The Stubborn Skill-Grinder In A Time Loop

The landscape of Alastaia’s moon was a lifeless grey. Naught but rocks, dust and the distant flitting of herds of soul-devouring monsters were visible. A shame, considering what this barren husk had once been.

Orodan had a thought, kept closely guarded, that one day he wanted to give back to Zaessythra for everything she’d done for him. He idly filed it away for a later time.

“A rather bland and desolate place, the decor could use some work, and the gray color scheme is a tad overdone.”

“I apologize that the Alastaia’s barren moon isn’t to your liking, your royal wandering majesty,” Orodan sarcastically spat. “This used to be a sprawling world once, rife with its own cities, history… and even a ruler.”

“I suppose the ruins beneath my legs might be a worthy endeavor for exploration and choice bits of looting,” Talricto said.

“Long as you avoid the many construct guardians and the various soul-devouring beasts braying for anything which looks edible,” Orodan said.

“I’ve traversed far harsher locales, my foolish student,” Talricto reminded. “The various planes of the elemental spirits, the burning layers of the hells and even brief forays into isolated places between galaxies where naught but death awaits. Even the most hazardous of these locations still had a deadly beauty about them. This place is just dispiriting.”

“That tends to be the case when a world’s core is destroyed and the life dies out over a few hundred-thousand years. Nothing left here but soul-sucking things which are in a state of perpetual starvation,” Orodan remarked. “Kept away only by the threat of guaranteed death which I pose to them.”

“Which is why I set foot onto this desolate waste only at your behest,” Talricto said. “I’ve plundered the vaults of the dwarves and pilfered holy relics of those sanctimonious fools from the Conclave. I’m used to being surrounded by splendorous treasure and a landscape of art and refinement.”

“T-two separate things, I assure you!” the spider stammered out. “When you found me, I was a noble wanderer at his lowest! Forced to flee after angering one too many resentful beings across the cosmos. Many of my possessions were left behind in the chaos of my escape.”

“And who did you anger exactly?” Orodan asked, suddenly curious.

“Er… nobody of import, certainly none who would bother my eager but untalented student!”

“You mistake me, my wise but incendiary teacher. I ask because I’m always looking forward to a good fight,” Orodan clarified, a happy grin on his face. “Lead your pursuers my way and I shall happily face them myself.”

“Right, I’d forgotten your brutish tendencies. How do you expect to enter Lonvoron acting like a two-bit goon?”

“A two-bit goon?” Orodan asked, more amused than offended.

“Yes, a two-bit goon, not even a creative one either. Our meeting began with you thuggishly assaulting and holding me hostage, from there you made some crude attempts at pitiful craftsmanship and any problem you’ve spoken about thus far has had a solution which has either involved direct force or the implication of it,” Talricto said. “How a ruffian like you was chosen for these time loops you speak of is beyond my comprehension.”

“I have my… redeeming qualities,” Orodan defended.

He wasn’t even that much of a ruffian!

“You entirely are.”

Zaessythra could shut up.

“I suppose your thick skull and obstinate nature have a rudimentary charm. Now tell me why you’ve brought us to the moon of your world. Wait, I see! In case something goes wrong, and you’re detected you want an out-of-the-way secondary location to escape to?” Talricto asked. “Surprisingly forward thinking by you, my student! Perhaps there is hope for-”

“No. I brought us here so I don’t kill any innocent people with how much power I’m about to channel.”

Orodan ignored Talricto’s mutters about him being a savage lout, and he focused.

Traveling to another galaxy was an extreme endeavor. The distances between them were colossal, and prior to acquiring the foundational Systemless understandings of spatiomancy and creating his own System, Orodan could not have attempted this at all.

Now though, was a different matter. The ground under him began coming apart as he channelled truly massive amounts of power, to the point where Talricto’s body became translucent, the spider halfway stepping into another plane to avoid getting hurt. His control over spatiomancy was no longer tenuous with the application of tremendous power.

Yet even then this would be a trying test.

In the past, when Orodan performed high -level displays of spatiomancy, space itself sometimes shook, perhaps it trembled, maybe it even shattered.

What he wasn’t expecting, was that it would completely unravel.

[Space Mastery 92 → Space Mastery 94]

[Spatial Fold 86 → Spatial Fold 88]

He could possibly shatter space over the course of a destructive battle against a peer adversary, but to directly manipulate it with his full power? It caused the unravelling of it, and suddenly everything became far looser, making his Spatial Fold far easier. However, Orodan could sense hungry things in the cracks of loosened space.

“You…! You’re unravelling space itself, you feckless dimwit!” Talricto scolded, seeming quite terrified. “Has no one taught you to be wary of what can come crawling through the gaps in loosened space?”

Frankly, nobody actually had. In fact, Orodan wasn’t even aware that space could outright unravel, mainly because it wasn’t a phenomenon ever seen before. He’d never tried throwing his all into a Spatial Fold which might cross the distance between galaxies.

“You did that intentionally, don’t lie. A Teleport would’ve sufficed just as well,” Zaessythra said.

Perhaps he had. It had been far too long since he’d tested the true limits of Spatial Fold.

His Spatial Fold shot out in a straight line from Alastaia’s moon, past the galactic boundary, and through the void between galaxies all the way to just outside the edge of the Vystaxium Galaxy. It was ready, waiting for him to step through.

A few hungry things began entering through the unravelled space though. Transcendent-level creatures.

“Void beasts! They hunger for our flesh and souls!” Talricto warned, whipping its webs towards the first of them, a gray-skinned humanoid which looked rather similar to a Void Horror. It was sliced into neat cubes, courtesy of the new Blessing which empowered the spider, allowing it to channel far more power into its attacks.

More came through, and Orodan’s sword got to work.

The second, a flying whale-like Transcendent creature lunged for him, only to be sent flying, head pulped, as Orodan’s shield bash brutally smashed it in the face. The third, a strange glowing red cloud of gas, some kind of amorphous being. He felt a subtle attack on his mind, soul and sanity but easily brushed it off. A follow-up charge and a thousand strikes with the sword caused the cloud to scatter and fade within a second.

A tentacled horror came through, as did an ethereal being made entirely of energy, but upon seeing him slaughter the gaseous cloud they both turned around and went back to where they came from.

“It seems they have some idea of self-preservation,” Orodan said. “Let’s step through before more arrive. The cancellation of my Spatial Fold might return space to normal.”

“No. No it will not,” Talricto said. “You’ll have to manually repair it, or someone else will. Your short-sighted idiocy has broken the boundaries of the very galaxy, and now who knows what will get in.”

Well… that truly was short-sighted of him. In his defense, Orodan hadn’t known space could utterly unravel like that if too much raw power was thrown towards it. A less destructive spell, like Teleportation, wouldn’t have caused this issue. But Spatial Fold’s entire function was the gripping and folding of space.

Pouring too much power into it ran the very real risk of tearing the very canvas apart.

Orodan was just starting to think about using chronomancy to salvage the situation when the emergence of something rather large changed any thought of those plans.

Orodan, like any reasonable being of six feet, six inches of height, was prone to looking upwards when something gigantic appeared in front of him. Of course, when the creature presenting itself cast a shadow across their entire star system, it was a different matter. Frankly, with the way it loomed over him he would have to break his neck and look behind his back to see the end of it.

As Orodan began falling upwards, he realized that it was larger than the sun, larger than any interstellar object he’d ever seen. It began affecting the moon and Alastaia’s gravity with its very presence. What the hells did they feed this thing? Talricto had fled once gravity began changing, wise.

He’d slain a mutant dragon the size of a large world. Yet, to stand before a round, blue crystalline being with glowing eyes the size of massive stars was a different matter. It was larger than a solar system, and Orodan had a singular moment to use Observe.

[Observe 11 → Observe 15]

[Name: Ur-Vah’sahn the Harmonious (Species: Living Crystal)

Title 1: Embodiment of Assimilation]

And he learned, that he wasn’t the only one who could choose to use less title slots than they had available.

The universe was a big place, and Orodan had forgotten that Administrators aside, there were plenty of beings in the same tier of power, even if they weren’t their equals.

A crystal tendril reached out from the gargantuan mass, making contact, impossibly quick. It wanted to bring him into its fold, show him love, happiness… harmony.

Orodan fought the mental attack off and replied with his own answer.

[Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 73 → Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 74]

It was a mighty blow, one which could’ve slain even a peak-Transcendent and destroyed an entire star! Indeed, Orodan’s strike, fuelled by all his might, caused a horrible gouge to appear upon the face of this Embodiment-level thing. He wasn’t weak and helpless. He could at the very least, harm something, even at the Embodiment-level.

The crystalline being resonated, and an ear-piercing noise which sounded like ice shattering erupted. It was in pain… and it was angry. Which was when the blue crystals composing the being began roiling with copious amounts of cyan energy, and Orodan, and all Alastaia behind him was poised for instant eradication.

As the attack which could destroy multiple star systems approached, Orodan wondered if he too should re-adjust his titles. After all, he had an unused fifth title slot from when he’d reached the Grandmaster-level.

And as the darkness took him, Orodan scratched Spatial Fold off the list of potential methods for entering Lonvoron.

#

“By the seven hells… they build you soldier sorts different, eh?”

“Regardless of what path one pursues in life, both mind and body are equally important to hone. One in turn empowers the other, a feedback loop of constant improvement,” Orodan said, twisting the wheel into its correct shape with his bare hands. “But you seem to already know this, those arms are respectable.”

[Maintenance 34 → Maintenance 35]

“While I’m not on the level of my sister or a muscle-bound rock like you, I suppose I’ve wrestled a boar or two growing up on a farm,” the stocky woman said with a grin. “Hannegan told me about what you did to the warehouse; you plannin’ on taking your skills to the Burgher?”

“No. My journey will take me someplace far from here,” Orodan said to Bodil Bistrid.

He was in Scarmorrow, specifically, in the warehouse belonging to the Republic’s Department of Infrastructure. He had drained the ancient machine, sent Baron Viglas packing, abducted and secured a deal with Talricto and sent a letter to Destartes. This then, would be the routine for his new set of loops while he figured out through trial and error, how to enter Lonvoron without alerting anyone.

Stealth - not normally his way of going about things - was necessary not just to find the paranoid previous time looper, but also to avoid a battle of titanic scale where plenty of people would end up dead on Lonvoron as collateral. Given what had occurred to Alastaia a singular loop ago during his clash with that Living Crystal, it was better to be safe than sorry. A fight at the Embodiment-level seemed… quite destructive.

He and Talricto agreed to meet upon the moon tomorrow, which still gave Orodan a full day. He intended to maximize his training during this full day on each attempt.

“Far from here? You headed out into the forest or somethin’?” she asked. “Or… maybe you’re crossing the border and headed to Novarria! I always wanted to see Novar’s Peak since I was a little girl. My mother would tell me stories of how the old emperor’s spirit still wanders the halls of his grand citadel.”

He would be crossing a border alright, a galactic border. Still, he remembered the days when his world was only as large as Volarbury County.

“Novar’s Peak’s a pretty place. You might like it there,” Orodan remarked, finishing up his work on the second wheel and slotting it back into place. “And there’s always some truth to those tall tales and fables. Personally, I think Balastion Novar’s still alive, sitting in meditation at the bottom of his citadel.”

“Heh! No way! Who told you that one?” she asked with a laugh, causing Orodan to smile. “Can you imagine someone being that old? I’d go mad.”

“Long as you have your sights focused on something, it’s not all too bad. Losing sight of what gives you meaning though…” Orodan said, thinking of the Custodian and particularly, the Reject. “Now that might cause one to go mad.”

“You saying you’re mad?” Bodil asked. “Then again, Bryna did tell me about you; how you like fighting a bit too much.”

“Nothing wrong with enjoying a good fight,” Orodan said. “Keeps me sane.”

“I thought you said you’re mad,” Bodil asked.

“You assumed that, not me. Anyhow, the cart is just about done.”

[Wainwrighting 28 → Wainwrighting 29]

Orodan pushed another gear into place.

“I still don’t know why ya’ bothered coming here,” Bodil said. “Nothin’ better to do but fix carts? Not that I’m complaining… Gods know how long it would’ve taken to get these fixed otherwise.”

“As I said before, both mind and body are important to train. But most importantly…” Orodan trailed off before continuing. “I really wanted a particular title.”

“A title? For Woodworking?”

“No… for Wainwrighting.”

The final wheel was slotted back and secured in place. He’d made complex carts before, but there were skill gains and insights to be found in fixing the most basic of them.

[Repair 22 → Repair 23]

[Wainwrighting 29 → Wainwrighting 30]

And as expected, no title came along with his increase of Wainwrighting to the Apprentice-level. Not all skills had associated titles. Scholars and historians studying and cataloguing the various skills of the System often debated why this was the case, but they had no answer besides circular arguments or it being ‘the will of the Gods’.

Orodan though, had seen the System’s grand store of knowledge which all skills and advancements drew from. He had his own, sealed in the central rune of his own System.

Nothing was perfect, not the System’s store of knowledge which didn’t know much about Celestial or Mythical skills, nor his own. The same applied to titles, where the System had some gaps.

Gaps… which could be filled.

“Wainwrighting’s got no title! What’re you on about you big lug?” Bodil pointedly asked.

“Correct. But it can be created.”

Orodan delved into the central glyph of his own System. The coiling ouroboros which denoted infinity. He entered the pool of knowledge, focusing on the connection to Wainwrighting. Just as his Celestial skills added to that store of knowledge, so too could more be added.

He peered into that maddening abyss of experiences, skills and knowledge…

…and added just one more thing…

[New Title → Wainwrighting Apprentice]

“You know the Observe skill, right?” Orodan asked.

“Mandatory training for us supervisors, why?” Bodil asked.

[Fate Disconnect 56 → Fate Disconnect 57]

The gain in skill level occurred because it was a tricky thing, to open the shield only so much that his soul was readable by observer orbs and individuals who knew the spell. But his mastery over his own soul energy and his now increased Fate Mastery allowed him to handle it just fine.

With his soul now a part of the System’s tapestry of fate, it was subject to the observer orb or Observe once more.

And then… Orodan cleared all his active titles, leaving only Wainwrighting Apprentice.

“Use Observe on me.”

She did as he asked, and her eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

“What in the… is this some sort of practical joke? I never heard of a title for Wainwrighting before…” Bodil muttered.

“You’ve heard of it now,” Orodan said, and his face then took on a serious expression. “I, Orodan Wainwright… am an Apprentice Wainwright.”

“Ugh… you are the worst…”

Zaessythra was a stick in the mud who knew not the significance of this moment.

With this, he could move about far more freely. Yes, the tapestry of fate was in active chaos thanks to him, but he planned on gradually developing Fate Disconnect to the point where it ceased. No more diviners being alarmed at his lack of soul, no more people alarmed by his Status.

He could feasibly spend loops in places while acting far weaker than he was.

“If your bull-headed and direct nature doesn’t slip you up right away.”

A good point. Still, whether he failed at remaining discreet or not, the avenue was at least there.

And it was time to try more avenues at entering another galaxy.

#

“If what you’re telling me is true, then I hereby forbid you from attempting a Spatial Fold in my presence again.”

“It wasn’t that bad…” Orodan defended.

“You dim-witted, heedless simpleton! You caught the attention of a Living Crystal! And not just any Living Crystal, but one whose approach and hunger are feared across multiple galaxies! Ur-Vah’sahn consumed a tenth of a galaxy once before an Administrator showed up to put a stop to it!” Talricto scolded fiercely. “What would have happened if it actually tried assimilating you? Where would your time loops have gone then?!”

“It did try assimilating me. I simply fought off the mental attack and gave it a smack upon the face to dissuade any further attempts. Naturally, it wasn’t pleased and decided to take it out on me and Alastaia.”

For the next three minutes, Talricto looked to be having a conniption as it gave Orodan a lecture on what an utterly reckless and suicidal mongrel he was, and how he was a thoughtless and inconsiderate oaf for daring to drag the majestic spider into his hare-brained schemes.

“…and you will never again do such a thing while I am around you!”

“Alright, alright,” Orodan agreed, tired of hearing the spider’s ceaseless chittering and skittering. “I do apologize for doing that in your presence. I had no idea that space would unravel when I cast a Spatial Fold capable of crossing galaxies. Matter of fact, I knew not that space could unravel at all.”

“Hmmph! I suppose you being an ignoramus is the one excuse I can deign to accept,” Talricto muttered, finally simmering down. “Now then, have you considered just using dimensional travel to reach Lonvoron?”

“Now, why would I do that and admit defeat?” Orodan asked. “If I cannot somehow get past the anti-spatiomancy wards and all the defenses through spatiomancy alone… then what’s the point to being in a time loop?”

“Though your wits are abysmal, your ambition is at least respectable,” Talricto said, beginning to phase into another plane of existence. “I shall see you there, my obstinate pupil.”

Almost entirely imperceptibly, Talricto winked out of sight, leaving just Orodan. In truth, he didn’t know how that arrogant spider prone to bouts of admonishment knew how to get onto Lonvoron. Talricto seemed to know of Embodiment-level beings and the Administrators too and hadn’t appeared surprised when Orodan relayed his tales involving them. He hadn’t met any other dimensional phase spiders and therefore didn’t have any reference as to whether Talricto was normal or far from it.

Though Talricto hadn’t been able to harm Orodan, the spider killed a Transcendent-level monster easily enough, and it appeared to know much about the cosmos. Well, musings on his teacher could come after. For now, he had another galaxy to get to.

As he’d learned the hard way, Spatial Fold was out of the question. He did want to fight that Living Crystal again, but not upon Alastaia’s moon and definitely nowhere near his own solar system. Not when it would involve so many innocent people as collateral.

It was with the swift channelling of soul energy then, that Orodan tried his next method.

The distance was titanic, but it was a spell meant for near-instantaneous travel between two points. He’d also been to Lonvoron before. This, Orodan figured, should work.

[Teleportation 76 → Teleportation 78]

The Teleportation proceeded as normal. Everything was fine…

…until it wasn’t.

Teleportation truly was instantaneous, yet it immediately tipped Orodan off when the split-moment of travel between points was dragging on longer than expected. He was stuck in the folds between two spatial points, something he didn’t know was possible until now.

Something had interfered with his Teleportation.

“At last, the source of this disorder is revealed.”

The voice was calm. And it echoed, seeming to come from every direction.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked, not sure to whom or where.

“What I desire, is the cessation of the pandemonium within the tapestry of fate. Chaos. Disorder. All of which can be traced back to you.”

Perhaps the Teleportation had allowed whoever this was to trace the mess in the tapestry back to him. In a way, it made sense. If something was causing haphazard waves in one place, then suddenly shifting elsewhere very far would make it rather apparent.

A blazing golden arrow of light sailed towards him from directly underneath, and his own Smite of Abrupt Deliverance met it.

Space returned to normal at the collision between the two attacks as his Teleportation failed. He was overpowered and sent flying out towards the void between galaxies, at some random point between Alastaia and his original destination. Still, his own attack had caused the arrow to dissipate.

“Impressive, as expected of a being which can cause the tapestry to upend. Transcendent, yet capable of standing against those who have achieved Embodiment,” the voice called out, and then Orodan saw it.

His enhanced sight could see it, but most people with regular vision might think it was a giant bow being wielded by an invisible creature. Like some sort of bizarre stick-insect with eight legs. Its limbs and torso were but the width of needle, and Orodan had no clue how it pulled the bow with enough force when it looked to be that frail.

It was a spider. An exceptionally long and lanky one, and it used a bow.

And how could a spider use a bow? He wasn’t sure before, but as four legs curled around the bow frame which made the wielder look minuscule, and the other four curled around the string, he was learning that it was very much possible. It was a ridiculous sight. One which quickly became not-so-ridiculous once Orodan felt the sheer power behind those arrows of light.

And it felt positively ancient.

Observe was used yet again.

[Observe 15 → Observe 17]

[Name: Alagameth the Silent Oracle (Species: Spatial Spider)

Title 1: Embodiment of Space

Title 2: Fate Transcendent]

Orodan was certain this diminutive spider was hiding titles related to archery and light magic. He’d felt the element of light scalding his skin even as the arrow dissipated against his attack.

“The tapestry? Is that what you’ve dragged me out of my teleportation for?” Orodan asked, drawing his weapons.

“Cease whatever it is that causes the tapestry to violently shake,” the spider demanded, tranquil wrath in its ancient voice. “I will brook no further disruptions to my peaceful meditations.”

“I… am working on it!” Orodan shouted back. “But if it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you shall get!”

He tried teleporting towards it once more, only for its utterly unfair control over space to casually re-direct him elsewhere. Orodan successfully teleported, and nothing about his teleport felt off or wrong at a glance; but it wasn’t anywhere he’d intended to go. What ridiculous control over space.

Again, he teleported, throwing an even greater amount of soul energy towards it, and again it managed to deftly control the outcome of his teleportation, throwing him a mile away.

“Madness. Attempting the same thing over and over despite failing is the height of lunacy.”

“Then I admit to being a mad man!” Orodan roared, throwing even more soul energy into the next teleport, enough that his body began to suffer damage from his own power.

[Teleportation 78 → Teleportation 80]

[Space Mastery 94 → Space Mastery 95]

It was absurd. Teleportation simply wasn’t a spell meant to take or require large amounts of power. And nothing had simply taken control over Orodan’s own teleportation before and re-directed him. Yet, all things had their limits, and this spatial spider genuinely seemed to be putting effort in now.

“Your power is anomalous and your energy endless. But brute force alone will not overpower me,” the spatial spider declared, sending more golden arrows towards him, engaging in a clever game of hit-and-run.

Once upon a time, he might’ve considered such tactics the height of cowardice. Having fought enough foes by now, he could respect the devious tactic for what it was. A spider, talented in space magic and using a bow was a fearsome opponent. It could pelt an enemy with arrows and either flee or give chase with impunity while remaining at range forever.

It brought Orodan back to the very first death loops he had against a House Argon archer in Scarmorrow.

“I offer you once chance, surrender. Yield, that we may work together to quell this horrid chaos your existence causes,” the spider offered. “I do not wish to kill you. Yet what has been done to the tapestry has disturbed my peaceful existence.”

“You’re far more reasonable than most things I’ve met out here…” Orodan muttered.

“Then submit. We need not come to blows, I simply wish for the return of my peace and quiet.”

“…no. We fight.”

“You are being unreasonable, human. How is it you’ve survived thus far with so reckless a demeanor?” it asked.

“That’s the thing… I haven’t,” Orodan replied, charging in once more.

No matter how he advanced, its fine control over space simply proved too strong. Which was when he decided to forgo space entirely and attempt a Dimensional Step.

Its alarmed reaction let Orodan know that it would certainly be an effective avenue. It hissed and reared back hastily, however at his current level, Dimensional Step simply wasn’t quick enough. The moment Orodan entered the material plane via Dimensional Step, multiple spatial rifts were waiting for him, re-directing him further away and also sending his foe to safety.

Transporting him via spatiomancy, while impossible for most, wasn’t so for this spider who was a complete natural at the art of manipulating space. Orodan could only hold so much soul energy in his body at once without dying, and this spider seemed capable of working directly manipulating him.

It was terrifyingly powerful.

The thought brought a mad smile to his face.

“Clever, holding your dimensional abilities in reserve to surprise me,” it said. “It shall not work again.”

“I don’t plan on trying it ever again either,” Orodan said. “If I cannot beat you through spatiomancy alone, then my name isn’t Orodan Wainwright.”

Using Dimensionalism? Using chronomancy? What sort of cheap way out was that? Orodan would face it head-on and train his spatiomancy, using it as his whetstone.

Just as a House Argon archer had once been his whetstone at the Apprentice-level… this Embodiment-level spider archer would now be the same.

Against all odds, it backed away.

“Orodan Wainwright… I will remember that name. You are reckless and will die acting as you are. While I have no interest in killing you, something else out here certainly will,” it spoke calmly, quite rational. “I shall depart now; our playtime was entertaining but any longer and the hungry predators will come sniffing. One already makes its way hither. It can deal with you and put an end to the havoc you have wreaked upon the tapestry.”

With a wink of power, the spatial spider vanished, leaving just Orodan.

Not for long though, as the familiar approach of a solar system-sized crystal mass approached.

Orodan fought hard, but as usual, he wasn’t a match for the monstrous Embodiment-level Living Crystal; not yet.

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him, and Orodan’s eyes narrowed.

A steep barrier lay in front of him.

“Or… you could just extricate yourself from the tapestry of fate and use Dimensional Step?” Zaessythra suggested. “Alternately, you could use dimensionalism while fighting that spider.”

What a silly thing to recommend. Hells, given her tone even she hadn’t seriously thought he would take that advice.

Remove himself from the tapestry? Use Dimensionalism?

He might as well join the Cathedral and become a pacifist.

Orodan would beat these new adversaries at their own game. The spider would be dealt with via spatiomancy alone… and that over-sized crystal… would be mined of all useful material and turned into something useful.

No matter how many loops it took, Orodan Wainwright would do it no way but the hardest way.

Wake up, handle his ancillary matters relating to the machine, Destartes and House Argon, and then kidnap Talricto before spending a day working on a skill or two.

Who knew? He might learn something useful.

#

“Old Westwater, I’ve come to lend you a hand!” Orodan declared, opening the door forcefully enough that some of the items on the shelves fell to the ground.

“O-Orodan! What in the Gods’ name are you doing here?”

Old Westwater. The only dedicated carpenter of Ogdenborough. Somehow, the man looked even older than Old Man Hannegan did. How he operated a woodworking shop despite his advanced age and frail-looking frame was beyond him. If Orodan recalled, the man was nearing the Adept-level as a Woodworker. Not someone who’d be contracted by the nobility, but for the purposes of day-to-day life, more than enough.

In Ogdenborough, the clientele and needs of the population were rather varied. On one hand, Old Westwater served the more well-off people in town such as the crooked mayor, Sergeant Woodgard, and of course… the tavern in Eversong Plaza. But on the other, the man was quite decent at recycling old wooden items and scrap into functional furniture, something which allowed the poorer people in town to have some furniture. Orodan’s bedside table was one such item, which even if a bit dilapidated, still served him well.

“What else? Here to offer you a hand in your shop,” Orodan said.

“What? Since when do you know any Woodworking?” the man asked, suspicion apparent. “And I can’t afford to pay another apprentice. The one I have gives me headaches enough. And pick up those things you dropped, will you?”

A casual display of chronomancy had all the fallen items returning to their proper spots on the shelves. Something which caused the old carpenter to stutter and stammer for a few seconds.

“I don’t need any money, I’m just here to work,” Orodan said.

“Since when do you know magic?!” the carpenter barked out in surprise and then took on a considering look.

“For a while now. But we’re getting off-topic, will you let me help you?” Orodan asked, eyeing some of the in-progress jobs lying about the shop. “Lot of jobs here and not enough hands to do them.”

“What’s in it for you?” the carpenter asked. “And my apprentice and I work hard, but the demands of the town are many and varied. We’ve been behind schedule for a long time now.”

“I get to clear my head and think on other things. Important to balance battle alongside a calmer hobby,” Orodan said, scrutinizing a particular piece. “This wheel’s not made incorrectly, but it won’t be able to tolerate much stress. Better hope whatever cart it’s meant for isn’t going to carry a lot of weight. Who ordered this?”

The carpenter frowned.

“Damned girl… the wheel was supposed to help fix some cart in Scarmorrow, ordered by the supervisor for a warehouse, I think. I have a bunch meant for that customer but filling them is proving rather difficult when the various requests from you militia, the mayor and my customers in Exerston County keep piling up.”

Orodan idly noted that Bodil Bistrid in Scarmorrow was probably the customer the carpenter was referring to. Good thing he’d fixed the carts himself last loop.

“Exerston County? Why would you be getting business from there? They don’t have their own woodworkers?” Orodan asked.

“Woodworkers who are entirely tied up with servicing the adventuring parties or repairing town fortifications after all the monster attacks they’ve been having. Any spare time they have is then monopolized by nobles and the highest bidders,” Westwater explained. “The regular folk still need things done, and the carpenters of Exerston County are too tied up to do it. And speaking of doing jobs for the regular folk, welcome back, my clumsy apprentice. You owe me three wheels.”

“W-what? I did them right, Mister Westwater, I swear!” the girl protested and then noticed him. “You!”

“Me?” Orodan asked.

“Yes, you! You have some nerve showing your face to me after what you did!” the girl said, angry. “Laneia won’t even go by the barracks thanks to you!”

“Who the hells is Laneia?” Orodan asked, bewildered.

“You idiot! You and her had a tumble in the hay last year! Don’t you remember? The blacksmith’s daughter?!” she pointedly asked, and only now did Orodan recall who this girl was talking about. “She’s my friend, and your impromptu vanishing act impressed no one. I don’t care how big and scary you are, somebody needs to tell you to your face that you’re a no-good rascal.”

“Breaking hearts already? Should I be worried, Orodan?”

Zaessythra sounded more amused than jealous. If anything, Orodan was a little irritated at this dumb line of questioning.

“Well, Laneia should’ve known what the expectations were. She certainly said nothing to me,” Orodan said, not remembering much about the event. “And instead of gossiping about other people’s affairs like the village hag, you could stand to focus on your Woodworking.”

The girl turned red and sputtered in outrage.

“What would you know about Woodworking?!” she angrily demanded.

“Enough to know that these wheels were made for the wrong sort of load. These are meant to go onto carts, not wheelbarrows. The Department of Infrastructure and their carts tend to undergo heavy duty work. These wheels won’t be able to bear the strain for long,” Orodan explained.

“Mister Westwater! Why are we letting this troublemaker into our shop?!” the apprentice exclaimed, too embarrassed and angry to receive any criticism. “If you’re not here to buy something, then get out!”

“Now hold on. Orodan… can you fix them?” the carpenter asked, and he nodded.

Orodan grabbed the wheels and began using Wood Communion to strengthen them. Nothing too excessive, just enough that they would now be suitable for whatever heavy-duty work awaited them in Scarmorrow. Of course, it was rather visible to the naked eye that the wheels began changing shape in front of them. Using Wood Communion wasn’t what he’d come here for, but for now it would suffice as a demonstration.

“M-mage! He’s a mage!” the apprentice shrieked.

“Quiet girl! Have you never seen a mage before? Bumpkins… I swear…” Westwater grumbled. “I haven’t heard anything about you being a mage, Orodan, nor do I care to pry why you’re here when you should be with the militia. I’ll offer you the standard rate of apprenticeship, three gold coins a year, plus a fifty percent bonus for the magic at your disposal, which comes out to four-and-a-half gold annually. Work with me for a year and I’ll even sponsor you for an academy.”

A generous offer. The old carpenter was clearly a pragmatist, swooping in to tempt Orodan with a job right away. And if the way his current apprentice paled was any indicator, she’d just realized how expendable she was. Fortunately for her, Orodan had no interest in apprenticing under old Westwater.

“I have no need for an apprenticeship or an academy at this time,” Orodan said. “I really just came here to work.”

“Really? A shame… the offer’s always open if you want it. Certainly no lack of room for a competent mage who can do what you did to that wood,” Westwater said, bringing out a ledger full of contracts and work orders. “You said you wanted to work, right? Well, there’s more than enough of it to go around. I’m quite behind schedule as a matter of fact. Take the girl with you, she’ll handle the payments from the clientele and assist with any actual Woodworking that needs to be done.”

“I don’t need her help for the Woodworking either, but I suppose having someone around to talk to the customers helps save me time,” he said, grabbing the ledger and heading out the door.

“Well? What’re you waiting for girl? Go follow him and get to work!”

She stumbled out the door, still dazed, but trailing behind him, dragging a cart of lumber, planks and nails alongside all the tools necessary for the trade.

His eyes scanned the pages, and immediately he identified the nearest job. It was one of the houses near the outer perimeter of town.

The customer was in the middle of drying laundry upon a line when they approached.

“About time you lot showed up! It’s been weeks and the fencing on my chicken coop’s still broken. Having to put cheap linens as a barrier is getting old and one of the chickens even got out two days ago.”

“I apologize Miss Belina, we’ll get to it righ-”

Orodan uprooted an entire tree and threw it down upon the ground.

“In Agathor’s name…! Is that you, Orodan? Since when have you become so strong?!”

Orodan ignored the woman and kept working. She was a chicken farmer on the outskirts of town and his patrol routes would occasionally take him past her home. She had always been a bit loud-mouthed, but a hard-working woman, which he could respect. And she was also the wife of corporal Botterson.

The tree was debarked with his bare hands, and then mana flowed as a Candleflame came to life.

[Candleflame 22 → Candleflame 23]

With the small flame in his hand, he began the process of drying the wood. Orodan had to give Destartes respect where it was due; the array of spells he’d learned from the wizard now came in handy as Candleflame was far more versatile and capable of finesse than Draconic Fireball was.

Yes, he could’ve used his Celestial skill to simply clean the moisture out, but there was wisdom to be had and mastery to be attained in honing the very basics. Plus, Woodworking was a craft Orodan genuinely enjoyed. It was the first one he’d picked up after all.

To the side, both the customer and the carpenter’s apprentice were gaping at him, but he paid them no mind.

The wood dried and he began the process of sawing poles, beams and planks from the material. These were then honed further into solid and beautiful pieces. Orodan took a look at the damaged portion of the customer’s fence and frowned.

What an ugly fence…

He decided, it was due for an overhaul.

“W-what are you doing?! My fence!”

“It’s horrid work. I’m going to replace it all,” he calmly declared.

“But my chickens will escape! They will… uhm… never mind…”

[Intimidation 27 → Intimidation 28]

At the sight of Orodan’s glare, the clucking little birds went right back into their coops, not wanting to deal with the madman who was tearing the coop apart.

The woman was assuaged once Orodan began replacing her fence with his properly carved pieces, and she was ecstatic as she paid more than double the agreed upon sum for the work.

The next few jobs were all homes which needed patchwork repairs, all of which were handled quickly enough. Until an hour later, when the ledger showed all the jobs within Ogdenborough as being done. He’d gained a singular level in Woodworking over the course of the work, but that he’d gained anything at all doing such basic things meant there truly was a lot to be learned from the humble drudgery of a trade.

“You really finished all of those orders…” the apprentice muttered. “Eleven jobs done in an hour, where did you learn all this Orodan? Can… can anyone do all of that?”

“Of course. It’s merely a matter of how much time, dedication and intensity you’re willing to put in on a consistent basis,” Orodan said. “It’s not simply a matter of doing the job, but doing it well, and keeping a mind open to making constant improvements along the way.”

She nodded, taking in every word like a sponge.

“Well, we could turn in for the day now that the Ogdenborough backlog’s done…” she muttered. “But there’s so much to do in Exerston County too.”

“Then, what’re we waiting for?”

And off they went.

Orodan mainly operated within Volarbury County. And although he’d often patrol the road leading towards Exerston County during his militia days, he’d only been in the county proper twice in his life. Both times for the purpose of pursuing some fleeing beast or criminal that was on the run.

Volarbury County had wilderness in-between its towns, but the wild forests and plains of the county’s interior weren’t anything too dangerous. At worst, minor monsters would roam about, and the county militia oft took care of them. To the east of Volarbury County was the Aenechean Forest, a dangerous place whose inner portions were rife with deadly things, but Velestok, the town nearest to the forest, protected the rest of the county, and the deadlier creatures of the forest didn’t seem too interested in approaching the towns either. To the north were the decently guarded coastal routes, to the west was Karilsgard and sprawling civilization, and to the south was Jerestir where a natural chokepoint formed and Novarrian towns were past that.

Needless to say, Volarbury County wasn’t too dangerous a place to live. It was civilized, and humans had dwelled there for a decent amount of time. The same couldn’t be said for Exerston County, however.

During the time of Novarria, Exerston County hadn’t been settled too well. It was a wild place, and the forests between the towns and villages were deep and untamed. Ogdenborough was the town nearest to this place, and many of the monster incursions Orodan had to respond to during his time with the militia came from Exerston County. The Republic upon securing independence though, had made a great push to settle and tame these lands.

Upon crossing the border, Orodan saw frequent road patrols by the Exerston County militia, mounted riders and hunters walking alongside each troop, ready to pursue and eradicate any monsters. Yet despite their best efforts some would get through, making the roads noticeably less safe than the roads of Volarbury County were. Adventurer parties were also commonplace on the roads, oft being hired to aid in taming the wild nature of this place.

Three times something had seemed ready to assail them, scared off by Orodan as the re-connection of his fate and soul to the tapestry meant monsters could now get an instinctive feel for how strong he was again. Needless to say, the carpenter’s apprentice traveling with him would normally walk alongside a road patrol or any adventuring party. The roads of Exerston County simply weren’t safe for solo travel the way the roads of Volarbury County were.

The first town they went to seemed normal enough. A few requests for minor repairs and maintenance which Orodan ended up tearing down and building from the ground up entirely. It was past the towns in the ‘safer’ part of the county that one could notice differences. Past a certain point, towns, villages and even hamlets began to have walls surrounding them.

And soon, near the walls of their destination settlement, he could see why.

“Fire! Shoot that troll!” a sergeant of the Exerston County militia yelled.

The salvo of arrows and bolts turned a troll who was threatening the walls of the village into a pincushion, dropping dead shortly after. A large bear with glowing eyes also tried charging the gate, only for a member of their militia’s mounted unit to lance it through the head at full gallop.

“Travelers! Come in! Come in!” the sergeant beckoned. “Open the door for those two!”

Although it was nominally a village, Axenshield was closer to being a town. He’d heard some talk about it being due for such recognition soon, in the old days before the time loops. Inside, the village seemed rather normal, with farmers, shepherds and tradesfolk walking about, unconcerned about the fight the guards just had.

“Volarbury County militia, eh? Rather far from home, aren’t you?” the sergeant asked, offering a hand. “Sergeant Alamar Taj.”

“Orodan Wainwright. Just here to do some Woodworking,” he replied, taking the hand. “I’ve never been this far into the county before.”

“Neither have I seen any man or woman bearing the Volarbury uniform this far in. Well, except when my cousin visits, I suppose,” the Sergeant said. “He’s a mounted unit captain up in your county. Ever heard of a Keharion Taj?”

“I might’ve seen him a time or two,” Orodan replied. “Small world.”

“Indeed! Who would’ve thought you knew him too?!” the man cheerfully exclaimed, sounding quite excited at the prospect of someone knowing his cousin. “Come on in and welcome to the village of Axenshield! I have not a clue why you’re here to do Woodworking, but it’s no business of mine. Truth be told, this village has been waiting for the arrival of a carpenter for at least a few weeks now. The people will be glad to see you.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Such a long delay?” Orodan asked. “I’d heard the Woodworkers and carpenters of this county are swamped with work, but I wasn’t aware it was that bad.”

“Eh, it’s just a normal part of life this time of year. Bluefire sends out recruitment offers and scholarships, and the noble houses and wealthier merchants do their headhunting for talent, and before you know it half the tradesfolk in town lose their assistants and apprentices as they leave for greener fields and better opportunities. Which of course leaves trades like Woodworking, Blacksmithing and the like in high demand with not enough hands to do the work,” the Sergeant explained. “Our county’s local crafting academies are working overtime to get the matter sorted, they have multiple Woodworkers in training, being worked to the bone as we speak so that they might hit the field and alleviate the burden. Still, for now there’s simply too much work and not enough people to do it. Doesn’t help that Exerston County’s such a wild place and the villages and towns have their walls attacked so regularly. Lots of repairs to be made.”

A quick glance at the walls verified that last statement. The walls of this village could certainly use some work, given the number of cracks, scratches and breaks.

“I will handle the repair of your walls,” Orodan declared, deciding he would take this village on as his project.

“You… what? Apologies, I mean of course we appreciate the help, but Burgher Rockwood’s carpenters will be arriving three days from now and I fear the town couldn’t afford their salary and paying you for your aid,” the Sergeant stated. “The walls are quite expansive too, so I doubt you’d get more than a section done before their arrival. And I assume you also have customers you’re here to service?”

Orodan simply nodded in acknowledgement. Payment would not be necessary. He would return to the walls soon.

He and the carpenter’s apprentice tagging along then made for the customers in town.

The first, the blacksmith.

“How good’s your Woodworking?” the heavy-set man asked, hammering away. “Wasn’t aware Westwater of Ogdenborough was sending someone else in his stead.”

“Elite,” Orodan answered, causing the man’s hammer to freeze mid-swing.

Even the girl with him seemed shocked at the admission.

“An actual Elite? Something tells me you aren’t lying either… what’s someone like you doing in this village?” the smith asked. “Axenshield’s main export is food, and the occasional batch of magical ingredients put together by our gatherers. We don’t have anything valuable that the likes of you would be interested in.”

“Be at ease, I’m not here to cause trouble,” Orodan assured.

“I certainly hope not. Haven’t seen any Woodworker carry a sword and shield around or look the way you do,” the man remarked, and then put a metallic axe head on the table. “To business then. The woodworkers are busy fortifying the towns and keeps, which means I have nobody capable of making hafts and handles for a number of the weapons I need to create. I’ve dabbled in a bit of Woodworking myself, but while I can make Apprentice-level weapons… I cannot attach an Adept-level weapon head to an inferior handle. Can you help me?”

“Certainly, let’s get to work,” Orodan declared. “Bring me the appropriate quality wood for each one, and I shall start fashioning the handles and hafts you require.”

The blacksmith was prudent and immediately brought out high-quality logs. The sort which must have been sitting in his storage for a while. Of course, at the sight of Orodan tearing it down to size with his bare hands, the man looked ready to faint.

“Wait! Wait! Those are delicate and expensive! Sourced from House Simarji themselves!”

“If it’s the lack of tools you’re concerned about, worry not, I work better with my hands or tools of my own making.”

“Of your own making…? You’re a blacksmith too?”

“Only Adept.”

“Only…!”

The man remained rather quiet after that.

Orodan took his time carving the handle, making sure it was clean, of a perfect shape and the grain aligned perfectly. The material itself was Adept-level, but by the end of it he was confident his Woodworking had brought it a step higher.

Identify shot out.

[Name: Pure Red Ash Handle

Description: A finely carved wooden handle, made of red ash wood. Hundred-percent material purity.

Tier: Elite]

Not too shabby, but he felt there was room for improvement. It was at least a tier lower than the time he’d perfected the structure of his sword down to the smallest particle; and Orodan wondered if he could do the same for his shield somehow. Still, he hadn’t used his Celestial skill to the extreme either; if he did Orodan was confident in producing a Master-level item.

“Should be good enough for your purposes, yes?” Orodan asked.

“This is simply too much! Ugh… you realize I’m but an Adept-level Blacksmith, correct?” the smith asked and Orodan nodded. “How am I supposed to market this as my work when the handle’s an entire tier stronger than the blade?”

“Market it as an axe excellent for defense?” Orodan suggested. “In any case, we have more fittings to do, and I have no time to waste.”

The man could only accept what was occurring. He created a dozen more wooden handles, hafts and poles before finishing and the blacksmith looked almost relieved to have Orodan out of his smithy. The smith had been the main client in this village, the remaining few were all customers with minor requests, during which Orodan began showing the apprentice with him some of the finer points of Woodworking.

Over the course of those few hours of work, he’d gained one more level in Woodworking.

At last, with the work done, he stepped out of the gates and approached the palisade walls once more.

It was a hideous sight. The construction of the walls was done adequately enough… by the standards of an amateur erecting a hasty fortification. To Orodan’s Elite-level Woodworking though, he saw many points which could be improved upon. Cracks, splinters and more riddled the wooden palisade surrounding Axenshield. It had clearly taken a beating and repairs hadn’t been done. Hells, even the ropes and fibres binding each log of the palisade together were fraying at many points, and the nails securing many of the reinforcing backboards on the defending side were worn and coming out. The earthwork too, established as the foundation for this wooden fortification, was beginning to fall apart at certain points. It was as though an amateur had constructed a rushed wall and any professional woodworkers coming by for repairs and maintenance had then been too lazy to redo it correctly from the ground up.

More than just a woodworker would be needed to fix this.

Building a proper wooden palisade wall was nothing revolutionary. Orodan had learned the theory behind it during his education at Bluefire, and he’d seen successful wooden fortifications constructed by an Elite throughout Volarbury County and the Republic. Now, instead of just beholding them he would serve as the Elite, responsible for constructing a proper fortification for this village.

His first move then, was to get wood. He began uprooting trees by hand. A simple task with little concern of deforestation given how wild Exerston County was and that this village was practically surrounded by the thicket.

Of course, the soldiers on the walls had a lot to say about the display.

“Who the hells is that?!”

“He’s uprooting trees with his bare hands!”

“Must be an Elite! A hidden Elite’s come for an inspection!”

“Oi! Isn’t that the militia man from Volarbury County that entered a few hours ago?”

Orodan continued his work, trees hoisted atop his shoulders and being thrown into a pile near the wall, when the duty sergeant approached him, quite fearful.

“I beg your pardon for the interruption sir… but I wasn’t made aware you were an Elite,” Sergeant Alamar Taj said, seeming quite deferential. “Nobody told me the Elite response unit from Volarbury County would be paying us a visit.”

“I’m not part of the Elite response unit. I really am just here to help reinforce the palisade wall,” Orodan said as he set the last of the uprooted trees down and began putting the handsaw to work on them. Not because he needed to, but as a display for Old Westwater’s hapless apprentice who was paying rapt attention to whatever Orodan did. He turned to her. “Watch closely, debarking a tree is a simple task but one where a lot of waste can occur if done incorrectly. Additionally, an amateur can damage the grain or ruin its alignment if they don’t smoothly carry this step out.”

“Debarking? I thought stripping the bark was unnecessary for the construction of a mere palisade…” the apprentice muttered. “Should we not just pack the trunks together with little space between them?”

“Something done only for the purpose of saving time,” Orodan clarified. “We aren’t throwing up a rushed defense in hasty preparation for an imminent attack but building a long-term palisade for an entire village. Even the army’s engineers will tell you this, even if they themselves might skip debarking when time is in short supply.”

“But… you’re not debarking the entire tree?” she asked.

“Correct. As you can see, I’m only debarking the sides of each tree, where the tree next to it will slot in, forming a palisade wall. Difficult and labor intensive, but necessary if you want the palisade to hold well,” Orodan explained. “Hastily built palisades are often just a few tree trunks slapped together. There are many gaps and imperfections between each log as a result. This way, if done right… there should be virtually no gap between one trunk and the next.”

[Teaching 58 → Teaching 59]

“Will the debarked portions not need to be treated?” the Sergeant himself asked, suddenly quite interested in the work. “Surely moisture will cause the wood to rot at certain segments? We’ve had to replace various parts of the palisade over the years for that reason.”

Domain of Perfect Cleaning could do the job, rendering the wood immune to any form of rotting or corruption, but that would be cheating.

“If the grain is perfectly aligned, the only exposure will come from the top and bottom of each log, which are the only parts requiring treatment,” Orodan explained. “Now then, we’ve spoken enough. This will take time.”

And it did.

Each tree was carefully de-barked on the sides, creating a perfect slot for the next one to stand side-by-side with. Orodan’s enhanced vision allowed him to ensure the grain was aligned down to the very particle. He would accept nothing less than perfection. The apprentice was attempting to mimic him, a fire had been lit under her, yet she often struggled with smoothly debarking the logs in a single motion.

Orodan recommended she begin rigorous and consistent physical training to improve her Physical Fitness. Crafting involved both the mind and the body. Neglecting either one would naturally lead to an incomplete crafter.

He had her chop her own failed logs into firewood, a task that was quite gruelling but beneficial for the thin woman.

And while she trained, Orodan did too, focusing on perfecting this section of the palisade wall he was intent on replacing. Each log was honed to perfection, and once those were done, they were stacked together perfectly.

The soldiers and sergeant watching began to slowly realize that this was no farce. And the thought of having a proper palisade wall seemed to rouse them into action.

“Militia! Sally out and form a perimeter! Guard the Elite!” the Sergeant ordered. “Kressida! Keep your troop ready to aid him however he needs.”

The gesture was appreciated. Even if Orodan needed no protection, he could still use a hand or two to fetch things in a village he wasn’t familiar with. He called upon the troop soon enough.

“I need rope,” Orodan said, prompting the soldiers to get a move on. “A lot of it. The logs are stacked together well, but having fibre to bind them together will make it even more secure.”

“Yes sir!” the corporal affirmed and then shouted to the guards on the wall. “Throw a few coils of rope down here! As many as we have!”

Bundles of rope were thrown from atop the walls, and Orodan started using them to tightly secure ten logs at a time, in neat arrays. A task made far easier by his Laboring skill and his extensive experience in using rope during his tenure as a laborer working under Old Man Hannegan.

[Laboring 43 → Laboring 44]

Still, Orodan couldn’t help but frown as he took in the rope itself. Many of the bundles were frayed, or just weak. He made a mental note to himself to learn the ways of rope making.

As the work went on, Orodan oft asked for more things.

“Bring me as much scrap metal as you can find.”

The village was scrounged and the trash piles searched to bring him piles of unwanted metal. A Draconic Fireball melted these down for re-forging into nails, which were then used to further secure Orodan’s new palisade.

“Get me wax, we need to moisture proof the exposed parts of the wood.”

And they brought as much wax as the village had. Of course, the palisade covering Axenshield was quite expansive, telling of the size of the village. Naturally, there wasn’t enough wax on hand to treat the wood for the entirety of Orodan’s new palisade.

Before he knew it, he started engaging in Alchemy to create more wax via animal fats, oils and solvent distilled from the trees he was uprooting.

The work took time. Unlike a warehouse, building a new palisade wall meant to surround an entire village took time, especially when it was many miles big, and he refused to compromise on quality. Orodan gained another level in Woodworking, two in Laboring and one in Tool Mastery.

Halfway through, a few Elites came by to confirm what they were seeing, and one of them must’ve used Observe and gotten a read on that Wainwrighting Apprentice title of his. Needless to say, they didn’t buy it for a single moment and the group of Elites left without saying a word to him.

About two-thirds of the way through was when the nominal head of Axenshield’s ruling noble house decided to come by for a visit.

“Is this him?”

“Yes, my lord, said his name was Orodan Wainwright,” the Sergeant said in the distance. “Told us he came here to do some Woodworking and repair our palisade.”

“Hmm… it isn’t unheard of for hidden geniuses to go wandering about and engage in seemingly random activities which foster their growth,” the man said, and Orodan recalled kicking in the doors to some noble house once, and this man had not-so-subtly reprimanded him for it. “Let me speak to him.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be much for conversation, Burgher,” Orodan said, tying more logs together. “I mean your village no harm, if that’s what you’ve come to ensure.”

“Partially, yet I also hoped to make the acquaintance of the man who would give so freely of his time and energy to my people,” the noble said. “Burgher Alarduin Rockwood. It seems you know of me already.”

“Your son Claridin is a bit of an arrogant fop, but I suppose you don’t seem too bad.”

The Burgher sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“I apologize if you have had any poor dealings with that foolish boy. Claridin has always taken after a particular ancestor of ours.”

“Hmm, I suppose it makes sense why he acts a big thuggish, if Alcianne Rockwood is who he tries to emulate.”

“You seem to know much about our house, Mister Wainwright, yet you have me at a disadvantage as I know little about you save the report I’ve heard about a private of the Volarbury County militia,” Burgher Alarduin said. “We both know you aren’t truly Orodan Wainwright.”

“Why not? Who else would I be?”

“According to the instincts granted to me by the Rockwood Bloodline? Someone exceedingly dangerous, beyond even the ancestor,” the Burgher said, his eyes narrowed. “What do you want in the Republic?”

“The answer might be simpler than you think, Burgher Alarduin. In fact, you’re looking at it right now,” Orodan said, putting another section of his new palisade up.

“…very well then. Take care, Mister Wainwright.”

“…you’re really just leaving?” Orodan asked, a bit confused for once.

“Of course. My instincts do not lie. You would doubtlessly kill the ancestor with ease if it came to a fight, and while I do not know for certain what would occur if the Republic’s army became involved, at the very least the casualties would be heavy. And there’s certainly nothing I can do to stop you,” Burgher Alarduin said. “If my years of politics and seeing the world have taught me anything, it’s to sometimes leave well enough alone. Have a good day.”

Huh… a sensible noble who wasn’t looking to cause any problems.

Orodan thanked the Burgher and resumed his work. Nobody else interrupted him.

At last, as the hours passed and the time for his departure to the moon came, the work was done, though Orodan was deeply dissatisfied with it.

[Artificing 34 → Artificing 35]

“I-incredible…! An entirely new palisade!”

“It’s so sturdy too… wonder if even a troll could knock it down?”

“Looks so fresh that I could lick it…”

Orodan ignored the last oddball guard who’d spoken. Frankly, he was unhappy with this palisade.

Yes, he had made gains in taking on this interesting endeavor, but looking at the minor imperfections in it, he couldn’t help but grumble. The sheer scale of the undertaking meant that mistakes were bound to occur over the span of it, especially when he was multi-tasking and doing other things at the same time such as Alchemy, Laboring and melting scrap metal into nails.

Out of the hundreds of tree trunks used to create his new palisade, Orodan had perhaps gotten four-fifths of them done perfectly.

Out of curiosity, he used Identify on one of the perfect ones.

[Name: Pure Gray Poplar Log

Description: A perfectly carved wooden log with immaculate grain alignment made of gray poplar. Hundred-percent material purity.

Tier: Elite]

Pathetic.

“Orodan… you are without a doubt a madman. Who can remain dissatisfied after creating hundreds of perfect logs whose grain alignment is perfect down to the particle level?”

“I can. This result is unacceptable…”

The real problem was that not only did Orodan strive for perfection in everything he did… but he actually enjoyed Woodworking. What sort of shameful display was this, for him to achieve anything less than a perfect result?

He had a number of targets then.

To perfectly carve out every single log. To cast every single nail used in the construction of the palisade himself. To perhaps construct some fortified earthwork first, that the foundations for the palisade would be even sturdier. And to learn some damned rope making skill, because the shoddy quality ropes the Exerston County militia gave him meant that the integrity of the palisade wasn’t as high as it could be.

And above all else…

…to finish this damned palisade within a reasonable timeframe.

This endeavor of his might take a few loops though.

#

“You encountered that moralizing bore? How surprising… that his sermons didn’t put you into a relaxing slumber.”

“You know that irritating spider?” Orodan asked. “Well… I suppose you’re both spiders-”

“And you and this random human I met a while ago are both humans, right? Surely you must know him, right?” Talricto asked, irritation in the spider’s tone. “Ignorant buffoon…”

Orodan had brought that one upon himself.

“Right, my stupidity has been noted,” he dryly remarked. “Back to the matter at hand, what’s that spatial spider’s deal?”

“In truth, not much, to the great displeasure of his sanctimonious lot of fellows.”

“Sanctimonious lot of fellows?” Orodan asked.

“Why yes, Alagameth is one of the ancient ancestors of the Conclave. Did his pretentious name and the pointlessly flashy arrows of light not tip you off?” Talricto asked. “The Conclave keep begging him to return and become involved, quite risky for anyone who has attained Embodiment. He refuses of course and takes it a step further, choosing to remain hidden in secluded meditation. Your boorish disruption of the tapestry must have bothered him enough that he got involved for once.”

Orodan supposed that if he were silently training and some loud upstart came along breaking the thing he was studying… he too might be slightly annoyed.

“A moment of self-reflection that you might tone down your destructive tendencies?”

Absolutely not. She might as well ask him to swear off fighting.

“In any case, this is quite the opportunity,” Orodan stated.

“Hmm… I suppose if anyone could potentially help you get onto Lonvoron via spatiomancy alone, it would be the elusive Alagameth,” Talricto agreed. “Though you should at least make a show of removing yourself from the tapestry after meeting him, as a sign of goodwill. How else will he ever agree to teach a brash and violent oaf such as you?”

“Oh, but you mistake me. I never said I wanted to sit down and learn from him,” Orodan said, a vicious grin appearing on his face. “Rather, I intend to test my spatiomancy against his, as many times as it takes, until I can best him through brute force.”

“…you truly are mad. Enjoy dying over and over,” Talricto said. “I shall see you upon Lonvoron whichever loop it is you succeed in.”

The dimensional phase spider winked out of existence, and Orodan got to work.

He’d carefully prepared his weapons ahead of this attempt too. His sword, perfectly arranged through absolute cold forging, was now at the Master-level. He did the same for his shield, bringing it up to the Master-level as well.

He cast a Teleport and was predictably pulled right out of it, leading to a clash with the Embodiment-level spider.

The fight didn’t go much differently aside from Orodan stubbornly attempting to reach Alagameth via spatiomancy alone, something he predictably failed over and over at.

Though, when it came time to fight that oversized Living Crystal, the gouge Orodan left upon its face was at least three times bigger than before. Courtesy of his upgraded sword.

The subsequent death was entirely worth it.

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

And Orodan knew that this would take many loops but would well be worth it.

#

The chicken farmer looked at him agape, as he finished replacing the rickety wooden fence she had with a brand new one yet again.

“Well, I’ll be… this fence is incredible! Since when have you known Woodworking, Orodan?” the woman asked. “Either old Westwater or that apprentice of his was supposed to come by and repair my fence. And here you are having replaced it entirely with an accompanying cover and all. Let me pay you at least.”

Orodan felt slightly guilty about essentially stealing work from under Westwater’s nose via the cheap advantage of knowing what was in the man’s work ledger. But he vowed to repay it on the next few loops after he was done getting what he needed from this woman.

“I don’t require payment in coin, but tutelage,” Orodan said. “I notice you have a shed full of rope. Where did you get that from?”

“I made it myself. Any excess lumber or poor-quality wood from Westwater or Fodgarton comes my way with the provision that a third of what I make goes to them,” the woman said, and then her eyes took on an understanding look. “I see, you want to learn Weaving then?”

“Is that what skill rope making falls under?”

“Right you are. I’m no professional weaver, can barely weave clothes for my little ones… but what I’m a fair hand at is turning fibre into twine and then fashioning that into rope,” she said. “As you know we’re not well-off around these parts, but rope sells well. Always some laboring or construction project that needs coils of the stuff.”

“Then, I’d like to learn. Will you teach me?” Orodan asked.

“I can only teach you the basics, I’m not even an Apprentice weaver,” Belina said. “But since you’ve done my fence so well, I suppose I can show you a thing or two.”

Orodan was led into the woman’s home where her two little children were playing. The infant among them even crawled over and tried clambering up his leg! She stared at him with wide and curious eyes, ready to confront the world.

“…adorable,” Zaessythra remarked.

Orodan gently pried her off and gave her a serious look.

“Climbing is good training,” he said, giving her a pat on the head. “Keep it up.”

In response, the child appeared quite serious and nodded back.

Good. He sensed this one would make something of herself in life.

“Don’t mind the little imps… that one gives me headache enough. She sees anyone in the militia uniform and can’t stop herself clambering up their legs,” Belina said. “Confuses them for her father I think.”

“Corporal Botterson’s a good man. Though, I wasn’t aware he had two children,” Orodan said, following her into the connected shed where coils upon coils of rope lay, and an entire table dedicated to rope laying was. In the corner, multiple pools of dirty water were present, with wood bark soaking in them. “Quite the expansive operation. Water’s a bit dirty though…?”

“Had that unbearable goblin a few months ago,” she said. “And the process of soaking goes faster with dirtier water.”

Immediately Orodan focused in with his enhanced vision to verify this.

She was right, the small life, unseen to the average naked eye, was in fact consuming the rough and sturdy parts of the bark, leaving just the tough but flexible fibres. These soaked fibres

“I see… so that’s how rope is made from plant material…” Orodan muttered. And immediately he had multiple ideas on how he could improve the quality of any rope he produced. If the fibres came from trees, then the better quality the tree… the better his resultant ropes would be. “Botterson told me long ago that his wife made rope on the side… this is a large set-up and not just a side project.”

“With two mouths to feed someone’s got to bring in the gold. Gods know that Selric’s salary alone wouldn’t comfortably cover our expenses,” Belina explained. “It’s not a bad trade. I’m near to saving up enough that we might move onto Scarmorrow. The little gremlins might have a better life there and my husband’s always said he gets a bad feeling from that wicked tavern at the plaza.”

If Orodan hadn’t put a stop to the machine this loop… Botterson, his wife and two little children would have died today. Protecting families like these… this was one of the reasons he sought strength.

“Well, you need not worry about the tavern. The matter’s been resolved,” Orodan assuaged.

“Right, saw all the soldiers from the capital marching that way earlier, wonder what that’s about,” she remarked, and gestured for him to follow. “Anyhow, gossiping like old crones on the deck won’t help you learn any faster. You already know how to work with wood, so this makes the job a lot easier. Pick up that log and debark the outer layer entirely.”

Orodan did as asked, peeling the bark off smoothly with his fingers.

“Use the knife… ugh… right. I forget how much Selric goes on and on about what a lumbering ox you are,” she said, directing him to move the bark aside as she spoke. “Do hit him a little softer when you spar, will you? He comes home whining to me and then it becomes my problem.”

“To be fair, I probably go the easiest on him out of everyone in the barracks,” Orodan said, after all, he probably liked Botterson the most out of all his militia colleagues. “What next? I notice you have inner bark soaking in the water, are we carving strips of that out?”

“Right, good eye. The inner bark layer, carve it into long strips lengthwise along the log,” she instructed, doing so herself with a log as a display. “This part I doubt you’ll have any problems with.”

As she said, Orodan had no issues. His Woodworking skill was at the Elite-level, and his hands were strong and steady. Wood was like air before his strength. As he worked, he made sure to peel the inner bark off perfectly along the grain.

“By the Gods… I can’t do it anywhere near that smoothly,” Belina said. “I suppose I could stand to look into Woodworking lessons at some point.”

“You’re better than you think. Only a half-step behind old Westwater’s apprentice who’s at the Apprentice-level,” Orodan praised. “Keep at it and you might be able to add Woodworking to your list of trades. I don’t think the carpenter would mind giving you a lesson or two given how much you help him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but my hands are full enough with farming, ropemaking and the little terrors already. If anything, Selric could stand to get off his lazy rear and pick up a second trade,” she said. “Alright, inner layer of bark’s been peeled perfectly, now soak it in the water.”

Orodan did as asked and dumped the long strips of inner bark he’d peeled off into the vats of dirty water.

“Where’d you get the water from? A stale pond?”

“Aye, you’d be right on that. Pond water’s quite dirty, and while I don’t know the scholarly theory on it, I think the natural water helps break the bark down faster,” Belina explained. “Now then, let’s pick up these dry fibres from the rack and we’ll get to the process of laying.”

The woman was pointing to rack on the side, while Orodan’s bark strips that he’d just dumped into the water lay before him.

“I don’t see how the process works…” Orodan remarked.

“That’s because the bark’s supposed to dry for four to six weeks at minimum,” she said with a loud laugh. “Did you think it would be that quick?”

Right, that made sense to him. Still, there was certainly a way to speed this process up.

The sound of a sword leaving its scabbard echoed through the shed.

“W-what are you doing…!”

She backed away just in time to see Orodan’s sword glow with the power of the Smite of Abrupt Deliverance. Yet, instead of focusing on delivering a strike of power… he focused on the Time Compression aspect of it.

In an instant, weeks’ worth of growth and development was compressed into the span of a second. And the bark which he’d soaked in the water suddenly became quite limp, the hard parts broken down while only the tough but flexible fibres remained.

“Just speeding the process up,” Orodan explained.

“You’re a mage?”

“Not primarily, but I’ve picked up a spell or two,” Orodan remarked.

“Well, unlike Selric I’m no country bumpkin who’s never seen a spell,” Belina said, her finger lighting up with a small fire. Seemed she knew Candleflame. “Don’t know what you did there though.”

“Chronomancy.”

She became a lot quieter after that revelation. Perhaps she knew the significance of time magic?

In any case, under her instructions Orodan began separating strings of fibre from the now broken-down inner bark he’d soaked, and once he’d gathered enough, a Candleflame dried the fibres, making them look quite like the material ropes were made of.

Then, the real work began.

“Now comes the weaving process, we can use a spinner for it, just hook separate strands here, here and…” she stopped and sighed, watching as Orodan began manually twisting the strands into something resembling rope by hand. “Or I suppose you could do it by hand. Selric wasn’t exaggerating about you, was he?”

“Tools are nice, but true mastery comes from honing the basics,” Orodan insisted. “I would rather not rely on a device to weave the rope for me.”

“Fair enough. Let’s see just how butter-fingered you are. Most struggle with this part even with the spinner.”

And she wasn’t wrong. Orodan, despite being intimately familiar with his own hands, still took at least five tries to properly weave the bark fibres into cordage. It was an altogether new method of using his hands, something which challenged his finesse in a way he didn’t expect.

As he worked, his fingers were forced to move in novel ways, having to grasp the fibrous strands and weave them into rope correctly.

“This is quite challenging…” Orodan muttered.

Belina though, stared with her mouth agape.

“C-challenging? You… you’re doing it on the first try without even using the spinner!” she exclaimed. “Is this what talent is? How unfair!”

“To be fair, I’m a swordsman and also dabble in Enchanting. I’m not an entirely clumsy oaf who doesn’t know how to use his hands in a fine manner. Would be more concerning if I didn’t manage at least this much,” Orodan said.

Frankly, with how strangely his fingers were forced to move, Orodan began wondering if the finger movements from manual ropemaking could also be applied to his swordsmanship. His fighting style was direct, brutal and aggressive. Explosive strength and power channelled into raw savagery were his chief attributes when fighting in melee.

These flexible finger movements which relied on dextrous agility were novel and forced him to think and move in a way he was unused to. A way which could potentially be applied to his combat to make it even deadlier.

At last, ten minutes into making rope, he got what he came here for.

[New Skill → Weaving 7]

And suddenly, his hands began moving more fluidly, more dextrously. The process became even easier…!

And then, Orodan immediately shut down the connection to the central glyph of his own System.

This, he insisted on practicing manually. He had a feeling that the gains from this would extend to more than just Weaving.

Belina frowned at the sudden competence, followed by the sudden drop in skill back to his usual struggle. Still, she said nothing about the matter.

“Well, since you said you want to practice… how about using that fancy magic of yours on all these other vats of soaking bark I have?” she suggested. “For every vat you do that to, you can take a third for your own practice.”

Sounded like an excellent deal to Orodan.

#

On and on the loops went.

He awoke, handled his ancillary business of the machine, House Argon, Talricto and sending a letter to Destartes, and then spent the day either practicing weaving with Belina Botterson or working with old Westwater, filling orders. For now, he left the palisade endeavor be.

He made excellent gains in various related skills and felt these humble toils were truly beneficial for him.

And as his crafts improved, so did his combat skills and spatiomancy as he repeatedly clashed against the Embodiment-level spatial spider who kept interrupting his teleport to give him a beating.

The first ten loops of this routine went normally, though Alagameth began to show signs of increasing exertion in dealing with Orodan’s brute force methods of spatiomancy. If anything, Orodan quite liked the spider. It didn’t want to kill him and only seemed insistent on giving him a beating because Orodan was bothering it. Far nicer than most things he’d met over the loops.

He had a sneaking suspicion that if he brought the full force of his power and the various abilities he had out to bear, he might be able to beat his foe who was an Embodiment of Space… but that would’ve been cheap and boring. Better to beat Alagameth at its own game.

He learned, he fought, he died. And above all, Orodan truly enjoyed himself. Enchanting and Alchemy had their charms, but above all else Orodan truly relished the humble work of helping regular people with their common problems. Bringing his Woodworking, Laboring and other skills to bear against such modest toils brought him quite some satisfaction and helped give him perspective.

Yes, he was mighty enough to destroy entire worlds, but could he fix Belina Botterson’s broken fence with Woodworking? Could he repair someone’s creaking door which had slipped off the hinge? Helping the common folk of Volarbury and Exerston Counties helped solidify the perspective in his mind.

He’d always had it, but it was good to be reminded of it. After all, he too came from such beginnings. While power was the central tenet which governed existence, not all of reality revolved around who could destroy more interstellar objects.

The loops went on, and by the seventeenth repeat, he saw results in his efforts to aid Axenshield, attempting to build the palisade again after a lengthy break during which he’d practiced just Weaving and regular Woodworking.

“Militia! Sally out and form a perimeter! Guard the Elite!” the Sergeant ordered. “Kressida! Keep your troop ready to aid him however he needs.”

The gesture was appreciated. Even if Orodan needed no protection. Yet now, he didn’t need their hands for fetching rope nor wax either.

He walked a slight distance away from the wall, and a downward fist hit the ground, creating a decent sized hole.

[Earthen Construct 9 → Earthen Construct 10]

The hole he created was swiftly sealed with smooth rock.

[Waterstream 10 → Waterstream 11]

And the hole was filled with water. Of course, the fluid produced by his spell wasn’t dirty at all, a natural result of the spell. Which meant it wasn’t exactly the thriving ecosystem of wood-eating unseen filth that he required. But that was a problem solved easily enough.

After all, what was Cleaning if not the imposition of one’s own version of cleanliness onto reality.

[Reality Alteration 55 → Reality Alteration 56]

His broom swept outwards, and the clean water altered, turning into the stale, festering reservoir one might find in a pond. Full of life, particularly the sort which would help break any wood fibre down. And it smelled quite ripe, far worse than the vats Belina had used in her home for soaking the wood.

Cleaning wasn’t always about purity. Sometimes, cleanliness was about balance.

“That’s one smelly pit…” Sergeant Alamar Taj of the Exerston County militia muttered. “What’s it for?”

“Soaking the wood bark so that it breaks down into usable fibre,” Orodan said, uprooting trees with his bare hands and beginning the process of debarking them.

It was an efficient process. Previously, he’d thrown the bark away after debarking the trees lengthwise along the sides, but now that he knew rope could be made with the inner bark, any bark that was trimmed away was thrown right into the soaking pit.

Belina had taught him that rope could be made from a variety of sources. Even the types of trees she sourced wood from mattered, as some plants and trees were well-suited to making rope and others were not. The Simarjis also grew magical fibrous plants which were cultivated specifically for making strong rope, and the leather from certain animals and monsters could also be used for it.

Fascinating things all, and something he would delve further into down the line.

For now, the work continued at a steady clip. The trees were uprooted, debarked along the sides and the useful bark thrown into the pits. Like last time, Orodan planned on building his new palisade wall section-by-section.

Thus, when the logs were prepared and sharpened at the top for the first section… Orodan attempted something for the first time. Necessary to the establishment of a proper fortified palisade.

Energy wasn’t an issue. Even if the spell was fuelled by mana… Orodan had more than enough of it to put the mana reserves of entire armies and dragon flights to shame.

[Earthen Construct 10 → Earthen Construct 14]

“T-the ground! It rises like an angry demon!”

“We’ll be swallowed by the earth!”

“Shut it you dumb bumpkins!” Sergeant Alamar roared, scolding the newer militia who were witnessing such magic for the first time. “It’s just earth magic!”

Still, even the sergeant appeared in awe. In truth, Orodan didn’t consider it that big of a deal. He’d done far grander and more ostentatious things before. Though, with how the spell was supposed to be used, he could understand why an observer might be impressed.

Earthen Construct, a spell meant for the conjuring of earthen mass in various shapes. Most mages might use it to erect barriers, perhaps a shield to block hostile projectiles or even a shelter. The average Adept-level earth mage might conjure constructs which were the size of a small building at most. The Elites and Masters, perhaps the size of a castle, and that was considered on the high end.

What Earthen Construct wasn’t normally used for, was the raising of an earthen wall around the perimeter of an entire village. One stretching out five miles across. Orodan considered it a wholly unremarkable feat by the measure of what he normally did, but these men and women of the militia and the other observing civilians on the walls clearly thought otherwise.

With the raised earthen embankment now conjured, Orodan began planting the sharpened and prepared logs side-by-side, forming the actual barrier of the palisade. With these placed, he quickly utilized a Smite of Abrupt Deliverance to compress time and ensure the bark strips were thoroughly broken down and in usable condition for rope making.

Then, the tons of soaked bark were brought out, dried via Candleflame and placed to the side.

[Candleflame 27 → Candleflame 28]

That was the message he got at the end of two hours of work, as he dried the last bit of soaked bark. He had multiple tons of material now, more than enough bark to weave rope for the entire palisade.

And then came the most toilsome task of them all. Actually weaving the rope.

By hand, weaving the entirety of the collected and dried bark strips into cordage would take many hours. A significant addition to the labor put upon him. Yes, he could have used the time compression aspect of his new smite, but that would’ve been cheating. Either Orodan would get good and fast enough at weaving that he would complete the entire thing before the day ended… or he would try and try again until he could.

There would be no compromise on this.

His hands blurred, and he worked at speeds invisible to the eyes of any present. Even Burgher Alarduin Rockwood who came by could not keep up with Orodan’s hand speed. And multiple times he had to use a controlled application of Flash Freeze or Galewind to prevent the fibres from catching fire due to how fast he was going.

[Weaving 17 → Weaving 18]

At the end of a three-hour session of just making rope, that was the message he got. He’d gained many levels in the skill over the past seventeen loops of practice, but he’d gained two levels over the course of the last three hours of hard work.

He continued working, well into the night, however failed to finish the entire palisade in time.

The gains to Woodworking, Laboring and Alchemy were nice, but they didn’t quench the burning fire in Orodan’s heart. The desire to see this damned palisade built perfectly in the span of a single day.

The subsequent battle against Alagameth went well, with the spider actually having to go all-out to stop Orodan’s brute force spatiomancy which was getting stronger every repeat. And he found that his sword struck just a little bit harder, and his grip upon it was just a tad bit tighter when incorporating all the muscle memory and movements he’d learned from weaving.

The Living Crystal wasn’t pleased at the larger gouge Orodan left upon its face, but he cared not for its opinion.

Finally… it was on the seventy-third loop of this routine, that Orodan got some results.

#

“Westwater! I’ve come to help you!” Orodan declared, slamming the door open and causing everything to fall off the man’s shelves.

He had no time to waste. Even with how many skill levels he’d gained over the past seventy-two loops, every second counted.

“O-Orodan! What in the Gods’ name are you-”

A quick usage of Time Reversal brought all of the carpenter’s products back to the shelves they were upon.

“You’re a mage?!” the old woodworker exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Orodan in the interest of saving time. He then gently pulled the carpenter’s work ledger out from behind the desk. “Here to practice Woodworking, let me work on your backlog of orders. I’ll drag your apprentice along with me so that she can collect the payments for you.”

“W-what…?” the man asked, confused.

“Here, watch what I can do,” Orodan said, using Wood Communion upon the various slightly imperfect products on the shelves and laying about the shop. “Those wheels aren’t built to specification, and those hafts are meant for high quality Elite weapon heads but are barely Elite-level themselves. It can lead to damage.”

“Hmm… you’re not wrong…” the carpenter muttered. “I can’t pay-”

“I don’t need payment, keep all the money,” Orodan said, marching out the door. “Keep your apprentice too. I don’t want her job.”

“Want who’s job?” Westwater’s apprentice asked as she walked in the door. “You! What are- guah!”

Orodan nabbed her by the collar like a mangy cat and plopped her into the cart she was dragging behind her.

“Come, we have little time, and I can’t waste it telling you how I don’t care about your friend and what happened between us,” Orodan declared, pulling the cart, and the apprentice within along. “We have a backlog of work orders to complete.”

“What in the hells are you doing?! Unhand me this instant!” the girl got up, about to exit the cart.

Only to stop when the booming voice of Westwater rang out.

“Don’t set a foot outside that cart girl! You heard him! There’s a backlog to complete!”

“B-but… Mister Westwater!”

“Less complaining, more working! Go with him and collect payment for each job! Go on! Scram!”

Orodan had tested this social situation a few times now. This, he had found, was the quickest way to drag the girl and Westwater’s ledger along. Of course, he could’ve just gone to Westwater’s clients without involving the man at all, but that would’ve been stealing business from an honest carpenter.

The first destination was Belina Botterson’s house, and Orodan immediately got to work.

“About time you lot showed- my fence!”

A singular sweep of his broom, and the entirety of her dirty fence vanished from existence. The air practically blazed with heat as Orodan swiftly rushed back with an uprooted tree and got to work.

[Galewind 22 → Galewind 23]

Another level gained as he used it to moderate the temperature from his furious pace of work. In less than a second, the tree was turned into a set of pristine boards, beams and wooden pieces meant for a fence and covering.

A curious infant crawled over, and Orodan allowed the little one to clamber up to his shoulder while he worked, moving gently that she wouldn’t fall off or have too difficult of a time. The only job where he allowed himself to slow pace that the child might be safe and learn.

“As you can see,” Orodan explained to the little girl. “Woodworking is an endeavor which tests not just the mind and one’s dexterity of hand, but also the strength of their arm. Are you ready? To commit to such a path?”

He felt the little wiggle of a little head upon his shoulder, signifying a nod.

“I see, your determination is evident to me. Watch then, that you might also step upon the path to mastery,” Orodan said, making sure to methodically use tools so that the infant could spectate and see how it was done. “First, we must implant these fence posts into the ground…”

Orodan continued on for about five minutes, instructing both the little girl and the apprentice accompanying him, before the little one’s mother pried her off of his shoulder. The infant didn’t seem happy about it either, grumbling at her mother but not crying.

“That child might just have a knack for sensing souls,” Zaessythra said. “In most of these loops she’s found a way to gravitate to you and her eyes flit and move in timing with the pulses of your own soul.”

“Good. She will make something of herself one day, for the determination in her eyes is plain to see. I cannot be the only talent in Ogdenborough after all.”

In any case, with the girl off of his shoulder the work was resumed at a blistering pace, and when Belina Botterson tried paying Orodan more than his fair share, he refused, handing it back to her.

“Spend it on that one’s education,” he said.

He owed the woman for the valuable skill she’d taught him anyways.

He and the apprentice were off, with Orodan dropping her into the cart once again that they might finish up the remainder of the jobs in Ogdenborough.

In less than twenty minutes, the eleven jobs in the ledger listed for his hometown were done, and Orodan had little time to waste as he channelled a Teleport which brought him to the nearest town of Exerston County where there were more work orders pending for old Westwater.

If the poor shell-shocked apprentice alongside him was scared, she didn’t have the courage to voice it.

He made a round trip, clearing the ledger entirely of all the minor requests in the various hamlets and villages of Exerston County before making Axenshield his final stop.

He teleported just outside of the walls, in time to see a troll assailing them.

“Fire! Shoot that… what in Halor’s name?”

Sergeant Alamar Taj’s orders were interrupted. He and the militia atop the walls stared as the troll flew up and away into the horizon. Courtesy of an encouraging backhand from Orodan.

“Greetings, we’re Woodworkers, here to service clientele in Axenshield,” the carpenter’s apprentice announced, still sitting in her little cart.

“…woodworkers?” the sergeant muttered, looking at the disappearing dot in the sky that was the troll before looking at Orodan again. “O-of course! Please, welcome to Axenshield, esteemed woodworkers. We are happy to have you.”

“Got to be stronger than an Elite…”

“He sent it into the stars…!”

The hushed whispers and not-so-quiet mutters continued, and he was fairly certain Sergeant Alamar’s communications amulet glowed, sending out a message for assistance.

In any case, they entered the village, and he quickly aided the blacksmith. The extra time he now had thanks to his increased skill and fast pace meant that he could afford to take some time. He used this to go above and beyond by not only creating the things he’d requested Westwater help with, but also by aiding the man in properly reforging all the weapons in his shop and removing all impurities from the weapons.

Naturally, this caused the weapons to jump a tier at least, and in some cases, two.

He walked out the smithy and made for the walls, where his first move was to channel mana towards earth magic.

[Earthen Construct 28 → Earthen Construct 29]

The earth all around Axenshield rose up, creating a formidable and stable earthwork upon which the palisade could be constructed. Not only did Orodan ensure the earth surrounded the village all around, but he also made sure to create a tough layer of earth beneath the town. Subterranean monsters capable of digging would find no purchase if attempting to burrow under the walls.

With that foundation laid, he immediately began tearing trees out of the ground at blistering speed, throwing them all into a pile. He’d done the palisade enough times. He now knew the exact number of trees he would need to uproot. There was no need to contribute to the deforestation of these poor woods any more than necessary.

A large soaking pit was created via a gentle downwards punch…

[Waterstream 19 → Waterstream 20]

…and it was filled with water. Which, via his Celestial skill, was swiftly turned into the thriving ecosystem of murky pondwater he needed.

Immediately he got to work, stripping the bark, sharpening the tops of the logs and then placing them to the side. Over the course of roughly an hour, every tree that he needed for the palisade was debarked, carved and prepared.

[Woodworking 83 → Woodworking 84]

Orodan felt, that would probably be the final skill level gain for Woodworking that he could acquire by repetitively attempting this palisade.

With the wood done, he swiftly used the Smite of Abrupt Deliverance to compress the soaking of the bark, granting him a singular level in it, dried his soaked fibres via Candleflame and then got to work with Weaving.

Seventy-two loops of this had made Orodan a deft hand at the task. He’d been training Weaving without any aid from his System too. And while there were other things that rope could be made from and Orodan professed no exceptional familiarity with those materials… with wood fibre, he felt exceedingly familiar.

His hands were utterly invisible to any present, working at a speed far faster than sound. At points he was forced to use Galewind to lower the temperature lest he set the rope and the forest ablaze due to his sheer pace.

[Weaving 28 → Weaving 29]

[Galewind 27 → Galewind 28]

And what took three hours before… took only thirty minutes now.

And with the finishing touch upon the last length of rope, fashioned from wood fibres which he’d personally carved along the grain perfectly, came a welcome title.

[Weaving 29 → Weaving 30]

[New Title → Weaving Apprentice]

And because he thought it would be quite funny, he set his second slot to carry this new title.

“Ah yes… the man with more muscles than sense, wielding a sword and shield is a weaver and a wainwright… quite believable at a glance,” Zaessythra remarked.

She was no fun. If the Embodiment-level beings between galaxies could do it, then why not Orodan?

In any case, the work didn’t take long after that. The assortment of scrap metal he’d gathered from across the village was melted down to make nails. The animal fat collected from the butchers and the vegetable oils gathered from across the village were made into wax, and slowly but surely, everything was put together.

Halfway through, a party of adventurers approached him. They were at the Master-level, and it was plain to see that the leader was wielding a weapon Orodan had helped the village blacksmith create.

“Are you the one who made this spear? My family would love to have a Woodworker of such raw talent in our employ! Whatever the cost is, House Altamari shall bear it!” the adventurer declared. “This weapon is simply exquisite!”

“Thank you for the offer, but I must decline. I have things to do,” Orodan declared.

The man reached out to grab Orodan’s wrist.

“Such as?! I assure you friend, an offer like this does not come by so easily!” the adventurer said, red-faced.

“Building this palisade wall,” Orodan said, continuing his work without any concern. He felt no need to shuck the man off, instead, simply dragging him along into the dirt as he casually continued his movements of making wax via alchemical methods. “Now excuse me. You’re in the way.”

If the adventurer had thought Orodan to be an easily bullied craftsman, the man now learned the embarrassing way that it wasn’t the case. The adventurer hastily got to his feet and quickly beat a retreat, muttering something about letting his ancestor know.

Not that Orodan was concerned in the slightest.

The nails were prepared, the wax was created and the work continued. And finally, eight hours after he’d started, the palisade wall stood complete as Orodan secured the last reinforcing backboard on the defending side of the palisade with a nail of his own making.

[Construction 37 → Construction 38]

[Artificing 39 → Artificing 40]

[Laboring 49 → Laboring 50]

[New Title → Laboring Adept]

It was done at last. With less than half the overall time taken compared to his very first attempt.

The reinforced palisade wall was majestic, covering the entirety of Axenshield. Their old palisade was still there but relegated to the position of a secondary barrier now; an inner wall from where small retractable bridges allowed the militia to reach the outer wall which Orodan had built.

It was a true marvel of construction, not for the scale of it or the quality of the materials, but because of just how… perfectly every bit of the palisade fit together. He’d intentionally avoided using Wood Communion to fuse the logs together lest other woodworkers need to make repairs, and despite that it still felt so symmetrical and well put together.

There were defensive fortifications upon Inuan which surpassed this palisade by a mile. Yet this one was special, because Orodan had done it entirely on his own. His own toil had created this, and the experience and insights he’d gained were priceless in and of themselves.

“Unbelievable… you actually built it…” Sergeant Alamar muttered. “It looks so beautiful too…”

“I suppose I can tolerate this,” Orodan said, looking at how each nail was sturdy, how each length of rope securing the logs in place was exceptionally durable and well-made. “At the very least it has no structural weaknesses save brute force of an overwhelming nature, or an exceptionally hot magical fire. Nothing below the Elite-level should be breaking the palisade with force.”

It would take a Master.

Of course, the two nobles walking towards him were beyond that.

A burly woman, one Orodan knew as the Chosen of Halor. And a slim but severe-looking old crone who Orodan knew to be affiliated with the Cathedral.

Alcianne Rockwood immediately froze upon getting within a certain distance of him. The look on her face suddenly becoming quite serious.

“Apologies, I don’t mean to set off your Bloodline like that,” Orodan said. “No Burgher Alarduin? I finished before he usually gets here too.”

“I do not know who you are, but your strength is quite alarming,” Alcianne said. “I do not seek to start any conflicts against someone who has done my lands and people a great boon… but I will come to blows if I must. Who are you?”

“Orodan Wainwright,” he answered.

“I do not know that name, though my progeny tells me it’s tied to a mere Apprentice-level militia man from Ogdenborough,” Alcianne said. “Might I ask what you want in the Republic?”

“I already did what I wanted. The palisade is built is it not?”

Alcianne looked over his work and nodded in approval.

“Well… that is one fine palisade,” she said, her tone becoming less guarded. “Is that all you wanted? To build a palisade?”

“Aye. Something relaxing in honing the crafts,” Orodan said.

“One of those sorts who enjoy wandering and practicing his skills, eh? I can respect that,” Alcianne said. “Come now Varna, he seems alright enough.”

“What are you saying?! We cannot just let an unknown individual of great power freely wander our lands!” the dual-Grandmaster said. “Heredin must be informed of-”

“No need for that,” Orodan said. “I know how this goes. You try to push the matter, I give you a beating, you escalate things, then a Chosen arrives, then an Avatar arrives, and before I know it an army’s ready to face me down.”

“So, you’re well aware of how we deal with foreign threats,” Varna Altamari said. “Now how about you come with us, and we discuss things peacefully? Surely you wouldn’t want to kill any innocents in any battle we might have? We have a Chosen here too, ready to enter Avatar form at a moment’s notice. You’re outnumbered and backup is close by.”

“You mistake me, hound of the Cathedral. When I say there’s no need for that, what I mean is there’s no need for you to call your superiors or escalate at all,” Orodan said. “…because I’ll be purging them here and now.”

“What do you-”

Before she could finish, his broom touched the ground.

Frankly, Orodan wondered why he even bothered wasting time with the toadies of the tyrant three. What was the point of having strength if he needed to negotiate with scum?

His Domain of Perfect Cleaning spread out evenly across all Alastaia. It purged the overt Eldritch, it purged the crown of the first emperor, and it purged the world core. And it also cleansed each and every Blessing of Agathor, Eximus and Ilyatana from the world, fortifying the planet against their divine tendrils of tyranny forevermore.

The effects would doubtlessly be felt worldwide. Divine power relations would undoubtedly change, and he would have to deal with a thing or two. But here and now, in the moment, the two Grandmasters before him froze as they felt his power erupt outward in a wave.

Varna herself, a dual-Grandmaster with two Blessings of Ilyatana, immediately felt the effects.

“W-what… what have you done?! I cannot feel my Blessings!”

“You do not deserve them,” Orodan rebuked. “Leave, before I decide you’re undeserving of your life too.”

The Altamari ancestor’s eyes widened, and she took the hint, immediately fleeing from his sight. That left only Alcianne Rockwood.

“You… you purged all presence of three of the Prime Five…” she muttered. “Which means you purged all traces of… of Agathor!”

“Arvayne is free now. Go ensure his well-being,” Orodan said.

Halor didn’t seem too keen on seeking retribution against Orodan for the feat, and Alcianne immediately erupted off the ground in a bolt of divine energy right towards Karilsgard.

The poor carpenter’s apprentice was frozen in place. He smiled at her.

“I suppose we should let old Westwater know we’ve done every job in his ledger, eh?”

The poor girl fainted. And Orodan had to load her into the cart and perform a quick teleport back to Ogdenborough, specifically, to Westwater’s shop.

“We’re about to close!” the angry voice of the old man rang out from behind the front door.

Orodan opened it anyway, walking into the scene of a floor covered in scrap wood and wood shavings.

“Bit of a messy shop. Want a hand cleaning it?” Orodan asked, wheeling the cart with the apprentice in. “The payments are all with her, but I think she was a little overwhelmed by what she saw.”

“At this point, I don’t even care. First, I have everyone and their mother coming to me asking for more jobs, saying they demand to see my ‘new apprentice’, and then, just a while ago some raving nutter was screaming on the street corner about how the Gods’ grace left his soul and that we would all die,” Westwater ranted.

“He was being a bit dramatic,” Orodan clarified. “Can’t say I have any interest in becoming your new apprentice though.”

“With some of the work I saw, I should be your apprentice,” Westwater said, frowning. “What was it? A Blessing? Bloodline? Possession by a demon?”

“Neither of those. Now then, here’s your ledger,” Orodan handed it to him, and the man practically snatched it.

Westwater opened it, reading through… and the man’s eyes began to widen.

“By Halor… it really is true. They weren’t blowing smoke up my rear when they said some mad county militia man’s going around rebuilding everyone’s homes and fences,” Westwater said, and then looked at the pouch on his apprentice’s lap. “All the money’s here too… you really did clear out my ledger.”

“It was good practice.”

For a moment, Westwater was entirely silent.

“I see… you must be some sort of hidden prodigy. Well, I shan’t question who you are or why you’re doing what you do,” the old carpenter said. “But I sense, more than money… you’re after skills and learning, yes?”

“Quite so, glad you’ve caught on quick.”

“Heh… I’ve met wandering nutters of your sort a time or two in my long life,” the old man said, and then pointed to the wooden scraps all over the floor. “Do you know the Recycling skill?”

Recycling? Orodan had heard of it a handful of times but had never bothered to learn it. From what he knew, it was mainly used by low-level crafters to save wasted material. Nothing a crafter of means or skill bothered using. Scavengers who picked battlefields and tombs dry would sometimes invest in the skill too.

Westwater was known in Ogdenborough for recycling discarded wooden waste and creating new products through it. It was one of the main reasons the poorer people in town could afford any furniture. If anyone knew the skill, of course it would be him.

“I do not,” Orodan admitted. “…will you teach me?”

“I was hoping you would ask,” Westwater said. “Come. Work with me and let’s turn these useless shavings and discarded wooden detritus into something useful. Do not use that strange magical wood-binding skill of yours either.”

Under the old carpenter’s direction, Orodan worked. He gathered the various shavings from different types of wood and labored to join them all together into a cohesive product.

“How do I even do this? Some of these shavings are from Apprentice-level products, some are from Adept-level material. It makes no sense,” Orodan said, struggling.

“Keep working on it, and you’ll see.”

He really didn’t.

How was this silly Recycling skill supposed to work with so many disparate objects which had no congruity? As Orodan worked, he thought about his own attacks, and how much energy he wasted. His spells, his mana, his soul energy.

Over the course of the next two hours, he finally cobbled something abysmal together. The product of a lot of adhesive, wilful thinking and stubborn insistence. Of course, he refused to use Wood Communion as the carpenter said, and he also refused to use his Celestial skill as that would be cheating.

[New Skill → Recycling 1]

“I have the skill, but still I do not understand how this can be congruent,” Orodan said.

“Do you not?” the carpenter asked and then pointed to the floor. “Did you not ask me if you could lend a hand in cleaning?”

What did this old man mean?

As Orodan’s eyes scanned the floor and saw nothing, he then finally understood what Westwater meant.

A bare floor. A new skill.

But most importantly…

…a perspective.

Orodan’s fist clenched in elation.

“How… how did you know I would gain from this?”

“You had that dumb look on your face that all plucky prodigies do. Sometimes they can gain a lot by studying the humblest of things.”

The carpenter wasn’t wrong. Orodan would remember this favor.

It was time to tackle the attempt at Lonvoron once more.

#

“So this entire time, you’ve been dawdling, building silly wooden walls and cobbling garbage together while working as a carpenter?”

“There’s more to it than you’re making it seem. I also had to make some arrangements with a group of revolutionaries after I purged certain divine influences from Alastaia.”

“Seems no more than buffoonery to me, my ignorant student,” Talricto said.

Orodan sighed, used to the dimensional spider’s antics by now.

“I hope you get eaten by something on the way to Lonvoron,” Orodan said.

“I’m afraid that’s your job, given all the attention you’ve been attracting. Try not to die this time, will you?” Talricto asked, winking out of existence.

“Feh… I’ll show that arrogant bug…”

Orodan really would too. This time, he was ready.

[Teleportation 87 → Teleportation 88]

As always, the Teleportation initially felt fine, but he was beginning to pick up on the subtle tells that someone else had hijacked his spell.

“At last, the source of this disorder is revealed.”

Orodan looked directly at where the spider tried hiding. Seventy-two tries and he now knew where it stood each time.

The golden arrow of light coming his way was dissipated via a mighty Smite of Abrupt Deliverance.

[Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 79 → Smite of Abrupt Deliverance 80]

“Impressive, as expected of a being which can cause the tapestry to upend. Transcendent, yet capable of standing against those who have achieved Embodiment,” Alagameth called out.

Orodan however, was done wasting time.

A brute force teleport shot out, and he attempted to close the distance towards the spider.

Over the last seventy-two attempts, Orodan had graduated from making the spider exert itself, to forcing it to immediately use its full spatiomancy power.

“Tch! To think such a brutish approach could be so effective… where have you learned spatiomancy from?” the Embodiment of Space asked. “Hmm, I suppose it matters not. Your techniques though powerful, are still crude and no match for my finesse.”

It wasn’t wrong either.

Orodan had definitely come far, but he was still at least a few hundred loops away from being able to outright overpower this being whose very existence was geared towards spatiomancy. Or he would be, if he hadn’t learned some new skills.

And these new skills in tandem with a particular one… could make Orodan Wainwright’s spatiomancy very terrifying.

[Combat Mastery 107 → Combat Mastery 108]

Combat Transcendence activated.

Logistics, the humble skill which guided it all, immediately took the reins. Orodan had communicated his expectations to it ahead of time. Right when he’d learned his latest skill, this was the moment it had been waiting for.

Space Mastery was the backbone, Teleportation was the offense, and Logistics brought it all together with the latest skill in his repertoire… Weaving.

The fine movements of the skill initially confused Orodan when he learned it. It forced him to move his fingers in novel ways. And while that was beneficial enough if applied to his physical skills, the real gain came from applying the winding and twisting concepts of weaving to the flows of his soul energy and spells.

[Space Mastery 95 → Space Mastery 96]

[Teleportation 88 → Teleportation 89]

[Logistics 25 → Logistics 26]

[Weaving 30 → Weaving 31]

His teleport shot out in a weaving pattern, efficient, possessed of far more power packed into a tighter cast, and just better. Furthermore, its casting was erratic, confusing for any opponent to read correctly, much less control!

Spiders were, however, natural weavers. And the foe he faced wasn’t just any spatial spider, but an Embodiment of Space. He’d faced Administrators before, but they were so far beyond him that the differences between them and Transcendents weren’t obvious at a glance.

Now though, facing one that he stood a chance against, he realized that an Embodiment was a peak existence of the cosmos in its chosen skill.

Orodan’s teleport, backed by his endless power clearly flummoxed the spider. However, just as he could have mid-battle breakthroughs, so could his opponents. After all, a being didn’t become an Embodiment of Space by being lazy or untalented.

It lost control of his teleport, but at the very least managed to get away.

But that too was fine!

For the last skill Orodan added to the mix accounted for even the unnatural talent of his monstrous opponent.

[Recycling 1 → Recycling 5]

[Combat Mastery 108 → Combat Mastery 109]

The soul energy, the spatial ripples, the collateral destruction tearing through space as a result of his failed teleport… Orodan grabbed it all with Domain of Perfect Cleaning and brought it back to himself. And with it, he fired off another brute force teleport, adding the previous cast’s power to it.

Alagameth’s beady little eyes widened in terror as Orodan successfully managed to overpower its control over space for the first time. It tried getting away, but Orodan’s left hand gripped both its front legs tightly, his raw might clearly superior to its own.

It looked ready to tear off its own limbs to escape! Unfortunately, Orodan’s free hand promised only death, and as it descended towards the spatial spider’s head, it looked to hit first before any escape could be made.

It would be Orodan’s first kill of an Embodiment-level being. The first step towards truly facing monstrous opponents like the Administrators.

His hand descended…

…and the resounding echo of a well-deserved smack upon the head reverberated through the void between galaxies.

A red welt appeared where Orodan’s hand connected, and he could almost see a handprint.

“You… slapped me.”

“Of course I did, who goes around pulling people from their teleports to give them a beating?” Orodan pointedly asked and then let go of the spider’s legs. “Now let’s go again, that was good, but I have more to learn.”

“You actually slapped me…”

“Repeating it over and over won’t undo it,” Orodan said. “Accept it like a man and let’s continue.”

“Spatial spider, not a man,” it said calmly, the hostility slowly vanishing from its body.

“Eh, semantics, accept it like a spider then, I care not. Let’s resume our bout!”

“You are a mad man,” it declared. “What is your name, mad one who shakes the web of fate? What brings you to traverse the void between galaxies when hungry predators circle about, intent on finding the source of this chaos in the tapestry?”

“Orodan Wainwright. I was trying to travel to Lonvoron undetected, and then you showed up ready to give me a beating. Not that I mind, as I’m always down for a good brawl.”

“Lonvoron…? Ah, right. The world so secretively guarded by that paranoid being…” it muttered. “A predator beyond the likes of which you can handle approaches. What will you do now, Orodan Wainwright?”

“Well, I was going to fight it and then after I win, find a way to travel to Lonvoron without being detected.”

“A true mad man… but one with a colossal fate, and a man possessed of a merciful heart.”

“What are you talking about?” Orodan asked.

“I am afraid, I cannot allow you to die, Orodan Wainwright,” the spider said. “Go now, to Lonvoron.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting there mys-”

Any protests Orodan had were cut off. The spider must have been taking it easy on him, or he must’ve gotten lucky and surprised it. The following grasp on his body via spatiomancy was monstrously powerful and sent him hurtling through the folds of space.

For an instant, he saw land. The black smoke of a gigantic metallic building, rainy streets flooding with a thunderstorm, and various metallic carriages powered by steam. And then, the sudden crash through the roof of a building.

Orodan extricated himself from the pile of rifles he fell into, only to find an amused Talricto hanging off a web from a part of the now broken roof.

“Despite your brutish countenance I see you’ve actually managed to enter undetected,” Talricto said. “How many loops did it take you? Thousands?”

“Not even a hundred… but that stupid spider… I didn’t even ask to be sent here!”

He hadn’t earned this damn it!

“Oi! Who’s there?! Is that a vagabond I hear!”

Orodan grabbed the lanky man about to look around the corner and put a hand over his mouth.

“No vagabonds here… just a sorely disappointed man…”

“A sorely disappointed idiot you mean. Not everything will want to kill you or even see you dead.”

In any case, here he was, on another world in another galaxy. He was certain he’d mess it up a few times and have to loop back; he could have his fair entry then. But for now, dissatisfying and unearned as it was, he had made it to Lonvoron.

Around him, a world of steam, magic and metallic vehicles. And in his hands, all the opportunity to learn and take the first steps towards his grand ambition.

And also in his hands, a scared laborer whose mouth was still covered by Orodan’s hand.

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