened. Thank you for your guidance, Grandfather, which enlightened my insight."
The old man straightened in his seat and spoke in a tone blending strictness with advice:
"Congratulations, spiritual companion. Now that the farm has awakened, know this: the real trial begins now."
"There is no room for negligence in this world; every diligent soul has a share written by their effort."
"Even if your farm were of the highest grade, it would become ordinary without care. And even if it were of poor quality, it matters not, as long as there is an unyielding will behind it; work and diligence alone bear the fruits in the end."
"I understand perfectly…" said Jumanji, standing and saluting the old man with deep respect.
The old man continued, warning:
"Now, you must secure a 'seed' for your farm to stabilize its foundations."
"You have two options, no third: either tame that arrogant Leech and make it the heart of your land, or strive to transform the essence of the Leech within the farm into a complete Leech that roots deeply within you."
"Remember well… you have only three days from this moment, the very existence period for your nascent farm."
Jumanji asked with cautious curiosity:
"And what if the three days pass without me finding the seed?"
The old man sighed and looked at the skeletal tree above him, speaking coldly:
"In that case, prepare to bid farewell to your farm; it will collapse and vanish like straw before a stormy wind."
Noticing a hint of frown and unease on Jumanji's face, he hastened to reassure him with a professional tone before turning away:
"Do not worry too much now; the farm will not leave you lost. Before the actual collapse occurs, 'warning glimpses' will appear for the first time above your land's horizon."
"If you see those signs, know that only a few hours separate you from the collapse, your last chance to find your farm's seed quickly."
"And what are these signs?" Jumanji asked, his tone full of apprehension.
The old man replied, gazing into the distance:
"There is no fixed answer, my son; the signs depend on the nature of your farm and the essence of your spirit…"
"So, I cannot say for certain what will appear to you, but you will recognize it when you see it. The farm never errs in warning of its death."
In the depths of Jumanji's spirit, far from the old man's or even Jumanji's own awareness, something occurred that defied the familiar spiritual logic.
The seed that had sprouted and awakened the farm from its slumber did not dissipate like smoke, but regained its form and condensed once more to return to its original state…
A mysterious seed, resting solemnly at the center of the spirit, sitting beside its black companion, like twins awaiting the moment of greatest manifestation.
****
With the dawn of the new farms, Jumanji was not the only one to break the shackles of helplessness.
The farms of the other seven individuals awakened one after another, beginning their perilous journey toward the desired goal.
Among them, the young man with white hair walked with deliberate slowness, placing his hand over his chest as if feeling the pulse of the world within his palms.
Worry found no place on his features; confidence preceded his steps, and his firm conviction whispered that he alone deserved to seize that arrogant Leech.
He closed his eyes for a moment as he continued walking, a sly smile appearing on his lips, and he spoke with dripping confidence:
"As destined… a medium-grade farm."
He showed no disappointment at the average quality of his land, continuing with a suspicious pride:
"What a pitiful quality, but it doesn't matter… I have a method to turn these barrens into excellent soil beyond imagination."
"This time, my ascent will not be ordinary, but lightning that steals the gaze, faster and stronger than I ever planned. Just wait, Seven Continents."
Returning to Jumanji, he left behind the old man and the shadows of the skeletal tree, resuming his journey into the unknown expanse.
At that moment, he was no longer just a boy chasing illusions, but a true spiritual farmer, taking his first steps in this harsh world.
Jumanji walked through that pristine whiteness with eerie calm.
Although time began slipping through his hands without any sign of anything on the horizon, he did not hesitate.
He pressed forward with solid determination, leaving behind any trace of laziness.
As with Jumanji, the other boys ventured through long distances, their wills gasping in the nebula with no result.
Yet, like him, they continued, driven by merciless ambition.
What all the boys failed to realize, including the young man with white hair, was that time in this spatial domain was crushed under terrifying laws.
Time passed at a staggering speed, unbound by the logic of the outer world.
One minute outside consumed ten full days of travel and effort within their minds.
Time stretched here far faster than in the tribal farm.
But the weight of this acceleration gnawed only at their minds and perception, leaving no mark on their mortal bodies.
Otherwise, their newly awakened spiritual farms could not have borne this temporal burden, and would have vanished as if they never existed.
Days passed in their awareness, and the pulse of time began accelerating madly.
Fear took hold of the boys' hearts, as they lost the ability to distinguish between truth and illusion.
Had one day passed in the outer world, or two, or was the deadline nearly up?
They frequently checked the stability of their spiritual farms with anxious hearts.
When they found them still standing, they breathed a temporary sigh of relief, realizing this calm was the thin veil preceding the storm.
The young man with white hair was the first to sense the creeping danger.
His experience made him fully aware of the tragic fate awaiting the farm if it was not nurtured with a spiritual "seed" to grant it life.
With every new acceleration of time, the boys intensely monitored their farms, searching for any slight change in their composition.
Meanwhile, the white-haired young man deduced with sharp intellect that they were indeed immersed in the "trial" of that arrogant Leech, though the nature of this trial remained an unsolved mystery even to him.
As for Jumanji, he continued through the nebula with striking calm, but it was a calm tinged with vigilance.
He occasionally glanced at his farm, anticipating the appearance of any "sign" indicating impending ruin.
A silent struggle raged within him: should he continue through this endless white expanse if a sign of collapse appeared, or turn back to seek another lesser "Leech" to ensure the survival of his land?
It was a great risk, either to seize the summit or plummet into nothingness along with his barely-born farm.
Deep down, Jumanji knew this opportunity was a turning point that would not come again.
Having learned of the extraordinary powers of that Leech, he realized that claiming it would not be a mere fleeting victory, but the cornerstone to save him from countless calamities in this merciless, strange world.
He saw in that Leech a strategic companion capable of taming the impossible, a shield to protect him from the storms of the unknown.
Therefore, retreating now was not merely a safe choice, but akin to burying a future yet to begin.
**End of Chapter**