As the cold water splashed against my skin, I glanced out the window. A carriage stood parked near Windward Woodworks’ designated lot. The beast pulling it caught my eye—a hulking lizard-like creature with thick, scaly legs and a long tail that flicked lazily in the morning sun. Its leathery skin gleamed a deep, mottled green.
What the…? What kind of animal is that?
I focused on the creature, and before I even realized it, a familiar notification flashed in my mind.
Type: Domesticated Beast
Usage: Primarily for transportation, occasionally for farming assistance
Notes: Reliable temperament, strong endurance >
...
Oh, right—Appraisal! I smacked my forehead. I keep forgetting about this thing.
The skill had activated without me needing to say anything. That was new. Maybe it had grown more intuitive after the first use? Either way, I couldn’t deny how useful it would be.
As I stared at the Land Dragon, a strange feeling washed over me. The way its tail moved, flicking with idle patience, reminded me of something I couldn’t quite place—a sense of foreboding. Shaking the thought, I finished washing up and stepped out of my room.
In the main hall. Borus wasn’t there, but a plate of breakfast sat on the table—bread, a couple of fried eggs, and some slices of smoked meat. I sat down and ate quickly, savoring the hearty meal.
He even makes breakfast for me. I really lucked out with this guy.
Once done, I headed down to the workshop floor. Borus was standing near the door, talking to a man dressed in official-looking garb—a dark brown coat with silver trim and an emblem of a dragon wrapped around a sword pinned to his chest.
The man nodded at something Borus said, then stepped into the carriage. The driver, seated atop the Land Dragon, flicked the reins, and the carriage rumbled away.
“Who was that?” I asked, stepping closer.
Borus turned to me, his expression more serious than usual. “A city official. He said they received a report of someone suspicious entering Renxall.”
I froze. “Suspicious? Did he… mean me?”
“Possibly,” Borus said, scratching his beard. “But don’t worry—I told him there wasn’t anyone like that here.”
My heart raced. “What if he comes back? What if they dig deeper?”
Borus waved a hand dismissively, though his eyes still held some concern. “Usually, these things don’t amount to much. Renxall gets travelers from all over. Just keep your head down, and you’ll be fine.”
“‘Usually’? That’s not very reassuring…”
He clapped me on the shoulder with a grin. “Hey, no use worrying about it. Anyway, are you ready for the evaluation?”
“I guess…”
“Good. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
The Official Quarter felt colder than yesterday, the air thick with an unspoken tension. As Borus and I approached the Civic Hall, I noticed a few guards standing near the entrance. Their eyes lingered on me just a second too long, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were evaluating me just as much as I’d soon be evaluated.
Inside, we were directed to a chamber near the back of the building. The room was simple, with a long wooden table and three chairs on one side. Behind the table sat two men and one woman, all dressed in somber gray attire. Their faces were stern, and their eyes sharp.
The man in the center spoke first. “State your name and reason for seeking citizenship.”
I cleared my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “My name is Rei. I’ve been working under Borus at Windward Woodworks, and I’d like to make Renxall my home.”
The woman to his left raised an eyebrow. “Place of origin?”
“Wanderer,” I said, using the term Borus had suggested.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“Wanderer,” she repeated, her tone neutral but skeptical.
The man on the right leaned forward. “And what skills or trades do you bring to our city?”
Here was my chance to stand out—or at least show I wasn’t just some aimless drifter. “I’ve been learning woodworking under Borus,” I said. “I also have an eye for analyzing materials and understanding how to work with them effectively.”
The woman tilted her head. “Analyzing materials?”
“Yes,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “For example, understanding what makes a piece of wood strong or brittle, and how to make the most of its qualities. It’s useful for crafting and repairs.”
The man on the right nodded slightly, though his expression remained unreadable.
“Very well,” the central man said. “We’ll proceed with the practical assessment. Follow us.”
We were led to a workshop-like room filled with various tools, materials, and half-finished objects. A single task was laid out for me: repair a damaged wooden chair using the provided materials.
“Demonstrate your skills,” the woman said.
I approached the chair, noting the cracked leg and warped seat. The tools provided were basic—just a saw, a hammer, nails, and glue.
Alright, let’s do this.
First, I used Appraisal on the chair.
Material: Oak
Durability: 25/100
Issues: Structural instability in leg. Warping in seat due to moisture exposure>
Okay, I can work with this.
To fix the chair, I’d need to replace the broken leg entirely and straighten the warped seat. But there was another idea brewing in my mind—one that would let me secretly test my Property Alteration skill.
I selected a piece of spare wood for the new leg, measuring it meticulously against the broken one. Using a carpenter’s square and a caliper, I ensured the dimensions were exact, down to the millimeter. The grain alignment was critical; if it didn’t match the stress points of the chair’s original design, it could compromise the overall durability.
As I prepared to shape the wood, I activated Property Alteration.
Elasticity: Low
Impact Resistance: Moderate
Durability: Moderate >
I paused, staring at the system window. This feels… different, I thought. The text on the display now directly included values for properties—specific percentages that gave me a clearer understanding of the material's characteristics.
It's so much more precise now. Before, I could just feel it—like guessing the texture of a surface by touch or imagining the molecules shifting around as I shouted out commands. But now… I flexed my fingers, the wood resting lightly in my hands. I don’t have to yell or guess. I can actually feel the grain at a microscopic level, almost as if my mind is threading between the fibers themselves.
With the system providing detailed insights, it was like I had a blueprint of the material right in front of me, showing me exactly where to apply pressure and where to ease off. It made the process faster, more efficient, and oddly satisfying.
I focused on the grain structure of the wood, imagining the molecules lined up tightly, rigid but brittle. Slowly, I willed the structure to loosen slightly, granting the fibers more flexibility without sacrificing overall strength.
The wood shimmered faintly in my hands—a faint glow visible only to me. It faded just as quickly, leaving the material altered yet appearing perfectly natural. I smoothed the surface with a plane and sanded the edges to perfection before attaching the leg. Using sturdy dowels and wood glue, I secured the new piece, ensuring the joints were flush and stable.
Next, I turned my attention to the warped seat. Years of exposure to humidity had caused the wood to bow unevenly, making it uncomfortable and unstable. I fetched a kettle of steaming water and carefully directed the vapor over the affected area.
Steam softens the lignin in wood fibers, making it pliable, I thought, recalling the woodworking basics Borus had taught me. I pressed the seat flat against a weighted frame, holding it in place to reshape it.
While the wood was still soft, I activated Property Alteration again, this time targeting its vulnerability to moisture.
Moisture Resistance: Low
Flexural Strength: Moderate>
If I reduce its moisture absorption, the wood will resist future warping and maintain its shape longer, I reasoned.
Unlike before, where I had to imagine gaps sealing or fibers tightening with a vague sense of intuition, I could now see the exact property values. I didn’t just picture it; I could almost feel the microscopic pores closing, as if the molecules themselves were responding to my thoughts.
The change wasn’t visible, but I could feel the texture of the wood subtly shift under my fingers—it was smoother, less porous, almost repellent to the lingering steam.
After letting the seat cool and harden in its new shape, I reassembled the chair. Every joint was tight, and the structure felt solid when I tested it with a few forceful presses. Satisfied, I stepped back to admire my work.
When I finished, the chair looked better than new.
The evaluators inspected it closely, their expressions unreadable.
The central man scrutinized the chair for a moment longer, then exchanged a glance with the other officials. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice measured and neutral.
“Well done,” he said. “Your craftsmanship is commendable, but there are formalities we must address. We’ll need a few more days to review everything thoroughly. Expect to hear from us soon.”
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. A few days? That doesn’t sound normal.
Borus’s expression darkened as we exited the hall. Once we were out of earshot, he muttered, “This doesn’t make sense. Citizenship approvals are usually instantaneous, especially after a performance like that.”
I glanced at him, trying to keep my voice steady despite the unease creeping into my chest. “Why would they delay it, then? Did I mess up somehow?”
Borus shook his head, his brow furrowed. “No, your work was flawless. If anything, it should’ve impressed them. Something’s not adding up.”
His tone was low and serious, which only made my discomfort grow. Are they suspicious of me? Did they notice something unusual about the way I handled the materials?
“Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet,” Borus added, though his words seemed more for his own reassurance than mine. “We’ll head back for now. If there’s an issue, we’ll deal with it when it comes up. Keep your head down for the next few days.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
As we walked back toward Windward Woodworks, I felt a strange sensation—like someone was watching me. I glanced over my shoulder, but the crowded streets seemed normal. Still, the feeling persisted.
“Something wrong?” Borus asked.
“...I think someone’s following us,” I said.
I turned quickly, catching a glimpse of movement—a shadow darting around the corner of a nearby alley. Without thinking, I sprinted after it.
“Hey! Where are you running off to? Rei!” Borus shouted behind me.
I barely heard him. My focus was locked on the figure ahead. I rounded corner after corner, weaving through narrow alleys and bustling streets. Every time I thought I’d catch up, the shadow slipped away, just out of reach.
Finally, I turned a corner and found myself at a dead end. The only sound was my own heavy breathing.
Where did it go?
Borus caught up, panting. “What… the hell… are you doing?”
“I thought I saw something—wait.” My eyes darted to a warehouse nearby. On the third floor, through a cracked window, I saw movement.
“There it is!” I pointed.
Borus’s face paled. “No… it can’t be. Not here.”
“What’s wrong?”
He grabbed my arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”
But I pulled away. “I need to know what’s up there.”
“Rei, wait—!”
I didn’t stop. Bursting through the warehouse door, I climbed the stairs two at a time. Each floor felt darker and more oppressive than the last. The air smelled faintly of blood and decay, and old stains on the floor hinted at what the warehouse used to store.
When I reached the third floor, the atmosphere was suffocating. I scanned the room, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
Then I saw it.
It stood near the balcony, its form obscured by shadows. As I stepped closer, it turned to face me, and my blood ran cold.
It wasn’t human.
Its eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and its twisted features were a horrific blend of human and beast.
What the hell is that?!
Before I could react, it lunged forward, shoving me hard. My feet left the ground, and I plummeted off the balcony.