The settlement of Lakeside had changed a great deal in the two weeks since the ‘Guarded Spoils’ event. New people arrived almost daily, some alone, some in small, wary groups.

  The infrastructure had grown just as fast, shifting from improvised survival to structured routine. The tents were nearly all gone now, replaced by wooden homes, shops, and storehouses built with haste, grit, and a little System help.

  What had once been a rough camp now bore the hallmarks of a budding town—still delicate, still incomplete, but undeniably real. It was growing, evolving into a refuge for those who craved more than mere survival, a place to live, not just endure.

  Callie: Crystal Feel

  Her ex-husband had always mocked Callie for the crystals she kept around the house. Dozens of shelves displayed her growing collection, amethyst, citrine, obsidian, each chosen with care. She loved browsing crystal shops and fairs, hunting for pieces that resonated with her. But he had called it a waste of money, claiming they couldn’t afford to spend on 'useless junk' when things were already tight.

  He had no issue spending money on his own so-called hobbies, especially if you counted the twenty-year-old neighbour he was sleeping with a hobby.

  After twenty years of marriage, the divorce had left her in her forties, scrambling to make ends meet by picking up every shift she could at the store. So now, sitting in the modest room assigned to her by Nan, the de facto leader of the settlement, Callie felt something rare and precious: contentment.

  She hadn't loved her retail job, but without any education beyond a high school diploma, it had been her only option.

  She had taken a few online classes on crystals and geology, subjects she’d enjoyed. It was strange, considering she'd always struggled with chemistry. But add a shiny rock into the mix, and she could happily spend hours reading about molecular structures, lattices, and light refraction.

  Not enough to make her an expert, not enough to land a scientific job or qualify her for a proper university course, it was simply a passion she pursued in her spare time.

  But in this System, passion was all she needed. She had been utterly captivated by the crystals discovered in the caves near Lakeside, collecting every colour she could find, eagerly dedicating hours to identifying and understanding them.

  Over the past two weeks since earning her profession, [Crystal Attuner], Callie had transformed from a forgotten refugee with nothing to offer into one of the settlement’s most indispensable crafters.

  Every home in the settlement now featured one of her crystal-powered creations. A skill she’d acquired allowed her to shape and refine the crystals, granting precise control over how much light they absorbed and the rate at which they released stored energy. Some she tuned to release energy slowly, like in lanterns, while others she accelerated, perfect for fuelling stoves and heating systems.

  Tonight, under the soft glow of one of her own crystal lights, Callie worked on something new. So far, she had identified three distinct colours: white crystals produced the brightest illumination, red converted light into heat, and dark blue cooled the surrounding area with a gentle, refreshing chill.

  The effects of the first three crystals had been obvious, almost intuitive. But the green one, the crystal she studied tonight, had taken patience, experimentation, and a stroke of luck to decipher.

  She had purchased a potted flower from one of the merchants, an intriguing plant with a vivid pink bloom whose gentle scent seemed to calm the nerves almost instantly.

  She had found that all the crystal had their own frequency, an earlier that night she finally found the resonance of the green ones.

  As she moved the cut green gem closer to the plant, she tapped the tuning fork to the crystal, it happened, the green light moved through the air, attracted to the plant. A stem began to lengthen, unfurling with a quiet grace. Two fresh leaves sprouted before the crystal’s glow faded, its light entirely spent.

  Callie stared at the plant, breath caught in her throat. The crystal had fed the growth—not with water, not with nutrients, but with something else entirely. Energy? Mana? Life itself?

  She scribbled notes into her worn journal, the pages already filled with diagrams, guesses, and crossed-out theories. "Green accelerates biological growth... but not indiscriminately. It reacts to living organisms," she murmured, excitement crackling beneath her exhaustion.

  She needed more tests. Seeds, spores, maybe even cuttings from Lakeside’s small farming patch. If she could harness this, they might grow food faster, regrow damaged crops... maybe even heal.

  Dane: Overworked to Overworked

  Before the System, Dane was no stranger to long workweeks, up before dawn, home well after dark, living by the grind of labour and little else. So, when he was brought to the System he thought that part of his life would be behind him, but he was sadly wrong.

  Don’t get it wrong. Dane hadn’t realized how much he needed structure, how deeply he craved the feeling of purpose. He was the first in Lakeside to unlock a Builder profession, not so different from his old day job. But back then, he’d just been another cog in the machine. Now, he was the one drawing the plans, and making the calls.

  Nan had promoted him to head builder, though some days, Dane suspected it was just so she wouldn’t have to deal with petty complaints like the one currently wasting his morning.

  The complaint came from a squat, wrinkled man with a sprinkle of white hair and a permanent scowl etched into his face. His name was Morris, though most just called him “The Potter,” and Dane swore the man had been born eighty years old and angry about it.

  “I don’t care how efficient your layout is,” Morris barked, arms crossed over his apron stained with clay. “You’ve put that shed right in the middle of my view. I can’t sculpt with a bloody toolshed blocking the sunrise.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Dane pinched the bridge of his nose. He was the tallest man in the settlement, broad and muscled from years of labor and time spent under a barbell. But Morris didn’t care one bit. The longer Dane listened to the tirade, the more the crick in his neck worsened from looking down at the old man who seemed entirely unfazed by his towering presence.

  "Morris, you know we’re expanding. We told everyone there’d be growing pains. And it’s not like it’s right outside your door, it’s on the other side of the street. Where exactly do you expect us to store the tools, in the lake?"

  "Well, before you decided to stick that eyesore in the way, I had a clear view of the lake, the sunlight dancing on the water used to inspire me. Now all I see is a wall and your damn timber piles."

  “I’ve moved that pile twice this week,” Dane muttered, mostly to himself.

  The potter continued, undeterred. "And don’t get me started on those damn crystal street lamps—one of them shines straight into my bedroom like it’s trying to interrogate me in my sleep. You’ve let that crystal nutter take over the whole settlement."

  Dane folded his arms, lips twitching. “You know Callie’s heating crystal is why your clay doesn’t freeze overnight, right?”

  Morris sniffed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I'm being crowed out, every day a new workshop is going up. I'm being crowded out."

  “I’ll talk to Nan,” Dane lied.

  “You won’t.”

  “No. I won’t.” Dane sighed, already turning back toward the site. “I’ll see what I can do, Morris. But the shed stays.”

  “Then I expect a discount on rent,” the potter grumbled, shuffling back toward his small studio with the smug satisfaction of a man who thought he’d won.

  Dane didn’t doubt for a second, there’d be a fresh complaint by sundown. He ran a hand over his face, then turned back toward the half-framed building site. Boards needed lifting. Rafters needed setting. Lakeside was growing whether Morris liked it or not, and Dane would be there, hammer in hand, to keep the damn thing from falling over.

  Theo: From Models to Masts

  Theo was new to Lakeside, new enough that most people still looked at him like a tagalong kid, not someone building the town’s future. Which was fine. Let them talk.

  Theo had never been popular, never one of the cool kids. He didn’t really have friends, just acquaintances who tolerated him. So he learned early on how to entertain himself.

  With a single mother and little money to spare, Theo had found creative ways to pursue his hobbies. He loved building models, planes, boats, tiny armies, each one a little escape from the world around him.

  When he earned his profession, Theo felt, for the first time, like the System truly understood him. He loved this place, not just for what it was, but for how it gave him space to build, to dream, to matter.

  The profession was called [Model Crafter]. It granted him skills uniquely suited to his talents, crafting intricate miniatures with astonishing precision. What once had been just a hobby, gluing balsa wood ships together in a cramped bedroom, was now a recognized craft giving him level up bonus without fighting in those dangerous woods.

  Today, he was on a mission. After his latest level-up, the System had offered him a new skill: [Scale shift]. He wanted to make his finest model to date.

  But first he would need materials.

  Theo didn’t see what the big deal was. The materials he took were clearly discarded, broken planks, fabric offcuts, bent nails, and shards of crystal too small for anyone else to bother with. They weren’t stealing if no one planned to use them. In his eyes, he was cleaning up. Repurposing. Creating.

  Sure, a few people had given him sharp looks or muttered under their breath, but most assumed the quiet fifteen-year-old was just tinkering like always. A harmless oddball. Let them think that. As long as no one outright stopped him, he'd keep collecting what others ignored and building something better with it.

  The carpenter’s shop had just received a new shipment of specialty timber, pale wood streaked with dark, elegant veins of ebony. Theo had been watching the piles from a distance, eyes drawn to the contrast and grain like a moth to flame. They wouldn’t miss a few offcuts, he reasoned.

  Theo slipped in and darted out in a blink; a handful of choice scraps clutched to his chest. He never noticed the carpenter watching from the shadows, arms crossed and a wry smile tugging at his lips, shaking his head as if to say, 'Let the kid have it.'

  Next, he headed to the tailor’s shop, run by two sisters known for crafting the finest clothing in Lakeside. Their workspace overflowed with bolts of vibrant cloth, spools of thread, and delicate embellishments. Their designs had quickly become a status symbol, drawing in the wealthier crafters who could afford a touch of elegance.

  Theo didn’t need elegance. He needed sails.

  He lingered by the open side window, pretending to examine the notice board until one of the sisters turned her back. Then he ducked low, slipped through the gap in the canvas awning, and snatched a bundle of fabric offcuts from the discard basket, swatches of linen, rough cotton, and a bit of green silk that fluttered like a leaf in the wind.

  He grabbed two spools of thread on impulse, navy and copper, and was gone before the bell above the door stopped jingling. As far as he was concerned, nothing he took had been missed. Not yet, anyway.

  Theo visited a few more shops, gathering the last bits he needed, scrap metal from the blacksmith’s discard bin, a small jar of glue left unattended near the leatherworkers' bench, and a handful of white crystal shards swept into the corner of Callie’s workspace. With his pockets full and his heart hammering with excitement, he was finally ready.

  It took him a few days to finish, every hour stitched with quiet focus and pilfered pieces. The hull gleamed with pale wood streaked in dark veins, the ebony grain giving it a regal finish. Green silk sails stretched taut between hand-carved masts, rigged with navy and copper thread. Small shards of white crystal lined the stern, catching the light like lantern glass. From button-sized wheels to brass-thread rigging, every detail was purposeful. When Theo finally stepped back, he couldn’t help but grin. She wasn’t just a model, she was a masterpiece, a vessel born of scraps, dreams, and precision.

  Theo stood at the edge of the lake, the early morning mist still clinging to the water. Cradling the model in his arms, he stepped into the shallows until the cold ripples touched his knees.

  He lowered the ship gently onto the surface. It rocked once, then settled.

  He took a breath and whispered, “You’re not just for show. You’re the start of something.”

  His fingers brushed the etched rune along the hull, the activation mark for [Scale Shift]. "Sparrow’s Rise," he said, giving it a name aloud for the first time. “Don’t sink on me.”

  The model pulsed with faint light, then began to grow.

  All of Lakeside rushed to the water’s edge as the vessel came to life, the groan of expanding timber, the ripple of water displaced, the crystalline shimmer of magic at work. But more astonishing than the ship itself was the sight of the boy standing proudly at the helm. Barefoot, wide-eyed, and grinning like a madman, Theo looked every bit the captain of his dream.

  At the water’s edge, Dane crossed his arms, blinking at the vessel. “That little scrap-thief just built a boat.”

  Callie stepped up beside Dane, the older woman’s eyes widening as she recognized the crystals, twice the size of any she’d ever worked with. It took her a moment to realize why they looked familiar: they were the same shards she had discarded as too small to be useful. This ability didn’t feel like a simple beginner skill, it should have drained a massive amount of mana, shouldn’t it?

  Theo paced the deck, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow as the ship gently rocked beneath him. He could feel his mana trickling away with every step, sustaining the vessel at this size wasn’t effortless. He wouldn’t be able to maintain it forever. Not yet. Not until he leveled up and learned to master it.

  For now, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t hold the form forever. It didn’t matter that the materials had been borrowed or that his legs were starting to shake. The ship floated. People were watching. And for the first time since arriving in Lakeside, Theo didn’t feel like a kid sneaking through the cracks, he felt like someone who belonged.