We sat on the ground, Harlow had grown tired of waiting for her father to come back, and since mine and Nova's mood had sunk a little during the day, she had started working by herself on a project related to us.

The open blueprints on the table she had effortlessly brought outside because of the nice weather were clearly a work in progress.

Although I was no expert in reading them, I could roughly guess what they were.

A bow and a quiver, a unique-looking belt, and a folding shield.

It was easy to guess who they would belong to, and although we had asked for armors, she did not utter one word about it. If what I remembered when I went to the basement all those years ago was correct, then it was clear they did not want to share their armor designs.

The Sun was about to set when Logan finally came back.

"There he is," Harlow said, looking over the horizon from her binoculars.

"He has got one big bag on his shoulders… what was he even looking for?" I said. Then I noticed something else, "Oh, there are a couple of creatures at his back."

"You can see that from here?" Harlow asked, surprised.

I nodded, going toward the door's entrance. I did not take my bow; I dug in the sac I had brought, then took out the longbow.

"That's our hunter for you," said Alistar.

"Yeah, whatever you want, but you are not going to get them from here," added Harlow.

"Of course not, but…" I let that hang in the air as I put the quiver around my back, then I ventured toward the edges of the net.

"But what!?" She asked.

I chuckled. She had the Strength; I had my methods. And anyway, I felt like wanting to look cool.

Taking the almost consumed Stone from the last Rag-troll from the pouch at my belt, my vision expanded slightly.

Two Wrecknecks. Monster rather tough to deal with, they looked like Grendels, if the hairy beasts had less fur but six arms, and were twice their regular height.

Wreckenecks were level thirty and higher monsters, and Logan was ignoring them entirely. He didn't even bother looking back at them. He was content with staying ahead of them with his slightly hastened pace.

I readied my longbow, nocked an arrow, and started feeling the direction in which the wind was blowing.

Its caress nudged me to shift more than sixty degrees to my right.

This is going to be a miss, I thought.

Then, I released the bowstring.

I used Trick Shot since I had the Stone at my disposal; I could draw Shade from there. I did not know how many uses remained, but judging from its weight; I could guess five to seven.

Trick Shot consumed much more than my new Passive. Every Passive consumed next to no Flow or Shade. The same could be said for a Minor Perk. Its consumption was laughable if compared to a Major Skill Perk.

The shot flew tall into the sky, and it took almost five seconds for it to drop down on its target, or to be more precise on its proximity. However, the Shade projectile, which worked by materializing from the tail of the first arrow, abided by physics laws; thus, it gained a wild distance and, incredibly, hit the Wreckneck on the leg.

I expected a complete fail, but I only had a partial one.

It still left me baffled. What was happening to my usual misfortune?

Anyway, Logan, whether he failed to notice or did not care in the slightest about the Wreckneck left behind, kept going at his pace.

I charged the next arrow, they had gotten closer, so I was confident in this one.

My teacher had taught me that arrows could travel at up to one hundred meters per second with a Strength of around ten. However, even though one would logically think that shooting an arrow with double the Strength would let one hit the two hundred or so meters per second, then they would be in for a nasty encounter with reality. Air resistance and arrow weight would inevitably hold power back.

However, the increase was slow but constant, yet ultimately, calculations had been made, and soft caps and hard caps had been found. It seemed that the utmost perfect spot for an archer's strength requirement to reach its full potential with pretty much every type of bow and arrows hovered around the thirty-thirty-five points. Give or take up to five points of Strength for the body size.

That was the soft cap, and reaching the soft cap would allow one to shoot an arrow for over two hundred to two hundred-thirty meters per second.

While the maximum usefulness of Strength stopped after the sixtieth point, once again, give or take five for body size.

Sixty points of Strength allowed one to shoot an arrow that could reach the staggering speed of three hundred-thirty to three hundred-sixty meters per second with the best equipment around. Effectively poking through the sound barrier. What the sound barrier was, I had never known, but the very act indicated true might. No one could reproduce such a feat, no one I knew at least.

It was a dream of many archers or Hunters that used bows as their weapon of choice.

But it would remain a dream, probably for all. I had never talked to Logan about it.

Maybe I should have.

The second arrow arched in the sky and hit the monster in the shoulder, while the Trick Shot pierced deeper into his groin. The creature crumbled to the ground.

I bet no one would ever want to be in its place.

What was peculiar about Trick Shot was its ability to manifest a Shade projectile but simultaneously, retaining the same qualities of the original one.

Logan noticed my last shot; he turned around to check, and when he turned to the front again, I could see a smile on his scarred face.

He shortly traveled the net and climbed the hill to his house.

"That's the clock-engineer? What kind of mask is he wearing?" Asked Alistar.

Nova chuckled silently, "That's his face, silly."

"Oh. I guess now I understand why he lives so far out of anyone's sight."

I thanked the Sun that Harlow's Perception was pitiful. She had gone to help her father, so she wouldn't be able to hear what Alistar had said.

"Come on, that was mean!" Nova said. She did not like the engineer very much, not because of his face, but for his manners.

"Why?" Asked the Kobold, he was taken aback.

"If I called you ugly, you would get mad, wouldn't you?"

"Well, yeah. But I was giving him a compliment."

I remembered then, "Right, Kobolds love scarred tissues. You even break your scale in patterns to make your tattoos." I said, more to explain to Nova than to address Alistar.

She did not know about it. I barely did.

"Yup," Alistar added, "He's a really nice looking man; I bet even my mother would find him attractive, even though he's a hummie."

Logan Raive was holding not one but two giants bags, one on top of the other. One of which he gave to his daughter when he came toward us.

We could better take in his facial features up close. Of course, I remembered him perfectly, but Alistar did not know of the four huge claw scars and little scratches that depicted his face.

Nor could he see the midnight foliage of his short hair or the green irises that were, weirdly, entirely untouched by whatever had made a mess out of his face; they were of the same gentle green of his daughter.

But he was a man of cold logic, or maybe just a cold man. He did nothing that wasn't dictated by his logical values; the only thing that could rein him in was his daughter.

I was about to Trace him when Nova recognized my intentions somehow and stopped me.

"I doubt he'd like that," she said, taking me by the hand.

"You think I should ask him first?"

"You can try?" She shrugged.

Alistar lowered his head, raising much taller than hours, "What are you whispering about? I wanna hear?"

"Loke wants to Trace him," she whispered back, without holding back a little giggle, which I was delighted to hear, "I said if he does, he's gonna get his ass kicked."

"Come on, my ass kicked is a big word…"

"It already happened; I was there to see it," she launched to me a devilish lock.

"Really?"

"Yup, he cried.”

"I did not cry!"

Damn them, they laughed at me...

"What's this about crying?" Said Logan, who was placing his bag by the door's frame. "Did Loke get beat up again? Hey, where's the hound-hare, the most intelligent member of your trio?"

Nobody laughed at that. Instead, silence fell.

"Dad. We should talk, and I think you better sit down."

As we entered the house, I heard the whispers again.

You’ve earned 875 Soul fractions. Soul fractions for next Hunter level: 1197/25000

The Wreckneck reached in the groin had probably died. And those were a lot of Soul fractions. Wrecknecks were hard to deal with at close range. No wonder they gave all those points.

Logan had done nothing else but drink for the night.

It was a strong ale he brewed himself. I choked drinking it, but Nova seemed to hold it in surprisingly well, although she became all red for the effort. I guess it was another Perk of having a high Constitution, lucky me for not having it then!

"I can't believe the old man died without warning me…" said the engineer incongruently.

He had been drinking ever since, and we were sincerely taken aback by his reaction. We were not expecting it at all.

Meanwhile, Harlow had cooked stew for us and had given us the bread she made herself, with the help of some of their numerous machines.

Harlow wasn't only cute, capable, and gentle, she was good in the kitchen too, almost the perfect- what was I even thinking about, now of all times...

I realized I was looking at her for a while after drinking the strong ale, she might have noticed too, and she kept up her beautiful smile.

I had to focus.

So, I focused back on the engineer. I didn't really expect his extreme reaction; in fact, I was inquisitive about the reason, but time was running short. We needed him to fix our gears and speedily too.

I cleared my throat, "So, Logan, we've come here for an urgent commission. And it is probably for its nature of urgency that we're here even though we just found out about Gramps' death."

I hoped my speaking of the seriousness of the situation brought him out of his reverie.

It did.

"Yes, Loke. You're right, tell me. It must be indeed important."

I could see how even Harlow reacted at that first of a kind reaction.

The usually detached, stern, and cold man, was an entirely different person today.

Nova, which I had really failed in not allowing her to drink, might have noticed the same if she hadn't fallen asleep on the table, her happy-looking face said all about it.

If mom and dad or even Gramps had seen that I allowed her to drink, even get drunk, they might have eaten me for dinner. Or at least, so I thought.

"You were saying that you have to hunt down a group of slave traders, yes? How many of them are there? And the place? What about the weather condition?"

"Slow down. I still need to scout them, then I'll formulate a plan and take them down with the help of momma Jane and Alistar here."

"Howdy," said Alistar, which Logan's hollow eyes seemed just to have noticed.

"Hi," he cut him short before turning again toward me, "Anyway, you are kidding, right? If you've decided to join your grandpa, know that it's not a good idea; you are still young, there's quite a lot of contribution you could bring to the world, like catching food for us, for example. It might give us more time to focus on our tinkering. I believe it's a better deal than suicide, don't you?"

"Dad…" said Harlow, "That was pretty mean even for your drunk you."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

I knew the man for a long time. He could be quite a bit of an ass. But if I proved to him that I had logical reasons, he would indeed see them.

"When I mean that I can prepare, I really mean it."

I put a hand in another pouch on my belt, where I had placed Crystals instead of Stone, then I made him my target, and his information was whispered to me.

Logan Raive Armorsmith Level ?, Clock Engineer Level ?

Health: 100%

Stamina: 98%

Agility: Intermediate-Moderate

Constitution: High-Very High

Strength: High-Very High

Focus: High-Very High

Perception: Intermediate-Moderate

Willpower: High-Very High

Strengths: Armor, Intelligence, Constitution, Strength, Focus

Weaknesses: Harlow Raive

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Height: 185 cm

Weight: 81 kg

Age: 45

Origins: Sundoor

Family: Harlow Raive, Unknown

It seemed I was too low-leveled to have access to more information than I already knew, but already judging by his Attributes' hints; he was a monster...

However, the trick worked; he arched his brow and widened his eyes in surprise.

"That Skill is way better than any Clock-Tracer could ever be, Loke." He said before continuing. "If I remember correctly, that should complete your Trace Skill. But you have yet to Promote it, haven't you?"

Clock-Tracers needed contact with the user to work; they could not Trace from afar.

I was surprised he remembered my Skills. But I wanted to know more.

"I have no idea where to even begin with that. But I know even at this level, it can help me prepare against the slave traders. We know of their location, after all."

The clock engineer locked his gaze to mine.

Did I say something wrong?

I saw him turn and look for his daughter. She nodded.

"I believe it's time I gave you something Newton left to me for safekeeping," said the engineer getting up.

He had removed his armor made of complex parts; they looked like the very baseline of an armor. As if he had left the main components willingly back. I could not understand why. Fear of being targeted by ill-intentioned delvers? Or something worse?

"What do you think he's going to show us? I remember your Grampa's hunting knife. That thing was amazing. Is he going to give it back to you?" Alistar asked.

"I doubt it. That was really worth a fortune; if he gave it back to me now, that means he fixed my arm for free."

"He's not going to give you back the knife," Harlow sit down near me. She had removed the used tableware. "But he's going to give you something just as valuable."

"Really?"

She nodded sagely.

When the engineer got back, he had removed his armor and was dressed in a leather suit. Judging from how much it had been consumed; I guessed it could be what he wore under the metal frame of his armor.

There were two small lacquered boxes in his hands.

Sitting down heavily, he placed the box in front of me. Then placed his hands on top of it.

"These are your… mom and dad's gift to you and your sister. Newton brought them to me in fear of somebody stealing them."

He waited for me to say something, but I had frozen. I had no idea these two boxes existed. I had no idea, Mom and Dad, though so far ahead for us.

"I think I should… wake Nova up."

"No. Maybe it's not the right time for Nova to have one. She's too young; she might squander her potential with this."

The two boxes were very similar, but one was midnight blue, while the other was of a Windsor yellow, bordering to golden. They made me think of Shade and Flow.

"Inside of these boxes, there are two things of extreme importance," he said, opening up the golden one.

What appeared was something I had never seen before.

It was a Crystal, but it looked damn heavy. It must have been a kilogram. It was huge!

I noted that it had a peculiar dark shine around its edges while it shined of the regular light of Flow at the core.

"This is a Dark Crystal."

Then he opened the other box.

Inside of it was a Stone, a gigantic Stone probably as heavy as the Crystal, and it had an intense Flow shine at its edges, but it was a Stone all the same; its lucid midnight-blue color was evidence of it.

"And this one is a Shiny Stone."

Alistar and I marveled at the sight, "These are treasures and are the very reason for the existence of delvers," he said.

"Shiny Stones and Dark Crystals can be sold for money and riches, and although they develop in nature, they are most easily found in Dungeons. But," he said, emphasizing the last word, "they are rare. People kill and get killed over it. Because their true potential lies elsewhere."

I studied the Shiny Stone as Logan spoke. I could feel it draw me in. I felt my senses extend toward it. My Perception was drawn to it. It wanted it for itself. I wanted it for myself.

"They let you Promote Skills, don't they?" I asked, my eyes still glued to the Shiny Stone, then they rose to meet his own.

He smiled; Harlow nodded.

"Yes, that's exactly it. You can Promote your Skills with it, and based on which one you use, your Skill's evolution will take that direction. Flow for a Dark Crystal, Shade for a Shiny Stone."

"But this is just… Why didn't I know about it?" Alistar asked.

"You both come from a back-water village. None in your family or the family of your families have ever seen a Dungeon or got accepted in a proper society; no wonder you did not know," said the engineer, "However, Newton knew. That was because Eleanor became a delver before joining the war, before she met… your father, Loke."

"I don't understand…" I really couldn't.

"Why hasn't Gramps ever talked about this? And he said mom was a military, not a delver!"

"If their governments declare a call to arms, delvers have an obligation to fight on the war front. If she's still alive, then she's still in the military right now. Otherwise, she would have come back," he stated, making my heart hurt, but he changed the topic after that, "But enough with this. You need to know something else nobody has ever told you, Loke."

What else is there?

"The maximum amount of time you can evolve a Skill depends on your Fortune. And in that regard, you were both born fortunate, just, in different ways," he said.

"Fortunate!? What!?"

If something surprised me the most of that whole conversation, it was that last line from the engineer. My life might finally start to turn for the better.