Dawn crept over the horizon, another realization struck him as he rifled through his pouch.
Empty. Not a single coin left.
He'd spent it all: tent, blanket, rope, resin, scraps for tinkering. He had security, yes—but now he was back to square one when it came to money.
Instead of sulking, JP dusted himself off and headed toward the village.
If I want to keep this up, I can't just burn through every payout. Adventuring is risky. I need a steady stream of coin. Something people actually need.
He walked the streets with his Appraisal quietly active, watching people at work.
At the well, villagers struggled with buckets heavy enough to wrench shoulders.
Wooden Bucket – Weight Distribution Poor. Risk: Strain.
A cracked lantern sputtered in the hands of a child, its flame dim and choking.
Clay Lantern – Fuel Efficiency 19%. Fragile Structure.
Farmers knelt in muddy fields, constantly adjusting leaking water jars.
Irrigation Jar – Leakage Rate High. Short-Term Use.
JP rubbed his chin, sparks of ideas igniting in his mind.
Glow stones instead of smoky lamps. Carrying straps for buckets. Smarter irrigation jars that don't waste water.
The more he looked, the more problems appeared—problems he could solve.
By midday, JP was back at his camp with a small bundle of raw materials gathered from the outskirts: smooth stones, resin clumps, bark strips. Cheap, common things—worthless to most.
But in his hands, with alchemy and tinkering, they could become something else.
He glanced at the shimmer of his Pulse Stakes, pride swelling.
If I can protect myself at night… I can build things to protect, help, and ease daily life for everyone else too.
His mind buzzed with designs: glowing stones, reinforced straps, jars with controlled release. Simple inventions—but useful. And useful meant sellable.
That night, as the campfire crackled and the stakes hummed softly, JP stared at the village lights twinkling in the distance.
"No more starving, no more sleeping in the dirt," he whispered. "If I can sell my work, I can make it here."
From the shadows, unseen silver eyes lingered again—Lyra's curious gaze following him as she whispered to herself:
"You're planning something, aren't you? Not just fighting, not just surviving. You're… building."