《Desert´s Call》


 Welcome to the Sandrock

    The decision to leave his familiar place for work was not sudden for Raynhart. His life flowed calmly and orderly: caring parents, a faithful friend, a craft to which he had shown talent since early childhood. Even then, helping his schoolteacher repair a shelf, he felt genuine pleasure in transforming the world around him, bringing harmony and order to it. This simple act, seemingly insignificant, gave him a sense of his own usefulness. In a world torn by the consequences of the past, where chaos still lingered, Raynhart found his calling in restoring and creating.


    Having obtained the education of a builder, he fully immersed himself in the study of contracts. Most of them promised the same thing: stable work, modest income, a measured life with a predictable future. But when his gaze stopped on the description of a small town in the heart of the Alliance, where help was truly needed, he felt an inner resonance. This wild, almost uninhabited land called to him, awakening in his soul a desire to explore the unknown and uncover the mysteries that seemed to be just waiting for their time. Despite his fear of the unknown, Raynhart knew: this place was his destiny, and he answered the call.


    The parents received the news with concern. The father remained silent for a while, lost in thought, while the mother, on the contrary, couldn¡¯t hide her anxiety. She seemed to turn into a swarm of wasps¡ªher thoughts, full of worry, circled around her son. It was not just doubt; it was the fear of a mother letting go of her only child into a world she could neither understand nor control.


    ¡ª You absolutely must take blankets with you! I heard the nights there are cold! ¡ª the mother''s voice echoed from different corners of the house as she rushed between rooms. ¡ª And have you prepared your clothes? I chose the ones the tailor recommended ¡ª they say thin fabric is best for the climate of Sandrock!


    ¡ª Hmm... I think there will still be a bed there, ¡ª Raynhart replied, not looking up from his plate. He spoke briefly, restrained, as if saving words, possibly having inherited this habit from his father. ¡ª Yes, I packed the clothes. Everything is ready for the departure, don¡¯t worry.


    The father sat across the table, hidden behind a newspaper as if behind a shield. His face remained concealed by the pages, and only the rustling of the paper gave away that he was still there. But in reality, the man was just staring at the letters, reading nothing. His attempt to lose himself in the news had failed, and he merely wandered aimlessly with his gaze over the lines, afraid to say anything that might reveal his unease.


    After finishing breakfast, Raynhart got up from the table and went to the washbasin. He barely turned the faucet, opening such a weak flow of water that only solitary drops came out. After carefully washing the dishes, he ran his hand over his face, smoothing down his damp, bushy mustache.


    Water conservation had become his new habit, and Raynhart had diligently adhered to it since he began studying the history of Sandrock. In a city where every liter of water was as valuable as gold, such a habit was not just useful ¡ª it could save him from unnecessary expenses and present him in a good light before his new neighbors. Training himself while already there would have been much harder and more expensive than starting early.


    The parents noticed this behavior almost immediately. At that moment, the mother, concerned, suspected that something was wrong with her son, as he had been fiddling with the faucet for a long time, as if measuring the perfect flow. "Maybe we should call a doctor?" she cautiously suggested to her husband. However, the father, as usual, reserved, advised simply asking Raynhart directly. And after his explanation, everything quickly fell into place.


    After finishing his morning tasks, the man walked briskly to his room, where his mother, despite warnings, continued stuffing bulky blankets into boxes. Raynhart approached the bed, grabbed the already packed suitcase, which contained everything he needed: spare clothes, hygiene products, builder¡¯s license, ID, some food and water, and of course, 300 golds ¡ª his savings.


    The train was leaving soon, and he informed his parents about it. The mother, without breaking away from her tasks, habitually put on white earrings, as if his departure was an event worthy of a celebration. The father, in contrast to her, simply stood up in silence and headed for the door. Raynhart, despite his wish to go on his journey alone, could not refuse his parents this last moment. He resigned himself to the circumstances, only feeling relief when his mother forgot about the blankets, not forcing him to carry them with him. In the hallway, the father, perhaps by sheer coincidence or out of pity, stood in front of the boxes, shielding them with his body, and they finally made their way to the train station.


    As Raynhart descended the stairs, he heard his mother¡¯s instructions. Walking through the familiar streets of Highwind, he felt every corner, every memory that tied him to this place: hang-gliding with his friend, construction lessons, crafting decorations from the local fir cones for school projects. He remembered the winter when the snow reached up to his knees, and how fun it was to build snow castles and have snowball fights in the streets.


    Now, with each step, he felt more and more the difference between this familiar coolness and the hot, almost unbearable climate of Sandrok. They said that in the summer, the temperature there could reach 45 degrees. In the light t-shirt and shorts he wore, it was cool here, in Highwind. But he didn¡¯t want to change in the train¡¯s bathroom, missing the chance to observe the post-apocalyptic landscapes of the new world outside the window. Traveling wasn¡¯t something ordinary for him, and he didn¡¯t want to miss the opportunity.


    Amidst all these thoughts, Raynhart didn¡¯t notice when he had reached the platform. He set his suitcase on the ground and, turning around, looked at his parents.


    ¡ª Well... see you, Mom, Dad, ¡ª he said, already about to head towards his carriage, but his grieving mother, unable to contain her emotions, hugged him.


    ¡ª Come on, it¡¯s like you¡¯re sending me off to war...


    ¡ª Maybe so, ¡ª replied his worried mother. ¡ª You¡¯ve heard what¡¯s happening there?


    ¡ª Thanks to you, I¡¯ve heard, and more than once... ¡ª Raynhart didn¡¯t try to sound rude, he was just stating a fact. ¡ª I¡¯ll miss you, but honestly, the train will leave without me!


    ¡ª Please, take care of yourself, ¡ª his mother said softly, letting go of him and folding her arms across her chest.


    ¡ª You too! I¡¯ll be waiting for letters, ¡ª he shouted as he climbed the steps and entered the carriage.


    ¡ª Good luck, son... ¡ª His father sighed sadly.


    Raynhart, to be honest, would rather not write letters at all. He longed to immerse himself fully in the upcoming work, not only to blend with its essence but also to sort out what had troubled his heart for so long. He was seeking answers that could dispel the inner turmoil. However, he knew that his mother couldn¡¯t go a day without news from him, and as much as he wanted to avoid this duty, he couldn¡¯t refuse.


    In the wagon, most of the seats were empty, which, in fact, matched the sparsely populated reality. Raynhart settled by the window and, leaning slightly forward, gazed at the familiar mountainous landscape. Plush mosses and low shrubs covered the slopes, as if painted by a professional brushstroke. He involuntarily recalled his mother¡¯s words. If even part of her stories proved true, soon the familiar scenery would give way to the monotony of the desert, where endless sands would consume the horizon. There, in the scorching wilderness, monsters roamed in search of prey, and no less savage bandits fought bloody battles. In his mind, they were already leaping over the fence of his workshop, hauling off copper ingots as spoils, leaving only dust and traces of chaos.


    Raynhart smiled and turned away from the window. Dismissing all jokes, he firmly knew that whatever the new world might be, he would meet it with readiness. His heart had already been filled with the resolve to defend his ideals and the truths that rang within him, filling him with steadfast confidence in the face of the unknown.


    The day was turning to night. The fellow passengers, tired from the long journey, dozed off, and the man, losing interest in the darkening silhouettes outside the window, allowed himself to close his eyes. He had always been able to fall asleep in the most inconvenient conditions, although this ability had often been his weakness. When fatigue took over, he would fall into sleep wherever night found him, as if his body yielded to an irresistible force. It was the same now. He hadn¡¯t noticed when he had drifted off, and only when his eyelids fluttered open did he find his gaze meeting the bright sunlight, sharply reflecting off the sandy sea outside the window.


    The mountain ranges had long given way to sandy dunes, behind which tiny villages flickered ¡ª companions of Sandrok on this desolate land. The man carefully unfolded the newspaper that had been folded four times, which he had kept in his pocket with almost religious care. His gaze skimmed over the lines, as if he was once again searching for confirmation of the reality of what was happening. Meanwhile, the train plunged into a long tunnel, the dim light of the headlamp illuminating the walls, and then a sharp flash tore the carriage out of the darkness ¡ª the train began crossing a railway bridge. Gradually, the speed decreased, and soon before his eyes appeared a modest watchtower, which served as a station in these parts.


    The man stepped outside, letting several passengers go ahead of him. Sandrok, sprawling before him, was harsh but captivating with its primal wildness. This city breathed a steady, measured life, where everything adhered to simple, unchanging laws.


    However, he was not allowed to explore the surroundings. His attention was drawn to a short girl holding a sign with his name on it. She noticed the man approaching and raised her hand in a welcoming gesture. Raynhart left the train behind and stopped next to her, placing his suitcase on the ground.


    The girl was dressed in a gray jumpsuit with a massive belt accentuating her waist. Her chest was covered by an olive-colored T-shirt, over which a green striped shirt with white cuffs hung loosely, unbuttoned. Her green eyes sparkled with inner energy and enthusiasm. The look was completed with a pilot¡¯s hat, whose glasses also shimmered with a green hue. However, Raynhart knew that Sandrok and aviation were incompatible concepts. A few moments spent comparing the details, and he already guessed who stood before him.


    ¡ª Hey! You must be Raynhart! I''m Mi-an, and I''m also a builder. I just arrived yesterday. Nice to meet you! ¡ª her voice held sincerity, with an underlying restlessness. ¡ª I¡¯m here to take you to the Commerce Guild. A retired builder and a representative of the Guild are already there, so let¡¯s not keep them waiting! Follow me!


    Raynhart listened carefully to her, nodded in agreement, and silently followed the guide, not forgetting to pick up his suitcase. They left the station and turned left, stepping onto the first street that appeared before them. Soon, a two-story building came into view, beside which two men stood, talking about something. One of them, short with thick mustaches, immediately fixed his sharp, scrutinizing gaze on the newcomers. His voice, which sounded a moment later, was laced with hidden irritation, as though the situation was taking away a part of his life.


    ¡ª Hello, Raynhart! My name is Yan, and I am the president of the Commerce Guild of Sandrok. Nice to meet you, blah-blah-blah... ¡ª he rolled his eyes, making it clear that he wasn¡¯t eager to give this briefing. ¡ª I¡¯ll be overseeing you and Mi-an, but don¡¯t think of me as your boss! Think of me as a friend, who, at the same time, is your... superior! ¡ª he added with feigned nonchalance. All of it sounded somewhat inappropriate. ¡ª This is Mason, he¡¯s retiring and leaving here, so that¡¯s why you¡¯re here and all that. But you already know what I¡¯m talking about, right!? Let¡¯s get to the point! ¡ª Yan straightened abruptly and turned toward the railway tracks. ¡ª Do you see that workshop on the other side of the tracks? ¡ª He pointed at the dilapidated shack surrounded by a leaning fence. ¡ª It used to belong to Mason, and now it¡¯s yours! Cool, right? ¡ª His words were spoken with such enthusiasm that it clearly didn¡¯t match the depressing look of the building.


    The boss was dressed in an elegant purple suit, the open flaps of which revealed a carefully chosen blue vest and an impeccably pressed white shirt. A bright accent was added by the crimson tie, secured with a golden chain that gracefully dangled from the breast pocket, lending the outfit an air of ostentatious formality. The ensemble was completed by a bowler hat with a deep blue ribbon, confidently resting on his head like a symbol of self-satisfied authority.


    ¡ª Just think about the great things you¡¯ll be able to do there for our Commerce Guild! And for the other residents too, I think. ¡ª His voice rang not so much with enthusiasm as with barely concealed greed. ¡ª Well, I¡¯m out of words! Mason, as the recognized builder of Sandrok, why don¡¯t you say a few words of encouragement? ¡ª The weight of responsibility now fell on the old builder¡¯s shoulders.


    Mason looked like an exhausted man who had lost all desire to resist circumstances. His denim overalls were worn out by time; one strap hung uselessly, exposing his indifference to his appearance. The pant legs were covered in dirt and sand, a reminder of the hard work that had left its marks not only on his clothes but also in his life.


    His red beard with streaks of gray and his bare crown revealed the years spent in toil, which had left him with nothing but fatigue. His gray eyes had dulled, losing their former depth, and his slouched posture emphasized his unwillingness to even pretend that he was still ready to fight.


    Watching his predecessor, Raynhart was firmly convinced that he wouldn¡¯t allow himself to end up in the same position. He had often witnessed how people, drowning in trivial concerns, turned away from real problems. To him, it was clear: the goal must be the anchor to cling to in any storm. Even in the toughest moments, it was important to keep it before him, not allowing circumstances to take control. It was always better to leave with dignity than to let the world crush you and drag you to the dark side.


    Yet, he felt something more behind Mason¡¯s tired figure ¡ª an inexpressible burden that he carried on his shoulders. It was an invisible weight, possibly left by decisions made in the past. Raynhart couldn¡¯t help but notice how the old man¡¯s gaze passed over him, sliding into emptiness, as if Mason had already given up on everyone standing before him.


    ¡ª E-eh... well, let¡¯s not be too friendly. I mean, I¡¯m leaving soon... Ahem... Now my workshop belongs to you, Raynhart. ¡ª More than Yan, it was Mason who wanted to finish this conversation as quickly as possible. ¡ª You might consider it dilapidated and half-destroyed... poorly equipped... and... of course, that¡¯s true, but you may also find that this place has... its own atmosphere. I think that will be enough. Bring development to this land. And now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯m heading to the Blue Moon. Not many days left until I can get Yakmel¡¯s milk.


    Without waiting for approval, Mason hurried to leave. Though calling it haste would be unwise ¡ª the old man slowly shuffled toward the establishment right across from them. Raynhart suggested that it was there he could find food, but he was immediately distracted by his superior.


    ¡ª Notice, he¡¯s always been so strange... ¡ª Yan didn¡¯t hide his attitude toward the subordinates, speaking even before Mason¡¯s back was out of their sight. ¡ª Anyway, let¡¯s get back to business. Before you start, I need to tell you a little about how we work here in the desert. I know you already have builder licenses, but here it¡¯s a bit different from what you¡¯re used to. Let¡¯s start with the fact that there aren¡¯t many trees around, so don¡¯t swing your axe too wildly, it¡¯s not really approved. But there¡¯s a lot of scrap metal and logs you can break apart. For that, you¡¯ll need tools. They¡¯re easy to make, just gather some stone and wood, fasten it together somehow... well, you know. Why don¡¯t you two try making some for yourselves? Anyway, you¡¯ll need them right away. When you¡¯re done, just find me at the Merchant Guild. But you know. Don¡¯t rush. See you... there! ¡ª Yan also didn¡¯t conform to the norms of decency, losing all interest in the subordinates, turned, and went to the Merchant Guild.


    ¡ª Well... they¡¯re pretty easy to make. We can find the materials we need just by searching through the piles of junk around our workshops. Collecting things is fun! ¡ª Mi-an took the initiative ¡ª Hey! Let¡¯s go to your workshop and see what machines Mason left you! Let me show you the way there; I already know my way around here pretty well, so you won¡¯t get lost!


    ¡ª Of course, thank you. ¡ª Raynhart nodded approvingly.


    The man had barely finished his reply when the girl suddenly took off and headed toward the railway tracks. Circling them, she reached the workshop, and Raynhart, stopping, was able to fully realize what awaited him in the near future. Most of his time now would be spent right here. The workshop was left with only an abandoned assembly station, hidden under a layer of sand, and an workbench, looking as lonely as everything around it. A small house, surrounded by a hastily built white fence, seemed frozen in timelessness, conveying a sense of desolation and solitude. But this gloom and emptiness did not break Raynhart. On the contrary, his steady heart was already preparing with resolve to transform this place into something more. In his eyes, determination was clear: he knew what would be required to bring life back to the workshop. And just then, from the side, Mi-an¡¯s voice was heard again.


    ¡ª Hmm... Not much... but at least he left you a workbench. That¡¯s all you need to make tools!


    Mi-an could be one of those people who tend to ignore difficulties, preferring to see the world in a brighter and cloudless way than it actually is. Or perhaps the first impression of her was mistaken. In any case, she didn¡¯t leave him in trouble, helping him settle into the new place and not letting him face loneliness and chaos.


    ¡ª You know, Sandrock is still known in all the Free Cities for being right above the megapolis of the Old World. They say that some old ruins even make their way here to the surface when the wind blows strongly. Once we have the tools, we¡¯ll be able to break them down and get all the resources we need!


    At that moment, her gaze lost its sharpness and focus, drifting across the surrounding space, and her expression dimmed, as if her usually positive thoughts were suddenly interrupted by something heavy.


    ¡ª Listen, I wanted to tell you something privately. Hmmm... you see, the reason I came to Sandrock is because the city isn¡¯t doing very well. Everyone in the Free Cities knows this. But I signed this contract without hesitation. I thought it was the best way to make the world a better place. I bet you feel the same. So let¡¯s promise each other, as builders. Let¡¯s restore Sandrock to its former glory during our time here. Let¡¯s give it our all, okay?


    ¡ª Right, that¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m here. I¡¯m glad I won¡¯t be alone on this path. Hm... ¡ª Raynhart thought about his boss and that he wouldn¡¯t be able to rely on him, but decided to keep quiet about it for now.


    The initial impression of Mi-an was far from positive. Raynhart, a practical and skeptical man, didn¡¯t immediately recognize her hardworking nature. The thought that Yan might prove himself worthy in the future seemed hardly believable, Raynhart knew: in this world, nothing is ever as it seems at first glance, or at least, almost nothing.


    ¡ª Phew, glad to hear that! Well, I¡¯m off to make my tools! See you! ¡ª Mi-an smiled at the corners of her mouth and quickly left.


    Watching Mi-an leave, Raynhart unconsciously turned his gaze to the surrounding landscape and realized that he was at the boundary between civilization and the wild. The workshop, located right by the railroad tracks, seemed to gradually give way to the untamable expressions of flora and fauna.


    His attention was drawn to the massive ants, climbing the nearby cacti with flawless methodical precision. They were intently exploring the flowers, thrusting their heads into them and greedily absorbing the nectar. These creatures stored the gathered food in special sacs inside their bodies, then spat out honey into roughly crafted wax vessels. These vessels looked completely ridiculous, yet demonstrated incredible functionality, securely holding the precious honey.


    Raynhart couldn¡¯t hide his internal interest. He had long noticed that creatures who escaped from the Old World¡¯s bio-labs sometimes exhibited behaviors that evoked a vague sense of awareness. These ants were the embodiment of that thought: their skills seemed so purposeful that it felt almost paradoxical.


    And yet, despite all the power of past technologies, such a radical transformation of animals remained beyond full understanding. Even the greatest minds of the Age of Light could not fully comprehend how artificially implanted instincts could so naturally integrate into the altered nature of these creatures. For Raynhart, it remained an eternal mystery¡ªboth fascinating and unsettling.


    Placing his suitcase at the doorstep, the man cast a glance around the area, pausing at the movements beyond the fence. The thought that the local ants might sneak onto the property in his absence and steal materials¡ªor even machines once they were built¡ªseemed both absurd and alarming. He wasn¡¯t sure whether these insects were capable of such a thing, but he wasn¡¯t willing to ignore the potential threat. The ability of insects to cling to surfaces was explained by their tiny size and the unique structure of their limbs, which under normal circumstances wasn¡¯t extraordinary. But the ants here, the size of large dogs, had not lost these skills. He had seen them effortlessly climbing prickly cacti and was certain they could scale his fence just as easily. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his hands from his hips and, casting one last glance over his shoulder, stepped inside the house.


    Inside, the house was starkly austere. A single bed stood in the middle of the room, the only evidence that someone had once lived here. A dim wall lamp cast its light on a bent, rusted nail protruding from the cracked plaster. No other signs of habitation or comfort were present. Raynhart carefully set his suitcase on the floor, laying it on its side, and pulled out a water flask. A few sips¡ªthough his thirst lessened slightly, the oppressive heat did not relent.


    The morning had barely begun, yet the sweltering heat already made its presence known. Of course, he understood that it would have been wiser to arrive in Sandrock at a more forgiving time of year¡ªspring or autumn¡ªto gradually acclimate to the harsh climate. But circumstances had left him no choice. Duty outweighed comfort, and no matter how difficult it was, retreat was not an option.


    Mentally calculating where he could wash up after an exhausting day of work, Raynhart opened the only door leading from the main room. The space beyond was cramped, barely worthy of being called a bathroom. Rather, it was simply a toilet, where a modest sink crouched beneath a small plastic basin. A neatly cut hole in the floor¡ªa primitive drain¡ªserved as a testament to the fact that here, people washed manually, using a sponge and limited water.


    He lingered for only a moment, examining this utilitarian setting, but felt neither irritation nor disappointment. Everything was as expected, even logical. Raynhart knew what he was getting into and was prepared to accept it. Life in Sandrock left no room for excess, but he had long since come to terms with the fact that his work here would demand more effort than comfort.


    The clock read around eight in the morning when Raynhart confidently left the workshop, not forgetting to take his flask with him. The small gate creaked on its hinges as he stepped outside, deciding to inspect the area more thoroughly. Circling the workshop, he found himself beyond its perimeter. Walking across the sand, which left shallow imprints beneath his feet, Raynhart scanned his surroundings, searching for materials that might prove useful.


    His gaze moved attentively over the landscape, looking for anything of value. A clear plan was already forming in his mind. The first priority was a cart ¡ª simple but functional. Without it, he would have to make countless trips under the merciless sun, carrying loads of branches, stones, and other resources in his arms, constantly risking dropping something along the way.


    However, since the cart was still just an idea, Raynhart focused on what could be done immediately: rummaging through mysterious piles of debris¡ªremnants of past human activity. These shapeless heaps of trash, left behind by previous inhabitants, contained materials that could still be of use. The man methodically sifted through the sand, pulling out anything that seemed valuable.


    He carried his findings back to the workshop, storing them in a cramped space that barely qualified as a storage room. Narrow and inconvenient, it nonetheless protected the materials from wind, sand, and potential intrusions by the local wildlife.


    Raynhart worked without any visible discontent. Hardships that might have broken someone else only fueled his determination. He didn¡¯t just accept the circumstances¡ªhe found a challenge in them, one he was eager to meet. For him, every trial was another step in proving that he could adapt to any conditions while remaining true to his goals.


    Approaching the workbench to begin crafting a pickaxe, Raynhart unexpectedly noticed an old, battered axe lying nearby. The tool, covered in small chips and darkened by time, clearly belonged to Mason. Picking it up, Reinhardt gave it a quick inspection, feeling its considerable weight in his hand. After a brief moment of thought, he decided to sharpen it¡ªthe tool might prove useful for his next excursion.


    Returning to the workbench, he focused on shaping the wood and stone, patiently refining each component of the future pickaxe. Once finished, Raynhart secured the sharpened axe to his belt and set off again in search of necessary materials.


    His path led him to a dense thicket, where he paused momentarily. Yan had made it clear that cutting down trees in the area was strictly forbidden, yet he had said nothing about bushes. The need for fiber to make ropes¡ªwithout which the pickaxe couldn¡¯t be completed¡ªput him in a dilemma. For several seconds, Raynhart hesitated, considering whether he needed to consult his supervisor again, but his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sensation of being watched.


    He turned and saw a tall, heavyset man dressed unmistakably in the uniform of the Church of Light. The stranger stood nearby, observing Rayhart with an intense, almost evaluating gaze, as if trying to recognize or determine something important.


    The man was plump, his soft facial features indicating the presence of Down syndrome, yet his eyes held a look of focus, and his slightly furrowed brows emphasized his seriousness. He wore a bright yellow coat, symbolizing his affiliation with the Church of Light, over which lay an open dark beige vest with the characteristic emblem of the Light. His dark gray trousers, with a slight greenish tint, ended in neatly hemmed cuffs, which was also a universal uniform style for church servants.


    The man¡¯s blue eyes seemed to study Raynhart down to the smallest details, while his light hair, gleaming slightly under the sun, spoke of careful grooming. His skin was almost fair¡ªlikely thanks to good sunscreen¡ªyet his face was slightly weathered.


    Raynhart froze for a moment, then, not wanting to show either embarrassment or excessive curiosity, stepped closer. The stranger might possess information that could prove useful, making conversation seem inevitable.


    ¡ª Good day, I¡¯m Raynhart, the new builder in Sandrock. Could you help me and answer one question? Hmm, actually, make that two¡­ ¡ª The man barely smirked with one corner of his mouth.


    ¡ª Oh, welcome, new builder! I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve joined our community! I¡¯m Burgess, the chief inspector of the Church of the Light branch in Sandrock. Though, I mostly patrol the oasis, and if the water level rises even by a centimeter, trust me, I¡¯ll tell everyone about it! ¡ª The man glanced at the outstretched hand and shook it awkwardly.


    ¡ª It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. That means you definitely know the answer. My boss has already warned me that I can¡¯t chop down trees, but can I use the bushes? There seem to be quite a lot of them here.


    ¡ª Oh, of course! Hmm, yes, you can, actually, they¡¯re weeds. So you won¡¯t harm the ecosystem, and I think you can use small cacti too because wild yakmel eat them, and they grow a lot! But don¡¯t touch those big cactus trees over there¡ªthey¡¯re very important, and they take much longer to grow! But, uh¡­ you¡¯re not planning to drink the juice from those cacti, are you? Because that would be a very bad idea! It¡¯s a very sticky and viscous juice, and if you want to drink something, it¡¯s better to just use regular water!


    ¡ª Of course. Thanks for the information, Burgess, you¡¯ve been a great help. Have a good day.


    Leaving the church official and, at the same time, the inspector behind, Rayhart focused on his work. Approaching the nearest bush, he started carefully tapping at the stems with his axe, cutting them off at the base without hesitation, then gathering the branches into a small pile. Hoisting them onto his shoulder, he headed back to the workshop. Under the awning, in the shade, he began preparing the materials. Carefully peeling away the bark and precisely cutting the inner layers, he cautiously rolled them into thin tubes, then wove them together. Working with these bushes was relatively easy, and Raynhart thought that he was quite lucky to have them.


    The sun was getting hotter, its rays mercilessly beating down, and even in the shelter''s shade, the air was beginning to feel heavy and stuffy. Nevertheless, Raynhart was determined not to stop, knowing he needed to adapt to the new conditions as quickly as possible. Putting in the effort, he finished rolling the small tubes into threads and moved on to the next stage¡ªcreating the rope. The process turned out to be more complicated than it seemed at first: if done too roughly, the rope would be loose and unstable; if done too softly, it would unravel. Raynhart worked with complete focus, trying to maintain balance.


    Once he finished with the rope, he headed into the desert, feeling his hair burning under the scorching sun. Giving himself a strict order not to linger, he soon dug up a round cactus from the sand, carefully extracting it. After thoroughly removing the needles, he cut it open, dipping the tips of his fingers into its viscous liquid. The substance turned out to be surprisingly thick and could serve as a binder for making tools. To strengthen it, Raynhart added sand and wood dust found among old piles of junk. He made sure the mixture stayed sticky but became stronger.


    Returning to the workshop, he grabbed a stone and a wooden handle, preparing to finish the work. Using a hammer he had found on the workbench, Raynhart carefully inserted the handle into the stone¡¯s hole, then, crosswise, tied the stone part with the ropes, securing it and creating a comfortable grip for holding the tool. Once this was done, he carefully filled the gaps with glue, thoroughly soaking the joints to increase the durability of the finished tool. Afterward, he left the pickaxe in the sun to let the glue dry and headed for the house.


    He first went to relieve himself in the toilet. He found that where the flush button should have been, there was a smooth surface. Thinking about it, he concluded that water had to be manually used for flushing. Closing the lid, he placed a bar of soap he had taken from his suitcase into a basin, filled it with water, and, stirring it to create soap suds, washed his hands, then rinsed them in clean water in another basin. He decided that after work, he would wash himself using the water from the basins and then use it for flushing as well, and went to the main room. There, kneeling on the floor, he ate, surrounded by dust. His thoughts briefly wandered to the surroundings, and he smiled to himself, noting how before he could save the whole world, he¡¯d have to save at least this room. In his head, he added another item to his list: he needed to buy a broom and dustpan.


    Soon Raynhart returned to his pickaxe, which had hardened under the burning desert sun. Turning the tool in his hands, he decided not to test the pickaxe yet and give it more time. Although it would be more accurate to call this tool a hybrid, on one hand, it was a pickaxe, but on the other, it was a jackhammer, designed not to puncture junk but to methodically separate it. On his way to the Trade Guild, Raynhart squinted against the sun but didn¡¯t hurry, after all, the more movements, the hotter the heat would feel.


    ¡ª What a great pickaxe! ¡ª Yan surprisingly praised him when the newly crafted tool was shown to him. ¡ª It¡¯s the soul of every builder in the desert, never lose it... but if you lose it, now you know how to build another one, I suppose. Now, let me tell you about the recycler! This is another indispensable tool for a builder here. It¡¯s a machine that embodies the principle: ¡®make do as best as you can.¡¯ Once the recycler is ready, you can place the scrap you collect right into it to get all kinds of useful materials. You can build the recycler at your assembly station. Here¡¯s the blueprint for it, and don¡¯t forget to put it somewhere¡­ well, maybe in a notebook? If you lose it, don¡¯t complain later! Eh, don¡¯t worry so much, you¡¯ll figure it out. Come by the guild when you¡¯re done. See you!


    In Raynhart¡¯s hands were now the first blueprints, which he was to bring to life at his new workplace. He had been taught to read such diagrams from the very first days, and so it took just a glance at the lines and notations for a clear action plan to form in his mind, with each part finding its place in the overall design.


    Returning to the workshop, he headed to the storage, but his attention was drawn to a half-destroyed furnace. Its condition left little hope for restoration, and a rational approach suggested only one thing¡ªto recycle it into materials that could serve a new purpose. The decision was made quickly. Raynhart began disassembling it, methodically removing each part, carefully taking apart the mechanism with the precision he had been taught over the years of practice. The heat, which spared neither man nor metal, forced him to retreat into the shade from time to time. There, he eagerly drank water, feeling the coolness return clarity to his thoughts, before returning to his work.


    As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the heat subsided, and the need for frequent breaks disappeared. Raynhart devoted himself entirely to preparing the parts, not getting distracted by the little things. However, his water supply ran out. Approaching the water tank inside the workshop, he checked the liquid level and was relieved to see that there was more than enough to fill his canteen. This water, as he knew, also supplied his home through a simple but reliable system of pipes leading to the sink.


    Cooling for the machines was also essential, and Raynhart had already planned how to connect the pipes from the tank to ensure the mechanisms would operate smoothly even under such harsh conditions.


    As night approached, the temperature unexpectedly began to drop. Although such changes were not unusual for the desert, the sudden chill after a scorching day felt unfamiliar and disconcerting. In the workshop, the wooden frame for the recycler was already assembled. The construction, fastened with old nails found in the old workbench, looked sturdy, and the flimsy glue, unsuitable for working with heated machines, was discarded immediately. The recycler required the strength that only metal and meticulous precision could provide.


    The work with the circular saw remained unfinished. The coming night and the fatigue accumulated throughout the day made Raynhart put the tool aside. Retreating before his blurring vision, he decided to end the day. After dinner, he took the remaining hygiene supplies from his suitcase and headed to the bathroom. He was curious how well he would adapt to this new lifestyle.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    His first attempts to adjust to this routine had not yet found a clear order. Despite the plan he had drawn up in advance, he occasionally lost track of the sequence of tasks. Nevertheless, he methodically began his usual ritual. First, he washed himself thoroughly, feeling how the hot water washed away the fatigue. After that, his sweat-soaked clothes were soaked in soapy water¡ªRaynhart persistently kneaded the fabric with his hands, submerging it to the bottom of the basin. After squeezing out the fabric, he moved the clothes to another basin with water that was no longer as clean but still suitable for washing, then twisted the fabric again to wring out the excess. He finished the task by hanging the washed clothes on an old, damp clothesline that hung from the bathroom walls.


    After that, the man took the toothbrush. Once done with everything, he could finally allow himself to flush the toilet. Changing into clean clothes, he lay down on the bed, covered himself with a blanket, and, barely closing his eyes, immediately fell asleep.


    Only the sharp sound of the alarm clock the next morning brought him back to reality. Moving almost on instinct, Raynhart, still not fully aware of what was happening, got up, made the bed, and headed to the bathroom. After washing his face with the water that had cooled overnight, he fully woke up, and after completing all the household tasks, he eagerly returned to his unfinished projects, focusing on the new task waiting for him in the workshop.


    While the temperature was still bearable, Raynhart went back to gather materials, this time for building a cart. Carefully selecting larger and more suitable pieces of wood, he, overcoming difficulties, dragged them to the workshop, where he stacked them in the storage area. This process continued until he was sure there would be enough material for further work. However, the supply of nails was rapidly running out, and the lack of metalworking machines became a new problem. Another task was added to the to-do list.


    Returning to the hammer and chisel, Raynhart finished roughing out the stone and then began finer work with a file. Step by step, he created a circular saw ¡ª a tool designed to sift small waste in the recycler, leaving only the materials he needed. All the stone parts required similar preparation, and the workshop''s storage slowly emptied.


    When the heat became too intense, Raynhart decided to take a break. The food supply had run out, and he needed to explore the city for the necessary goods. Approaching the city entrance, his gaze was drawn to the anvil standing next to shelves displaying an assortment of weapons. A light analogy suggested to him that he could find the nails he needed here. Walking down the row, he quickly found them and, grabbing a few packs, headed toward the only person he saw nearby.


    In front of Raynhart stood a man, somewhat larger than the craftsman himself, with a heavy and confident demeanor. He was slightly plump, and his muscles were visible under his clothing, showing signs of hard labor. His dark, curly hair was thick, and his skin was dark. Judging by his patched-up pants and work gloves, he also belonged to the working class. However, despite this, he didn¡¯t miss the opportunity to emphasize his individuality. His outfit also consisted of a red t-shirt with a yellow zipper, a green open vest, and a green cowboy hat, which gave him an eccentric appearance despite the clearly working-class atmosphere.


    ¡ª Good day, ¡ª Raynhart began without wasting time. ¡ª I¡¯m your new builder. I think we¡¯ll be seeing each other often. Right now, I need a few of these nails. How much do I owe you?


    The stranger squinted, glancing over the nails and then carefully studying Raynhart.


    ¡ª So, a new builder, huh? Now there are two of you: Mi-an and you, probably Raynhart. Nice to meet you. I¡¯m Hugo, the only blacksmith in the city. If you need to buy building materials, upgrade parts for your machines, or buy top-quality weapons, I¡¯m the only one you can turn to. But I promise only the best! ¡ª he then reached for the nails but, instead of taking them, pressed the packs against the craftsman. ¡ª Keep them, on the house, this time. We have got to be a bit friendly...¡ª he said, still looking stern. ¡ª And... ¡ª he continued, softening a bit, ¡ª I know you¡¯ve got a lot of work with your workshop. So go on with your business, and these nails ¡ª don¡¯t worry, they¡¯re excellent, no doubt.


    ¡ª Well, thank you for the nails, have a good day, ¡ª Raynhart remarked, noticing that he had just been pitied, but he didn¡¯t dwell on it and was genuinely grateful for the gift.


    As always, Raynhart maintained a silent composure. Upon returning to his workshop, he placed the nails in their designated spot. After cooling off under the awning, he once again secured the flask to his belt and headed back to the city. This time, his gaze stopped at a large building with the poetic name "Blue Moon" and a note beneath it: "saloon." However, alcoholic beverages, like smoking and drugs, had long since become symbols of a bygone era. Still, to preserve the atmosphere of the old times, such establishments still existed, offering their visitors only non-alcoholic drinks and simple food, maintaining the wild west vibe. This served the promotional strategy of Sandrok, which was actively marketed through tourist programs. Raynhart understood that the tough facade with which the city was associated was, in essence, part of its cultural makeup, and locals often took pleasure in this image, sometimes cleverly misleading travelers. However, the reality hidden behind this exterior was much more complex and multilayered than in other free cities of the Alliance.


    Raynhart knew that capitalism had once been structured in such a way that a small group of people accumulated vast wealth through the exploitation of the majority. This process also included medicine, which served the interests of the wealthy. It was profitable for people to ruin their bodies with poisons, and if someone broke down, they were easily replaced. However, in this new world, where each person had become invaluable, the authorities now set themselves the task of maintaining healthy habits. And it was unlikely that anyone seriously tried to bring alcohol or other harmful substances back into everyday life. Of course, not everyone acted with the best of intentions¡ªmany were simply frightened by the consequences, the sanctions that would inevitably follow any attempt to restore past vices. Moreover, the culture of the new era was being shaped differently. It was no longer fashionable to wake up in the morning and smoke a toxin-filled roll, inhaling its poisonous fumes.


    Upon entering, Raynhart felt how dramatically the atmosphere had changed, becoming more peaceful. The establishment was furnished with attention to detail: on the right was a bar counter with a metal bell to call the staff, surrounded by low bar stools. On the left was a hall with long soft seats framing wooden tables. Despite the abundance of free spaces, a small group of visitors chose to seclude themselves in a far corner, where they quietly conversed, occasionally drawing the attention of the waitress. At the far end of the hall, a stage lay silent, covered in a light dust of waiting.


    Raynhart walked up to the bar and took the menu in his hands, his gaze sliding over the prices. He was surprised that takeaway food was more expensive than dining in. This went against his habits: he preferred the solitude of his workshop to any company, especially during his breaks. In the end, Raynhart settled on five kilograms of rice for sixty golds, one kilogram of salt for eight, and one kilogram of sugar for twelve. The total purchase came to eighty golds¡ªno small expense with his limited budget, but still justified by necessity.


    Returning to his workshop, Raynhart quickly got to work. Taking a bowl left over from his previous meal, he filled it with a handful of rice, added water, and a generous spoonful of sugar. Under the blazing sun of Sandrok, he decided to make use of the natural heat instead of the absent stove, hoping the warmth would make the rice swell and soften. A light lid covered the bowl, protecting it from insects, and the remaining ingredients were carefully hidden in the room.


    Once the main tasks were done, Raynhart headed back to the city. His gaze fell on a boutique attracting attention with bright clothes hanging on mannequins. Here, one could purchase clothing, but at the moment, he saw no need for it. Although the thought of a headgear crossed his mind, he decided to postpone the purchase. Continuing on, he finally came across a general goods store. The terrace in front of the entrance provided respite from the merciless sun, and Raynhart, taking advantage of the moment, stopped to catch his breath. He was greeted by a young man, who, at first glance, seemed even younger than Raynhart.


    The stranger had thick dark chestnut hair framing his face with a light-brown skin tone, and his golden eyes sparkled with liveliness and enthusiasm. He wore a gray vest showing signs of repeated use, and a brown shoulder bag over a cream-colored shirt with elegant blue inserts. His belt was a bright yellow and violet scarf, adding a touch of carefree style to his look, completed by worn gray jeans and brown lace-up boots, speaking more of practicality than fashion.


    ¡ª Greetings... ¡ª Raynhart began, but his words were immediately interrupted.


    ¡ª Ah, you''re the new builder, aren''t you? ¡ª the stranger exclaimed energetically, but his voice was very soft due to his accent. ¡ª Nice to meet you, I''m Arvio! I run the ''At the Stairs'' shop, the only universal store in Sandroke! But I''m sure you''ll soon realize that our prices are unbeatable. Ah, by the way! Matilda asked me to help you settle in since you''re new. So, I¡¯ve prepared something special for you: for the next week, everything in my shop will be 50% off for you! Just for you, of course. And here, take this chair. I thought there was always a lack of places to sit and rest in the workshop...


    With an axe and pickaxe at his waist, he was far from the image of a tourist, and judging by the confidence with which Arvio spoke, he had immediately recognized him as the new builder. Raynhart tried to maintain his seriousness but couldn¡¯t suppress a spark of curious excitement. This nimble shopkeeper, with his relaxed manner of speaking and obvious ability to attract attention, turned out to be unexpectedly amusing.


    ¡ª Very generous of you. ¡ª Raynhart responded, somewhat reserved but grateful. ¡ª I''m actually here for some shopping. Do you happen to have a broom and dustpan? I''m not sure where mine disappeared in the workshop...


    ¡ª Of course, of course! ¡ª Arvio responded lively, pointing to the corner of the store. ¡ª There they are! Anything else?


    ¡ª No, not for now.


    Raynhart nodded and took out 12 gold to pay for the items. He was about to turn to leave when he was stopped by the shopkeeper¡¯s honeyed voice.


    ¡ª Look at that! How long have you been in the city? A day? Two? ¡ª Arvio shook his head with exaggerated horror. ¡ª And your skin is already turning red! Haven¡¯t you thought about getting some sunscreen? Oh, don¡¯t worry, everyone uses it here. Well, almost everyone... Anyway! It will protect you not just from burns but also from tanning. Although, of course, for someone like you, who spends so much time in the sun, I can¡¯t guarantee your skin will stay flawlessly pale!


    Raynhart wasn¡¯t inclined to spend money unnecessarily, but he did think buying sunscreen was essential.


    ¡ª Well, I¡¯ve never used it, but it seems like it¡¯s time.


    Arvio literally beamed, pleased with his persuasiveness, and as he handed over the sunscreen, he added:


    ¡ª And also... you definitely should visit Vivi to get something for your head! Oh, I¡¯m not insisting, no, no, but I wouldn¡¯t want your beautiful hair to fade under this blazing sun.


    Raynhart smiled, this time openly.


    ¡ª That¡¯s already on my list, Arvio. Don¡¯t worry about me. ¡ª the man briefly looked away as he paid for the sunscreen.


    Having spent another 40 gold, Raynhart sighed softly, noticing on the shelves of the universal store the same rice, sugar, and salt he had purchased at the saloon, but now with the promised 50% discount. This discovery served as an unexpected reminder of life''s unpredictability, which often threw little annoyances his way. However, the man quickly suppressed his irritation, having already grown accustomed to such circumstances being an inevitable part of his daily life. Grabbing the chair and wishing Arvio a good day, he made his way back, acutely aware that he had very little money left. He still hadn¡¯t received his work permit, and all his current expenses were running into a deficit. To obtain the right to work in the city, he first had to prove his competence: complete the exam, which included two stages. He had already passed the first one by making a tool, and now he had to build a machine. Everything was going according to the prescribed standards, and Raynhart planned to follow them without deviation.


    Passing by the tailor shop, he slowed his pace, internally struggling with his doubts. Rationality told him to save his money, but common sense insisted that health was more important. The man scolded himself ¡ª how could he have forgotten about headgear? In his previous life, it had been a rare accessory, so the need to protect his head from the scorching sun simply slipped his mind.


    Scanning the mannequins displayed at the entrance, Raynhart¡¯s gaze stopped on a cap that, he thought, would suit him best. However, as he looked around at the mannequins and the empty terrace, he felt a slight embarrassment: there was no one nearby to whom he could ask for help. The shops here were located on the terraces of residential buildings, and the idea of simply entering without an invitation felt extremely awkward, especially if the door happened to be locked and he ended up tugging on the handle.


    Fortunately, his doubts were interrupted by a figure appearing in the doorframe. A short elderly woman emerged from the store. Her movements were slow but assured, and her eyes, framed by wrinkles, radiated curiosity and friendliness. She made her way directly toward him, as if she already knew he needed help.


    The woman had gray hair styled in an unusual hairstyle, dark skin, and brown eyes that hid kindness and confidence in the face of circumstances. A pair of golden glasses rested comfortably on the bridge of her nose, secured by a thin chain, and her earlobes were adorned with large round earrings made of the same gold, softly gleaming in the sunlight. She was dressed simply but with a remarkable taste: a white short-sleeve T-shirt contrasted with a long purple skirt, and red-and-white shoes added a playful touch to her outfit. Completing her look were chunky blue-and-gold and green-and-gold necklaces, matching the red checkered apron, stained with small traces of fabric and threads ¡ª a clear sign of her craftsmanship.


    ¡ª Well, well, look who we have here! ¡ª the woman broke into a warm smile, stepping closer. ¡ª It¡¯s our new builder! It¡¯s always nice to see new faces. I brought you something, dear. It gets chilly at night around here. This is a gift from "Made to Order." ¡ª she handed him a pleasant-to-the-touch blue scarf, often used as a shawl.


    ¡ª You are very kind, ¡ª Raynhart said, slightly embarrassed by the unexpected care from the people of Sandrok. ¡ª It seems like everyone here already knows me... But how should I address you?


    ¡ª Oh, where are my manners! ¡ª the woman exclaimed, raising her hands. ¡ª My name is Vivi, but you can call me grandma. Everyone here does. And your name is Raynhart, right? ¡ª She squinted, clearly trying to remember something. ¡ª I recently read the newspaper... Forgive me if I got something wrong.


    ¡ª No, no, everything is right... grandma, ¡ª Raynhart blushed a bit, calling a stranger so warmly for the first time. However, seeing the joyful expression on her face, he decided that he could afford such a liberty. ¡ª Actually, I was just thinking about getting a headpiece. For working in the desert, it seems like an essential item.


    ¡ª Ah, you¡¯re absolutely right! ¡ª Vivi exclaimed, her eyes shining with genuine enthusiasm. ¡ª Let¡¯s go, dear, let¡¯s pick out something suitable for you. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be pleased.


    To Raynhart''s surprise, Vivi offered him exactly the cap he had already set his eyes on. This amusing moment seemed to highlight his own taste, which coincided with the choice of the experienced seamstress. After paying 102 golds, he left the tailor shop feeling refreshed. The beige cap protected his head from the relentless sun, and the light blue scarf, more like a shawl, protected his neck, letting air pass through its thin fabric. Though only 66 golds remained in his wallet, Raynhart had no doubt ¡ª it was a wise investment.


    Returning to the workshop, he carefully applied sunscreen to the exposed parts of his skin, then returned to his work. His hands moved confidently and precisely as he finished processing the parts for the future recycler. Raynhart worked so quickly and focused that, at the university, the students around him often felt like he was controlling time ¡ª everything slowed down, and he continued moving with unwavering accuracy. Of course, this was an embellishment, but Raynhart did have good control over his energy, which would sharply fade when night approached. He once again had to take a break, finish the day, and head to rest.


    In the morning, the recycler was ready. By noon, Raynhart was already standing in front of Jan, ready to present his work from the workshop and hear his verdict.


    ¡ª Ah, here you are! ¡ª Jan greeted him as always, with a hint of carelessness. ¡ª No, you don¡¯t need to show me the recycler. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s fine. You¡¯ve got your builder¡¯s license, right? And what¡¯s the worst that could happen? It¡¯s not like it¡¯ll explode and burn our city to the ground, right? Ha-ha-ha! Ha...


    He laughed, but noticing that Raynhart¡¯s face remained serious, he began to doubt himself, though he continued:


    ¡ª Ahem... So, the main thing you need to understand: from now on, if you have any questions, just refer to the work manual, which is probably lying on your workbench. And remember: under no circumstances ask me about construction. I¡¯ll be... too busy to deal with your questions.


    There was indifference in his words, but it was the kind that one would use when speaking to a lazy rookie or, worse yet, an unloved child.


    ¡ª Now that you¡¯ve got the basics of working in the desert, why don¡¯t you head to the town hall and register your workshop? ¡ª Jan turned and made a hand gesture, as if releasing Raynhart to go off on his own. ¡ª Usually, the mayor handles that, but at the moment, Minister Matilda is taking care of the administrative duties for her. So go ahead!


    ¡ª Hm... so the mayor is out of town? ¡ª Raynhart squinted, lost in thought.


    ¡ª Oh, didn¡¯t you hear? She¡¯s trying to plant something in the Yufala desert. Ugh! Hasn¡¯t anyone told her that plants need soil to grow!? ... Listen, she¡¯s been gone for quite a while... I really hope she¡¯s still alive!


    ¡ª I see... well, I¡¯ll go. ¡ª Raynhart didn¡¯t expect such a turn of events, but didn¡¯t object too much.


    ¡ª Oh, by the way! ¡ª the unpleasant voice of the boss came from behind again. ¡ª I found a couple of extra schematics I was going to throw away... but why should I do that when I can just give them to you! No need to thank me! Consider it a bonus for the new employee... something like that! Anyway, hurry to the town hall and ask Matilda to register your workshop. While you¡¯re gone, I¡¯ll get some work ready for you. Come back as soon as you¡¯re registered!


    Having stuffed four schematics ¡ª of the workbench, furnace, drying board, and tarp ¡ª into his shorts pocket, Raynhart headed straight for the town hall without further questions. He had noticed it during his walks the previous day, and now its majestic facade loomed before him, a silent guardian of order in this small desert town. Before he could step onto the first stair, a cabinet fell in front of him. At least, for a moment, it seemed like the furniture had toppled from above, but when he looked up, he realized that a person stood before him. Or rather, something resembling a person, no less massive than the cabinet itself, had commanded him to stop immediately.


    The stranger stood tall, like a mountain in his path. Raynhart merely raised an eyebrow, skeptically eyeing the giant, but continued to carefully survey his surroundings, trying not to lose sight of this madman. Somewhere nearby, there should have been a Civil Corps employee, or else he¡¯d have to come up with a different escape plan. But before he could think of his next move, the brute spoke:


    ¡ª Oh. It¡¯s you. The new builder. I thought you were from Logan¡¯s gang. Ha! What a fool I am! You don¡¯t look like a criminal at all. And your hands... so skinny.


    His voice sounded pompous and self-satisfied as he began walking around Raynhart, examining him with such attention as if he were evaluating a new exhibit in a museum. But even under this heavy gaze, Raynhart remained calm, not allowing his focus to slip from the stranger.


    ¡ª Do you even know how to defend yourself? ¡ª the brute continued, squinting. ¡ª You know, the desert doesn¡¯t spare the weak. Hm... it¡¯s decided! I, the magnificent Pen, protector of Sandrok, have just taken the liberty of offering you... a combat lesson!


    Before Raynhart stood a man with dark purple hair, amusingly combed back, blue eyes, and light-brown skin. His outfit only caused confusion. His outfit only caused confusion. A bright costume, like it had stepped off the pages of a comic book, consisted of a yellow-white-blue sports suit with red inserts, over which was a white-and-red chest plate. His neck and shoulders were adorned with a white cape with blue lines and white sparks, and the emblem of the Church of Light was embroidered on his belt and on the cape itself. He wore fingerless gloves, and on his feet were red sneakers with yellow velcro.


    For Raynhart, who did not adhere to any religious beliefs, such ostentation still seemed sacrilegious. However, the man¡¯s appearance amused him more than it irritated him. Pen reminded him of a character from cheap adventure stories, and perhaps it was this carefree caricature-like quality that kept Raynhart from giving a sharp reply.


    Silence hung between them. Raynhart remained composed, while the "great and unparalleled" Pen waited, like a predator ready to strike. It should be noted that contrary to the brute¡¯s words, Raynhart was not at all skinny. His physique, though not massive, betrayed strength and endurance ¡ª sinewy muscles, reinforced by years of physical labor, spoke for themselves. For someone in his craft, this was more the norm than the exception.


    Not wanting to drag out this absurd conversation, Raynhart finally diverted his gaze, showing his complete indifference to Pen¡¯s offer.


    ¡ª I pass, ¡ª he said dryly, making it clear that the topic was closed.


    ¡ª Huh? But, Skinny Hands, you have no idea what dangers you''ll face! You have to be ready for bandits! And... did I mention that I¡¯m the strongest man in the world? ¡ª Pen¡¯s voice grew even more convinced, as though he were trying to convince not only Raynhart, but himself as well.


    ¡ª Sorry, but I just want to register my workshop, ¡ª the builder cut him off, not even attempting to hide his irritation.


    ¡ª I... understand! ¡ª Pen said, although his voice clearly carried hints of annoyance. ¡ª Well, don¡¯t blame me when you end up halfway to the stomach of a giant Gigler.


    Pen was clearly displeased with such a cold refusal. He barely concealed his disappointment when his potential "victim" slipped away so easily. However, Raynhart had no intention of getting involved in this pointless adventure. In their world, offering combat training was a common, almost friendly gesture, but for a builder, such things only made sense within a circle of people he trusted. Allowing himself to be taken out of commission for weeks due to someone else¡¯s excessive enthusiasm was not something he could afford.


    Not wanting to waste any more time with this self-proclaimed hero, Raynhart stepped inside, where, as he had guessed, the person he needed was present. As he entered, the woman standing in the town hall immediately noticed the sound of the door opening and turned around.


    Her gray hair, neatly gathered in an elaborate updo, complemented her fair skin and bright green eyes, full of vibrant energy. She was dressed in a long yellow church coat, paired with a green cloak billowing at her back, and a long blue skirt that gave her an air of grandeur. The white heeled shoes, like her hairstyle, made her appear taller in the eyes of those around her. She seemed almost the same height as Raynhart.


    ¡ª Welcome! ¡ª she spoke first, immediately taking the initiative and offering a friendly smile at the corners of her lips. ¡ª You must be Raynhart! I am Minister Matilda of the Church of Light, standing in for Mayor Trudi. We are so pleased to see you as a builder here in Sandrok! If you¡¯re here, that means you¡¯ve passed a small audition with Jan and are ready to register your workshop. All you need to do is write the name of your workshop on two documents, one of which you will take with you!


    Raynhart already knew what name he would give his new workshop. Although some might find the name excessive or pretentious, for him it held a deep personal meaning, reflecting his own aspirations. Taking the pen the woman offered, he leaned down to carefully write the name on the documents: "Desert¡¯s Call."


    When he finished, Matilda took the copy and carefully placed it in a frame protected by transparent glass. Then she handed it to Raynhart. This moment became not just part of the bureaucratic procedure but also a confirmation of a new step in his life.


    ¡ª Congratulations, builder! Your workshop is officially open for business in Sandrok! As soon as you¡¯re ready, you can start accepting commissions on the bulletin board inside the Commerce Guild. I¡¯m not particularly known around here for my arithmetic skills, but I believe we can expect more from two builders than from old Mason working alone! Work hard, and you¡¯ll have plenty of pocket money for yourself, right? ¡ª Despite the prolonged silence from the builder, the woman did not slow down. ¡ª Hmm... I dare say, this calls for a celebration! We usually have town meetings on Sunday evenings, but I think I¡¯ll gather everyone tomorrow to properly welcome you, the new builders; oh, and you must come, it wouldn¡¯t be the same without you!


    ¡ª Oh... well, I¡¯ll come, since that¡¯s the case. Have a good day. ¡ª The farewell slipped from Raynhart¡¯s lips with the ease of a well-practiced habit. He wasn¡¯t much of a fan of idle chatter but considered it necessary to maintain basic politeness.


    With the registration sheet in hand, he made his way to the Commerce Guild building, intending to take his first commission and finally get to work. However, at the doorstep, he was met by Mi-an, who looked noticeably anxious.


    ¡ª Oh, hey, Raynhart. Did you get the message from Yan with the note "Urgent, come!" too? ¡ª Her voice sounded wary.


    Raynhart shook his head. He hadn¡¯t even bothered to check his mailbox, completely absorbed in the registration process.


    ¡ª I wonder what the emergency is? ¡ª Suddenly, a muffled noise reached their ears ¡ª shouting coming from inside the building.


    The girl froze for a moment, then, gathering her courage, cautiously pulled on the door handle. What she saw before her eyes was more like a scene from an absurd drama: another massive muscleman easily held Yan with both hands, as though he were a ragdoll. With a sharp, careless motion, he tossed the boss to the floor. The back of Yan¡¯s head hit the railing of the stairs with a dull thud, and Yan, grunting, tried to get up, looking pathetic and humiliated.


    ¡ª Listen here, you layabout! ¡ª roared the man, looming over the trembling Yan, clenching his fists so tightly that the veins in his arms stood out. ¡ª Me and my guys are fed up with your excuses! Where¡¯s our elevator, huh?!


    ¡ª Rocky, Rocky, old buddy... ¡ª Yan began, trying to put a soothing tone into his voice, which sounded more like the bleating of a lamb before a predator.


    ¡ª You¡¯re not my buddy, pal! ¡ª Rocky interrupted him, clearly not realizing how the word slipped from his lips. The words sounded harsh and strained, the controlled anger ready to break free at any moment. ¡ª Since Mason¡¯s leaving, you promised to take care of it yourself! First, you caught a cold, then your turtle got sick, and today I found out that... you never even had a turtle! ¡ª The giant threw his arms up as if emphasizing the absurdity of what he had heard. ¡ª Do you understand how much money I¡¯m losing here?! ¡ª His voice picked up, echoing off the walls. ¡ª So now I¡¯ll have to beat you up! Sorry, buddy, but that¡¯s company policy!


    Rocky¡¯s fist was already raised for a decisive strike, but Yan, suddenly paling, screamed, grabbing at the last chance to avoid the beating:


    ¡ª Wait, wait, no, Rocky! Listen! I meant that... I got some new people to take care of your order, in a special way! Look, here they are! ¡ª His trembling hand pointed sharply at Mi-an and Raynhart, who were still standing in the doorway.


    ¡ª We... came at a bad time? ¡ª Mi-an froze in place, her voice unsure, she looked like a statue, afraid to move.


    Raynhart crossed his arms over his chest and watched the scene with a frown. As a believer in justice and a defender of the weak, he usually didn¡¯t hesitate to intervene. But in this case, his inner voice clearly told him: the truth was not on the side of the arrogant boss. His gaze slid over to the massive figure of Rocky, who seemed to be a man of action, albeit with rough methods.


    The builder, harboring a slight interest, began to wonder who this big guy was and what role he played in this town, not yet thinking about intervening in the argument unless necessary.


    He was a tall man with an imposing physique ¡ª it seemed such figures were common in this town. On his head was a miner¡¯s helmet, and a massive gold chain glittered around his neck, emphasizing his rough display of status. A tight white shirt clung to his huge muscles, revealing impressive strength honed by hard labor. A full arsenal of tools hung from his belt, clearly accustomed to work. His hands were protected by rough work gloves, and his legs were clad in boots with metal reinforcements. Every detail of his appearance spoke of a man who was a miner.


    ¡ª No! No, you came just in time! ¡ª Yan babbled, quickly getting to his feet as soon as the big guy¡¯s attention shifted to the newly arrived builders. He dusted himself off, as if hoping to wipe away any remnants of humiliation. ¡ª This is Mister Rocky, the head of the "Eufaula Salvage"! He has a very important task that requires immediate completion! With Mason leaving, the task¡­ um¡­ got lost for several¡­ months, or so... But now that you¡¯ve registered your workshops, you can take on this responsibility... eh, this task!


    ¡ª Oh! Of course! This is what we''re here for, right, Raynhart? This is our first big job! ¡ª Mi-an beamed with enthusiasm, clearly undeterred by the situation or the sudden offer.


    ¡ª Alright, let''s do this. ¡ª Raynhart shrugged, remaining calm. Whatever this task was, it clearly mattered to the local community, and that was a strong argument for him.


    ¡ª Great! ¡ª Mi-an looked genuinely excited, as though confidence in success came naturally to her.


    ¡ª See, they''re ready, ¡ª Yan, almost unable to hide his satisfaction, glanced up at the big guy, whose figure still carried the weight of a threat. ¡ª What do you say, buddy?


    ¡ª ...Alright, Yan. Despite common sense, I¡¯ll give you another chance, ¡ª Rocky looked at him with cold disapproval, but it seemed he was swayed by reason. His voice remained tense, as if any careless word could reignite his fury.


    ¡ª Excellent! Listen up, builders! ¡ª Yan began, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. ¡ª Rocky and his miners are working at a place known as Lost Paradise. Well, you¡¯ve probably seen those old ruins near Raynhart''s workshop. My friend ordered two lifts to move cargo up and down that long slope where they¡¯re working. And since there are two of you, each of you can build your own lift. Piece of cake!


    ¡ª Sorry to put you in an uncomfortable position, ¡ª Rocky interrupted, and there was an unexpected note of regret in his tone. ¡ª If Yan had done his job properly... Hey! I¡¯m not your ¡°buddy¡±! ¡ª he yelled at Yan, but quickly shifted his gaze to the builders, trying to soften his expression. ¡ª If you need materials, we have a junkyard in the company¡¯s backyard. It¡¯s near the Lost Paradise ruins, and there are plenty of my guys there, so you won¡¯t get lost. Normally, we charge a weekly fee for access, but I¡¯ll give you a free pass for a week. ¡ª He pulled out two small papers from his pocket, carelessly filled them in with a pen, and handed them to the builders. ¡ª When you¡¯re done, install them for me. Qi has already prepared the lift design. Here, take it. I hope you¡¯ll use it better than this half-builder here. ¡ª He gave Yan a harsh look and quickly left, slamming the door behind him.


    Raynhart, silently taking the blueprint, quickly skimmed through it, while Mi-an, peering over his shoulder, immediately noticed the obvious complexity.


    ¡ª Judging by this blueprint... We won¡¯t be able to make everything from random scrap, ¡ª she said, frowning slightly. ¡ª I think we¡¯ll need to visit Rocky¡¯s junkyard. And it looks like we¡¯ll also need a furnace.


    ¡ª You¡¯re right, but we only have one blueprint. Give me some time, and I¡¯ll make a copy, ¡ª Raynhart replied, quickly noting the problem.


    ¡ª Of course! I¡¯ll handle the furnace... and wait for the blueprint! ¡ª Mi-an responded enthusiastically, quickly exiting the guild to follow Rocky.


    Raynhart remained in place, deciding to take the opportunity to examine the commission board. Even though the work on the lift already required considerable effort, his gaze eagerly searched for another task to keep himself fully occupied.


    A voice sounded from behind him, as if Yan had suddenly remembered his presence:


    ¡ª Hm, tell me, since you''re here, have I ever told you what the commission board is? ¡ª Yan said, casually leaning on the edge of the table, as if suddenly feeling like a real mentor.


    ¡ª No, you haven''t, but I already possess this knowledge thanks to my training, ¡ª Raynhart replied dryly, not even looking up.


    ¡ª Ah-ha! Dedicated yourself to figuring it out, huh? Well, good for you! The less time I spend teaching you, the more time I have for¡­ you know, extremely important presidential affairs! ¡ª Yan grinned at his own wit, but as always, spoke with a hint of laziness. ¡ª I suppose if you ever forget something, all the necessary information is in my notebook on the table. You can check it if you start getting confused. Alright, ciao! ¡ª He waved his hand, losing all interest in his subordinates.


    Ignoring him, Raynhart continued studying the commission board. His eyes settled on one particular job: an order to craft combat spears for the local sheriff. It was something that didn''t require extensive work, and the task itself seemed interesting. Besides, the process of weapon-making was familiar to him¡ªthe pickaxe hanging from his belt served as a reminder of similar projects. Now, he had enough work to keep his mind occupied for the foreseeable future.


    Returning to his workshop, Raynhart immediately set about copying the lift blueprint into his work notebook. It lay on the workbench, nearly empty, with only a few started projects and numerous blank pages waiting to be filled. Taking a pencil he had recently purchased from Arvio for six gols at the same discount, Raynhart sat on a chair, which was also a gift from the same merchant.


    Under the workshop''s canopy, he carefully copied every element of the blueprint, not missing even the smallest details. The pencil did an excellent job, and he occasionally sharpened it on the workbench. Soon, Raynhart examined his finished work with a critical eye. The time was nearing noon, and he decided to focus on the cart he had planned to build as part of his new project. With the pass to Rocky¡¯s scrapyard, the idea became even more appealing¡ªthe cart was essential for transporting all the gathered materials.


    Handing the blueprint over to Mi-an could be done at any time, especially considering her words about being busy working on the furnace. Deciding to give it to her at the first convenient moment, he dedicated his time to another task. He began carrying out the pre-collected wood from storage and started processing it. The work was physically demanding, and soon Raynhart felt sweat trickling down his body, as if he were not under the scorching sun, but had plunged into ocean waves.


    To avoid future structural deformation, he carefully avoided using long planks, preferring to join shorter pieces instead. Moreover, most of the materials he found were too damaged to create full-length elements. Gradually, ready-made parts began to accumulate around him.


    By evening, Raynhart began assembling the frame, using a station for precise alignment and fastenings to secure individual elements. It was at this moment that he noticed Mi-an returning from another materials run. Her hands were full of gathered resources, so after getting her approval, Raynhart carefully placed the rolled-up blueprint into the pocket of her jumpsuit. He chuckled good-naturedly and wished his partner a good night. However, neither of them stopped working after that. They continued until the sunset gave way to deep twilight.


    On the fourth day, Raynhart was awakened by the sound of his alarm clock. After getting himself in order and finishing his already tiresome breakfast¡ªrice with salt¡ªhe headed for the door. On his way out, he remembered the mailbox and, upon checking it, found two letters. One was sealed with the official stamp of the mayor¡¯s office, the other bore the address of his former home.


    Opening the letter from the mayor¡¯s office, he quickly skimmed through the concisely written text:


    "Dear Raynhart,


    We have an important announcement at today¡¯s "Fireside Meeting" in front of the town hall. 18:00, don¡¯t be late!


    From: Matilda"


    Without a doubt, this was the same meeting that had been mentioned during yesterday¡¯s conversation. Raynhart folded the letter from the mayor¡¯s office, deciding to leave it at home in case he needed to reread it later. Then he opened the second envelope, already guessing who it was from. Of course, it was from his mother.


    "Raynhart, I miss you.


    It¡¯s hard to believe that only a few days have passed since you left for Sandrock. Your father and I already miss you so much! Even when you were little, you would always run off somewhere into the distance. Sometimes I would just let you go, watching how far you¡¯d go, but I always started worrying before you did. I suppose we should have been prepared for the fact that one day, you¡¯d go much farther¡­


    I¡¯m so proud of you. I know you¡¯ll manage and succeed in your new job. No one else would have dared to take on this contract, knowing how difficult it would be, but you did. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be able to breathe life and development into Sandrock. I just want you to take better care of yourself. The blankets I packed for you are still sitting by the door. Do you want me to send them by mail? I¡¯ve heard that the desert nights can be very cold.


    Your father and I are proud of your independence, but Raynhart, please be careful. If you ever need help, don¡¯t hesitate to reach out to us.


    Your father is doing well. He¡¯s decided to turn your room into a garden for his bonsai trees. Though, I think it¡¯s because he feels a little sad when he sees your empty room. He says he¡¯ll remove the trees as soon as you return, so I hope you¡¯re not mad at him.


    We¡¯ve sent you some money for blankets and food. Write to us when you¡¯ve settled in, and don¡¯t forget to TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!


    With love, Mom."


    His mother, as always, was overly emotional, but her concern was genuine. While reading the letter, Raynhart couldn¡¯t help but notice her worry, which she still tried to conceal behind warm words. He always responded to her with restraint, emphasizing that this was not the end of the world and that she shouldn¡¯t worry.


    Noticing that the parcel box was slightly open, he looked inside and found a small package with food and 300 gols. That was quite timely. Raynhart was never picky about food, but upon seeing the meat, he almost gave in to the temptation to devour it immediately. However, he restrained himself.


    Not leaving the letter unanswered, he headed to the train station. There, spending 20 gols, he purchased an envelope, a sheet of paper, a stamp, and a spot on the train for the letter itself. Focusing, Raynhart composed the text, clear and without excessive emotion:


    "Dear Mom and Dad,


    Don¡¯t worry about me ¡ª I¡¯m fine.


    I¡¯ve registered my workshop and have already started working here in Sandrock. There is always a lot to do, each task requiring attention and effort, and I find them worthwhile since they can make other people¡¯s lives better.


    Soon, the sign at my workshop will be repainted, and it will bear the new name I have given it.


    Sincerely, Raynhart."


    As the scheduled meeting time approached, Raynhart managed to finish working on the cart¡ªonly the final touches remained, attaching the wheels. However, understanding the importance of the upcoming event, he decided not to delay and headed straight to the town hall.


    By the time he arrived, people had already begun gathering. Matilda, noticing him, immediately gestured for him to come closer and stand beside her. Mi-an stood on her other side. The people gathered in front of the town hall looked slightly uneasy, clearly not understanding why they had been summoned. They were actively whispering among themselves.


    The crowd was small ¡ª no more than twenty people, most of whom Raynhart did not know. Among them, one person stood out, detached from the surrounding commotion. His body language is starkly contrasted with that of the other Sandrock residents. He was clad in church attire, somewhat resembling a military tunic, and stood in an elegant posture, his feet together and one knee slightly bent. One hand was placed behind his back, while the other rested on his hip. Holding his posture, he exuded restraint and dignity. His eyes, deep and vividly violet, seemed to peer into one¡¯s very soul, and Raynhart immediately felt their piercing gaze. The man watched the gathered builders intently and appraisingly, as if trying to understand who they were and how they were adapting to their new circumstances.


    His gaze was both wild, like that of a beast, and at the same time imbued with a spirituality belonging only to devoted priests. This elusive blend of ruthless insight and spiritual composure momentarily disrupted Raynhart¡¯s usual train of thought. He had always been accustomed to people around him seeming light, changeable, flighty ¡ª often expressing emotions they could not contain. He himself had always remained apart, observing them, unable to fully share in that pulse of life.


    A second of doubt and reflection, however, did not cause him to dwell on this realization. Raynhart quickly averted his gaze, directing it somewhere over the crowd.


    ¡ª Settle down, please, everyone, ahem, ¡ª Matilda began, her voice drawing the audience¡¯s attention. ¡ª As many of you know, our local builder, Mason, who has worked tirelessly for our community for many years, has decided to leave us in search of, shall we say, greener pastures. But today¡¯s gathering is not for farewells! There will be plenty of time for that at the party celebrating his retirement. No, today we say "hello"! Let¡¯s welcome our new builders: Mi-an and Raynhart.


    ¡ª Thank you, everyone! ¡ª Mi-an, seemingly unafraid of the spotlight, spoke enthusiastically. ¡ª I¡¯m very happy to start working here. I¡¯ll do my best to contribute to Sandrock¡¯s growth!


    ¡ª Raynhart, would you like to say a few words? ¡ª Matilda addressed the other builder.


    ¡ª Well, I support my colleague in her decision. That¡¯s precisely why I¡¯m here ¡ª to strengthen the Alliance and become a valuable member of the community. You can always count on my support, ¡ª Raynhart responded, his words brief but meaningful. He was not one to seek popularity or public speaking, yet despite this, he was always ready to step up when needed.


    ¡ª Well said, builders! I couldn¡¯t have put it better myself, ¡ª Matilda praised and continued. ¡ª Everyone, let¡¯s be patient with our new builders as they settle in. And you, builders, don¡¯t hesitate to reach out to us for help! We¡¯ll gladly bring you work! Let¡¯s give another warm welcome to our new builders in Sandrock! We have some omelets, freshly made by none other than our own Owen. Grab them while they¡¯re hot! The meeting is adjourned! And don¡¯t forget ¡ª conserve water!


    ¡ª Conserve water! ¡ª the crowd echoed, following their leader, but the mysterious man remained silent.


    That was it. This was his new reality, his life for the next three years, which he had promised to spend here under his contract. He looked over at the local residents standing before him ¡ª these people, full of determination and joy, ready to fight for their homeland.


    Setting aside excessive sentimentality, Raynhart saw Sandrock for what it truly was: not just a town, but a key point whose significance could not be overstated. This place, once thriving, now stood on the brink of decline, yet it retained its status as the heart of the Alliance, a vital link between Highwind and Atara. Its strategic importance became especially evident against the backdrop of the growing threat of conflict with the Empire of Duvos. To neglect this chance ¡ª the opportunity not only to prove himself but to become part of something greater than himself ¡ª would mean rejecting his true purpose.

 Work as the meaning of life

    The morning in Sandrock greeted Raynhart with the cool air slowly retreating before the sunrise. Expecting a measured start to the day, he stepped out of his dwelling as usual, ready to get to work. However, his attention was immediately drawn to a figure standing by the gate. It was a girl of about nine years old¡ªsmall but already independent. Standing on her tiptoes, she placed a newspaper into the mailbox, then, noticing the workshop¡¯s owner, cheerfully waved at him.


    Her red hair cascaded down, standing out brightly against her fair skin and lively blue eyes. Her outfit was neat ¡ª a white button-up T-shirt, a purple skirt, long green socks, and brown boots. A small pink backpack with a brown plush teddy bear dangling from it completed her casual look.


    ¡ª Hi, I¡¯m Jasmine! ¡ª she said cheerfully, as if her presence here was not unexpected but rather part of some long-planned arrangement. ¡ª I brought you a newspaper! If you like it, stop by our newsstand near the town hall and subscribe! That way, every issue will be delivered right here!


    Raynhart glanced at the mailbox, about to check the contents of the new edition, but the girl, not waiting for his response, had already continued speaking:


    ¡ª Oh, hey! I bet moving to a new place isn¡¯t easy. You probably haven¡¯t settled in yet? But I know this town like the back of my hand! Let me show you around! I¡¯m a great tour guide, I promise! There¡¯s so much interesting stuff here¡ªyou have no idea!


    ¡ª Hm. Well, I really could use some more knowledge about the city. I gladly accept your offer.


    ¡ª Hooray! Awesome! The official Sandrock tour by Jasmine¡¯s Company is starting! First stop ¡ª the Wandering Y Ranch!


    The girl immediately dashed off towards the station. Raynhart had to quicken his pace to keep up. From the station, the path led them through open space toward a massive two-story house, next to which stood wooden fences enclosing a large herd of yakmels. Their bulky silhouettes blended into the sandy landscape. Near a stall set up in front of the house stood a short, red-haired woman, her curious gaze sweeping over the visitors. The stall displayed various products, among which Raynhart immediately noticed meat and milk. Glancing at the prices, he quickly calculated that this could add some variety to his diet, especially considering that the supplies sent by his mother wouldn¡¯t last long.


    ¡ª Passengers, please look ahead and take note of the home of Mr. Cooper, Mrs. Mabel, and Elsie, ¡ª Jasmine announced loudly. ¡ª They have a huge ranch, which means there¡¯s always a glass of milk for everyone. And maybe something else, too.


    The girl pointed at the enclosures where the yakmels were peacefully grazing.


    ¡ª Oh, look! There they are! I say hi to the yakmels every day. Sometimes they even answer back! Though it sounds more like "moo-oo-oo." ¡ª Jasmine imitated their voice.


    Then, spinning around sharply, she continued, returning to her role as a guide:


    ¡ª They sell animal care products here. You might find that useful. And now, let¡¯s move on! Please keep your hands and feet inside our imaginary vehicle!


    Raynhart once again had to pick up his pace so as not to lose sight of his young guide. They passed the tailor shop and headed toward the wooden walkways built over the water. This part of Sandrock stood in stark contrast to the surrounding desert. Near the oasis, low grasses grew, rare for these lands, and in the shadowy water, the croaking of frogs could be heard, barely visible in the murky surface.


    ¡ª Ta-daaa! This is Martle¡¯s Oasis! ¡ª Jasmine made a grand sweeping gesture as if presenting something magnificent. ¡ª Miss Martle was Sandrock¡¯s first mayor, and she found this oasis a long time ago. We all drink this water, so don¡¯t even think about stepping in it!


    Raynhart listened attentively to the girl, but his gaze involuntarily fell on the surface of the water. It didn¡¯t look crystal clear, which made him doubt its suitability for drinking.


    ¡ª In the center, of course, you can see the statue of Mr. Peach, ¡ª Jasmine continued, oblivious to her companion¡¯s skepticism. ¡ª I hope that one day, I¡¯ll invent something just as great as he did.


    The statue immediately drew attention. Raynhart had already noticed it from afar, but now he examined the details more closely. The figure of Peach, one of the most famous people of the Age of Light, was depicted in a dynamic pose, holding a lantern. This symbolism effectively conveyed the idea of progress ¡ª how Peach had banished darkness and paved the way toward a clear sky.


    ¡ª Right behind the statue is the water tower, ¡ª the girl continued, pointing to the towering structure. ¡ª That¡¯s where we store our water supplies. Mister Burgess takes care of the tower, and if you need some water, you can get it from him for a small fee. ¡ª She suddenly perked up, turning to the builder with excitement. ¡ª Oh! That reminds me of something! Do you know our official motto? Minister Matilda came up with it, and now everyone keeps repeating it!


    Raynhart, distracted by his thoughts, quickly gathered himself and recalled a recent memory. The phrase that had ended the last town meeting could very well be the motto the girl was referring to.


    ¡ª Conserve water? ¡ª he said with a slight questioning intonation, not expecting approval.


    ¡ª Whoa! Yes, that¡¯s right! ¡ª Jasmine exclaimed joyfully, her face lighting up with a pleased smile. ¡ª You must be really good at your homework! I¡¯d give you a sticker, but... I don¡¯t have any...


    She hesitated for a moment but quickly returned to her usual cheerful self.


    ¡ª Care for water! That¡¯s our motto! If we run out, we¡¯ll have to find another place to live... That¡¯s why we keep reminding everyone about it! And with that, our tour of Martle¡¯s Oasis is complete. Next stop¡­ the grand town hall!


    Raynhart refrained from mentioning that he had already been to the town hall and followed the girl. They climbed the stone stairs next to Arvio¡¯s shop, and before them opened a space framed by three buildings. The central structure was the town hall, adorned with a massive sign emphasizing its importance.


    A little off to the side, Raynhart noticed the newspaper stand Jasmine had mentioned earlier. It blended seamlessly into the town¡¯s atmosphere, looking almost unremarkable against the imposing administrative building.


    ¡ª The first thing you¡¯ll notice when looking at the town hall is that it¡¯s really big! Adults go in there all the time and talk a lot. My mom works there when she¡¯s not out in the desert¡­ Aunt Heidi also works nearby. She builds bridges, upgrades houses, and stuff like that. Tell me, isn¡¯t that the same thing you do¡­? What¡¯s the difference?


    ¡ª Well, builders are general workers. Most of the time, we gather materials from all over the area we have access to. And we also work with other people¡¯s blueprints but don¡¯t create them ourselves¡­ That¡¯s not our expertise. ¡ª Forgetting to simplify his explanation for a child, he realized it was too late to correct himself.


    ¡ª Oh, I see! You must see so many interesting things! ¡ª But the girl seemed to understand him; whoever had been teaching her had done a good job. ¡ª Oh, and by the way: the main street of Sandrock leads here from the train station¡­ Arvio¡¯s shop, Grandma Vivi¡¯s clothing store, Mister Owen¡¯s saloon, umm¡­ Mister Pablo¡¯s salon! Yep, they¡¯re all on this street, so you can definitely come here for shopping when you have time. Moving on!


    Their next stop was farther than the previous ones. To get there, the builder climbed the main staircase leading to the highest level of the town. Here, on the elevated ground, his gaze immediately fell on the temple¡ªa structure designed with its signature elegance while maintaining a sense of restraint. Temples like this could be found in all Free Cities. They shared common features ¡ª the shining bell and the emblems of the Church of Light, masterfully carved into stone.


    ¡ª For the next stop of our tour, please take a look over there. You¡¯ll see the beautiful Church of the Light! Most of us come here every Sunday to sing and listen to Minister Matilda telling us not to do bad things. My favorite songs are about Peach. You should definitely come next time! ¡ª the girl seemed to find a special beauty in these moments, though she perceived them in her own way. ¡ª This concludes our tour! If you follow the path to the right, you¡¯ll find the Research Center and the Golden Goose Game Center. I think that¡¯s all for now. There¡¯s quite a lot of interesting stuff around here, you should take a look when you have free time. With that, Jasmine''s official tour of Sandrock is over... Enough walking around for today. So! What do you think of your new home?


    ¡ª Hmm... Sandrock is quite an interesting town, and I was welcomed warmly here. I think I like it, and in any case, I want to help Sandrock, just like many of you...


    ¡ª Yes! That¡¯s right! A lot of people from other places don¡¯t really like this town... but you do! I think that means we can be good friends. Anyway, I¡¯m sure you have a lot of things to craft. As for me, I need to go to Aunt Katori¡¯s game center! For... business, of course! Join me if you have time! ¡ª Jasmine waved goodbye and, without waiting for a response, quickly ran down another staircase to the right.


    Taking one last glance at the church¡ªnow standing before him, engulfed in silence¡ªthe builder hurried down to return to his duties. He had no regrets about taking the tour, especially since the information about the Research Center¡¯s location turned out to be useful. His future travels would lead him to many discoveries that would be valuable to the scientists.


    Before leaving town, he approached the newspaper stand. He picked up one of the envelopes lying there, wrote down his new address, and enclosed the required sum¡ª60 gols. For a full-year subscription, it wasn¡¯t much, though in his current situation, he really should have been saving. However, staying informed about world events was also important to him. Carefully, he slid the envelope into the slot in the box and, deciding that his business here was done, returned to his workshop. But before getting back to his tasks, he took out the newspaper Jasmine had brought him and opened it, reading through the text:


    "Get ready to see some new friendly faces in Sandrock: the Sandrock builder position has finally been filled! And, in fact, twice! Two builders, Mi-an and Raynhart, will soon become part of our town as citizens of our fair and wonderful community.


    Mi-an is from Tallsky and is considered one of the most promising young builders in her community. ''I¡¯m just happy to finally get the chance to start working for real!'' she said about her upcoming arrival. Raynhart is also a young builder from Highwind, but we weren¡¯t able to reach him for comments.


    Yan from the Commerce Guild said he was sorry to see Mason go, but he looks forward to the opportunities that may arise from expanding Sandrock¡¯s building team. His words: ''Out with the old, in with the new!''


    Reported by Heidi


    The vacant position is now filled!"


    Clearly, this issue was somewhat outdated¡ªthe people of Sandrock had received it before the builders even arrived in town. Still, now Raynhart finally understood what newspaper was being referred to when he was mentioned. In such small communities, even the most minor events could spread widely.


    Setting the newspaper aside as a collectible item, adding it to the two previous letters, the builder went on with his work. Harnessed to a new cart, Raynhart gripped the wooden handles, trudging forward with heavy steps towards the scrapyard. There, he got to work, methodically digging through heaps of junk, striking them forcefully with his hammer to break off useful parts, and loading the valuable finds into his cart. The lift required a lot of materials, and so did the machines that could speed up his work by automating it. The mechanisms capable of achieving this were still in the research phase. The scientists of the Age of Light were striving to restore the efficiency with which people once worked in the Old World, but such developments took time. Builders like Raynhart also played a role in this process, retrieving data disks from their scavenging trips¡ªdisks that might contain important information. During his digging at the scrapyard, he found one such disk, untouched by time and completely undamaged since the Day of Calamity.


    With a cart full of valuable finds, he returned home, deciding that his next stop would be the Research Center, as Jasmine had mentioned.


    Despite the heat, the cream he used still retained its effectiveness, protecting his skin without the burning sensation he had felt in the first few days. Walking along the right side of the main street, the man made his way between rows of new buildings he hadn¡¯t seen before. One of them caught his attention¡ªcovered in mechanisms, pipes, and wires, it best matched the description of the Research Center. Entering inside, he found a man completely absorbed in his work. His appearance was disheveled: his shirt was poorly tucked in, half of it hanging loose, and his blue tie drooped around his neck like a limp noose. He was sketching something at his desk, constantly adjusting his glasses but never pausing his work.


    ¡ª Ahem, I hope I won¡¯t distract you too much if I give you this... ¡ª Raynhart extended the disk, covering the recordings in front of the scientist''s face.


    ¡ª A data disk... ¡ª The scientist immediately shifted his gaze to the find, his voice sounding intrigued. ¡ª Not "this," let me explain. Data disks are information carriers made of several layers of polycarbonate. Although many of them contain nothing useful, some may hold a wealth of information about how machines and structures were created in the Old World. Of course, we are not yet advanced enough to fully recreate these relics, but with the help of craftsmen like you, we can get closer to that. Data disks ¡ª that¡¯s what helps me create blueprints for new machines that you can assemble at your assembly station. I always carry blueprints and plans for the future, so if you need to assemble something you don¡¯t yet have, come to me. Bring me data disks, and I¡¯ll give you new blueprints. A simple deal. Come back when you¡¯ve gathered enough memory carriers.


    ¡ª Actually, I¡¯ve found a few more disks... and it seems I need help much sooner than I thought. I need equipment for the lift that can process materials, like boards.


    ¡ª I see, you¡¯re talking about a machine tool. How many disks do you have?


    The craftsman pulled out three additional disks found at the junkyard, and without hesitation, the scientist took them and sent them to the research machine.


    ¡ª Excellent, this will be enough. I¡¯ll send you a letter when I¡¯m done.


    Engrossed in the analysis of the data, the scientist lost all attention to the craftsman, who, realizing that the time had come, decided to leave the room. Returning to his workshop, he began unloading the cart, realizing that expanding the warehouse was an inevitable step toward developing his workshop. In the breaks between work over the following days, he kept coming back to the spears. Now that they had dried, he decided to test them in action. Without hesitation, he swung the weapon as though fighting an invisible enemy, performing several thrusting movements. His basic combat training allowed him to appear quite professional. Having ensured the reliability of the fixed tip, he resolutely set out to find the client.


    The order stated that if the sheriff didn¡¯t meet the craftsman on the way, the spears could be left at the civilian corps office, in a visible place. This was a common practice, as clients often couldn¡¯t be present in person. However, finding a member of the civilian corps wasn¡¯t difficult: their uniforms were hard to miss, and patrols were frequently encountered all over the city. If the sheriff wasn¡¯t around, the craftsman could rely on one of his colleagues. Craftsmen sought to familiarize themselves with the local residents to avoid unnecessary searches and questions in the future.


    Walking through the city, Raynhart headed toward the town hall. Along the road, he noticed a dark-skinned man sitting on a white horse. This was a member of the civilian corps, with whom he had exchanged glances a few times during his patrols in the past. The man had shaved temples, and his dreads were gathered into a short ponytail. A holster with a firearm hung from his belt ¡ª something Raynhart wasn¡¯t yet accustomed to encountering. Although he was already familiar with the laws of Sandrok, where the use of long-range weapons was much freer and generally possible, such weapons remained foreign to him.


    ¡ª Greetings, I¡¯m your new craftsman, and I¡¯ve brought an order for the civilian corps, ¡ª said Raynhart, raising the spears as if confirming his words.


    ¡ª What a meeting! Well, my name¡¯s Justice, and justice is my game... That¡¯s right! I¡¯m the law around here, head of the Civilian Corps! ¡ª replied the man, emphasizing his role with clear pride.


    ¡ª So, it¡¯s to you that I should deliver these spears. Alright, ¡ª responded Raynhart.


    ¡ª Yeah... actually, your chances of getting it wrong were 50-50. I only work with Unsur, and the Captain, but he¡¯s a cat... Kind of, I don¡¯t want to downplay his importance, but you definitely wouldn¡¯t mix me up with him! ¡ª The sheriff laughed.


    ¡ª Right. ¡ª Raynhart responded, waiting for the deal to be completed.


    Justice dismounted and carefully inspected the spears, showing due attention to the quality of the weapon, his experience and knowledge of such items allowing him to quickly assess their condition.


    ¡ª Yes! This is exactly what we need! ¡ª he said with satisfaction, handing over a voucher. ¡ª Here you go. Thank you, craftsman! We¡¯ll see each other soon.


    After bidding farewell to his new acquaintance, Raynhart wasted no more time and headed to the merchant¡¯s guild, where he exchanged the voucher for his first paycheck of 642 gold. In the manager¡¯s notebook, he noted the order number, completion date, and other details, as required by the documentation. He had previously recorded himself there when he took on his first assignment. These records were important for oversight from the management, and although Raynhart didn¡¯t trust Yan, he had no other options in his current position. Since he was allowed to take only one assignment every three days, he decided to wait until the next day to receive a new task from the scientist Qi. Qi needed bearings, which Raynhart knew could be found at the junkyard. The recycler could clean them for the scientist''s needs.


    Work on the furnace had started the day before. Immersed in the process, Raynhart hardly noticed how stray thoughts disappeared, and his hands, guided by intuition, shaped the wood, split the stone, hammered nails, and polished the details. He moved with mechanical precision, as though his consciousness had given way to the craftsman¡¯s instinct.


    Early in the morning, he noticed the dew settling in thick droplets on stones, leaves, and branches. Running his hand over the cold stone surface, he shook it off and watched as large splashes flew into the air. Since then, he had taken to collecting this water, pouring it into a communal reservoir. The thought that such liquid might be unfit for drinking no longer troubled him. Peering inside the reservoir once, he had found murky water, yet the stream from the washbasin flowed quite clear. Apparently, there was a filter somewhere in the system. Since his workshop did not yet require significant water expenses, he could afford not to spend money on purchasing it.


    There was something meditative about this activity. With a canister in hand, he methodically gathered moisture, poured it into the reservoir, and watched as it streamed down in thin flows, like a tiny waterfall. It might have looked strange, but Raynhart firmly adhered to the principle of rational resource use: consume only what was necessary, stock up wisely, and treat the surrounding world with respect.


    During one of these outings, when he had gone out for wild wheat, his attention was drawn to a stranger. She was clearly struggling with some kind of mechanism, failing to succeed. The girl had red hair tucked under an old brown messenger cap, fair skin, and violet eyes. She wore a cropped yellow-and-white T-shirt paired with black high-waisted shorts cinched with a brown belt, and a lasso hung at her side. Her outfit was completed by dark brown lace-up boots, a light blue scarf, gray fingerless gloves, and protective elbow pads.


    As soon as he approached, the girl, without even turning around, shouted irritably:


    ¡ª Come on, you wreck, help me!


    Raynhart paid no attention to the strange tone. He saw that if she moved just a little more, she would fall. Rushing over, he grabbed the rope firmly and pulled it with all his strength, not even trying to figure out what exactly was he holding.


    From the quicksand, something roundish slowly emerged, resembling a trap, and with a dull thud, it collapsed right in front of them. The girl shifted her gaze from the mechanism to the master, let out a small ¡°oh,¡± but then immediately grinned cheekily.


    ¡ª Oh! It¡¯s you! Sorry for yelling at you!


    ¡ª "Wreck?" ¡ª Raynhart smirked, more puzzled by the sudden nickname than the address itself.


    ¡ª Oh, ha-ha! I must have dozed off... I thought you were my chatty old man, Cooper! ¡ª She didn¡¯t even give him time to process what she had said before continuing eagerly: ¡ª Hey, you¡¯re cooler than you seem! If not for you, that brute could¡¯ve dragged me under! Tell me, have you ever fished from the sand? You give it your all, wrestle with nature, never really knowing who¡¯ll come out on top!? Just in case you haven¡¯t figured it out yet¡ªthat¡¯s what I love!


    ¡ª Fish... from the sand? Let me take a look... ¡ª Raynhart leaned over the shifting mass that had seemed like ordinary sand just a moment ago, but now, upon closer inspection, he noticed movement inside. Something was flitting about in the depths.


    ¡ª So, this is the "fish"...? Fish without water... And it¡¯s edible? ¡ª He wasn¡¯t particularly curious about culinary oddities, but the possibility of securing an additional food source in Sandrock¡¯s conditions seemed reasonable.


    ¡ª Oh yeah, absolutely! Here¡¯s something to help you get started. At the very least, try not to stare at them like that! ¡ª the girl laughed, noticing how thoughtfully the master examined the catch she handed him.


    Raynhart took the two fish from her hands while she, wasting no time, was already preparing to leave. In one hand, she held a bucket with her catch; in the other¡ªthe same strange trap that had been wrestling with the quicksand just a minute ago.


    ¡ª Wait. What¡¯s your name? ¡ª he looked at her back. ¡ª Since I¡¯m the new builder, I should know those I might soon be handling commissions for.


    ¡ª Oh, right! That¡¯s where you came from! I¡¯m Elsie, ¡ª she squinted slightly as if trying to remember something. ¡ª You know, I was reading the paper for my dad, but I just can¡¯t recall your name!


    ¡ª Raynhart, ¡ª he introduced himself with his usual patience, ¡ª I understand, it¡¯s rather long.


    ¡ª Well then, see ya, Rain! Catch you later! ¡ª Elsie grinned and, without wasting time, strode off, casually tossing the trap over her shoulder.


    Elsie disappeared around the bend, and Raynhart didn¡¯t stop her to explain that he wasn¡¯t particularly fond of his new nickname. After all, he wasn¡¯t planning on getting close to anyone, so such trivial matters didn¡¯t concern him. Casting one last glance at the quicksand, he remembered the wild wheat he had found during his last outing and headed toward its thickets.


    The wild yakmels, lazily observing his actions, stirred slight unease in him. Though the animals showed no aggression, he wasn¡¯t sure they would remain so peaceful. Nonetheless, they weren¡¯t in any hurry to defend their territory, and Raynhart, without hesitation, dug up several plants before heading back to his workshop. There, working at an accelerated pace, he cleaned the grains of their husks and soaked them in water.


    Gradually, he began to realize that Sandrock, no matter how harsh and barren it had seemed at first glance, hid many edible gifts of nature. When he first arrived in the city, the desert had appeared desolate and hostile to him, but now, looking more closely, he found familiar plants, albeit with unusual characteristics. After all, if the animals ate them, they had to be safe. Of course, he wasn¡¯t about to start tasting shrubs, mimicking the wild yakmels.


    Two days passed unnoticed. During this time, Raynhart was fully absorbed in building a furnace while simultaneously preparing components for the future lift. Without a furnace and a processing station, completing the project was impossible, but he couldn¡¯t afford to sit idly by. That same day, he delivered the finished bearings to the Research Center, and his wallet grew to 1,528 gols.


    Since he sourced his own food, his expenses for meals were minimal, and he had no need to spend money in stores. However, his meat supplies had run out, and the prospect of surviving on rice alone didn¡¯t seem appealing. Deciding to head to the ranch, he habitually checked the mailbox¡ªand found two new letters.


    The first was from the Research Center. Qi had completed the analysis of the discs and had finally finished the blueprints necessary for building the processing station. The blueprints were attached to the letter.


    The second letter, however, was from someone he didn¡¯t know¡ªOwen. It read:


    "Raynhart,


    Well, hello there, newbie! I hope you¡¯re starting to settle in. I think that, in time, you¡¯ll see that despite the way Sandrock welcomed you, people here are kind and warm-hearted. I make it a point to get to know everyone who decides to stay, and you¡¯re no exception!


    I¡¯m sure you have a couple of questions for me, and I¡¯ll be happy to answer them. Stop by the Blue Moon Saloon for a glass of "yakmel milk" ¡ª on me.


    Owen,


    Manager of the Blue Moon Saloon"


    Raynhart did not particularly enjoy dining in public establishments. He knew he lacked refined table manners, so he preferred to avoid such situations. However, at times, he would allow himself to yield to circumstances; then, like a crowned prince from distant lands, he would assume the appropriate demeanor. All that remained was to surround himself with dozens of table utensils¡ªand with thoughtful composure, he would pick up each one, knowing precisely what it was for.


    His adaptability was his undeniable advantage. No matter the situation, he knew how to maintain his dignity, even if he had no idea what was happening. He preferred to remain silent and listen, skillfully playing along with circumstances, but never¡ªunder any conditions¡ªdid he allow anyone to shape his image against his own will. As long as he was left alone, he calmly observed what was happening and let events take their course.


    When the sun reached its zenith, the heat became exhausting. Deciding to take advantage of the offer in the letter, Raynhart headed to the saloon, hoping to escape the scorching heat for a while and get some rest.


    Inside, he immediately met the gaze of a man of imposing build, dressed in clothing that was impossible to overlook. However, unlike the ridiculous superhero costume worn by Pen, his outfit seemed deliberate. His black hair, streaked with gray, was neatly combed to the side, the tanned skin on his hands was covered in calluses from hard work, and his blue eyes glimmered with a lively interest.


    The man wore a light green, well-worn cloak, more resembling a wide scarf draped over his shoulder on top of leather straps. Along with this, he had on a blue vest with golden trim, a long-sleeved shirt patterned with white and yellow stripes, and dark green, sand-stained trousers. A leather belt with a massive buckle, a bag, and a holster at his waist¡ªall of it suggested that he was someone accustomed to life in the desert. The look was completed by brown lace-up boots, also covered in dust.


    The man beckoned Raynhart closer, stepping out from behind the bar counter and heading toward him. Placing a large hand on his back, he confidently led him to one of the tables, as if he had known him for a long time and had been expecting this meeting.


    ¡ª Well, hello there, builder! Did you get my letter? Why don''t we have a chat over some food and drinks? It won''t take much of your time!


    ¡ª Hah, I never turn down free food. Thanks.


    ¡ª I wanted to meet you right after your arrival, but I suppose you and Mi-an were up to your ears in work that fell on you! As a token of my appreciation, I''d like to treat you to a meal on the house. Sandrock might seem a little overwhelming to a newcomer, but luckily for you, your old bartender has been working here for nearly as long as a panda-mouse has been alive! Maybe I can shed some light on a few questions you might have. What would you like to know? Oh, hold on.


    He gestured to a waitress, asking her to bring food and drinks, then turned his attention back to his conversation partner.


    ¡ª Well, I think I''m primarily concerned with the fundamental aspects of life in this town. For example, I noticed that members of the Civil Corps carry firearms.


    ¡ª Ah, the Civil Corps is a thin, dusty line separating us from all the threats that break through the Eufaula Desert. But there are only two people officially in it. Plus a cat. I''m amazed at how they manage to handle all the security demands. Of course, Pen from the church also lends his support.


    He paused briefly, as if gathering his thoughts, before continuing:


    ¡ª The Civil Corps is led by a man named Justice. We''ve known each other for a long time. Nowadays, he''s one of the most authoritative figures in Sandrock, but to be honest, as a child, he was afraid of his own shadow! Ha-ha, how times change¡­ But he''s a great guy. And his partner, Unsuur, is someone you can rely on without a doubt. If you ever run into trouble, they''ll be sure to help.


    ¡ª Yes, I¡¯ve already met Justice when I was running an errand for him. You really do have a decent sheriff, ¡ª Raynhart noted, forming his opinion based on his observations: frequent patrols, a focused gaze, confident movements.


    After a pause, he shifted the conversation in another direction:


    ¡ª What about the church here? If Sandrock doesn¡¯t have as strict an approach to Old World technology as other places, there must be a good reason for it.


    ¡ª The Church of Light strives to maintain a sense of community and get rid of dangerous technologies from the Age of Corruption, but¡­ the most interesting thing here is that Matilda is incredibly lenient when it comes to relics and old technology! In Sandrock, we''re allowed to do some rather unusual things... Sometimes, they even turn a blind eye to antique weapons! And that¡¯s a good thing! Life here would be much harder if we didn¡¯t have the means to protect ourselves! Our branch is quite unique in this sense, though I¡¯ve heard that some branches on the Periphery take a similar stance. The church members are always actively helping people in Sandrock and its surroundings, especially the elderly and the youth. They are so well-organized that they practically help manage many administrative matters in town. Without them, we''d be in real trouble.


    ¡ª That¡¯s interesting¡­ Although, as far as I know, the church provides assistance in other cities of the Alliance as well. I¡¯d even call it a volunteer organization. I¡¯m not a believer myself, but for that alone, I can respect the church and those who work there.


    ¡ª That¡¯s good, ¡ª Owen replied with a slight smile. ¡ª Everyone finds something in it for themselves¡­


    ¡ª And what about Sandrock¡¯s residents? As a builder, I should be familiar with most of them, but so far, my circle of acquaintances is quite limited, ¡ª Raynhart continued, watching his conversation partner closely.


    Owen thought for a moment, then nodded and began listing:


    ¡ª Well, let¡¯s start with the fact that we¡¯re a small town; almost everyone knows each other here. There¡¯s Vivi, the seamstress, Heidi, the architect and engineer, Cooper, Mabel, and Elsie, who run the ranch, Katori with her game center, Doctor Fang and his bird. Those are just a few examples. There are also Arvio and Amira, a brother and sister who recently moved here from the Barnarock. Arvio is still young, but he¡¯s already doing well managing his shop. Amira, on the other hand, is into ceramics, and her work is quite highly valued. I think she¡¯s even starting to gain recognition outside of Sandrock. I¡¯d say Amira is the older sister. She always covers for her brother when his youth gets the better of him. You can see how she cares for him, and there¡¯s no arguing with that. But what surprises me is how she stays grounded despite her outstanding talents. She always has a clear understanding of where common sense begins¡­ ¡ª at this point, Owen grew embarrassed and returned to reality ¡ª uhh¡­ sorry, I guess I¡¯m talking too much¡­ haha.


    The master noticed how Owen drifted away into his thoughts, and his tone grew softer, almost hazy, when he started talking about Amira. However, he didn¡¯t bring it up, not letting a single muscle on his face betray the shift in atmosphere to avoid embarrassing his conversation partner.


    ¡ª This town is full of wonderful people! If you want to get to know someone better, just ask them to hang out, set aside some time for a meeting, and who knows, maybe you¡¯ll even find some loyal friends. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll make plenty of them in no time! ¡ª Owen continued enthusiastically.


    ¡ª Yeah¡­ I tend to focus more on work, but I always appreciate good company. If only it were possible to combine work and socializing, that would be truly ideal. ¡ª Raynhart was an extrovert, but his inclination to be around people was more about studying their character and taking part in meaningful matters rather than for the sake of easy conversation. ¡ª What about safety? I¡¯ve heard that the area around Sandrock is quite dangerous for people. But strangely enough, I haven¡¯t encountered any aggressive animals yet. Even that giant horned creature just stood there watching me while I was stomping around its territory.


    ¡ª Haha, yeah, wild yakmels usually don¡¯t show aggression, but don¡¯t be fooled¡­ Sometimes they just go crazy, especially during sandstorms. And, like many other animals, during mating season, they might try to harm you. You get it¡ªthey can¡¯t control their instincts, so¡­ be careful and don¡¯t put yourself in harm¡¯s way. Oh, and there¡¯s also a notorious bandit named Logan. He used to live in our town too, but one day he just snapped and blew up a building. I think that out here in the desert, some people lose their minds. You also need to watch out for the Gigglers. They¡¯re mutated lizards that, for some reason, just want to cause trouble for everyone. They¡¯re not just simple animals¡ªthey can use their rudimentary intelligence to try to hurt you. Oh, and how could I forget, haha¡­ sandstorms! Our mayor is out in the desert right now, trying to keep the winds from burying what little greenery we have left under the sand. You know, it wasn¡¯t always like this. A lot of people have left, and I can¡¯t blame them for it. Maybe Sandrock isn¡¯t the perfect place for everyone, but there are still people who love this town, and we¡¯re all staying, for better or worse!


    When lunch was over, the master felt a true sense of fullness for the first time in days. It was a feeling that could be compared to a cat that had eaten a fish ten times its size, now lying lazily in the sun without a care in the world. But despite that, he had to return to his work.


    ¡ª Today was great! We should do this more often. Anyway, let me pack you a couple of meals to take with you. A master can¡¯t go hungry, right?


    Owen handed the master a few packaged meals. They might spoil much faster than the dry grains or dried meat his mother used to send him, but he planned to eat them the next day and hoped nothing would happen to them in the meantime.


    ¡ª Thank you, everything was delicious, ¡ª the master said with light but sincere satisfaction.


    ¡ª Aha! And don''t let me talk you out of it¡­ Some things you just have to experience to understand! Don¡¯t worry too much. You¡¯ll fit in just fine! ¡ª Owen said optimistically before returning to the bar counter.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    When he returned home, he took the food to the shade, hoping it wouldn¡¯t spoil, and once again immersed himself in his work, toiling until nightfall with rare breaks to avoid drying out under the scorching sun. The next morning, barely awake, he already knew that today he would receive a letter from his mother. It was inevitable, since the 9th of the month of Santern was his birthday. He turned 22 today, and it was even somewhat amusing¡ªno one in Sandrock knew about it. He was sure that these kind and helpful people, if they knew, would have congratulated him when they met, but at the same time, it wasn¡¯t bad that he could continue his work without being distracted by unnecessary conversations. Besides, he viewed his birthday as just another ordinary day, during which his age increased by one more year. The letter from his mother read:


    "Dear Raynhart,


    I¡¯m glad to hear that everything is going well! Maybe we worried for nothing¡ªbut that¡¯s a mother¡¯s job, someone has to take care of you! And look, what¡¯s today¡¯s date! It¡¯s your birthday! Your father and I hope you find your purpose in Sandrock¡ªwe believe in you! I couldn¡¯t resist¡ªI¡¯ve sent you your favorite cake! Take care of yourself and make sure to rest today.


    With love, your mom."


    In addition to the letter from his mother, Raynhart found another letter from someone named Fang. He remembered that Owen had mentioned a local doctor by that name, which immediately caught his attention. Naturally, he was curious about what the doctor might want from him. Without hesitation, Raynhart was ready to drop all his current tasks to take on an assignment from the clinic, as it could concern the health of the people of Sandrock. However, the content of the letter left him somewhat perplexed:


    "This letter is to inform you that new medical trials are available at the clinic; they will be available on Wednesday and Friday.


    Note: The effects and side effects may not meet the expectations of all clients. Fang¡¯s Clinic reserves the right to interpret the effectiveness of the listed products. Participate at your own risk.


    From: Fang"


    The text was dry and unequivocal, lacking any concern for potential consequences. Experiments... This word caught Raynhart¡¯s attention not only because of its uncertainty but also due to the possible risks. He hoped that the town hall was at least aware of these trials. Though, judging by the letter, there were no official guarantees. Weighing the pros and cons, Raynhart decided not to rush to the clinic. There was already plenty to do, and if the experiments turned out to be dangerous, who knew how long it would take to get back into his usual rhythm.


    Raynhart hurried to pull the food package out of the drawer so it wouldn¡¯t stay in there on a hot day. Having breakfast with what Owen had left for him, he ate some sweets. In a way, today was truly his day, even without any special celebrations. The letter from his mother was among the collection that had gradually formed in his home¡ªa stack of letters, each a part of his life. He didn¡¯t want to get rid of them, considering them just as important to his story as a photo album might be to someone else. At any time, he could return to these letters, relive the past once more, and sometimes refresh his memory if he had forgotten a task. But, not lingering on emotions, Raynhart returned to work. The furnace had already heated the alloy, and without a specialized machine for processing, he continued to use sand in his workshop, digging the necessary molds and leaving them to cool. Once he built the processing machine, he would be able to pour the alloy directly into it, adjusting the machine¡¯s settings and setting up the creation of some materials in a streamlined process.


    That morning, when he found himself in the workshop, his attention was drawn to the priests gathering on the stage beside the saloon. Intrigued, Raynhart approached and heard familiar voices. Pen, standing near the trade guild, stopped Burgess, briefly warning him.


    ¡ª Hey, don¡¯t forget, we have training today! ¡ª the brute was about to leave but turned around upon hearing the response.


    ¡ª Wait, you see... I lost my sword and shield... But after thinking about it, I realized it might even be for the best. I don¡¯t really like causing people pain... ¡ª Burgess lowered his gaze, his expression became heavy and troubled.


    ¡ª Nonsense! There¡¯s nothing more important than perfecting the art of combat! Moreover, our goal is justice, and we need all the help we can get to carry out our crusade. You must train, Burgess. I insist!


    ¡ª Uh... well... if you really think it¡¯ll help...


    ¡ª Good boy! Oh, look! It¡¯s our master! ¡ª Pen suddenly shifted his gaze to Raynhart, who was standing nearby. ¡ª He¡¯ll definitely be able to forge you a new weapon. Isn¡¯t that great, Burgess?


    ¡ª Oh... great, to say the least... ¡ª Burgess didn¡¯t share Pen¡¯s enthusiasm.


    ¡ª Greetings to you, master! ¡ª Pen, fully turning his attention to Raynhart, continued: ¡ª I¡¯ve been training Burgess in the art of combat! Pretty cool of me, huh? Anyway, he lost his sword and shield, and I thought, we have you here. Maybe you could make him a new set? It¡¯s no trouble for you, right?


    ¡ª Hmm, fine, I¡¯ll make it. But here¡¯s the question: is it really necessary? He clearly doesn¡¯t enjoy doing this, ¡ª the master remarked, watching Burgess.


    ¡ª Ha-ha, come on! There¡¯s plenty of danger in Sandrock! I¡¯ve said this before, but I¡¯ll say it again: people need to know how to stand up for themselves!


    ¡ª A solid argument, of course, but what do you say about this? ¡ª Raynhart turned to Burgess.


    ¡ª Well... yeah, that sounds reasonable... But only if I really have to defend myself! I don¡¯t want to hurt anyone.


    ¡ª Well, you don¡¯t have to attack. Knowing how to defend yourself will help you avoid danger and save someone¡¯s life. ¡ª Raynhart sometimes reminded himself of a priest, preaching a thoughtful approach to life.


    ¡ª Enough! You can''t make tasty chicken wings with sauce without blood! ¡ª Pen began to lose patience, feeling stuck here with two boring pacifists.


    ¡ª Be more respectful of life, Pen.


    The master didn''t want to support the bloodthirsty views of the brute and, deciding not to continue the conversation, left. He stood among the other townsfolk and listened to Matilda''s speech, who was speaking on stage. Pen, confused, lost his words when he was interrupted by "some Skinny Hands." He had no choice but to join the sermon and stand next to Matilda.


    From Matilda''s speech, Raynhart learned that a fundraising campaign for the city''s improvement had been organized in Sandrock. Right next to the stage, there was a donation box, and quickly calculating the needed sum, he unhesitatingly put a thousand golds into it. Money had never been an end goal for him ¡ª he wasn''t used to spending it on himself, but seeing that the townspeople truly needed support, he felt it was his duty to contribute.


    However, when Matilda acknowledged his gesture, he felt a slight embarrassment. Of course, she thanked everyone who contributed, but he would have preferred to remain unnoticed. Wanting to avoid extra attention, he immediately turned and headed towards the trade guild, hoping to take on a new task. He chose Elsie ¡ª she needed ropes. Finding her, unlike some other clients, was not a difficult task.


    On the way back, his attention was drawn to a swiftly approaching shadow. Acting on instinct, he immediately stepped back, clenched his fists, and prepared to attack, but no danger followed ¡ª it was just a black bird, dropping a flyer right at his feet.


    ¡ª Tasty treat! It''s free! ¡ª a surprisingly articulate, though mechanically repeated, voice came from the orange beak. ¡ª Tasty treat, tasty treat, tasty treat!


    Raynhart tensed. He realized he was trying to engage in a dialogue with an animal, but still asked:


    ¡ª What... what are you talking about?


    ¡ª Come alone, come all! To Fang''s clinic! One for each client, don''t push! Don''t push! Goodbye!


    With those words, the bird flapped its wings and disappeared, leaving behind a pile of questions. Now Owen''s words gained new meaning ¡ª he had indeed mentioned that Dr. Fang had a bird, but he never said anything about its ability to speak. This was the first truly unexpected discovery during Raynhart''s time in Sandrock. However, his surprise quickly settled ¡ª if even the bird was persistently handing him this flyer, perhaps it was worth at least looking into what this clinic was about.


    The next day, Wednesday, he headed to the right street leading out of the city. This path was familiar to him ¡ª he had walked here before, heading to the research center. Now, however, he had the opportunity to notice other buildings: the museum and the entertainment center "Golden Goose." Both structures, especially the latter, seemed modest in size, and it was hard to believe that anything truly impressive could be hidden inside.


    Next, his attention was drawn to the training ring ¡ª the very one that Pen had apparently tried to drag him to during their first meeting. On the left, there was a cemetery, and on the right ¡ª Fang''s clinic. The location, to be honest, didn''t inspire much optimism in patients.


    Two strangers were standing near the entrance to the clinic. They were eyeing small glass jars filled with liquids of strange colors with obvious doubt. Judging by the expressions on their faces, they had little trust in the contents of these containers.


    ¡ª It''s free! It''s free! Leave your wallet at home! ¡ª the familiar voice cut through the air again, and Raynhart noticed the same bird that had given him the flyer not long ago. Now it was fluttering above the two strangers, urging them to try the offered medicines.


    ¡ª Free, you say? ¡ª one of the men squinted, taking a step back. ¡ª I always thought there¡¯s no such thing as a free lunch...


    His companion, on the other hand, showed keen interest. He leaned over the table, carefully studying the little jars.


    ¡ª So, what exactly does this potion do?


    Without waiting for an answer, the bird suddenly dropped onto the countertop, spreading its wings widely, and with feigned agony, moaned:


    ¡ª Ouch, my back hurts! Ooooh!


    Clumsily tumbling, it crawled to a small bowl, scooped up some of the liquid with its beak, and greedily drank it. Then, pausing for a moment, it suddenly perked up, flapped its wings, and, soaring into the air, loudly exclaimed:


    ¡ª I¡¯m healed, Doc! I¡¯m healed!


    Raynhart saw how this theatrical performance achieved its goal.


    ¡ª Oh my¡­ everything¡¯s healed! ¡ª the skeptic, who just a moment ago was doubtful, was already reaching for a vial.


    ¡ª Of course! The bird wouldn¡¯t deceive us, ¡ª nodded the other, grabbing the second bottle.


    ¡ª Impossible! Animals are pure of heart! ¡ª enthusiastically agreed the first.


    ¡ª I¡¯ll take it!


    ¡ª Me too!


    Having received their free samples, the men walked away from the clinic, satisfied with their find.


    ¡ª So, sampling? Smart. Though, I must admit, I didn¡¯t expect to see something like this in the medical field, ¡ª Raynhart crossed his arms over his chest, closely examining the remaining jars. ¡ª In any case, what kind of experiments were mentioned?


    Instead of Fang, the answer came from somewhere above:


    ¡ª Try the tasty treat! Come on, eat it! ¡ª the raven, changing its intonation, imitated different voices, as if replaying someone¡¯s conversation.


    Raynhart let out a heavy sigh.


    ¡ª I would be happy to contribute to the advancement of medicine if I could at least understand what is going on here.


    The doctor, as if struggling to find the right words, finally spoke:


    ¡ª Small... dose... as a trial.


    ¡ª I see... microdosing, ¡ª the master narrowed his eyes. ¡ª Well then, I hope you know what you''re doing. I''ll try it.


    Fang silently slipped behind the table, took out a small glass vial, and handed it to Raynhart.


    He removed the lid, glanced briefly at the contents, and, without hesitation, emptied the vial.


    ¡ª Don''t... leave, ¡ª the doctor¡¯s muffled voice reached him.


    Obviously, the reaction needed to be observed.


    At first, nothing remarkable happened. However, soon an itch spread under the master''s skin, intensifying with each passing moment. Raynhart instinctively ran his hand over his forearm and froze. A rash was rapidly spreading across his skin¡ªcrimson, slightly swollen patches creeping further, covering his arms.


    He had never suffered from allergies before, but now he couldn''t ignore the obvious: the reaction was progressing.


    ¡ª So, it didn¡¯t work on me... But I suppose you have another test group? ¡ª Raynhart absentmindedly ran his hand over his neck, feeling an unusual tightness in his throat. He tried to swallow¡ªthe movement of his tongue and larynx felt unnaturally strained. He frowned. ¡ª Hmm... something¡¯s not right¡­


    The doctor had realized it before him. Wasting no time, he swiftly approached, holding a small tablet between his fingers, and without a word, tried to push it towards the master''s mouth.


    ¡ª I¡¯m serious, this isn¡¯t the best time for experiments... ¡ª Raynhart attempted to maintain control of the situation, but his voice didn¡¯t sound as confident as he had hoped.


    ¡ª This will help.


    The doctor¡¯s fingers clamped around his face, pressing on the nerves, forcing him to instinctively unclench his jaw. The tablet was in his mouth before he even registered what was happening. Swallowing was difficult¡ªhis throat felt locked in a spasm, and only a desperate effort allowed him to gulp down the medicine without choking entirely.


    The minutes dragged on painfully slowly. At first, nothing changed; it felt as if his heart was about to burst from his chest. But soon, his breathing began to stabilize, and the swelling receded. However, the inflammation had not completely subsided¡ªhis throat still burned, leaving a lingering tightness.


    ¡ª Without this suffering, you wouldn¡¯t have created this pill either... I hope it was worth it, ¡ª Raynhart rasped, feeling his confidence returning to his voice.


    The doctor watched him closely, as if assessing the extent of his recovery.


    ¡ª Everything... is temporary.


    It was unclear whether the doctor had drifted into philosophical musings or was referring to the effects of the medicine, but the master leaned toward the latter. Despite the severe reaction, allergies, when managed properly, left no lasting traces. Within half an hour, the master had recovered, though the inflammation in his throat would undoubtedly stay with him for a few more days. His heart, which had previously been pounding as if ready to escape his chest, gradually calmed and settled into its usual rhythm.


    The doctor, making sure he was stable, gave a nod.


    ¡ª You may go.


    Raynhart exhaled shortly, straightened up, regaining his usual posture, and looked at him.


    ¡ª Well then, I¡¯ll be back¡­ Have a good day.


    Master was not a careless man, especially when it came to his own health. However, he still hoped that the local doctor, a man known and trusted, would not make reckless decisions. Moreover, his efficiency and readiness to provide first aid inspired a certain sense of reassurance. In a world where progress was not limited to technical advancements but also encompassed medicine, the search for new, more effective treatments was inevitable. The doctors of the Age of Light continued to improve, striving for better solutions, and Raynhart was well aware of that.


    Despite the severe stress his body had endured and the lingering effects of the allergic reaction, work would not wait. The realization that he had fallen out of his usual rhythm did not come immediately¡ªhis body demanded rest, but duty called him back to the workshop.


    Two days passed in exhausting labor. Raynhart had to complete a task for Elsie, repair the machines, and, on top of everything else, find the time to craft a weapon for poor Burgess. He couldn¡¯t help but smirk, realizing that the inspector had unexpectedly gotten a few days off from training, but he quickly shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.


    Friday arrived. Standing at the clinic¡¯s doors once again was a familiar figure¡ªthe doctor, patiently scanning passersby in search of a new volunteer.


    Raynhart was no masochist. He had to muster all his willpower before he could force himself to step onto this path once more.


    ¡ª Good morning, ¡ª he said in an even tone, suppressing his inner resistance. ¡ª So, shall we try again?


    To Raynhart¡¯s surprise, Fang remained as impassive as ever. The previous incident seemed to have left him completely unfazed. With his usual composure, he extended a new test dose.


    Raynhart, bracing himself internally, drank the contents without question, already preparing for the worst. The minutes stretched on slowly, and when nothing happened at first, he thought he might have gotten lucky this time. However, without warning, a searing pain ignited in his stomach¡ªunbearable, tearing, as if his insides were being slashed apart with a red-hot blade.


    Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to speak:


    ¡ª Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re doing something wrong?!


    The words came out with difficulty¡ªnausea was already rising in his throat.


    ¡ª This... is temporary, ¡ª Fang repeated indifferently, as if reciting a memorized phrase.


    Raynhart could feel his stomach trying to digest itself¡ªthe medicine had apparently triggered a sharp surge in acid production. Everything inside him felt as though it were boiling, but he held on, forcing himself to breathe evenly.


    ¡ª I dread to imagine what would have happened if I drank the full dose... ¡ª Raynhart felt sweat trickling down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.


    ¡ª Poor little bird! Have some sugar! ¡ª the voice of feathered companion cut through the silence, sounding almost mocking.


    ¡ª I doubt I¡¯ll be able to look at food for another week...


    The doctor stood to the side, watching his condition with the same detached expression as always.


    ¡ª Come... again. I will finish... ¡ª Fang, as before, repeated his promise, not a shred of doubt in his methods.


    ¡ª Are we really checking the medicines? Or poisons...? ¡ª the words came out with bitterness, the master was already losing trust in this.


    The doctor was silent for a few seconds, as if contemplating his response, and finally spoke, with a slight, barely noticeable annoyance:


    ¡ª No...


    The master left the clinic again, feeling barely alive, even though logically it should have been the clinic restoring his health, not destroying it. That day, he was unable to eat, and his thoughts returned once more to the question of why the doctor had chosen him as a test subject. Perhaps Mi-an was also on his list, but that remained a mystery to him. Still hoping that the mayor¡¯s office was aware of what was happening, he considered buying ready-made medicine and testing its effectiveness.


    To distract himself from his worry, he returned to work. But even in those moments when he had to lift heavy things, his body could barely endure, and a couple of times he nearly threw up. Raynhart was usually a reserved person, but at times, fury would awaken within him, turning him into an uncontrollable berserker. When he dug in the sand, he seemed serene, focused on his task. But suddenly, as though someone else had taken his place, he grabbed the nearest heavy stone and hurled it with such force that he didn¡¯t even notice where it landed. His explosive cry pierced the air, wild and loud.


    And then, like thunder from a clear sky, a male voice sounded from behind:


    ¡ª Whoa, didn¡¯t think you had it in you! ¡ª Rocky, passing by, expressed surprise and even respect for Raynhart¡¯s skill. ¡ª I throw stones sometimes too. We should compete sometime! But right now... you do know we still need the hoists, right? ¡ª his last words sounded like a light threat.


    ¡ª I know, ¡ª the master replied, showing no sign of embarrassment and not reacting to the pressure. He turned away, signaling that he wasn¡¯t yielding to the threat.


    ¡ª Splendid! Take care, master! ¡ª Rocky left him alone and headed toward the junkyard.


    That day, the master had to keep his growing irritation in check. He couldn¡¯t stand tardiness, even if the deadline for the task was generous¡ªa whole week. His reputation was built on impeccable punctuality: three days for a job, no more for such a simple task. This was an unspoken standard among the masters, though not everyone adhered to it.


    Late in the evening, feeling the dull irritation rising in his chest, he tightly tied the last knots, securing the sword. Slinging the shield over his back and the sword at his waist, he grabbed the ropes and headed toward the ranch. There, he found neither Elsie nor anyone else. It seemed the whole family had already gathered for dinner.


    The master noticed the doorbell, briefly pressed it, not wanting to announce his presence with a long trill. A few moments later, the door was opened by Elsie herself, seemingly sent to check who had decided to disturb the family at such an hour. When she noticed the ropes in his hands, her face lit up with genuine surprise.


    ¡ª Whoa! When did I assign this task? You finished everything so quickly! Wait, the ticket... ¡ª she hurriedly checked her pockets, but didn¡¯t find what she was looking for. ¡ª Pa! PAA!!!! ¡ª she shouted into the house, not wanting to return to the table.


    ¡ª What now? ¡ª a disgruntled male voice came from inside.


    ¡ª Where¡¯s the ticket for the master?! ¡ª she continued, not moving from the doorstep.


    ¡ª How should I know! You lost it yourself and now you¡¯re blaming your old man! In my time, either you remember everything yourself, or... ¡ª but the man didn¡¯t finish, as he was interrupted by Elsie¡¯s voice.


    ¡ª I get it, I get it! ¡ª she replied irritably, then turned to the master, softening her expression slightly. ¡ª Wait here, I¡¯ll definitely find it!


    As soon as the girl hurried into the house, a small piece of paper slipped from her clothes. The master bent down, picking it up, and, inspecting it carefully, saw a crumpled, slightly dirty ticket with still-readable numbers. He didn¡¯t shout after Elsie, but calmly addressed the girl¡¯s parents, who were sitting at the table.


    ¡ª The ticket fell out of her... Hmm, I think you¡¯ll tell her? Well, have a good evening.


    As he closed the door behind him, the master heard several kind wishes thrown at him in response. However, he didn¡¯t linger ¡ª there was still one unfinished task ahead. Resolutely heading deeper into the town, he searched for one of the two: Pen or Burgess. Fate was kind ¡ª near the mayor¡¯s office, he spotted a familiar figure. Pen, with his usual pompous importance, was slowly climbing the long stairs leading upwards.


    ¡ª Pen! ¡ª the master called to him, quickening his pace. Approaching him, he got straight to the point without any unnecessary preambles. ¡ª Here¡¯s the weapon we talked about.


    He already reached for the straps to remove his shield and sword, but before he could hand them over, Pen waved his hand, stopping him.


    ¡ª Oh, right! ¡ª Pen exclaimed, slapping his forehead. ¡ª Well, isn¡¯t that just like me? Took care of the problem myself, but forgot to report it!


    He laughed, throwing his head back.


    ¡ª Anyway, Burgess¡¯s sword and shield were found. They were under his bed! That¡¯s always the last place people look, right?


    The master silently waited for more, and Pen, apparently, was just getting started.


    ¡ª Listen, what if you keep them? ¡ª he smirked, raising his eyebrows. ¡ª Take them with you to the desert and swing the sword around... Who knows what fun awaits you there! Of course, it¡¯s a bit risky, but isn¡¯t that the essence of real adventures?


    His voice grew louder, his tone filled with excitement, and a characteristic spark lit up his eyes.


    ¡ª Damn it! Maybe you¡¯ll finally get rid of that nasty Logan and his gang! Ha! That would be something! Well, anyway... take care!


    With those words, he turned around and continued climbing the stairs, leaving the master alone with the weapon that still hadn¡¯t found its owner.


    Silently, Raynhart returned the sword and shield to their place and headed home. In his hands was only training equipment, useless in a real fight. However, the blade of the sword could be sharpened. And that meant that, over time, it could become a formidable tool.


    Three days later, when the processing machine was brought back to working condition and was functioning smoothly, supported by the continuous rhythm of the smelting furnace and the recycler, the master finished creating the parts for the elevator. He methodically assembled the mechanism¡¯s components at the assembly station, then, guiding them on roller cylinders, carefully loaded them into a cart.


    Upon reaching the junkyard, among the debris and dusty ruins, he began the final assembly: first, he installed the massive holders, checking the reliability of each fastening point, then proceeded with mounting the main platform, carefully adjusting the parts to avoid even the slightest inaccuracies.


    A few days earlier, he had met with Mi-an, and she told him that her part of the work was near completion. They had agreed to install the elevators today, and the girl, as promised, soon appeared in the junkyard. To transport her machinery, she had rented a yakmel, which, stepping steadily, pulled a cart loaded with heavy parts.


    The Ufalian prospectors, noticing them at work, kept getting distracted, secretly observing the process, so Rocky had to urge them on with sharp shouts. However, even he, despite his apparent seriousness, couldn''t help but watch the measured, precise movements of the masters, observing their coordinated work with visible satisfaction.


    By the time the sun had dropped to the horizon, the final fastenings were tightened, and the structures had taken on their finished appearance. Raynhart and Mi-an exchanged nods and headed towards Rocky to report the elevators¡¯ readiness.


    The boss approached closer, and without wasting time, he first started one mechanism, then the second. Both elevators smoothly moved down, passing the ledge and descending to the very base of the cliff where the mine entrance was. Everything was working flawlessly, without a single malfunction.


    Raynhart, who had been watching the startup tensely, noticeably relaxed.


    One of Rocky¡¯s team members clapped her hands happily, likely rejoicing at the news, but her colleagues didn''t share her enthusiasm, as now they would have to return to the dusty, dangerous mines, even though it was much cooler there than working under the blazing sun.


    ¡ª Excellent, finally Yan made the right choice when he hired you two! ¡ª Rocky was surprisingly pleased, and his usual rage took a backseat. ¡ª Oh, I only have one ticket, well, you¡¯ll share it, right? ¡ª Rocky took out a well-worn ticket, already crumpled and stained from the long time passed since it was issued, and handed it to Raynhart.


    ¡ª Of course, let''s hope Yan stops delaying the projects. ¡ª Raynhart didn''t believe in it, but he thought it was fair to express his dissatisfaction with his boss.


    ¡ª Well, now my guys and I can finally return to the abandoned ruins and get back to work! But we still haven¡¯t met our extraction quota... Listen, this makes me think, you like digging, right?


    ¡ª Of course, that¡¯s what we do! Extracting resources is what masters do best! Well, that and construction... ¡ª Mi-an responded enthusiastically.


    ¡ª I think there''s another way we can help each other. You want to get into excavation?


    ¡ª Yes... but what''s the deal? ¡ª Raynhart had some assumptions but was waiting for clarification.


    ¡ª Great! So here¡¯s the offer: the abandoned ruins here are a real pride of the Eufaula Salvage company. This place holds valuable resources and relics from the Old World. These ruins are open to those who have a pass, like you, which also gives you access to our junkyard. The pass fee covers the rental of a jetpack, in case you find yourself too deep in the mine, as well as a scanner that helps in locating relics. Sometimes we have to bring in the Civil Corps for patrols, to make sure there are no... incidents, ¡ª Rocky nervously looked away, as if recalling something unpleasant. ¡ª Masters like you can use your picks to dig tunnels in the ruins, extract ore, and valuables. Anything you find, it¡¯s yours. Bring it to the workshop, and you can turn those findings into something useful. However... I have a proposal. Since the elevators have been down for a while, my guys and I will have to put in extra effort to catch up. If you want to sell me the ore you find in the next week, I¡¯ll pay you handsomely. Think about it. Now go on, have fun! But don¡¯t mine anything I wouldn¡¯t take myself.


    Raynhart took this proposal seriously. He understood that if Rocky was asking them for help, he truly needed it. After that, he and Mi-an headed to the Commerce Guild, where Yan greeted them with unexpected interest.


    ¡ª So, you really finished the work? Well, looks like I¡¯m really the best boss I thought I was! ¡ª Yan didn¡¯t hide his pleasure with the result, confidently considering himself the pinnacle of creation.


    ¡ª We came for our payment, ¡ª Raynhart replied shortly, bringing Yan back down to earth without extra words.


    ¡ª Ah, yes, the salary... Here it is, ¡ª Yan placed a pouch of gold on the table.


    ¡ª How much is there? ¡ª Raynhart was only concerned with dividing the sum equally with Mi-an.


    ¡ª Uh... it should be 3600 gold, ¡ª Yan checked his notebook, glancing skeptically at the numbers.


    ¡ª Exactly 1800 each, ¡ª Raynhart calculated in his head, casting a quick glance at the money, then nodded at Mi-an, signaling to begin the division.


    Mi-an and Raynhart quickly handled the task since most of the gold in the pouch was in 100-unit coins. These coins were the standard issue, which included denominations of 1, 2, 5, 10, 50, 100, and 500. After redistributing the amount and signing in the notebook, Raynhart also took out the voucher he had recently received from Owen for the new crates. His wallet noticeably became heavier, as it now contained 3319 gold.


    By the next morning, Raynhart rid himself of the burden of wealth, donating 2000 gold. One could think that the master, who had survived Fang''s assassination attempt on his life, had suddenly found religious inspiration and was ready to renounce all his possessions, striving to improve his karma. However, his motives were much more grounded ¡ª he had come to the conclusion that this money was far more needed by those who were truly in dire need. Raynhart knew he earned more than many others in different professions, and thus, despite the gratitude from Matilda and the approving glance of the mysterious priest, he regarded this as his duty. Right after that, he returned to work. It was what he always did ¡ª regardless of the circumstances, he once again took up his tools. Emotions and pleasures were fleeting, and what he could contribute to the world had much greater weight.


    In recent days, Raynhart visited a ranch, where he bought a kilogram of meat, spending 38 gold on it. He planned to return there again, as he couldn''t buy many products at once, knowing they would spoil quickly. However, he was drawn to the mine ¡ª curiosity took the upper hand, and he couldn''t help but wonder what he might find deep within. Leaving the machines working on copper rods, Raynhart headed to the dump. Yesterday, he had managed to get there without a pass, as he was supposed to install an elevator, but to gain access to the mining area, he had to pay a weekly quota of 200 gold.


    When Raynhart put on the jetpack, he already knew how to operate it ¡ª it was routine practice for masters extracting materials in the mines. However, like many other technologies trying to recover in these times, the jetpacks suffered from imperfections. In this case, the jetpack couldn''t withstand long flights, overheated, and broke down quickly, making its use for research purposes, like in the Periphery, or for military needs, completely impractical. The glasses he also received had integrated scanners that detected even the slightest changes in the surrounding space, passing through thick layers of earth and metal, reflecting off the walls of the Old World buildings. And the mine he found himself in was indeed there ¡ª inside the buildings of the megacity that once stood where Sandrok was before the Day of Disaster.


    The mining process was tough: everything had to be carried by hand, hauling the ore to the cart outside. But at least it was cooler in the mine, and the work went more smoothly. Here, he discovered copper deposits, and among the rocks, there was clay ¡ª another useful resource for future needs. In the mine, he could work without limiting himself and without worrying about the environmental impact, so he carried out whatever he found in his path.


    At one point, a disturbing sound echoed beneath his feet ¡ª a ticking so distinct that he immediately understood: he needed to leave, and quickly. Activating the jetpack, Raynhart shot upwards, crossing the space at an incredible speed. At the moment he was relatively safe, a powerful explosion echoed behind him. The shockwave nearly knocked him out of the air, but the master managed to maintain his balance and land without breaking any bones.


    Upon landing, he found a deep hole in the rock ¡ª the mark of an exploded charge. Whoever had placed it there had clearly not been thinking logically. He didn''t want to think about Rocky and his team, knowing that these areas hadn''t been properly explored yet, and bombs could remain in the ground for decades.


    Continuing his work, he became even more cautious ¡ª the threat from this place was too great. His caution increased significantly: the sense of danger followed him with every step, ruining the meditative state he had previously enjoyed.


    Leaving the mine, the master not only carried the usual haul but also a part of the relic found deep within the depths. He suspected it could be something valuable, as he had encountered something similar in his hometown. Loading the find onto a cart, he set it on the lift and, pressing the button, began rising on the platform, taking with him everything he had managed to extract. Rocky, receiving part of the ore, handed the master 180 gold and seemed quite grateful, as this ore came in very handy for him.


    Arriving at the workshop, the master discovered that the tiny storage barely accommodated all the haul, which made him decide to visit the "Architects'' House" ¡ª a place he had noticed several times near the town hall. Stepping inside, he found himself in a room with an unusually free atmosphere for Sandrok, sharply contrasting with the rustic style of the rest of the town. Here, his gaze met a stranger. Purple hair, dark skin, dark brown eyes ¡ª her appearance, so bright and memorable, couldn¡¯t go unnoticed. She was wearing a cropped blazer with thin stripes, which beautifully contrasted with her turquoise top. A brown belt with a black briefcase and a white skirt-cape completed her look, accentuating her elegance, paired with brown heeled boots, which gave her figure confidence and style.


    ¡ª Finally! Oh, haha, I''m so glad you came here. I''m Heidi, an architect around these parts. Looks like old Mason passed you the workshop for repairs, right? Well, lucky for you, I do a lot of that kind of thing! And since you¡¯re here, it means you¡¯re ready for some serious, or not so serious, repairs?


    ¡ª Greetings. That¡¯s right, I¡¯d like to expand the storage, and for that, it looks like we¡¯ll need to expand the area as well. As I understand it, that¡¯s possible?


    ¡ª You ask? There are a few contracts for this territory, but I doubt you''re interested in the most recent offers. How much gold do you have on hand?


    ¡ª Well¡­ at the moment I have 1299 gold. How much do I need to gather?


    ¡ª Exactly 1000 gold will be enough for us to get started! This time we¡¯ll help with the resources for expanding the storage. I want you to see us in action. My guys will handle it quickly, though don¡¯t expect a pretty fence, but it will be sturdy! I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t even notice how we repainted your sign at the workshop, ¡ª she laughed, not hiding her enthusiasm.


    ¡ª Honestly, I was surprised when I woke up this morning and found it. Did you wait until I fell asleep? ¡ª the man smiled, but from Heidi¡¯s reaction, he was already doubting whether it was a joke.


    ¡ª Well, this time we¡¯ll tread a bit on your territory, so bear with us a little!


    ¡ª No problem, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll figure out how to get things rolling, ¡ª he replied, nodding confidently.


    Having handed over the required amount, Raynhart headed to the museum, bringing with him the relic found in the mine. Inside, it was empty: there were no people, no exhibits. Confused and almost ready to believe he had entered a non-functioning museum, he heard a door open behind him. A woman stormed into the room like a whirlwind, as if afraid to be late for an important meeting. She immediately assumed a calm expression, but the fire in her eyes did not fade.


    She had jet-black hair, dark skin, and deep brown eyes. She was wearing a white shirt with a blue ribbon, a light blue corset-cape over it, and a long dark blue skirt, under which a black skirt was hidden. Her legs were clad in dark brown knee-high boots with gold buttons, and her arms and neck sparkled with numerous red and blue bracelets. Bright feathers were perched on her head, and golden earrings adorned her ears.


    ¡ª Here¡¯s our new master! Nice to meet you! ¡ª she said with sincere enthusiasm. ¡ª My name is Katori. I think we¡¯ll be working together often. I¡¯m trying to turn Sandrok into the jewel of the desert with my entertainment center "Golden Goose Fantasy Complex"... Ah, that sounds so awful, I need to rephrase it! ¡ª she blushed but quickly continued: ¡ª Anyway, even if you have no idea what I¡¯m talking about, come visit our entertainment center. Here are some tokens that might come in handy!


    As she handed over the tokens, her gaze firmly fixed on the relic in the master¡¯s hands, and without noticing where she was placing the tokens, she nearly dropped them. Raynhart managed to catch them with his hand.


    ¡ª Damn me! This fragment of the relic... it''s the one I¡¯ve been searching for! I can''t believe it! Look, look, I have another fragment right here! ¡ª she literally pulled the master by the hand and led him to the table where the second fragment lay. When they compared the pieces, it was obvious they matched perfectly.


    ¡ª Let¡¯s restore it? I have a restoration machine right here! ¡ª she offered, not hiding her impatience.


    ¡ª Yes, of course¡­ ¡ª the master said, approaching the mechanism he thought was a restoration machine, and carefully moved both parts of the relic to it. ¡ª But why is it so empty here?


    ¡ª You know, ¡ª replied Katori with a slight nonchalance, ¡ª not everyone has an entrepreneurial spirit, and not all masters are willing to make contact with my¡­ with our museum. But tell me you''re as interested in this as I am! I¡¯m going to display this wonderful relic right here. If you find more relics, don¡¯t hesitate ¡ª bring them here! As you¡¯ve already noticed, there are plenty of shelves, so just place the restored relic anywhere. I¡¯m sure the people of Sandrok will be thrilled! And of course, tourists ¡ª oh-oh¡­ ahem, so what do you think?


    ¡ª Don¡¯t worry, Katori, I like this too, ¡ª holding back a smile, the man replied, seeing in her behavior traits reminiscent of Arvio. ¡ª I visit the mine often, so if something valuable is really found there, it will certainly end up here in the museum.


    ¡ª How glad I am to hear that! ¡ª she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. ¡ª Oh, and don¡¯t think I¡¯ve forgotten about you! I¡¯ve already come up with rewards for good relic donors. I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t be disappointed! Now go, I won¡¯t take up any more of your time, partner!


    Raynhart, walking past her, could barely suppress a smirk. He turned away to avoid laughing ¡ª it seemed that in this city, only those with truly cosmic ambitions remained, and they believed in them with all their hearts. In a way, he understood them. When looking at his own aspirations ¡ª the desire to move mountains and change people¡¯s lives ¡ª they too seemed dubious when considered with a clear mind. After leaving the relic for restoration, he decided that he would definitely have to return to the museum to see the result of its restoration.


    By the next morning, Raynhart¡¯s workshop was filled with workers. Even he, watching their speed and coordination, couldn¡¯t help but notice that Heidi had clearly made the right choice. The workers were confidently and silently going about their tasks. It was just another working day ¡ª Wednesday, and Raynhart decided it was time to visit the clinic. He planned not only to buy an ointment for his wounds and scratches but also to make sure that the local doctor actually had the necessary qualifications. His wounds, washed with salt water, began to irritate, and ointment would be much more suitable.


    ¡ª Good morning...


    ¡ª He¡¯s back, he¡¯s back!! ¡ª the raven exclaimed excitedly, flapping his wings sharply.


    ¡ª Today... otherwise, ¡ª the doctor said in his usual calm tone, his face expressionless.


    ¡ª Should I be worried? ¡ª Raynhart smirked, signaling that it was just a joke. ¡ª Actually, I came for some ointment for my wounds, the salt is really irritating them.


    ¡ª Alright, wait.


    Left alone, except for the raven, Raynhart couldn¡¯t help but feel the bird¡¯s piercing gaze. The bird swayed on its perch, seemingly studying him.


    ¡ª Will you try...? Birdie, it¡¯s tasty! ¡ª the raven clearly didn¡¯t give up on trying to involve him in the doctor¡¯s experiments again.


    Raynhart wondered how much the bird understood his words, and in a burst of pure curiosity, he asked a direct question:


    ¡ª What¡¯s your name?


    ¡ª X! X! ¡ª the raven exclaimed, proudly spreading its wings as if trying to present itself in the best light. ¡ª Pretty bird!


    Raynhart chuckled.


    ¡ª Ha... ¡ª He clearly hadn¡¯t expected the bird to introduce itself like that. ¡ª Well, nice to meet you, X. And what poison have you mixed today?


    ¡ª Stop it! This is good food, come on, eat it! ¡ª the raven immediately retorted, again mimicking someone¡¯s voice.


    ¡ª We¡¯ll see...


    The doctor didn¡¯t make him wait long. Returning, he silently handed Raynhart the ointment, and he paid 32 gold for it. As he was about to leave, he noticed a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. It was the same man who had received a free sample of the medicine earlier. Now, he had returned, but this time he pulled out his wallet and, without slowing down, took out the money.


    ¡ª Doc, this medicine is simply amazing! ¡ª exclaimed the man, rushing to the table with uncontained enthusiasm. ¡ª I¡¯m leaving Sandrok soon, but damn it, I need to stock up on this magical remedy! My knees don¡¯t creak when I walk anymore, and I can finally climb stairs like a normal person!


    Fang seemed to have no reaction to this passionate speech. Calmly, without any unnecessary movements, he brought two bottles to the man.


    ¡ª Uh-huh.


    ¡ª No, no, you don¡¯t understand! I need more! ¡ª the customer poured a whole handful of gold onto the table. ¡ª I want to take it to my city so my kids can try it too!


    The doctor froze, slightly tilting his head.


    ¡ª Not for little ones...


    His voice was steady, but there was a hint of doubt ¡ª it seemed he was seriously considering the sanity of this man.


    ¡ª I know, I know, doc! ¡ª the man waved his hand, eyes still fixed on the medicine. ¡ª They¡¯re already grown boys!


    He scooped the bottles with both hands, clearly ready to sweep everything off the table.


    ¡ª Wait... ¡ª Fang finally relented, taking the needed amount and counting the sum before returning the extra coins.


    Raynhart watched as the satisfied customer left, clutching a pile of bottles to his chest, and no longer found it surprising. In this world, such things were not unusual.


    Returning home, he immediately opened the purchased ointment and, with some skepticism, applied it to the irritated areas of his skin. The salt he had used to wash his wounds only worsened the situation, but he didn¡¯t expect quick results. How surprised he was when, after just an hour, the unpleasant itching and redness disappeared, giving way to a pleasant cooling sensation. Perhaps Fang really knew what he was working with.


    Raynhart thoughtfully stepped away from the grinding machine ¡ª the blueprint for it had recently been given to him by Qi when he brought him the discs. For a while, he examined his hand, the skin of which now looked much better, then agreed that he should take the risk again. Although the attempts had been unpleasant, Fang continued to accept him in his clinic, so it was a fairly common reaction to experiments, and the doctor was prepared for them.


    When Raynhart left the workshop gates, his attention was drawn to a girl carrying a heavy vessel. He barely had time to make out her silhouette when the stranger suddenly stumbled, losing her balance. Instincts worked faster than reason ¡ª Raynhart quickly covered the distance between them and caught her before she would have fallen to the ground.


    ¡ª Hm... thank you for the help. ¡ª The girl straightened slightly, as if checking if she was alright, then nodded. ¡ª I¡¯m fine.


    Her appearance conveyed charm and even nobility: dark chestnut hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, her light-brown skin contrasted with violet eyes, in which a thoughtful gaze glided. A white and violet robe with a belt over a light dress accentuated her statuesque figure, and long socks and brown lace-up boots added an unpredictable touch to her look. Golden, emerald, and sapphire jewelry sparkled in the sun, drawing attention to her graceful hands.


    ¡ª It seems I overestimated my strength. ¡ª She cast a thoughtful glance at the vessel, which had shattered into fragments. ¡ª I thought I could bring all this clay at once, but it turns out it¡¯s more difficult than I thought...


    Without wasting any time, she began carefully collecting the scattered shards, placing them into the largest fragment.


    ¡ª I can help you. ¡ª Raynhart saw nothing shameful in it ¡ª helping someone in need was natural for him.


    The girl was still busy cleaning up and responded thoughtfully:


    ¡ª From time to time, I do think about asking someone for help...


    She stood up, carefully holding the collected pieces.


    ¡ª Perhaps it¡¯s time to try, ¡ª the master replied, shrugging lightly. ¡ª In my excavations, I often come across clay.


    ¡ª Hm, yes, resource gathering ¡ª that¡¯s what you masters do, right? ¡ª she tilted her head thoughtfully, examining him. ¡ª Can you bring me six kilograms of clay per week? If it¡¯s more convenient, you can split the delivery into two parts. Of course, you¡¯ll receive proper payment. My shop is near the stairs leading to the church. You can navigate by the clay vessels...


    ¡ª No problem... Hm, and how should I address you? I think you already know my name.


    ¡ª Yes, my brother... Arvio has already told me about you. Strange that he...


    ¡ª Amira! ¡ª Raynhart guessed, grinning slightly. ¡ª I noticed the resemblance but thought it would be awkward to assume. Nice to meet you.


    ¡ª Ha, he¡¯s already been buzzing in your ears? Sounds just like my little brother...


    ¡ª Yes... ¡ª the master preferred not to mention that he had first heard about her from Owen, who was in love and losing his mind at the mere mention of her name.


    ¡ª Well, thank you. See you!


    ¡ª I¡¯ll come to you today. I think I already have enough clay, ¡ª he called after her before turning around and heading back to the workshop.


    Work brought him much more satisfaction than the prospect of standing on the doorstep of Fang¡¯s clinic again, looking for light at the end of the tunnel. After retrieving the clay from the storage, Raynhart carefully navigated through the crowded space, trying not to disturb the other workers. At the assembly station, he weighed the material with his usual precision ¡ª in the mechanisms, even a slight deviation in mass could lead to critical consequences.


    By the time he finished, his own clay supplies were depleted, but this didn¡¯t trouble him. Another visit to the mines would quickly solve the problem. Work filled him with energy, coming easily, as though it were a natural continuation of his being. The lift was just the beginning ¡ª a warm-up before the new wave of orders, for which he was ready.