Clover stuffed a square of chicken parmesan into his mouth, watching as a group of men hurried out of the van and threw open its back door. Those in the parking lot stopped their work and gathered around to watch.
Dr. White, tired and more frazzled looking than before, hopped out of the driver’s seat and shouted something - Clover was too far away to hear it over the rush of activity. A moment later, his appetite disappeared in a bout of nausea as a man who bled heavily from his stomach was carried out from the van and rushed into the Safe Zone.
"I'll go ask what happened," Ron said, picking himself up and straightening his collar. "Don't let anyone steal my food."
“No promises,” Clover said, ordering Mr. Cat to stand guard over the plate.
Ron power-walked over to the center of the commotion, reaching a speed similar to that of a run due to his enhanced Agility.
“He’s too social for his own good,” Claire said, staying behind with him.
Clover laughed. “He’s certainly braver than me. I’d never willingly approach a white van.”
Claire twirled a noodle around her plastic fork, gazing intently at it, his words having unintentionally propelled her into a morose memory. "It's funny," she said, pausing to take an aggressive bite. "All this time, I've been waiting for something or someone to jump out and blame me, but no one has. I'm guilty, and no one knows it."
Clover’s fork missed his mouth. “What?” he said, taken aback, unsure what had prompted the statement.
“I could have sworn I heard him scream, but I didn’t do anything - I hid all night,” she said in a bitter tone. Her voice did not waver, more deadened than sad.
Clover's mind raced, piecing together clues, trying to understand what she meant. He recalled what Claire had told him yesterday: when the System had arrived, she had been at the mall with her younger brother.
She hadn't seen him since.
"I didn't want to die. Heroes always die." Claire swallowed a lump in her throat. "I locked myself away in a supply closet and listened. There was so much screaming; it all seemed to blend together. In the morning, when everything had gone silent, I stepped out of that small room. The mall was empty. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find my little brother."
Clover didn't know what to say or do, so he listened, lending an ear to her troubles, though he knew he didn't have a solution.
"I've checked both Safe Zones, and there was no sign of him. I even went back to double-check this afternoon - still nothing."
“I’m sorry,” Clover said quietly.
“Don’t be. It’s my fault.” She chuckled darkly. “The worst part is, fighting in the museum today wasn’t all that bad - I was never scared of the Two-tailed Squirrels. Maybe I’d feel better if I had been terrified…”
Clover swallowed loudly; he wouldn't have been surprised if everyone in a mile radius had heard.
"You changed; that's a good thing! You're braver than you were before," he said. As the words left his mouth, he knew they hadn't been the right thing to say.
"I'm not brave; they were squirrels. Don't rely on me; if things ever get rough, I'll…" She shook her head, her usual expression forcing its way back across her face like a mask. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. There's nothing I can do about it now."
"It's fine. I get it. Sometimes it feels good to talk even if we know our words won't change anything." He scratched his cheek. "I know you already know this, so there's no point in me saying it, but I'll say it anyway: your little brother could still be alive - it's possible that the System teleported him out of the mall to somewhere else."
She slowly nodded. "It's frustrating being able to do nothing other than hope and regret," she said. Clover couldn't read her expression; he wished he could.
"I know," Clover said softly.
"I wish I could go back and have a second chance to do that night over, but I know if that somehow magically happened, I'd probably do the same exact thing. I'm not a good person."
Clover had wondered the same thing recently: had he changed, or was it just the circumstance that had changed. If he went back in time - back to high school without the System or his powers, would he be the same person?
He didn't know the answer.
"A little bit of delusion helps. People aren't supposed to be that self-aware."
She chuckled.
They silently listened to the distant commotion that surrounded the white vans. Workers with blank expressions robotically loaded boxes out of it, carrying them back into the Safe Zone.
Claire carefully stabbed a portion of chicken. "The food is good," Claire said, an awkward segue to brighter topics. Clover had thought he had a monopoly on those.
He nodded. “The food is good.”
Ron returned, carrying a plastic bottle of water.
“What's the scoop?” Clover asked.
“From what I heard, a group went out to the supermarket to secure supplies for the Safe Zone, and the store owner objected to their efforts, leading to an argument that ended with one of the group members getting shot. Before the situation could escalate further, the doctor somehow talked the man down,” Ron said.
"That's not even slightly what I expected you to say," Claire said evenly as if their conversation had never happened.
Clover nodded. It was truly a strange story. For the most part, he was shocked that such a coordinated effort had been carried out. Of course, he didn't think things would instantly devolve into a Lord of the Flies-type situation, but a group going out to secure supplies for others was a bit too altruistic for him to buy into without question.
Well, he had been wrong about tons of things so far. He’d just have to add this one to the list.
They finished their meal, chatting lightly as they ate. Clover enjoyed the novel experience, filing it away as a precious memory. Unfortunately, he couldn’t sit and talk all day. As he finished his meal, an anxious pressure built upon his shoulders, urging him to get back to work.
“Can I borrow one of the crystal fruits you found in the Monster Nest,” Claire said after making sure no one was in earshot.
"Sure, what do you need it for?" Clover had two of them; he didn't mind giving one away. Plus, if they turned out to be an important resource, he'd be able to refill his supply tomorrow. There was no point in being stingy.
“My Class gave me a Skill, [Lesser Potion Creation]. I think I can make something cool out of it.” Clover handed her the crystalline fruit, their fingers touching for a brief moment. Clover’s heart rate rose precipitously. “I’ll give you half of what I make,” she said.
“What about me,” Ron asked, half joking.
“You’ll get some too. There’s no point in hoarding potions.”
Clover smiled, then rolled over to the wheelchair he had forced the many-handed Golem to arduously drag over. It was time to get back to work.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
From his previous experiments and prototypes, Clover had an idea - one that he was certain would work. It was a simple design that involved modifying the chair with [Minor Tactile Terrakinesis].
In his previous attempt, he had observed much of the Golem's movements were superfluous, wasted motion that didn't help it move forward. That had been the case partially because of its image but also because of its size and shape.
Inspired by that observation, Clover had the simple idea to modify the wheelchair, replacing its wheels with ones made of stone. If he didn't turn the entire chair into a Golem, but only its wheels, he suspected that its movements would be more efficient - its magic concentrated to a smaller area. Additionally, with the sole purpose of turning, he suspected they'd be easier to control - he'd only have to modulate its speed.
Plus, as a final advantage, he had noticed in his previous Golems that when he made the Golem himself, he had an easier time controlling them.
He could envision more ambitious designs, but in truth, he did not want to pursue them. As the System boosted his physical capability, he hoped that one day he would be able to walk again.
It was more than a blind hope, while the System had changed his body somewhat as he gained Stats, it didn't completely explain his increase in ability. At least in terms of the physical, he thought that most of his recent improvements were driven by more immaterial means - his muscles had become slightly more defined after increasing his Strength, but not to a degree that would explain his jump in capability.
He hoped that, one day soon, he would be able to walk again. If that day never came and the System failed him...
He shook his head, creating such a Golem, at least in his mind, felt like giving up on his dreams in a way. Maybe once he could walk, he'd pursue a more ambitious design to augment his mobility. He had a few ideas about how to turn the many-handed Golem into a grappling hook.
Clover returned his focus to the design, mentally ironing out the flaws in its concept. If he wanted the Golem to turn, he'd have to be able to independently control each wheel's rotation - something that should be possible but would add an extra layer of difficulty.
Clover examined the already-made wheelchair, inspecting the details of its construction. It was a complicated machine, for sure. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked on a mechanical level. For example, he did not know why metal wires stretched across the wheel's interior.
However, due to the Golem’s magical nature, Clover figured that most of the complicated components of the original design would be redundant. He could probably do away with everything other than the bare basics, greatly simplifying the design project.
Excited yet anxious, Clover placed a hand on the ground and activated [Minor Tactile Terrakinesis] with a flicker of intent. He began manipulating the earth, slowly forming a recreation of the chair's wheel.
Gradually, arcs of stone and asphalt rose out of the ground. While working, somewhat by accident, Clover discovered that if he made motions with hand and arm as if he was actually moving the ground, it would greatly increase the speed at which he could move the material.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 4. +1 Skill Point.
Additionally, he discovered that once he had touched a chunk of material and made a link with it, he could pull his hand away and still be able to manipulate it. Though [Minor Tactile Terrakinesis]'s efficiency dropped off the further away he went, eventually faltering, leading to the Skill deactivating. There seemed to be a time component as well, but Clover didn't test it in depth.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 5.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 6. +1 Skill Point.
Congratulations! Sculpting has reached Level 16. +1 Skill Point.
He tapped the ground, then flicked his hand upward, causing a strain to pull at his muscles as another small pillar of earth rose up from the ground, merging into the wheel.
Even as his exhaustion mounted, he worked, keeping an eye for detail. Not entirely understanding the design, he created a stone skeleton of the wheel, copying what he saw to the best of his abilities.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 7.
Then, Clover coated the outside of the wheel with clay, creating a primitive imitation of a tire tread.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 8. +1 Skill Point.
Congratulations! Sculpting has reached Level 17. +1 Skill Point.
Finished with one wheel, he carefully carried it over to the wheelchair. There, he attempted to remove its original wheel by brute force. He failed. Stumped for a moment, he glared at it, then inspiration struck.
He created a stone screwdriver and other small tools using [Minor Tactile Terrakinesis]. After resizing the tools a frustrating amount of times, he finally got it right and was able to pry off the old wheel.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 9.
With a bead of sweat rolling down his brow, he used the last of his clay to help attach the new wheel to the frame. For now, it was delicate - a hard hit would easily dislodge it, but after it was turned into a Golem, it would gain a significant amount of durability.
Breathing heavily as if he had just run a race, he finished.
Congratulations! Sculpting has reached Level 18. +1 Skill Point.
He took a short break, basking in the afterglow of all the Skill Points he had earned. To his left, Ron tightly clutched a white piece of paper as black ink danced across its surface, slowly spelling out words and basic designs. The other Skill [Intrepid Trader] had given him must have been responsible for the act of magic.
Similarly, Claire practiced her Skills, tossing slices of the crystalized fruit into a pot of boiling water at random intervals. Around her, multiple plastic water bottles were partially filled with a bright blue liquid. Where she had gotten the items from, he was unsure.
“Watch my stuff. I’ll be back in a minute,” Clover said.
Ron hummed. “No promises,” he said cheekily.
Clover wheeled back into the factory and retrieved another two packages of clay. Even if he sculpted all day long, he wouldn’t be at risk of running out of the material. Inside, the mood had significantly brightened as the food Dr. White’s group had retrieved was distributed to the crowd.
He briefly scanned the factory, searching for the doctor. He was nowhere to be seen.
Clover didn't delay for long; with two chunks of clay in hand, he returned to Ron and Claire. There, he worked, following the same process to create a second wheel.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 10. +1 Skill Point.
Congratulations! Sculpting has reached Level 19. +1 Skill Point.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 11.
Congratulations! Minor Tactile Terrakinesis has reached Level 12. +1 Skill Point.
Congratulations! Sculpting has reached Level 20. +1 Skill Point.
In the end, the wheels looked similar enough. However, he did have to go back and shorten the wheel a bit to make it the same size as the other one.
He went through the exhausting process of ripping off the old wheel and attaching the new one, only to come to a dim conclusion: the wheels weren’t connected to each other, meaning that he couldn’t make them both part of the same Golem.
Of course, there was a simple solution to that problem. Clover leaned over and added a small trail of clay along the chair’s frame, connecting the two stone wheels.
“Ok, Wheel. Give me something good,” Clover said, talking to the chair like a crazy person. Something subtly shifted in its structure. “[Lesser Golem Creation],” he said after severing the many-handed Golem’s thread.
As the sun gently set in the background, he turned his attention to his soul space. Once the sphere of potential had formed, he burst into action, fiercely starting on the image he wanted to implant into the Golem's core. Every passing second counted. He wanted the image to be perfect.
Acting quickly, he painted a steep slope - an unending mountain as a backdrop. Then, concentrating his efforts, he manipulated the strands and patches of color to form a detailed stone wheel - the same exact ones he had placed on the wheelchair. His brain ached as he juggled details, struggling to create the impression of movement.
Luckily, like the last time he had manually created a golem, some of the details took on a life of their own, slowly shifting their form to better match the scene.
More than an image, the idea that the wheel was ever increasing in speed as it rolled smoothly down the slope latched onto the scene.
The rest of the scene remained still, frozen in time; however, slowly, mutated by the changes, the wheel began to rotate in place. The motion gathered power, distorting the scene around it. The wheel had taken on a life of its own, and with the short amount of time remaining, he knew he wouldn't be able to wrangle it, so instead, he turned his attention to the task of creating a protective barrier around the image.
As he finished reinforcing the image's edges and folding it down into itself in an isolated corner of the canvas, the thought struck him that if he wanted to, and he increased the speed at which he worked, he'd be able to shove more than one image into the Golem's core.
Before he could act on that thought, the sphere of magic and potential rattled. A force smashed against the barrier he had constructed, coming in waves that gradually increased in strength. Paired with the rotating wheel that seemed intent on tearing apart the image, Clover had his work set out for him.
A headache built behind his eyes as the protective layer cracked. Clover strained, tunneling down with his focus, trying to hold it together. Without it, he wouldn't have lasted this long. Thankfully, before it fully broke, the rumbling stopped, and the waves of force came to an end.
Floating peacefully in his soul space, a miniature stone wheel was revealed.
Clover opened his eyes, watching as the wheelchair began to shift. The frame bulged at places as it fused together more firmly, and the outer layer of clay along its tires wiggled as lines - treads - were carved into them.
Congratulations! Lesser Golem Creation has reached Level 9. +1 Skill Point.
Clover was exhausted; his MP and SP were just about empty. If this Golem didn't work, he didn't know if he could make another today.
Nervously, unable to contain himself, Clover used [Appraisal].
Congratulations! Appraisal has reached Level 9. +1 Skill Point.