When Riaan returned from the nearby town, dusty and tired, he expected questions about his journey. Instead, he found something different waiting for him—noise, smoke, and laughter coming from the learning hut.

He stopped at the doorway. Inside, several villagers were gathered around a clay pot bubbling over a fire. One boy fanned the flames while a woman stirred with a long stick. A sharp, almost bitter smell filled the air.

“Riaan!” the boy called, grinning. “We tried making the cleaning paste you showed us. Look!”

The woman lifted the stick, revealing a lump of half-formed, grayish soap. It looked uneven and smelled strange, but it didn’t dissolve when dipped in water.

Riaan blinked, then laughed softly. “You did this yourselves?”

The woman nodded proudly. “We remembered what you said about mixing ash and oil. We wanted to see if it works. It’s not perfect, but… it cleans better than plain water.”

Others crowded around, showing him lumps of rough paper they had pressed from mashed reeds, a pile of matchsticks that only flared half the time, and even jars of herbal mixtures they claimed worked against stomach pains.

Riaan examined each creation carefully. They were crude, imperfect, but undeniably **theirs**. For the first time, he realized something powerful: the villagers weren’t waiting for him to lead every step. They were learning, experimenting, trying.

He smiled. “This… this is good. You don’t have to wait for me. Knowledge isn’t mine alone—it’s ours. If one fails, another improves it. Together, we’ll make things better.”

The villagers exchanged excited glances. One of the younger men raised a hand. “Then… can we keep experimenting? Not just what you teach us, but what we think might work?”

“Of course,” Riaan said firmly. “That’s how learning grows.”

That evening, the village square buzzed with activity. Groups huddled around fires, testing new mixtures, grinding herbs, boiling plants. Some experiments ended in smoke and laughter; others produced small successes. Even children joined in, trying to shape paper or press leaves flat.

Riaan watched quietly, his heart swelling. The AI’s lessons echoed in his mind: *true strength is not one man’s knowledge, but the many hands it inspires.*

He had gone to 5355 seeking answers. But here, in the glow of firelight and laughter, he realized the future was already taking root—**not in him alone, but in the curiosity of his people.**

And this spark, once lit, would not be easily extinguished.