Later that day, everyone gathered once more in the lobby. The lanterns cast a golden glow across the stone walls, warming the air as family life returned to its usual rhythm.
The women busied themselves at the kitchen, preparing breakfast, while the men cleaned their weapons, checked their bowstrings, and tried on the armor Neil had made. The sound of clanking steel and low conversation mingled with the crackle of the fire.
Neil sat quietly at the long stone table, watching them without much focus.
His mind had already wandered back to the underground hall below their feet. The project was unfinished, and that thought gnawed at him. Two neat rows of stone already stretched at the base of the staircase, but the rest of the wide chamber remained bare and uneven.
He frowned faintly, a small crease forming between his brows. To finish the floor, he needed more stone—much more. His inventory was nearly empty, and the mining he had done before had only covered part of the work.
That meant another long day in the mountains. His body didn't complain at the thought; the artifact within him kept his muscles tireless. But he knew the strain would gnaw at his mind, and worse, hunger would demand its toll.
He sighed quietly, already making his decision. After breakfast. I'll go back. This time, I'll bring enough stone to finish it all.
The smell of cooking soon filled the hall, tugging him from his thoughts. Roasting meat and spiced broth sent warmth curling through the lobby. The others gathered at the table, drawn by the meal.
As bowls were passed and laughter grew, the mood lightened. Orion flexed in his armor, pretending to be a knight of old; Lyra rolled her eyes but laughed anyway; Caspian leaned forward eagerly, asking questions about how strong the armor really was.
Neil ate in silence, listening, letting the warmth settle in his chest. For a little while, the outside world—the endless snow, the dangers beyond—seemed far away.
When the bowls were scraped clean, Neil rose to his feet. His voice was steady when he spoke, though a quiet firmness lay beneath it.
"I'll be heading to the mountain. I need more stone to finish the underground hall."
A hush fell over the table. A few worried glances flickered between the adults. He was still young, after all. Mining alone in the mountains sounded reckless.
Yet they had seen his determination before, and the strange abilities of his gave him strength beyond his years. His father, Anil, studied him for a moment before nodding slowly.
"Be careful, Neil. And remember to return on time ."
Neil gave a small smile at that, then pulled on his coat and stepped outside.
The cold struck at once, crisp and biting, the kind of air that stung the skin. Snow crunched beneath his boots, leaving a clear trail behind as he trudged toward the ridge.
Pines heavy with frost loomed at the edges of the clearing, their branches hanging low. The world was silent but for the hiss of wind over snow.
When he reached the stony patch he had mined before, he drew his pickaxe from his inventory. Its weight settled comfortably in his hands. He inhaled once, then set to work.
The sound of metal on stone rang sharply through the still air. Block after block crumbled neatly into his inventory, each strike of his pickaxe breaking reality into cubes. Time stretched.
The sun crept higher, pale light washing across the snow. His body worked tirelessly— thanks to his artifact. His muscles never slowed, and his breath never grew short. But his mind began to dull. The steady rhythm of swing and break blurred into monotony.
And then came the hunger. It started as a small gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, a hollow tug in his stomach. As the hours dragged on, the gnawing sharpened, demanding his attention with every swing. His focus frayed, and he knew it was hunger more than fatigue that pressed on him now.
By the time his inventory brimmed with ten stacks of stone—one thousand blocks in total—his stomach ached with emptiness. His artifact had kept his body steady, but his mind was foggy, distracted by the simple need for food. He finally stopped, shouldering his pickaxe back into his inventory, and turned toward home.
Snow crunched underfoot as he retraced his trail. The promise of food pushed him forward faster than pride.
He reached the lobby just as midday meal was being laid out. His mother quickly noticed the pale look on his face and pressed a full bowl into his hands before he could vanish into the underground again.
Neil ate quickly, the taste hardly registering. With each bite, the fog in his mind lifted, clarity returning. Only when his hunger eased did he rise, excusing himself and heading toward the stairs that led below.
The underground hall greeted him in darkness. He pulled a torch from his inventory, and its glow spilled out across the unfinished floor. The stone rows by the staircase looked lonely against the raw earth, waiting to be joined.
Neil drew a block of stone from his inventory and set it into place. Then another. And another. The echo of each block snapping into reality filled the chamber.
He worked in silence, methodically filling row after row. His arms moved without hesitation, unburdened by fatigue, yet his thoughts grew heavy again with the constant concentration. Hunger crept at the edges once more, though less fiercely than before.
When the final block clicked into place, he stepped back. The floor stretched smooth and even beneath the torchlight. The rough chamber had transformed. It was no longer just an excavation. It was a hall.
Neil allowed himself a breath, then turned to the next task. By the stairway's corner, he raised a platform three blocks wide and five blocks long. With the stonecutter, he shaped stairs and fitted them neatly against the side.
At the center of the platform, he carved a shallow basin three blocks long. He pulled two buckets of water from his inventory, pouring one on either side. At once, the middle block filled itself, shimmering with an endless source.
Neil dipped his bucket into the center, and the water refilled instantly. A smile tugged at his lips. His family would never again need to trudge to the frozen lake.
Next, Neil measured five blocks from the wall opposite the stairs. There, he raised a stone wall all the way to the ceiling, splitting the chamber in two.
On one side lay the main hall, with the staircase, the infinite water source, and space for storage. On the other side stretched a new chamber, which he would shape into the bathrooms.
He left an opening in the dividing wall and stepped into the second chamber. Carefully, he split it again, shaping two doorways and building walls until it became two separate rooms: one for the women, one for the men.
Returning to the main hall, Neil lit the space. He crafted eight torches, upgrading them into lanterns with iron ingots. Six he placed evenly along the walls of the main hall, their golden glow casting warm light over the stone. The last two he hung in the men's and women's rooms, one for each side. Shadows retreated, replaced by steady radiance.
In the women's room, Neil began with privacy. Just beside the doorway, he raised a stone wall up to the ceiling. At its far end, he left a two-block-wide space so that anyone entering would need to walk around it to reach the rest of the room. This kept the chamber private while leaving it open to air and light.
Behind the wall, he built a bathing area. Stone slabs formed clean boundaries, and at the far end, he carved a shallow pool with stone block.
To keep the water warm, he devised a clever system: a narrow stone tower with a campfire at its base. Above the fire, he placed a trapdoor, poured water onto it, and dug a side channel.
The water streamed downward, heated by the rising warmth, and spilled into the pool in a gentle cascade. It glowed faintly in the lantern light, like a natural hot spring.
But baths were not enough. The family needed toilets as well.
Beside the pool, Neil built a separate facility. Using stone, he formed a 3×5 enclosed room, fitting it with a sturdy wooden door. Inside, he dug a deep decomposition pit and left a one-block-wide hole in the floor, shaped like an Eastern squat toilet.
But when he studied it, his brows furrowed. Each block was a full meter across. The hole was far too wide—unsafe and uncomfortable.
After a pause, Neil nodded to himself. He would ask the adults to craft a thick wooden plank to cover the space. At its center, they would cut a smaller rounded hole—safe, practical, and still allowing waste to fall into the pit. With that solution, the toilet became both functional and comfortable.
Neil repeated the process in the men's room: a privacy wall, a warm pool, and a toilet facility with the same wooden-plank solution. Both chambers now offered dignity and comfort—warm baths, private spaces, and sanitation.
Returning to the main hall, Neil crafted a large barrel and set it in the corner near the infinite water source. Its deep capacity would hold food, tools, or other supplies.
At last, Neil stood back, lanternlight glimmering across smooth stone. The underground was no longer a rough excavation.
The first chamber held water and storage; the second, divided into two, offered warmth, privacy, and toilets. It was not just survival carved into stone—it was comfort, safety, and pride.
By the time Neil climbed back upstairs, the sky outside had turned orange with evening. His family had returned from their work. Lyra spotted him first, dust clinging to his clothes.
"Neil," she called, curiosity bright in her eyes, "did you finish it?"
Neil nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's done. Come and see."
Excitement rippled quickly through the group. They followed him down the stairs, voices hushed in anticipation.
Gasps filled the chamber as they entered. The lanterns glowed warmly, their light gleaming on smooth stone. The water source shimmered, endlessly replenishing itself. The storage barrel stood sturdy in the corner.
Neil explained, showing them how to draw water from the center block. "It never runs out," he said simply. Wonder spread across their faces.
Then he guided them to the second chamber. The women stepped into their side first, pausing to gape at the warm pool steaming softly in the golden light. Joy burst across their faces, excitement bubbling in their voices.
Before, they had only damp cloths and icy water. Now they had privacy, warmth, and dignity.
The men's room echoed with equal amazement when shown their facilities. The toilets drew murmurs of surprise—strange but practical, and far better than braving the cold outside.
Neil led them through every corner, their awe growing with each step. At last, they returned upstairs, where dinner waited. This time, the laughter was louder, freer, echoing warmly through the lobby.
That night, for the first time, Frostlake Village had not only a home above ground, but a true sanctuary beneath it.