“This project might be a little difficult,” hummed Lewis. He shuffled the papers Patriarch Davion had handed to him yesterday, before spreading them out over the table. “It’s got a lot of smaller pieces for the lid, and this piece wraps around at the bottom…”

“What is it?” I asked, leaning against the table.

“It seems to be a large chest of sorts, but it almost reminds me of a coffin.” Lewis walked away, grabbing a large piece of timber and placing it on the table next to the papers.

“Why would Davion need it?” He had given Lewis a deadline on the chest’s creation, and I wondered why it was so important.

Grabbing some tools and placing them on the table as well, Lewis responded. “I assume it’s for the winter festival. Davion always seems to get something made for the celebration. Last year, a jeweler created a necklace for him.” He scoffed. “It was the most extravagant thing I had ever seen.”

Lewis pushed a block of timber over to me, and my hands found the regular indents that would guide my work. Without his direction, I started to carve at the wood. His silent demands had become easy to interpret, even if I had only worked with him for two days as of now.

“What’s the festival for? Unless it’s just to welcome the beginning of winter,” I guessed, going by his words.

“It’s called ‘The Festival of Stars,’” he told me. “It’s an event to worship Fevdohr as well as the winter. Since it gets darker quicker in the cold months, the stars are visible for longer, and Fevdohr’s power is greater. It goes long into the night.”

“What will—”

“Enough questions!” Lewis cut off. “Damn, you’re worse than when Aleya was just a kid,” he huffed.

Sighing, I complied. It wasn’t my fault that I knew practically nothing, but it was for asking too many questions. I could understand his annoyance, so I focused on my work.

A goal of mine was to get the skill Lewis had told me about—the one that could create a line. I hadn’t managed to gain it yesterday, and I was hoping it would appear today. It seemed like it would be extremely useful for me, but I would have to learn it before knowing.

I figured visualization would work best, creating an imaginary line of my own across the block of wood. Cutting off larger chunks of wood first, I then switched to the carving knife to cut more precisely along the guide of indents Lewis had cut in.

This piece was bigger, and I wondered where it would all fit in with the chest we were building. It was hard for me to visualize the end result as I couldn’t examine the plans spread in front of me. I guessed I wouldn’t be able to know until it was finished, and even then it would be a superficial understanding.

I couldn’t help but wonder what use it would be to the patriarch. Since it was a yearly thing, was it an offering of some sort? That question wouldn’t be answered until the festival, whenever that was.

Moving on to the second piece of wood Lewis had handed to me, I forced myself to focus more on the task at hand. I wanted—maybe needed—that skill.

It was satisfying to carve at a piece of wood even as I created a line to follow. It felt as if I was polishing or perfecting something, and molding it to fit its purpose. I could try to take up carving if I found it was more than a surface-level enjoyment. But no, anything I ended up creating would probably be impossible to recognize. It was a shame I couldn't make out the details of things with my perception at the moment.

Perhaps if it increased more, I would be able to understand how a person looked instead of just making out their figure. Maybe I could understand where to cut on this piece of wood without needing guidelines. As I continued to cut, my precision with my knife seemed to improve, and something finally happened.

[Dexterity +1]

It felt like it had been a while since I had seen any increases in my status, and it gave me a sense of satisfaction. However, the messages weren’t done yet.

[Skill Gained] - [Map Line (1)]

[Map Line] - [active. Create a guiding line.]

Pleased at the skill’s description, I grinned. With that type of wording, this skill could most likely be used for many things, not just when cutting wood. Still, I tried it out immediately.

In my mind, a curving red line appeared where the block of wood sat, guiding through the darkness. It reminded me of the red dot found in my old gun's scope set, and it made me wonder if the skill was basing its look off of that since it was already familiar to me.

I placed my knife at the start of the line, and I was shocked when I seemed to almost lose control of my hand. The skill directly guided my tool along the line created—I just had to put force into my motions. It created a side that felt smooth to the touch as I ran my thumb over it, and I marveled at the precision.

Lewis took the slab of wood from my hand, examining it as well.

“Huh. You’re getting better,” was all the praise he seemed willing to give me. He didn’t ask how I had gotten better, so I didn’t tell him I had gained the skill he had told me about. I wasn’t sure if I had gained it faster due to my title and didn’t want to have to explain it to Lewis.

Wood clacked as he pressed the piece I had cut against another, and I sensed as magic oozed from his hands to delve into the wood. This time, Lewis explained what he was doing without me needing to ask.

“I’m connecting the pieces with a skill I gained when I earned my class, called [Fuse Wood]. It's very helpful, greatly reducing the need for nails and increasing stability. Almost nothing can pull apart the pieces of wood once they are connected.” He paused, thinking over his words. “Well, if I want to, I can reverse the fusion if it was wrongly done.”

He pushed the now connected pieces over to me, letting me feel. I ran my hand over the place where they connected, now recognizing them as sides of the chest. The curve I had cut seemed more stylistic than meant for utility, a half-circle carved to extend its ends over where the other piece fit in.

The side of the piece Lewis had cut had a subtle curve to it, molding against the half-circle. I tried to tug the two pieces apart, but it didn’t even wobble. I pushed it back to him, impressed. In return, he gave me another piece of wood to work on.

I once again focused [Map Line] on it, and felt a slight amount of mana trickle out of me. This piece was going to become a duplicate of the other one I had done, so I guessed it was the opposite side of the chest.

The pyromaniac appeared behind me and looked over my shoulder to observe the red line I had created.

“Use the skill with your axe. It will cut flesh easily, almost as if we were using a burning flame,” he prodded, voice tinged with excitement.

I can’t do that at the moment, I thought, not willing to speak aloud in front of Lewis. It didn't matter, because the pyromaniac still understood me.

“Why not? There he is, right in front of us. And there is an axe, right over there!” he pushed, burning hands tugging at my arm. Ignoring it, I kept my carving hand steady.

The priest leaned over my other shoulder, sighing. “It is not the time. We know this.”

“But we’ve done nothing, nothing, for so long!” The pyromaniac complained. “The red of blood is almost as good as a fire.” He ticked his lighter next to my ear, metal rolling against metal. It made my palms feel hot, and I almost summoned a flame.

“I am sure we will see blood soon,” the priest whispered, his deep voice close to my other ear. I wondered how he knew that and if he could smell it in the air like I sometimes could.

Stepping back, the pyromaniac folded his arms. “That may be right.” He combed at his hair with his hands before running them down his face made of smooth skin. “But it doesn’t mean we don’t itch inside. Can you not feel it?”

I did feel it. And so did the priest, murmuring his assent. “Our blood is boiling underneath our skin.”

Finishing the piece of wood I was working on, I handed it over to Lewis. He fused it to the other pieces, the smell of mana filling the air, and added the bottom piece he had cut. The priest leaned forward, inspecting the box’s progress. The folds of his robe fluttered over his hands, restless.

“This creation is already tainted by that man's god. We can feel it.” He uncovered one thin hand and reached it forward through the darkness, I assumed to touch the chest. Flinching, he quickly pulled back.

Ignoring him, I began to work on another block of wood that Lewis had handed to me. This time, I did not understand what the priest felt. The wood just felt like wood. Lewis had told me it would be sanded and polished once it was complete, and it was nowhere near that stage. Already tainted? Shaking my head, I felt puzzled. The priest’s quiet disappointment was clear, and he faded back into the darkness.

The smell of sawdust in the room was even heavier today, invading my nose and causing me to sneeze. Lewis laughed at my outburst, then grew silent as the front door opened like it had yesterday. I could tell it was the patriarch by his footsteps, and the pyromaniac clenched his fists before leaving as well.

Davion stepped into the room as if it was his own, and the smell of blood seemed to grow stronger. He ignored me, walking over to Lewis. “I brought some things that will be attached to the final product.” The clanking of metal rang out as he placed something on the table.

Lewis tsked. “You could’ve waited for it to be done first. And what is this? I’m not a metal worker.”

“I know you have the [Fuse Wood] skill. Just weld it to the metal as directed in the instructions,” Davion commanded. The metal rattled as Lewis picked it up, running it through his hands.

“I’ve never tried that before,” he admitted. “I’ll still have to cut out the parts where it will lay.” He pushed what Davion had brought over to me, and I took it into my hands.

It was made of small rectangles of smooth metal, each one connected to the other by a thin chain. It created a full loop, and I wondered where it was supposed to go. Davion soon answered that question, so I didn’t have to ponder long.

“Coil it around the rim of the lid like this,” he told Lewis, pulling out a piece of paper from the pile. “But make sure it’s on the wider part like so.” I tried to visualize what he was saying in my head, but none of it made sense. I would have to wait to feel the end product.

“During the festival, I would like you to be one of the people to carry it in the procession,” Davion told Lewis, who huffed.

"Don’t know why you would want that," he said, clearing his throat. “Fine. But only if Cain here does it as well.” My eyebrows raised, and I tried to convey my irritation to Lewis. I didn’t want to participate in this odd worship ceremony that I still didn’t understand.

“Fine,” Davion replied, sighing. “I don’t want to agree, but I will because you asked. I need you to play a part.” Lewis laughed at his desperation.

“I have never had you ask me for anything until yesterday! What changed so suddenly, old man?”

Davion only began to walk out, calling over his shoulder. “Do not worry. It will never happen again.”