Chapter 7

  Veni, Vidi, Aedificavi

  As Thorin wandered through the bustling market, he casually activated Inspect on the people around him. The range of different levels and faces sparked his curiosity.

  Level 6… Level 5… Level 8… Level 7…

  Thorin continued scanning. The merchant selling dried herbs—Level 6. A pair of guards chatting near the stalls—Level 7 and Level 8. Even the burly blacksmith, hammering away at his forge, was only Level 9.

  A slight hum buzzed at the back of Thorin's mind as the Inspect skill processed the details. He noticed the strain of scanning more individuals, as the skill stretched his attention span further. His mind sharpened as his understanding of people, things, and situations increased.

  Inspect Skill +0.50

  “Seems like no one here gets past Level 9,” Thorin muttered.

  Vorn, nestled comfortably beneath Thorin's cloak, spoke up with a venomous drawl. “Not surprising, is it? Most mortals get stuck at 10. The experience curve’s too steep after that.” Vorn let out a mocking chuckle. “I thought you’d figure that out yourself, human.”

  Thorin frowned, ignoring the jibe. “So, they can’t level past 10?”

  Vorn sighed heavily. “No. It's too difficult. People often group up in large numbers—hundreds of soldiers—but none of them gain much XP individually. Those who manage to go beyond 10 do so at such a crawl, it's not worth the effort. They can't outpace age.”

  Thorin felt a small mental shift again as he inspected another passerby—a group of children chasing each other. The strain on his mind was noticeable but manageable.

  Inspect Skill +0.25

  “So basically,” Thorin grinned, “the world’s full of capped people.”

  “Pretty much,”

  Thorin nodded to himself, contemplating how he was rapidly approaching a level of power that would set him apart from everyone around him.

  Inspect Skill: 21.00

  As Thorin walked through the market, the weight of Vorn’s words settled in. Most people never made it past level 10. Even the strongest fighters in town were still stuck at single-digit levels. And here he was, pushing forward, getting stronger by the day.

  He clenched his fists, feeling the raw power in his muscles. 31 Strength. 33 Stamina. The numbers weren’t just numbers—they were real, tangible. He could feel it every time he lifted something heavy, every time he struck with his spear, every time he kept moving while others would have faltered.

  So, what am I going to do with all of this?

  Thorin had been so focused on surviving, on getting stronger, that he hadn’t truly considered what came next. Did he want to keep mining and smithing until he was a master craftsman?

  Did he want to seek out stronger foes and push himself to his limits?

  Or was there something bigger out there—something more than just grinding for strength?

  Vorn, as if sensing his thoughts, gave a low chuckle. "Don't go getting all philosophical on me, human. Your kind isn't exactly known for long-term thinking."

  Thorin smirked but didn't respond. He just kept walking, lost in thought.

  For the first time since arriving in this world, he wasn’t just reacting. He was starting to think about what he wanted—not just what he needed to do to survive.

  Thorin stopped mid-step as the realization hit him.

  His Auto Regen Trait.

  It had always been there, working in the background, sealing wounds, mending bruises, keeping him in peak condition. But he had never truly thought about what that meant in the long run.

  He wouldn’t age.

  Scars, wrinkles, cataracts—none of it would ever stick. Even if he lived for a hundred years, his body would always restore itself to its original state. Time would pass, but it wouldn’t leave its mark on him.

  Most people in this world had to fight against time itself. Even those who leveled high did so at a crawl, struggling against the slow grind before their bodies inevitably gave out. But Thorin? He had all the time in the world.

  Vorn noticed him stopping and groaned. "What now? Having another one of your little existential crises?"

  Thorin shook his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Not exactly. Just realized... I’ve got more time than anyone else."

  The wyrm narrowed his eyes. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do with that time?"

  Thorin didn't answer right away. Because for the first time, he wasn't just thinking about the next fight, the next skill-up, the next meal.

  For the first time, he was thinking about the kind of legend he could become.

  Vorn let out a snort, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, I see where this is going. Let me guess—you're going to start some grand organization? Train people up, give ‘em structure, teach ‘em how to level faster? Lead it for centuries so it just keeps going? Like some sort of… I don’t know… pyramid of humans seeking adventure?"

  Thorin rolled his eyes. "That’s not what I—"

  "No, no, I can see it now," Vorn interrupted, his tone exaggerated. "You’ll be at the top, all wise and immortal, guiding generations of wide-eyed hopefuls as they scramble over each other to get stronger. Maybe you even slap your ugly mug on a banner. ‘Blackwood’s Brotherhood of Betterment’—no, wait! ‘The Everlasting Order of Thorin’s Teachings!’ Has a nice cult-y ring to it, don’t you think?"

  Thorin frowned, rubbing his chin as he mulled it over. "Not like that… more like a union. Or a guild for adventurers."

  Vorn went silent for a beat before letting out a barking laugh. "Oh, that’s rich. You? A guild master? Going to start taking dues? Hand out quests? Maybe throw a big feast every year for your loyal little underlings?"

  "Think about it. Most people don’t make it past level 10 because they don’t have the structure or the know-how to level efficiently.

  But if there was an Adventurer’s Guild—somewhere people could train, learn, get proper gear and tactics—maybe they could break past that wall. Actually, stand a chance at getting stronger."

  If I can level faster than most and I have time to figure things out, why not use that knowledge? Why not make something that lasts?"

  "Tch. You really think you can make something like that work?" Vorn finally muttered.

  Thorin’s smirk faded into something more resolute. "And those that get stronger will help protect the weak—to run in where all others flee."

  Vorn was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice lacked its usual biting sarcasm. "That’s a nice thought, Blackwood. Real noble." Then, with a sharp snort, his tone returned to normal. "Also, a great way to get yourself killed leading a bunch of reckless idiots into danger."

  Thorin chuckled. "Maybe. But if even a handful get strong enough to do the same for others, it's worth it."

  Vorn grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue further. That, more than anything, told Thorin he was on to something.

  Thorin shrugged. "Doesn't matter how strong I get if I can’t make or maintain my own gear. Besides, if I start smithing now, I’ll have a head start on something that’ll actually be useful long-term."

  Vorn huffed. "Fine, fine. But you’re doing all the heavy lifting. I’ll supervise."

  Thorin rolled his eyes and adjusted his gear. "Then let's get to it."

  With that, he set off toward the mine, already considering the materials he'd need to build a crude forge and get started on smelting his first ingots.

  As they walked through the bustling market, Thorin kept an eye out for a blacksmith’s stall. It didn’t take long to find one—an older man with arms like tree trunks stood behind a sturdy wooden counter, arranging tools and supplies for sale.

  Thorin stepped up and gestured to a few items. "I’ll take a basic crucible, a pair of tongs, and some coke."

  The smith raised an eyebrow. "You smelt something, lad?"

  Thorin nodded. "Got some ore I want to process."

  The smith grunted in approval and set the items down. "That’ll be 4 coppers."

  Thorin counted out the coins and passed them over. As he collected his supplies, the smith gave him an appraising look. "If you’ve got ore to smelt, you’ll be needing a proper forge. You setting one up?"

  Thorin smirked. "That’s the plan."

  The smith chuckled. "Good luck with that. Isn’t easy work, but if you stick with it, you’ll learn plenty."

  With that, Thorin gave a nod of thanks and turned away, tucking the supplies into his pack. Vorn, nestled beneath his cloak, let out a low snicker.

  "Oh yes, we’re truly living the high life now. Buying rocks to burn and fancy cups to melt metal in. You’re just dripping with prestige."

  Thorin rolled his shoulders, ignoring the jab. "You’ll be singing a different tune once we start pulling ingots out of the ground."

  Vorn huffed. "Doubtful."

  With their supplies secured, they left the town behind, heading back toward the mine Thorin had dug, ready to set up the foundation for his forge.

  As Thorin worked, sweat beaded on his brow, but he pushed forward, his muscles straining with each swing of the pickaxe. He cut into the side of the bedrock mound, carving out a flat surface. The walls at the back and sides were shaped carefully, leaving just enough space to stack cut stones for the forge's structure.

  Loose dirt from his mining efforts was piled up around all but the front, acting as insulation to trap heat. It was rough, crude, but functional.

  Vorn muttered from beneath the cloak. "You know, this is dangerously close to actual civilization. You’re building things, creating infrastructure—what’s next? A quaint little village?"

  Thorin ignored him, gathering wood and kindling to start a fire at the bottom of the forge. He pulled a few stones from his pack—each imbued with Imbue Fire—and tossed them into the flames, increasing the heat. With the fire burning hot, he fed in some of the coke he had purchased. The air shimmered from the growing intensity of the heat.

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  Satisfied with the temperature, he started adding raw tin ore. The metal darkened, then turned molten, bubbling as impurities burned away. He used the tongs to manipulate the ore, letting the heat purify it before carefully pouring the liquid metal into a shallow depression in a stone slab he had found. The metal cooled and hardened, forming a crude but serviceable tin ingot.

  [New Skill Acquired: Stone Crafting]

  [Stone Crafting +3]

  Thorin exhaled sharply, feeling the rush of a new skill settling into his mind. That was unexpected but welcome. He continued working, smelting each ore in turn.

  With every batch, his movements became more refined. His control over the fire improved, his understanding of temperature shifts sharpened. He took note of how different metals reacted, tin flowed easily, copper took longer to purify, and wolframite was a stubborn metal that required prolonged exposure to intense heat.

  [Smith Increased] +2

  [Mining +2]

  [Inspect +1]

  [Stone Crafting +1]

  Vorn let out an exaggerated yawn. "Oh yes, watching molten rock dribble into holes. Riveting."

  Thorin smirked, holding up a solid tin ingot. "This molten rock turns into something useful. Unlike you."

  "Tch. That ingot is still worth less than me."

  Thorin chuckled, setting the finished ingot aside. He had turned every bit of ore into metal, his forge blazing hot and his skills sharper than before. This was just the beginning.

  Thorin leaned back against the rock, rolling his shoulders as he watched the fire in the forge slowly die down. His body was tired from the work, but his mind was racing.

  "Vorn," he said, breaking the quiet, "with all the races in this world—elves, humans, dwarves, and whatever else—why hasn’t anyone built something lasting? A guild, an academy, something that actually sticks?"

  Vorn let out a dry chuckle, lounging lazily nearby. "Oh, they have," he said. "Plenty of times. But it never lasts more than a few generations, if that, even the elves. People get old. They slow down, lose their drive, die. And once the founder’s gone, the whole thing crumbles. Short-lived species barely have time to get something big going before time yanks it all away."

  Thorin exhaled through his nose, thinking that over.

  "But that’s just it," he said, looking down at his hands. "I’m not like them. I heal. My body resets itself, no scars, no wrinkles. I don’t think I age. That means I don’t have the same limit holding me back."

  "So, what? You think just because you’ve got more time, that’ll make a difference?"

  Thorin smirked. "Time’s the biggest difference. Everyone else starts building too late, and by the time they figure things out, they’re running out of years. But me? I can start now. I can put in the time to make something strong, something that will last"

  "You’re talking about spending centuries on this, human. You actually prepared for that kind of grind?"

  Thorin’s smirk didn’t fade. "Doesn’t sound any worse than swinging a pick all day."

  Vorn huffed, just don’t start talking about ruling an empire next."

  Thorin laughed. "Nah. I’m thinking more along the lines of a guild. An Adventurer’s Guild."

  "Here we go…"

  Thorin Asked, "Vorn do you know about runes, how to power them?"

  Vorn shifted in place, tail flicking slightly as he considered Thorin’s question. “Runes, huh? You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you? It’s not an easy thing to learn, especially when it comes to imbuing them with power. But I’ve seen a few things over the years. Runes can be quite potent if you know how to carve them properly, but it’s more than just scribbling symbols on something.”

  He paused for a moment, flicking his gaze toward Thorin. "You’ve got the right idea with crystals. You can carve runes into things and fill them with power—like charging them. That’s how you get them to do what you want. Fire, light, or even something more complex, if you’re good enough. But crystals... they’re a conduit. You carve the rune shape, but it’s the right crystal or material that channels the energy into the rune.”

  Vorn leaned back, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “As for the shapes themselves? You need to know the fundamental meaning behind them. A rune for fire will usually have sharp edges, like flames. Water might have curving lines that represent flow. Earth will be more geometric, something stable. And then there are hybrid ones, like combining fire and earth for something like molten lava... that’s where it gets tricky.”

  He shifted again, clearly pondering Thorin’s question in more depth. “And about imbuing with fire? That’s easier than most things. You need to focus the energy through the rune, like drawing the flame into the design. Crystals work by capturing the energy in their structure, but fire needs focus—so, an ‘imbue fire’ rune would have an inward spiral at its center. You carve the spiral, fill it with crystal, and then focus the flame into it to make it activate. The fire charges the rune, and once it’s full, the rune can release the energy when triggered.”

  Vorn looked at Thorin, raising an eyebrow. “But that’s the theory. Actually, getting it to work... that’s up to you, mortal. And don’t expect it to be a one-off. Runes need practice, a lot of it. There’s also the matter of what you carve the rune on. Some materials are better than others at holding energy, but they can’t always handle too much power.”

  He grinned slyly. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you. Not that I mind. More loot if you get it right.”

  Thorin gritted his teeth in concentration, carefully carving lines and shapes into the tin ingot, using the leftover crystals to experiment with the theories Vorn had mentioned. He tried spiral patterns, curved edges, and geometric shapes, his brow furrowed with focus as he muttered under his breath about fire, power, and direction. Each attempt seemed to fail in some way. Some ran too deep; some were too shallow. Others, the energy he tried to imbue just didn’t stick. The failures piled up in frustration, and Vorn's laughter echoed in his ears, teasing him after each misstep.

  "Not even close, Thorin!" Vorn would snicker after every failed attempt, his voice filled with mock amusement. "You're going to need more than just a couple of failures to get this right."

  But Thorin wasn’t one to quit easily. He kept at it, determined to prove that he could make something work. His hands grew tired, but he refused to stop. Finally, after what seemed like hours of trial and error, one of his runes sparked faintly as he finished carving a spiral into the tin, adding a sliver of crystal at the center.

  A faint glow flickered for just a moment.

  [System Notification]

  You have learned Rune Crafting.

  [System Notification] Smithing, Woodworking, Stone Crafting, and Rune Crafting are sub-categories of Crafting, combining subcategories into: Crafting

  Crafting skill is now 7

  The rush of accomplishment hit Thorin immediately, though the glow quickly faded. His eyes widened slightly at the message. The rune itself didn’t produce fire or anything spectacular, but it had worked. The lines had come together just enough to form a functional, if barely-there, result.

  Before he could bask in the moment, he heard Vorn’s voice, loud and incredulous.

  “Oh, COME ON!!” Vorn exclaimed, tail swishing in frustration. “Really? After all that? You actually did it!? This fast?! You were bungling it a second ago, and now... you’ve got it?”

  Thorin gave a smug grin, despite his fatigue. “Seems like I did, didn’t I?”

  Vorn grumbled, his tail flicking sharply. “I told you it’d take years to get it down right... Now you’ve gone and messed with the natural order of things. Whatever. Just don't come crying to me when it burns your hands off.”

  Thorin chuckled, inspecting the faintly glowing rune on the tin. He was already thinking about the next step, about what he could make with this newfound skill. “I think I'll be fine, Vorn. I’m not going to stop just because it wasn’t a perfect result.”

  Vorn grunted, still shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, just don’t set anything important on fire. That’s all I ask."

  Over the next four days,

  Thorin and Vorn fell into a comfortable rhythm. The mornings were spent out in the countryside, Thorin carefully mining veins of ore and iron that he'd uncovered the day before. Each day, his skill improved, and the veins seemed to yield more as he pushed deeper into the stone. Thorin’s hands became more adept with the pickaxe, his movements smoother and more confident. Every swing seemed to land in the right place, gathering ores with increasing efficiency.

  As he mined, Vorn often hovered nearby, occasionally making sarcastic remarks or grumbling about Thorin's "easy progress," but he kept his distance, unwilling to help directly. "You can’t just make it easy for me, huh?" Thorin would joke back as he cracked open another vein, gathering the minerals from deep within the earth.

  [System Notification] Mining skill has increased

  After each successful mining session, Thorin would haul his gathered ores back to the makeshift forge near the mine. There, he would set up the furnace with care, feeding it wood, stones imbued with fire, and the hard-to-find coke, and he would spend the afternoon smelting. The heat of the fire made the air around them shimmer, and the ores would begin to melt down, impurities burning away as Thorin meticulously poured the molten metals into stone depressions. Every time he worked the forge, he could feel his crafting skills growing. He watched as his Ingots took shape—tin, copper, iron—and a steady stream of notifications kept telling him that his skills were improving.

  [System Notification]

  Crafting skill has increased

  Crafting skill has increased

  But it wasn’t just smelting and smithing. As soon as the day’s work with ores was done, Thorin would turn his focus to rune crafting. Sitting with his engraving tools in hand, Thorin took his time carving into the metal and experimenting with the leftover crystals. He had learned more from his previous successes and was beginning to recognize the nuances in rune shapes and their properties. Some failed. Some barely worked. But each attempt brought a surge of insight, and he could feel his crafting skill rise steadily, his Intelligence growing with each focused effort.

  [System Notification]

  Crafting skill has increased.

  Intelligence has increased.

  Every evening after their long days of labor, Thorin and Vorn would return to the Inn to clean up, eat, and rest. Thorin would sit with a tankard of ale in hand, reflecting on his progress. Vorn, though mostly indifferent to the routine, would occasionally remark on the seeming lack of challenge in Thorin's day-to-day.

  “Why not take a break, Thorin?” Vorn would taunt. “It’s like you’re trying to prove something.”

  Thorin would chuckle and shrug. "I'm just getting started. A break would only slow me down."

  They’d spend the evening talking and strategizing, but mostly it was routine. Eat. Rest. Repeat. Each day felt like a small step forward. Thorin's muscles ached less with each mining session. His arms and hands grew stronger, his focus sharper. He knew that his hard work would start paying off soon in ways beyond just levels and skills.

  By the end of the four days, Thorin could already tell how much progress he had made. The metal ingots were stacking up, his skills had risen significantly, and the runes, though imperfect, were beginning to show promise. There was something else too—something deep down in Thorin’s mind. He knew his vision of building a Guild, a lasting structure, was slowly becoming less of a pipe dream and more of a potential reality.

  And it was all starting with these small, daily improvements.