That evening, JP returned to his tent outside the walls. He tinkered with scraps—ore shards, leftover resin, the unstable mana crystal he'd pocketed from the mine.
Appraisal flickered:
Unstable Mana Crystal – Rare. Reactivity High. Risk of Explosion if mishandled. Potential: Amplification.
JP's mind raced. If I can stabilize this with my new skill… it could power more than a Glow Pebble. It could be the core of something bigger.
But exhaustion eventually pulled him down. He lay by the fire, staring at the faint shimmer of his Pulse Stakes.
When Lyra slipped into the camp, he wasn't surprised this time.
"You don't sleep in the inn anymore," she said softly, almost accusing.
JP smirked faintly. "Too many eyes there. Here, I can work."
Lyra sat across from him, her features softened by firelight. "You risk too much, showing your tricks to the villagers."
"They're not tricks," JP said firmly. "They're tools. Things that can make life easier."
She studied him for a long while, then murmured, "You remind me of… someone I once knew. Someone who believed the world could be changed by clever hands."
JP's heart skipped. "What happened to them?"
Lyra looked away. "They were wrong."
Silence stretched, broken only by the fire. Yet something unspoken passed between them—a thread of fragile trust.