The morning in Sandrock greeted Raynhart with the cool air slowly retreating before the sunrise. Expecting a measured start to the day, he stepped out of his dwelling as usual, ready to get to work. However, his attention was immediately drawn to a figure standing by the gate. It was a girl of about nine years old—small but already independent. Standing on her tiptoes, she placed a newspaper into the mailbox, then, noticing the workshop’s owner, cheerfully waved at him.

Her red hair cascaded down, standing out brightly against her fair skin and lively blue eyes. Her outfit was neat — a white button-up T-shirt, a purple skirt, long green socks, and brown boots. A small pink backpack with a brown plush teddy bear dangling from it completed her casual look.

— Hi, I’m Jasmine! — she said cheerfully, as if her presence here was not unexpected but rather part of some long-planned arrangement. — I brought you a newspaper! If you like it, stop by our newsstand near the town hall and subscribe! That way, every issue will be delivered right here!

Raynhart glanced at the mailbox, about to check the contents of the new edition, but the girl, not waiting for his response, had already continued speaking:

— Oh, hey! I bet moving to a new place isn’t easy. You probably haven’t settled in yet? But I know this town like the back of my hand! Let me show you around! I’m a great tour guide, I promise! There’s so much interesting stuff here—you have no idea!

— Hm. Well, I really could use some more knowledge about the city. I gladly accept your offer.

— Hooray! Awesome! The official Sandrock tour by Jasmine’s Company is starting! First stop — the Wandering Y Ranch!

The girl immediately dashed off towards the station. Raynhart had to quicken his pace to keep up. From the station, the path led them through open space toward a massive two-story house, next to which stood wooden fences enclosing a large herd of yakmels. Their bulky silhouettes blended into the sandy landscape. Near a stall set up in front of the house stood a short, red-haired woman, her curious gaze sweeping over the visitors. The stall displayed various products, among which Raynhart immediately noticed meat and milk. Glancing at the prices, he quickly calculated that this could add some variety to his diet, especially considering that the supplies sent by his mother wouldn’t last long.

— Passengers, please look ahead and take note of the home of Mr. Cooper, Mrs. Mabel, and Elsie, — Jasmine announced loudly. — They have a huge ranch, which means there’s always a glass of milk for everyone. And maybe something else, too.

The girl pointed at the enclosures where the yakmels were peacefully grazing.

— Oh, look! There they are! I say hi to the yakmels every day. Sometimes they even answer back! Though it sounds more like "moo-oo-oo." — Jasmine imitated their voice.

Then, spinning around sharply, she continued, returning to her role as a guide:

— They sell animal care products here. You might find that useful. And now, let’s move on! Please keep your hands and feet inside our imaginary vehicle!

Raynhart once again had to pick up his pace so as not to lose sight of his young guide. They passed the tailor shop and headed toward the wooden walkways built over the water. This part of Sandrock stood in stark contrast to the surrounding desert. Near the oasis, low grasses grew, rare for these lands, and in the shadowy water, the croaking of frogs could be heard, barely visible in the murky surface.

— Ta-daaa! This is Martle’s Oasis! — Jasmine made a grand sweeping gesture as if presenting something magnificent. — Miss Martle was Sandrock’s first mayor, and she found this oasis a long time ago. We all drink this water, so don’t even think about stepping in it!

Raynhart listened attentively to the girl, but his gaze involuntarily fell on the surface of the water. It didn’t look crystal clear, which made him doubt its suitability for drinking.

— In the center, of course, you can see the statue of Mr. Peach, — Jasmine continued, oblivious to her companion’s skepticism. — I hope that one day, I’ll invent something just as great as he did.

The statue immediately drew attention. Raynhart had already noticed it from afar, but now he examined the details more closely. The figure of Peach, one of the most famous people of the Age of Light, was depicted in a dynamic pose, holding a lantern. This symbolism effectively conveyed the idea of progress — how Peach had banished darkness and paved the way toward a clear sky.

— Right behind the statue is the water tower, — the girl continued, pointing to the towering structure. — That’s where we store our water supplies. Mister Burgess takes care of the tower, and if you need some water, you can get it from him for a small fee. — She suddenly perked up, turning to the builder with excitement. — Oh! That reminds me of something! Do you know our official motto? Minister Matilda came up with it, and now everyone keeps repeating it!

Raynhart, distracted by his thoughts, quickly gathered himself and recalled a recent memory. The phrase that had ended the last town meeting could very well be the motto the girl was referring to.

— Conserve water? — he said with a slight questioning intonation, not expecting approval.

— Whoa! Yes, that’s right! — Jasmine exclaimed joyfully, her face lighting up with a pleased smile. — You must be really good at your homework! I’d give you a sticker, but... I don’t have any...

She hesitated for a moment but quickly returned to her usual cheerful self.

— Care for water! That’s our motto! If we run out, we’ll have to find another place to live... That’s why we keep reminding everyone about it! And with that, our tour of Martle’s Oasis is complete. Next stop… the grand town hall!

Raynhart refrained from mentioning that he had already been to the town hall and followed the girl. They climbed the stone stairs next to Arvio’s shop, and before them opened a space framed by three buildings. The central structure was the town hall, adorned with a massive sign emphasizing its importance.

A little off to the side, Raynhart noticed the newspaper stand Jasmine had mentioned earlier. It blended seamlessly into the town’s atmosphere, looking almost unremarkable against the imposing administrative building.

— The first thing you’ll notice when looking at the town hall is that it’s really big! Adults go in there all the time and talk a lot. My mom works there when she’s not out in the desert… Aunt Heidi also works nearby. She builds bridges, upgrades houses, and stuff like that. Tell me, isn’t that the same thing you do…? What’s the difference?

— Well, builders are general workers. Most of the time, we gather materials from all over the area we have access to. And we also work with other people’s blueprints but don’t create them ourselves… That’s not our expertise. — Forgetting to simplify his explanation for a child, he realized it was too late to correct himself.

— Oh, I see! You must see so many interesting things! — But the girl seemed to understand him; whoever had been teaching her had done a good job. — Oh, and by the way: the main street of Sandrock leads here from the train station… Arvio’s shop, Grandma Vivi’s clothing store, Mister Owen’s saloon, umm… Mister Pablo’s salon! Yep, they’re all on this street, so you can definitely come here for shopping when you have time. Moving on!

Their next stop was farther than the previous ones. To get there, the builder climbed the main staircase leading to the highest level of the town. Here, on the elevated ground, his gaze immediately fell on the temple—a structure designed with its signature elegance while maintaining a sense of restraint. Temples like this could be found in all Free Cities. They shared common features — the shining bell and the emblems of the Church of Light, masterfully carved into stone.

— For the next stop of our tour, please take a look over there. You’ll see the beautiful Church of the Light! Most of us come here every Sunday to sing and listen to Minister Matilda telling us not to do bad things. My favorite songs are about Peach. You should definitely come next time! — the girl seemed to find a special beauty in these moments, though she perceived them in her own way. — This concludes our tour! If you follow the path to the right, you’ll find the Research Center and the Golden Goose Game Center. I think that’s all for now. There’s quite a lot of interesting stuff around here, you should take a look when you have free time. With that, Jasmine's official tour of Sandrock is over... Enough walking around for today. So! What do you think of your new home?

— Hmm... Sandrock is quite an interesting town, and I was welcomed warmly here. I think I like it, and in any case, I want to help Sandrock, just like many of you...

— Yes! That’s right! A lot of people from other places don’t really like this town... but you do! I think that means we can be good friends. Anyway, I’m sure you have a lot of things to craft. As for me, I need to go to Aunt Katori’s game center! For... business, of course! Join me if you have time! — Jasmine waved goodbye and, without waiting for a response, quickly ran down another staircase to the right.

Taking one last glance at the church—now standing before him, engulfed in silence—the builder hurried down to return to his duties. He had no regrets about taking the tour, especially since the information about the Research Center’s location turned out to be useful. His future travels would lead him to many discoveries that would be valuable to the scientists.

Before leaving town, he approached the newspaper stand. He picked up one of the envelopes lying there, wrote down his new address, and enclosed the required sum—60 gols. For a full-year subscription, it wasn’t much, though in his current situation, he really should have been saving. However, staying informed about world events was also important to him. Carefully, he slid the envelope into the slot in the box and, deciding that his business here was done, returned to his workshop. But before getting back to his tasks, he took out the newspaper Jasmine had brought him and opened it, reading through the text:

"Get ready to see some new friendly faces in Sandrock: the Sandrock builder position has finally been filled! And, in fact, twice! Two builders, Mi-an and Raynhart, will soon become part of our town as citizens of our fair and wonderful community.

Mi-an is from Tallsky and is considered one of the most promising young builders in her community. 'I’m just happy to finally get the chance to start working for real!' she said about her upcoming arrival. Raynhart is also a young builder from Highwind, but we weren’t able to reach him for comments.

Yan from the Commerce Guild said he was sorry to see Mason go, but he looks forward to the opportunities that may arise from expanding Sandrock’s building team. His words: 'Out with the old, in with the new!'

Reported by Heidi

The vacant position is now filled!"

Clearly, this issue was somewhat outdated—the people of Sandrock had received it before the builders even arrived in town. Still, now Raynhart finally understood what newspaper was being referred to when he was mentioned. In such small communities, even the most minor events could spread widely.

Setting the newspaper aside as a collectible item, adding it to the two previous letters, the builder went on with his work. Harnessed to a new cart, Raynhart gripped the wooden handles, trudging forward with heavy steps towards the scrapyard. There, he got to work, methodically digging through heaps of junk, striking them forcefully with his hammer to break off useful parts, and loading the valuable finds into his cart. The lift required a lot of materials, and so did the machines that could speed up his work by automating it. The mechanisms capable of achieving this were still in the research phase. The scientists of the Age of Light were striving to restore the efficiency with which people once worked in the Old World, but such developments took time. Builders like Raynhart also played a role in this process, retrieving data disks from their scavenging trips—disks that might contain important information. During his digging at the scrapyard, he found one such disk, untouched by time and completely undamaged since the Day of Calamity.

With a cart full of valuable finds, he returned home, deciding that his next stop would be the Research Center, as Jasmine had mentioned.

Despite the heat, the cream he used still retained its effectiveness, protecting his skin without the burning sensation he had felt in the first few days. Walking along the right side of the main street, the man made his way between rows of new buildings he hadn’t seen before. One of them caught his attention—covered in mechanisms, pipes, and wires, it best matched the description of the Research Center. Entering inside, he found a man completely absorbed in his work. His appearance was disheveled: his shirt was poorly tucked in, half of it hanging loose, and his blue tie drooped around his neck like a limp noose. He was sketching something at his desk, constantly adjusting his glasses but never pausing his work.

— Ahem, I hope I won’t distract you too much if I give you this... — Raynhart extended the disk, covering the recordings in front of the scientist's face.

— A data disk... — The scientist immediately shifted his gaze to the find, his voice sounding intrigued. — Not "this," let me explain. Data disks are information carriers made of several layers of polycarbonate. Although many of them contain nothing useful, some may hold a wealth of information about how machines and structures were created in the Old World. Of course, we are not yet advanced enough to fully recreate these relics, but with the help of craftsmen like you, we can get closer to that. Data disks — that’s what helps me create blueprints for new machines that you can assemble at your assembly station. I always carry blueprints and plans for the future, so if you need to assemble something you don’t yet have, come to me. Bring me data disks, and I’ll give you new blueprints. A simple deal. Come back when you’ve gathered enough memory carriers.

— Actually, I’ve found a few more disks... and it seems I need help much sooner than I thought. I need equipment for the lift that can process materials, like boards.

— I see, you’re talking about a machine tool. How many disks do you have?

The craftsman pulled out three additional disks found at the junkyard, and without hesitation, the scientist took them and sent them to the research machine.

— Excellent, this will be enough. I’ll send you a letter when I’m done.

Engrossed in the analysis of the data, the scientist lost all attention to the craftsman, who, realizing that the time had come, decided to leave the room. Returning to his workshop, he began unloading the cart, realizing that expanding the warehouse was an inevitable step toward developing his workshop. In the breaks between work over the following days, he kept coming back to the spears. Now that they had dried, he decided to test them in action. Without hesitation, he swung the weapon as though fighting an invisible enemy, performing several thrusting movements. His basic combat training allowed him to appear quite professional. Having ensured the reliability of the fixed tip, he resolutely set out to find the client.

The order stated that if the sheriff didn’t meet the craftsman on the way, the spears could be left at the civilian corps office, in a visible place. This was a common practice, as clients often couldn’t be present in person. However, finding a member of the civilian corps wasn’t difficult: their uniforms were hard to miss, and patrols were frequently encountered all over the city. If the sheriff wasn’t around, the craftsman could rely on one of his colleagues. Craftsmen sought to familiarize themselves with the local residents to avoid unnecessary searches and questions in the future.

Walking through the city, Raynhart headed toward the town hall. Along the road, he noticed a dark-skinned man sitting on a white horse. This was a member of the civilian corps, with whom he had exchanged glances a few times during his patrols in the past. The man had shaved temples, and his dreads were gathered into a short ponytail. A holster with a firearm hung from his belt — something Raynhart wasn’t yet accustomed to encountering. Although he was already familiar with the laws of Sandrok, where the use of long-range weapons was much freer and generally possible, such weapons remained foreign to him.

— Greetings, I’m your new craftsman, and I’ve brought an order for the civilian corps, — said Raynhart, raising the spears as if confirming his words.

— What a meeting! Well, my name’s Justice, and justice is my game... That’s right! I’m the law around here, head of the Civilian Corps! — replied the man, emphasizing his role with clear pride.

— So, it’s to you that I should deliver these spears. Alright, — responded Raynhart.

— Yeah... actually, your chances of getting it wrong were 50-50. I only work with Unsur, and the Captain, but he’s a cat... Kind of, I don’t want to downplay his importance, but you definitely wouldn’t mix me up with him! — The sheriff laughed.

— Right. — Raynhart responded, waiting for the deal to be completed.

Justice dismounted and carefully inspected the spears, showing due attention to the quality of the weapon, his experience and knowledge of such items allowing him to quickly assess their condition.

— Yes! This is exactly what we need! — he said with satisfaction, handing over a voucher. — Here you go. Thank you, craftsman! We’ll see each other soon.

After bidding farewell to his new acquaintance, Raynhart wasted no more time and headed to the merchant’s guild, where he exchanged the voucher for his first paycheck of 642 gold. In the manager’s notebook, he noted the order number, completion date, and other details, as required by the documentation. He had previously recorded himself there when he took on his first assignment. These records were important for oversight from the management, and although Raynhart didn’t trust Yan, he had no other options in his current position. Since he was allowed to take only one assignment every three days, he decided to wait until the next day to receive a new task from the scientist Qi. Qi needed bearings, which Raynhart knew could be found at the junkyard. The recycler could clean them for the scientist's needs.

Work on the furnace had started the day before. Immersed in the process, Raynhart hardly noticed how stray thoughts disappeared, and his hands, guided by intuition, shaped the wood, split the stone, hammered nails, and polished the details. He moved with mechanical precision, as though his consciousness had given way to the craftsman’s instinct.

Early in the morning, he noticed the dew settling in thick droplets on stones, leaves, and branches. Running his hand over the cold stone surface, he shook it off and watched as large splashes flew into the air. Since then, he had taken to collecting this water, pouring it into a communal reservoir. The thought that such liquid might be unfit for drinking no longer troubled him. Peering inside the reservoir once, he had found murky water, yet the stream from the washbasin flowed quite clear. Apparently, there was a filter somewhere in the system. Since his workshop did not yet require significant water expenses, he could afford not to spend money on purchasing it.

There was something meditative about this activity. With a canister in hand, he methodically gathered moisture, poured it into the reservoir, and watched as it streamed down in thin flows, like a tiny waterfall. It might have looked strange, but Raynhart firmly adhered to the principle of rational resource use: consume only what was necessary, stock up wisely, and treat the surrounding world with respect.

During one of these outings, when he had gone out for wild wheat, his attention was drawn to a stranger. She was clearly struggling with some kind of mechanism, failing to succeed. The girl had red hair tucked under an old brown messenger cap, fair skin, and violet eyes. She wore a cropped yellow-and-white T-shirt paired with black high-waisted shorts cinched with a brown belt, and a lasso hung at her side. Her outfit was completed by dark brown lace-up boots, a light blue scarf, gray fingerless gloves, and protective elbow pads.

As soon as he approached, the girl, without even turning around, shouted irritably:

— Come on, you wreck, help me!

Raynhart paid no attention to the strange tone. He saw that if she moved just a little more, she would fall. Rushing over, he grabbed the rope firmly and pulled it with all his strength, not even trying to figure out what exactly was he holding.

From the quicksand, something roundish slowly emerged, resembling a trap, and with a dull thud, it collapsed right in front of them. The girl shifted her gaze from the mechanism to the builder, let out a small “oh,” but then immediately grinned cheekily.

— Oh! It’s you! Sorry for yelling at you!

— "Wreck?" — Raynhart smirked, more puzzled by the sudden nickname than the address itself.

— Oh, ha-ha! I must have dozed off... I thought you were my chatty old man, Cooper! — She didn’t even give him time to process what she had said before continuing eagerly: — Hey, you’re cooler than you seem! If not for you, that brute could’ve dragged me under! Tell me, have you ever fished from the sand? You give it your all, wrestle with nature, never really knowing who’ll come out on top!? Just in case you haven’t figured it out yet—that’s what I love!

— Fish... from the sand? Let me take a look... — Raynhart leaned over the shifting mass that had seemed like ordinary sand just a moment ago, but now, upon closer inspection, he noticed movement inside. Something was flitting about in the depths.

— So, this is the "fish"...? Fish without water... And it’s edible? — He wasn’t particularly curious about culinary oddities, but the possibility of securing an additional food source in Sandrock’s conditions seemed reasonable.

— Oh yeah, absolutely! Here’s something to help you get started. At the very least, try not to stare at them like that! — the girl laughed, noticing how thoughtfully the builder examined the catch she handed him.

Raynhart took the two fish from her hands while she, wasting no time, was already preparing to leave. In one hand, she held a bucket with her catch; in the other—the same strange trap that had been wrestling with the quicksand just a minute ago.

— Wait. What’s your name? — he looked at her back. — Since I’m the new builder, I should know those I might soon be handling commissions for.

— Oh, right! That’s where you came from! I’m Elsie, — she squinted slightly as if trying to remember something. — You know, I was reading the paper for my dad, but I just can’t recall your name!

— Raynhart, — he introduced himself with his usual patience, — I understand, it’s rather long.

— Well then, see ya, Rain! Catch you later! — Elsie grinned and, without wasting time, strode off, casually tossing the trap over her shoulder.

Elsie disappeared around the bend, and Raynhart didn’t stop her to explain that he wasn’t particularly fond of his new nickname. After all, he wasn’t planning on getting close to anyone, so such trivial matters didn’t concern him. Casting one last glance at the quicksand, he remembered the wild wheat he had found during his last outing and headed toward its thickets.

The wild yakmels, lazily observing his actions, stirred slight unease in him. Though the animals showed no aggression, he wasn’t sure they would remain so peaceful. Nonetheless, they weren’t in any hurry to defend their territory, and Raynhart, without hesitation, dug up several plants before heading back to his workshop. There, working at an accelerated pace, he cleaned the grains of their husks and soaked them in water.

Gradually, he began to realize that Sandrock, no matter how harsh and barren it had seemed at first glance, hid many edible gifts of nature. When he first arrived in the city, the desert had appeared desolate and hostile to him, but now, looking more closely, he found familiar plants, albeit with unusual characteristics. After all, if the animals ate them, they had to be safe. Of course, he wasn’t about to start tasting shrubs, mimicking the wild yakmels.

Two days passed unnoticed. During this time, Raynhart was fully absorbed in building a furnace while simultaneously preparing components for the future lift. Without a furnace and a processing station, completing the project was impossible, but he couldn’t afford to sit idly by. That same day, he delivered the finished bearings to the Research Center, and his wallet grew to 1,528 gols.

Since he sourced his own food, his expenses for meals were minimal, and he had no need to spend money in stores. However, his meat supplies had run out, and the prospect of surviving on rice alone didn’t seem appealing. Deciding to head to the ranch, he habitually checked the mailbox—and found two new letters.

The first was from the Research Center. Qi had completed the analysis of the discs and had finally finished the blueprints necessary for building the processing station. The blueprints were attached to the letter.

The second letter, however, was from someone he didn’t know—Owen. It read:

"Raynhart,

Well, hello there, newbie! I hope you’re starting to settle in. I think that, in time, you’ll see that despite the way Sandrock welcomed you, people here are kind and warm-hearted. I make it a point to get to know everyone who decides to stay, and you’re no exception!

I’m sure you have a couple of questions for me, and I’ll be happy to answer them. Stop by the Blue Moon Saloon for a glass of "yakmel milk" — on me.

Owen,

Manager of the Blue Moon Saloon"

Raynhart did not particularly enjoy dining in public establishments. He knew he lacked refined table manners, so he preferred to avoid such situations. However, at times, he would allow himself to yield to circumstances; then, like a crowned prince from distant lands, he would assume the appropriate demeanor. All that remained was to surround himself with dozens of table utensils—and with thoughtful composure, he would pick up each one, knowing precisely what it was for.

His adaptability was his undeniable advantage. No matter the situation, he knew how to maintain his dignity, even if he had no idea what was happening. He preferred to remain silent and listen, skillfully playing along with circumstances, but never—under any conditions—did he allow anyone to shape his image against his own will. As long as he was left alone, he calmly observed what was happening and let events take their course.

When the sun reached its zenith, the heat became exhausting. Deciding to take advantage of the offer in the letter, Raynhart headed to the saloon, hoping to escape the scorching heat for a while and get some rest.

Inside, he immediately met the gaze of a man of imposing build, dressed in clothing that was impossible to overlook. However, unlike the ridiculous superhero costume worn by Pen, his outfit seemed deliberate. His black hair, streaked with gray, was neatly combed to the side, the tanned skin on his hands was covered in calluses from hard work, and his blue eyes glimmered with a lively interest.

The man wore a light green, well-worn cloak, more resembling a wide scarf draped over his shoulder on top of leather straps. Along with this, he had on a blue vest with golden trim, a long-sleeved shirt patterned with white and yellow stripes, and dark green, sand-stained trousers. A leather belt with a massive buckle, a bag, and a holster at his waist—all of it suggested that he was someone accustomed to life in the desert. The look was completed by brown lace-up boots, also covered in dust.

The man beckoned Raynhart closer, stepping out from behind the bar counter and heading toward him. Placing a large hand on his back, he confidently led him to one of the tables, as if he had known him for a long time and had been expecting this meeting.

— Well, hello there, builder! Did you get my letter? Why don't we have a chat over some food and drinks? It won't take much of your time!

— Hah, I never turn down free food. Thanks.

— I wanted to meet you right after your arrival, but I suppose you and Mi-an were up to your ears in work that fell on you! As a token of my appreciation, I'd like to treat you to a meal on the house. Sandrock might seem a little overwhelming to a newcomer, but luckily for you, your old bartender has been working here for nearly as long as a panda-mouse has been alive! Maybe I can shed some light on a few questions you might have. What would you like to know? Oh, hold on.

He gestured to a waitress, asking her to bring food and drinks, then turned his attention back to his conversation partner.

— Well, I think I'm primarily concerned with the fundamental aspects of life in this town. For example, I noticed that members of the Civil Corps carry firearms.

— Ah, the Civil Corps is a thin, dusty line separating us from all the threats that break through the Eufaula Desert. But there are only two people officially in it. Plus a cat. I'm amazed at how they manage to handle all the security demands. Of course, Pen from the church also lends his support.

He paused briefly, as if gathering his thoughts, before continuing:

— The Civil Corps is led by a man named Justice. We've known each other for a long time. Nowadays, he's one of the most authoritative figures in Sandrock, but to be honest, as a child, he was afraid of his own shadow! Ha-ha, how times change… But he's a great guy. And his partner, Unsuur, is someone you can rely on without a doubt. If you ever run into trouble, they'll be sure to help.

— Yes, I’ve already met Justice when I was running an errand for him. You really do have a decent sheriff, — Raynhart noted, forming his opinion based on his observations: frequent patrols, a focused gaze, confident movements.

After a pause, he shifted the conversation in another direction:

— What about the church here? If Sandrock doesn’t have as strict an approach to Old World technology as other places, there must be a good reason for it.

— The Church of Light strives to maintain a sense of community and get rid of dangerous technologies from the Age of Corruption, but… the most interesting thing here is that Matilda is incredibly lenient when it comes to relics and old technology! In Sandrock, we're allowed to do some rather unusual things... Sometimes, they even turn a blind eye to antique weapons! And that’s a good thing! Life here would be much harder if we didn’t have the means to protect ourselves! Our branch is quite unique in this sense, though I’ve heard that some branches on the Periphery take a similar stance. The church members are always actively helping people in Sandrock and its surroundings, especially the elderly and the youth. They are so well-organized that they practically help manage many administrative matters in town. Without them, we'd be in real trouble.

— That’s interesting… Although, as far as I know, the church provides assistance in other cities of the Alliance as well. I’d even call it a volunteer organization. I’m not a believer myself, but for that alone, I can respect the church and those who work there.

— That’s good, — Owen replied with a slight smile. — Everyone finds something in it for themselves…

— And what about Sandrock’s residents? As a builder, I should be familiar with most of them, but so far, my circle of acquaintances is quite limited, — Raynhart continued, watching his conversation partner closely.

Owen thought for a moment, then nodded and began listing:

— Well, let’s start with the fact that we’re a small town; almost everyone knows each other here. There’s Vivi, the seamstress, Heidi, the architect and engineer, Cooper, Mabel, and Elsie, who run the ranch, Katori with her game center, Doctor Fang and his bird. Those are just a few examples. There are also Arvio and Amira, a brother and sister who recently moved here from the Barnarock. Arvio is still young, but he’s already doing well managing his shop. Amira, on the other hand, is into ceramics, and her work is quite highly valued. I think she’s even starting to gain recognition outside of Sandrock. I’d say Amira is the older sister. She always covers for her brother when his youth gets the better of him. You can see how she cares for him, and there’s no arguing with that. But what surprises me is how she stays grounded despite her outstanding talents. She always has a clear understanding of where common sense begins… — at this point, Owen grew embarrassed and returned to reality — uhh… sorry, I guess I’m talking too much… haha.

The builder noticed how Owen drifted away into his thoughts, and his tone grew softer, almost hazy, when he started talking about Amira. However, he didn’t bring it up, not letting a single muscle on his face betray the shift in atmosphere to avoid embarrassing his conversation partner.

— This town is full of wonderful people! If you want to get to know someone better, just ask them to hang out, set aside some time for a meeting, and who knows, maybe you’ll even find some loyal friends. I’m sure you’ll make plenty of them in no time! — Owen continued enthusiastically.

— Yeah… I tend to focus more on work, but I always appreciate good company. If only it were possible to combine work and socializing, that would be truly ideal. — Raynhart was an extrovert, but his inclination to be around people was more about studying their character and taking part in meaningful matters rather than for the sake of easy conversation. — What about safety? I’ve heard that the area around Sandrock is quite dangerous for people. But strangely enough, I haven’t encountered any aggressive animals yet. Even that giant horned creature just stood there watching me while I was stomping around its territory.

— Haha, yeah, wild yakmels usually don’t show aggression, but don’t be fooled… Sometimes they just go crazy, especially during sandstorms. And, like many other animals, during mating season, they might try to harm you. You get it—they can’t control their instincts, so… be careful and don’t put yourself in harm’s way. Oh, and there’s also a notorious bandit named Logan. He used to live in our town too, but one day he just snapped and blew up a building. I think that out here in the desert, some people lose their minds. You also need to watch out for the Gigglers. They’re mutated lizards that, for some reason, just want to cause trouble for everyone. They’re not just simple animals—they can use their rudimentary intelligence to try to hurt you. Oh, and how could I forget, haha… sandstorms! Our mayor is out in the desert right now, trying to keep the winds from burying what little greenery we have left under the sand. You know, it wasn’t always like this. A lot of people have left, and I can’t blame them for it. Maybe Sandrock isn’t the perfect place for everyone, but there are still people who love this town, and we’re all staying, for better or worse!

When lunch was over, the builder felt a true sense of fullness for the first time in days. It was a feeling that could be compared to a cat that had eaten a fish ten times its size, now lying lazily in the sun without a care in the world. But despite that, he had to return to his work.

— Today was great! We should do this more often. Anyway, let me pack you a couple of meals to take with you. A builder can’t go hungry, right?

Owen handed the builder a few packaged meals. They might spoil much faster than the dry grains or dried meat his mother used to send him, but he planned to eat them the next day and hoped nothing would happen to them in the meantime.

— Thank you, everything was delicious, — the builder said with light but sincere satisfaction.

— Aha! And don't let me talk you out of it… Some things you just have to experience to understand! Don’t worry too much. You’ll fit in just fine! — Owen said optimistically before returning to the bar counter.

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When he returned home, he took the food to the shade, hoping it wouldn’t spoil, and once again immersed himself in his work, toiling until nightfall with rare breaks to avoid drying out under the scorching sun. The next morning, barely awake, he already knew that today he would receive a letter from his mother. It was inevitable, since the 9th of the month of Santern was his birthday. He turned 22 today, and it was even somewhat amusing—no one in Sandrock knew about it. He was sure that these kind and helpful people, if they knew, would have congratulated him when they met, but at the same time, it wasn’t bad that he could continue his work without being distracted by unnecessary conversations. Besides, he viewed his birthday as just another ordinary day, during which his age increased by one more year. The letter from his mother read:

"Dear Raynhart,

I’m glad to hear that everything is going well! Maybe we worried for nothing—but that’s a mother’s job, someone has to take care of you! And look, what’s today’s date! It’s your birthday! Your father and I hope you find your purpose in Sandrock—we believe in you! I couldn’t resist—I’ve sent you your favorite cake! Take care of yourself and make sure to rest today.

With love, your mom."

In addition to the letter from his mother, Raynhart found another letter from someone named Fang. He remembered that Owen had mentioned a local doctor by that name, which immediately caught his attention. Naturally, he was curious about what the doctor might want from him. Without hesitation, Raynhart was ready to drop all his current tasks to take on an assignment from the clinic, as it could concern the health of the people of Sandrock. However, the content of the letter left him somewhat perplexed:

"This letter is to inform you that new medical trials are available at the clinic; they will be available on Wednesday and Friday.

Note: The effects and side effects may not meet the expectations of all clients. Fang’s Clinic reserves the right to interpret the effectiveness of the listed products. Participate at your own risk.

From: Fang"

The text was dry and unequivocal, lacking any concern for potential consequences. Experiments... This word caught Raynhart’s attention not only because of its uncertainty but also due to the possible risks. He hoped that the town hall was at least aware of these trials. Though, judging by the letter, there were no official guarantees. Weighing the pros and cons, Raynhart decided not to rush to the clinic. There was already plenty to do, and if the experiments turned out to be dangerous, who knew how long it would take to get back into his usual rhythm.

Raynhart hurried to pull the food package out of the drawer so it wouldn’t stay in there on a hot day. Having breakfast with what Owen had left for him, he ate some sweets. In a way, today was truly his day, even without any special celebrations. The letter from his mother was among the collection that had gradually formed in his home—a stack of letters, each a part of his life. He didn’t want to get rid of them, considering them just as important to his story as a photo album might be to someone else. At any time, he could return to these letters, relive the past once more, and sometimes refresh his memory if he had forgotten a task. But, not lingering on emotions, Raynhart returned to work. The furnace had already heated the alloy, and without a specialized machine for processing, he continued to use sand in his workshop, digging the necessary molds and leaving them to cool. Once he built the processing machine, he would be able to pour the alloy directly into it, adjusting the machine’s settings and setting up the creation of some materials in a streamlined process.

That morning, when he found himself in the workshop, his attention was drawn to the priests gathering on the stage beside the saloon. Intrigued, Raynhart approached and heard familiar voices. Pen, standing near the trade guild, stopped Burgess, briefly warning him.

— Hey, don’t forget, we have training today! — the brute was about to leave but turned around upon hearing the response.

— Wait, you see... I lost my sword and shield... But after thinking about it, I realized it might even be for the best. I don’t really like causing people pain... — Burgess lowered his gaze, his expression became heavy and troubled.

— Nonsense! There’s nothing more important than perfecting the art of combat! Moreover, our goal is justice, and we need all the help we can get to carry out our crusade. You must train, Burgess. I insist!

— Uh... well... if you really think it’ll help...

— Good boy! Oh, look! It’s our builder! — Pen suddenly shifted his gaze to Raynhart, who was standing nearby. — He’ll definitely be able to forge you a new weapon. Isn’t that great, Burgess?

— Oh... great, to say the least... — Burgess didn’t share Pen’s enthusiasm.

— Greetings to you, builder! — Pen, fully turning his attention to Raynhart, continued: — I’ve been training Burgess in the art of combat! Pretty cool of me, huh? Anyway, he lost his sword and shield, and I thought, we have you here. Maybe you could make him a new set? It’s no trouble for you, right?

— Hmm, fine, I’ll make it. But here’s the question: is it really necessary? He clearly doesn’t enjoy doing this, — the builder remarked, watching Burgess.

— Ha-ha, come on! There’s plenty of danger in Sandrock! I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: people need to know how to stand up for themselves!

— A solid argument, of course, but what do you say about this? — Raynhart turned to Burgess.

— Well... yeah, that sounds reasonable... But only if I really have to defend myself! I don’t want to hurt anyone.

— Well, you don’t have to attack. Knowing how to defend yourself will help you avoid danger and save someone’s life. — Raynhart sometimes reminded himself of a priest, preaching a thoughtful approach to life.

— Enough! You can't make tasty chicken wings with sauce without blood! — Pen began to lose patience, feeling stuck here with two boring pacifists.

— Be more respectful of life, Pen.

The builder didn't want to support the bloodthirsty views of the brute and, deciding not to continue the conversation, left. He stood among the other townsfolk and listened to Matilda's speech, who was speaking on stage. Pen, confused, lost his words when he was interrupted by "some Skinny Hands." He had no choice but to join the sermon and stand next to Matilda.

From Matilda's speech, Raynhart learned that a fundraising campaign for the city's improvement had been organized in Sandrock. Right next to the stage, there was a donation box, and quickly calculating the needed sum, he unhesitatingly put a thousand golds into it. Money had never been an end goal for him — he wasn't used to spending it on himself, but seeing that the townspeople truly needed support, he felt it was his duty to contribute.

However, when Matilda acknowledged his gesture, he felt a slight embarrassment. Of course, she thanked everyone who contributed, but he would have preferred to remain unnoticed. Wanting to avoid extra attention, he immediately turned and headed towards the trade guild, hoping to take on a new task. He chose Elsie — she needed ropes. Finding her, unlike some other clients, was not a difficult task.

On the way back, his attention was drawn to a swiftly approaching shadow. Acting on instinct, he immediately stepped back, clenched his fists, and prepared to attack, but no danger followed — it was just a black bird, dropping a flyer right at his feet.

— Tasty treat! It's free! — a surprisingly articulate, though mechanically repeated, voice came from the orange beak. — Tasty treat, tasty treat, tasty treat!

Raynhart tensed. He realized he was trying to engage in a dialogue with an animal, but still asked:

— What... what are you talking about?

— Come alone, come all! To Fang's clinic! One for each client, don't push! Don't push! Goodbye!

With those words, the bird flapped its wings and disappeared, leaving behind a pile of questions. Now Owen's words gained new meaning — he had indeed mentioned that Dr. Fang had a bird, but he never said anything about its ability to speak. This was the first truly unexpected discovery during Raynhart's time in Sandrock. However, his surprise quickly settled — if even the bird was persistently handing him this flyer, perhaps it was worth at least looking into what this clinic was about.

The next day, Wednesday, he headed to the right street leading out of the city. This path was familiar to him — he had walked here before, heading to the research center. Now, however, he had the opportunity to notice other buildings: the museum and the entertainment center "Golden Goose." Both structures, especially the latter, seemed modest in size, and it was hard to believe that anything truly impressive could be hidden inside.

Next, his attention was drawn to the training ring — the very one that Pen had apparently tried to drag him to during their first meeting. On the left, there was a cemetery, and on the right — Fang's clinic. The location, to be honest, didn't inspire much optimism in patients.

Two strangers were standing near the entrance to the clinic. They were eyeing small glass jars filled with liquids of strange colors with obvious doubt. Judging by the expressions on their faces, they had little trust in the contents of these containers.

— It's free! It's free! Leave your wallet at home! — the familiar voice cut through the air again, and Raynhart noticed the same bird that had given him the flyer not long ago. Now it was fluttering above the two strangers, urging them to try the offered medicines.

— Free, you say? — one of the men squinted, taking a step back. — I always thought there’s no such thing as a free lunch...

His companion, on the other hand, showed keen interest. He leaned over the table, carefully studying the little jars.

— So, what exactly does this potion do?

Without waiting for an answer, the bird suddenly dropped onto the countertop, spreading its wings widely, and with feigned agony, moaned:

— Ouch, my back hurts! Ooooh!

Clumsily tumbling, it crawled to a small bowl, scooped up some of the liquid with its beak, and greedily drank it. Then, pausing for a moment, it suddenly perked up, flapped its wings, and, soaring into the air, loudly exclaimed:

— I’m healed, Doc! I’m healed!

Raynhart saw how this theatrical performance achieved its goal.

— Oh my… everything’s healed! — the skeptic, who just a moment ago was doubtful, was already reaching for a vial.

— Of course! The bird wouldn’t deceive us, — nodded the other, grabbing the second bottle.

— Impossible! Animals are pure of heart! — enthusiastically agreed the first.

— I’ll take it!

— Me too!

Having received their free samples, the men walked away from the clinic, satisfied with their find.

— So, sampling? Smart. Though, I must admit, I didn’t expect to see something like this in the medical field, — Raynhart crossed his arms over his chest, closely examining the remaining jars. — In any case, what kind of experiments were mentioned?

Instead of Fang, the answer came from somewhere above:

— Try the tasty treat! Come on, eat it! — the raven, changing its intonation, imitated different voices, as if replaying someone’s conversation.

Raynhart let out a heavy sigh.

— I would be happy to contribute to the advancement of medicine if I could at least understand what is going on here.

The doctor, as if struggling to find the right words, finally spoke:

— Small... dose... as a trial.

— I see... microdosing, — the builder narrowed his eyes. — Well then, I hope you know what you're doing. I'll try it.

Fang silently slipped behind the table, took out a small glass vial, and handed it to Raynhart.

He removed the lid, glanced briefly at the contents, and, without hesitation, emptied the vial.

— Don't... leave, — the doctor’s muffled voice reached him.

Obviously, the reaction needed to be observed.

At first, nothing remarkable happened. However, soon an itch spread under the builder's skin, intensifying with each passing moment. Raynhart instinctively ran his hand over his forearm and froze. A rash was rapidly spreading across his skin—crimson, slightly swollen patches creeping further, covering his arms.

He had never suffered from allergies before, but now he couldn't ignore the obvious: the reaction was progressing.

— So, it didn’t work on me... But I suppose you have another test group? — Raynhart absentmindedly ran his hand over his neck, feeling an unusual tightness in his throat. He tried to swallow—the movement of his tongue and larynx felt unnaturally strained. He frowned. — Hmm... something’s not right…

The doctor had realized it before him. Wasting no time, he swiftly approached, holding a small tablet between his fingers, and without a word, tried to push it towards the builder's mouth.

— I’m serious, this isn’t the best time for experiments... — Raynhart attempted to maintain control of the situation, but his voice didn’t sound as confident as he had hoped.

— This will help.

The doctor’s fingers clamped around his face, pressing on the nerves, forcing him to instinctively unclench his jaw. The tablet was in his mouth before he even registered what was happening. Swallowing was difficult—his throat felt locked in a spasm, and only a desperate effort allowed him to gulp down the medicine without choking entirely.

The minutes dragged on painfully slowly. At first, nothing changed; it felt as if his heart was about to burst from his chest. But soon, his breathing began to stabilize, and the swelling receded. However, the inflammation had not completely subsided—his throat still burned, leaving a lingering tightness.

— Without this suffering, you wouldn’t have created this pill either... I hope it was worth it, — Raynhart rasped, feeling his confidence returning to his voice.

The doctor watched him closely, as if assessing the extent of his recovery.

— Everything... is temporary.

It was unclear whether the doctor had drifted into philosophical musings or was referring to the effects of the medicine, but the builder leaned toward the latter. Despite the severe reaction, allergies, when managed properly, left no lasting traces. Within half an hour, the builder had recovered, though the inflammation in his throat would undoubtedly stay with him for a few more days. His heart, which had previously been pounding as if ready to escape his chest, gradually calmed and settled into its usual rhythm.

The doctor, making sure he was stable, gave a nod.

— You may go.

Raynhart exhaled shortly, straightened up, regaining his usual posture, and looked at him.

— Well then, I’ll be back… Have a good day.

Master was not a careless man, especially when it came to his own health. However, he still hoped that the local doctor, a man known and trusted, would not make reckless decisions. Moreover, his efficiency and readiness to provide first aid inspired a certain sense of reassurance. In a world where progress was not limited to technical advancements but also encompassed medicine, the search for new, more effective treatments was inevitable. The doctors of the Age of Light continued to improve, striving for better solutions, and Raynhart was well aware of that.

Despite the severe stress his body had endured and the lingering effects of the allergic reaction, work would not wait. The realization that he had fallen out of his usual rhythm did not come immediately—his body demanded rest, but duty called him back to the workshop.

Two days passed in exhausting labor. Raynhart had to complete a task for Elsie, repair the machines, and, on top of everything else, find the time to craft a weapon for poor Burgess. He couldn’t help but smirk, realizing that the inspector had unexpectedly gotten a few days off from training, but he quickly shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Friday arrived. Standing at the clinic’s doors once again was a familiar figure—the doctor, patiently scanning passersby in search of a new volunteer.

Raynhart was no masochist. He had to muster all his willpower before he could force himself to step onto this path once more.

— Good morning, — he said in an even tone, suppressing his inner resistance. — So, shall we try again?

To Raynhart’s surprise, Fang remained as impassive as ever. The previous incident seemed to have left him completely unfazed. With his usual composure, he extended a new test dose.

Raynhart, bracing himself internally, drank the contents without question, already preparing for the worst. The minutes stretched on slowly, and when nothing happened at first, he thought he might have gotten lucky this time. However, without warning, a searing pain ignited in his stomach—unbearable, tearing, as if his insides were being slashed apart with a red-hot blade.

Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to speak:

— Don’t you think you’re doing something wrong?!

The words came out with difficulty—nausea was already rising in his throat.

— This... is temporary, — Fang repeated indifferently, as if reciting a memorized phrase.

Raynhart could feel his stomach trying to digest itself—the medicine had apparently triggered a sharp surge in acid production. Everything inside him felt as though it were boiling, but he held on, forcing himself to breathe evenly.

— I dread to imagine what would have happened if I drank the full dose... — Raynhart felt sweat trickling down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.

— Poor little bird! Have some sugar! — the voice of feathered companion cut through the silence, sounding almost mocking.

— I doubt I’ll be able to look at food for another week...

The doctor stood to the side, watching his condition with the same detached expression as always.

— Come... again. I will finish... — Fang, as before, repeated his promise, not a shred of doubt in his methods.

— Are we really checking the medicines? Or poisons...? — the words came out with bitterness, the builder was already losing trust in this.

The doctor was silent for a few seconds, as if contemplating his response, and finally spoke, with a slight, barely noticeable annoyance:

— No...

The builder left the clinic again, feeling barely alive, even though logically it should have been the clinic restoring his health, not destroying it. That day, he was unable to eat, and his thoughts returned once more to the question of why the doctor had chosen him as a test subject. Perhaps Mi-an was also on his list, but that remained a mystery to him. Still hoping that the mayor’s office was aware of what was happening, he considered buying ready-made medicine and testing its effectiveness.

To distract himself from his worry, he returned to work. But even in those moments when he had to lift heavy things, his body could barely endure, and a couple of times he nearly threw up. Raynhart was usually a reserved person, but at times, fury would awaken within him, turning him into an uncontrollable berserker. When he dug in the sand, he seemed serene, focused on his task. But suddenly, as though someone else had taken his place, he grabbed the nearest heavy stone and hurled it with such force that he didn’t even notice where it landed. His explosive cry pierced the air, wild and loud.

And then, like thunder from a clear sky, a male voice sounded from behind:

— Whoa, didn’t think you had it in you! — Rocky, passing by, expressed surprise and even respect for Raynhart’s skill. — I throw stones sometimes too. We should compete sometime! But right now... you do know we still need the hoists, right? — his last words sounded like a light threat.

— I know, — the builder replied, showing no sign of embarrassment and not reacting to the pressure. He turned away, signaling that he wasn’t yielding to the threat.

— Splendid! Take care, builder! — Rocky left him alone and headed toward the junkyard.

That day, the builder had to keep his growing irritation in check. He couldn’t stand tardiness, even if the deadline for the task was generous—a whole week. His reputation was built on impeccable punctuality: three days for a job, no more for such a simple task. This was an unspoken standard among the builders, though not everyone adhered to it.

Late in the evening, feeling the dull irritation rising in his chest, he tightly tied the last knots, securing the sword. Slinging the shield over his back and the sword at his waist, he grabbed the ropes and headed toward the ranch. There, he found neither Elsie nor anyone else. It seemed the whole family had already gathered for dinner.

The builder noticed the doorbell, briefly pressed it, not wanting to announce his presence with a long trill. A few moments later, the door was opened by Elsie herself, seemingly sent to check who had decided to disturb the family at such an hour. When she noticed the ropes in his hands, her face lit up with genuine surprise.

— Whoa! When did I assign this task? You finished everything so quickly! Wait, the ticket... — she hurriedly checked her pockets, but didn’t find what she was looking for. — Pa! PAA!!!! — she shouted into the house, not wanting to return to the table.

— What now? — a disgruntled male voice came from inside.

— Where’s the ticket for the builder?! — she continued, not moving from the doorstep.

— How should I know! You lost it yourself and now you’re blaming your old man! In my time, either you remember everything yourself, or... — but the man didn’t finish, as he was interrupted by Elsie’s voice.

— I get it, I get it! — she replied irritably, then turned to the builder, softening her expression slightly. — Wait here, I’ll definitely find it!

As soon as the girl hurried into the house, a small piece of paper slipped from her clothes. The builder bent down, picking it up, and, inspecting it carefully, saw a crumpled, slightly dirty ticket with still-readable numbers. He didn’t shout after Elsie, but calmly addressed the girl’s parents, who were sitting at the table.

— The ticket fell out of her... Hmm, I think you’ll tell her? Well, have a good evening.

As he closed the door behind him, the builder heard several kind wishes thrown at him in response. However, he didn’t linger — there was still one unfinished task ahead. Resolutely heading deeper into the town, he searched for one of the two: Pen or Burgess. Fate was kind — near the mayor’s office, he spotted a familiar figure. Pen, with his usual pompous importance, was slowly climbing the long stairs leading upwards.

— Pen! — the builder called to him, quickening his pace. Approaching him, he got straight to the point without any unnecessary preambles. — Here’s the weapon we talked about.

He already reached for the straps to remove his shield and sword, but before he could hand them over, Pen waved his hand, stopping him.

— Oh, right! — Pen exclaimed, slapping his forehead. — Well, isn’t that just like me? Took care of the problem myself, but forgot to report it!

He laughed, throwing his head back.

— Anyway, Burgess’s sword and shield were found. They were under his bed! That’s always the last place people look, right?

The builder silently waited for more, and Pen, apparently, was just getting started.

— Listen, what if you keep them? — he smirked, raising his eyebrows. — Take them with you to the desert and swing the sword around... Who knows what fun awaits you there! Of course, it’s a bit risky, but isn’t that the essence of real adventures?

His voice grew louder, his tone filled with excitement, and a characteristic spark lit up his eyes.

— Damn it! Maybe you’ll finally get rid of that nasty Logan and his gang! Ha! That would be something! Well, anyway... take care!

With those words, he turned around and continued climbing the stairs, leaving the builder alone with the weapon that still hadn’t found its owner.

Silently, Raynhart returned the sword and shield to their place and headed home. In his hands was only training equipment, useless in a real fight. However, the blade of the sword could be sharpened. And that meant that, over time, it could become a formidable tool.

Three days later, when the processing machine was brought back to working condition and was functioning smoothly, supported by the continuous rhythm of the smelting furnace and the recycler, the builder finished creating the parts for the elevator. He methodically assembled the mechanism’s components at the assembly station, then, guiding them on roller cylinders, carefully loaded them into a cart.

Upon reaching the junkyard, among the debris and dusty ruins, he began the final assembly: first, he installed the massive holders, checking the reliability of each fastening point, then proceeded with mounting the main platform, carefully adjusting the parts to avoid even the slightest inaccuracies.

A few days earlier, he had met with Mi-an, and she told him that her part of the work was near completion. They had agreed to install the elevators today, and the girl, as promised, soon appeared in the junkyard. To transport her machinery, she had rented a yakmel, which, stepping steadily, pulled a cart loaded with heavy parts.

The Ufalian prospectors, noticing them at work, kept getting distracted, secretly observing the process, so Rocky had to urge them on with sharp shouts. However, even he, despite his apparent seriousness, couldn't help but watch the measured, precise movements of the builders, observing their coordinated work with visible satisfaction.

By the time the sun had dropped to the horizon, the final fastenings were tightened, and the structures had taken on their finished appearance. Raynhart and Mi-an exchanged nods and headed towards Rocky to report the elevators’ readiness.

The boss approached closer, and without wasting time, he first started one mechanism, then the second. Both elevators smoothly moved down, passing the ledge and descending to the very base of the cliff where the mine entrance was. Everything was working flawlessly, without a single malfunction.

Raynhart, who had been watching the startup tensely, noticeably relaxed.

One of Rocky’s team members clapped her hands happily, likely rejoicing at the news, but her colleagues didn't share her enthusiasm, as now they would have to return to the dusty, dangerous mines, even though it was much cooler there than working under the blazing sun.

— Excellent, finally Yan made the right choice when he hired you two! — Rocky was surprisingly pleased, and his usual rage took a backseat. — Oh, I only have one ticket, well, you’ll share it, right? — Rocky took out a well-worn ticket, already crumpled and stained from the long time passed since it was issued, and handed it to Raynhart.

— Of course, let's hope Yan stops delaying the projects. — Raynhart didn't believe in it, but he thought it was fair to express his dissatisfaction with his boss.

— Well, now my guys and I can finally return to the abandoned ruins and get back to work! But we still haven’t met our extraction quota... Listen, this makes me think, you like digging, right?

— Of course, that’s what we do! Extracting resources is what builders do best! Well, that and construction... — Mi-an responded enthusiastically.

— I think there's another way we can help each other. You want to get into excavation?

— Yes... but what's the deal? — Raynhart had some assumptions but was waiting for clarification.

— Great! So here’s the offer: the abandoned ruins here are a real pride of the Eufaula Salvage company. This place holds valuable resources and relics from the Old World. These ruins are open to those who have a pass, like you, which also gives you access to our junkyard. The pass fee covers the rental of a jetpack, in case you find yourself too deep in the mine, as well as a scanner that helps in locating relics. Sometimes we have to bring in the Civil Corps for patrols, to make sure there are no... incidents, — Rocky nervously looked away, as if recalling something unpleasant. — Masters like you can use your picks to dig tunnels in the ruins, extract ore, and valuables. Anything you find, it’s yours. Bring it to the workshop, and you can turn those findings into something useful. However... I have a proposal. Since the elevators have been down for a while, my guys and I will have to put in extra effort to catch up. If you want to sell me the ore you find in the next week, I’ll pay you handsomely. Think about it. Now go on, have fun! But don’t mine anything I wouldn’t take myself.

Raynhart took this proposal seriously. He understood that if Rocky was asking them for help, he truly needed it. After that, he and Mi-an headed to the Commerce Guild, where Yan greeted them with unexpected interest.

— So, you really finished the work? Well, looks like I’m really the best boss I thought I was! — Yan didn’t hide his pleasure with the result, confidently considering himself the pinnacle of creation.

— We came for our payment, — Raynhart replied shortly, bringing Yan back down to earth without extra words.

— Ah, yes, the salary... Here it is, — Yan placed a pouch of gold on the table.

— How much is there? — Raynhart was only concerned with dividing the sum equally with Mi-an.

— Uh... it should be 3600 gold, — Yan checked his notebook, glancing skeptically at the numbers.

— Exactly 1800 each, — Raynhart calculated in his head, casting a quick glance at the money, then nodded at Mi-an, signaling to begin the division.

Mi-an and Raynhart quickly handled the task since most of the gold in the pouch was in 100-unit coins. These coins were the standard issue, which included denominations of 1, 2, 5, 10, 50, 100, and 500. After redistributing the amount and signing in the notebook, Raynhart also took out the voucher he had recently received from Owen for the new crates. His wallet noticeably became heavier, as it now contained 3319 gold.

By the next morning, Raynhart rid himself of the burden of wealth, donating 2000 gold. One could think that the builder, who had survived Fang's assassination attempt on his life, had suddenly found religious inspiration and was ready to renounce all his possessions, striving to improve his karma. However, his motives were much more grounded — he had come to the conclusion that this money was far more needed by those who were truly in dire need. Raynhart knew he earned more than many others in different professions, and thus, despite the gratitude from Matilda and the approving glance of the mysterious priest, he regarded this as his duty. Right after that, he returned to work. It was what he always did — regardless of the circumstances, he once again took up his tools. Emotions and pleasures were fleeting, and what he could contribute to the world had much greater weight.

In recent days, Raynhart visited a ranch, where he bought a kilogram of meat, spending 38 gold on it. He planned to return there again, as he couldn't buy many products at once, knowing they would spoil quickly. However, he was drawn to the mine — curiosity took the upper hand, and he couldn't help but wonder what he might find deep within. Leaving the machines working on copper rods, Raynhart headed to the dump. Yesterday, he had managed to get there without a pass, as he was supposed to install an elevator, but to gain access to the mining area, he had to pay a weekly quota of 200 gold.

When Raynhart put on the jetpack, he already knew how to operate it — it was routine practice for builders extracting materials in the mines. However, like many other technologies trying to recover in these times, the jetpacks suffered from imperfections. In this case, the jetpack couldn't withstand long flights, overheated, and broke down quickly, making its use for research purposes, like in the Periphery, or for military needs, completely impractical. The glasses he also received had integrated scanners that detected even the slightest changes in the surrounding space, passing through thick layers of earth and metal, reflecting off the walls of the Old World buildings. And the mine he found himself in was indeed there — inside the buildings of the megacity that once stood where Sandrok was before the Day of Disaster.

The mining process was tough: everything had to be carried by hand, hauling the ore to the cart outside. But at least it was cooler in the mine, and the work went more smoothly. Here, he discovered copper deposits, and among the rocks, there was clay — another useful resource for future needs. In the mine, he could work without limiting himself and without worrying about the environmental impact, so he carried out whatever he found in his path.

At one point, a disturbing sound echoed beneath his feet — a ticking so distinct that he immediately understood: he needed to leave, and quickly. Activating the jetpack, Raynhart shot upwards, crossing the space at an incredible speed. At the moment he was relatively safe, a powerful explosion echoed behind him. The shockwave nearly knocked him out of the air, but the builder managed to maintain his balance and land without breaking any bones.

Upon landing, he found a deep hole in the rock — the mark of an exploded charge. Whoever had placed it there had clearly not been thinking logically. He didn't want to think about Rocky and his team, knowing that these areas hadn't been properly explored yet, and bombs could remain in the ground for decades.

Continuing his work, he became even more cautious — the threat from this place was too great. His caution increased significantly: the sense of danger followed him with every step, ruining the meditative state he had previously enjoyed.

Leaving the mine, the builder not only carried the usual haul but also a part of the relic found deep within the depths. He suspected it could be something valuable, as he had encountered something similar in his hometown. Loading the find onto a cart, he set it on the lift and, pressing the button, began rising on the platform, taking with him everything he had managed to extract. Rocky, receiving part of the ore, handed the builder 180 gold and seemed quite grateful, as this ore came in very handy for him.

Arriving at the workshop, the builder discovered that the tiny storage barely accommodated all the haul, which made him decide to visit the "Architects' House" — a place he had noticed several times near the town hall. Stepping inside, he found himself in a room with an unusually free atmosphere for Sandrok, sharply contrasting with the rustic style of the rest of the town. Here, his gaze met a stranger. Purple hair, dark skin, dark brown eyes — her appearance, so bright and memorable, couldn’t go unnoticed. She was wearing a cropped blazer with thin stripes, which beautifully contrasted with her turquoise top. A brown belt with a black briefcase and a white skirt-cape completed her look, accentuating her elegance, paired with brown heeled boots, which gave her figure confidence and style.

— Finally! Oh, haha, I'm so glad you came here. I'm Heidi, an architect around these parts. Looks like old Mason passed you the workshop for repairs, right? Well, lucky for you, I do a lot of that kind of thing! And since you’re here, it means you’re ready for some serious, or not so serious, repairs?

— Greetings. That’s right, I’d like to expand the storage, and for that, it looks like we’ll need to expand the area as well. As I understand it, that’s possible?

— You ask? There are a few contracts for this territory, but I doubt you're interested in the most recent offers. How much gold do you have on hand?

— Well… at the moment I have 1299 gold. How much do I need to gather?

— Exactly 1000 gold will be enough for us to get started! This time we’ll help with the resources for expanding the storage. I want you to see us in action. My guys will handle it quickly, though don’t expect a pretty fence, but it will be sturdy! I’m sure you didn’t even notice how we repainted your sign at the workshop, — she laughed, not hiding her enthusiasm.

— Honestly, I was surprised when I woke up this morning and found it. Did you wait until I fell asleep? — the man smiled, but from Heidi’s reaction, he was already doubting whether it was a joke.

— Well, this time we’ll tread a bit on your territory, so bear with us a little!

— No problem, I’m sure we’ll figure out how to get things rolling, — he replied, nodding confidently.

Having handed over the required amount, Raynhart headed to the museum, bringing with him the relic found in the mine. Inside, it was empty: there were no people, no exhibits. Confused and almost ready to believe he had entered a non-functioning museum, he heard a door open behind him. A woman stormed into the room like a whirlwind, as if afraid to be late for an important meeting. She immediately assumed a calm expression, but the fire in her eyes did not fade.

She had jet-black hair, dark skin, and deep brown eyes. She was wearing a white shirt with a blue ribbon, a light blue corset-cape over it, and a long dark blue skirt, under which a black skirt was hidden. Her legs were clad in dark brown knee-high boots with gold buttons, and her arms and neck sparkled with numerous red and blue bracelets. Bright feathers were perched on her head, and golden earrings adorned her ears.

— Here’s our new builder! Nice to meet you! — she said with sincere enthusiasm. — My name is Katori. I think we’ll be working together often. I’m trying to turn Sandrok into the jewel of the desert with my entertainment center "Golden Goose Fantasy Complex"... Ah, that sounds so awful, I need to rephrase it! — she blushed but quickly continued: — Anyway, even if you have no idea what I’m talking about, come visit our entertainment center. Here are some tokens that might come in handy!

As she handed over the tokens, her gaze firmly fixed on the relic in the builder’s hands, and without noticing where she was placing the tokens, she nearly dropped them. Raynhart managed to catch them with his hand.

— Damn me! This fragment of the relic... it's the one I’ve been searching for! I can't believe it! Look, look, I have another fragment right here! — she literally pulled the builder by the hand and led him to the table where the second fragment lay. When they compared the pieces, it was obvious they matched perfectly.

— Let’s restore it? I have a restoration machine right here! — she offered, not hiding her impatience.

— Yes, of course… — the builder said, approaching the mechanism he thought was a restoration machine, and carefully moved both parts of the relic to it. — But why is it so empty here?

— You know, — replied Katori with a slight nonchalance, — not everyone has an entrepreneurial spirit, and not all builders are willing to make contact with my… with our museum. But tell me you're as interested in this as I am! I’m going to display this wonderful relic right here. If you find more relics, don’t hesitate — bring them here! As you’ve already noticed, there are plenty of shelves, so just place the restored relic anywhere. I’m sure the people of Sandrok will be thrilled! And of course, tourists — oh-oh… ahem, so what do you think?

— Don’t worry, Katori, I like this too, — holding back a smile, the man replied, seeing in her behavior traits reminiscent of Arvio. — I visit the mine often, so if something valuable is really found there, it will certainly end up here in the museum.

— How glad I am to hear that! — she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. — Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about you! I’ve already come up with rewards for good relic donors. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed! Now go, I won’t take up any more of your time, partner!

Raynhart, walking past her, could barely suppress a smirk. He turned away to avoid laughing — it seemed that in this city, only those with truly cosmic ambitions remained, and they believed in them with all their hearts. In a way, he understood them. When looking at his own aspirations — the desire to move mountains and change people’s lives — they too seemed dubious when considered with a clear mind. After leaving the relic for restoration, he decided that he would definitely have to return to the museum to see the result of its restoration.

By the next morning, Raynhart’s workshop was filled with workers. Even he, watching their speed and coordination, couldn’t help but notice that Heidi had clearly made the right choice. The workers were confidently and silently going about their tasks. It was just another working day — Wednesday, and Raynhart decided it was time to visit the clinic. He planned not only to buy an ointment for his wounds and scratches but also to make sure that the local doctor actually had the necessary qualifications. His wounds, washed with salt water, began to irritate, and ointment would be much more suitable.

— Good morning...

— He’s back, he’s back!! — the raven exclaimed excitedly, flapping his wings sharply.

— Today... otherwise, — the doctor said in his usual calm tone, his face expressionless.

— Should I be worried? — Raynhart smirked, signaling that it was just a joke. — Actually, I came for some ointment for my wounds, the salt is really irritating them.

— Alright, wait.

Left alone, except for the raven, Raynhart couldn’t help but feel the bird’s piercing gaze. The bird swayed on its perch, seemingly studying him.

— Will you try...? Birdie, it’s tasty! — the raven clearly didn’t give up on trying to involve him in the doctor’s experiments again.

Raynhart wondered how much the bird understood his words, and in a burst of pure curiosity, he asked a direct question:

— What’s your name?

— X! X! — the raven exclaimed, proudly spreading its wings as if trying to present itself in the best light. — Pretty bird!

Raynhart chuckled.

— Ha... — He clearly hadn’t expected the bird to introduce itself like that. — Well, nice to meet you, X. And what poison have you mixed today?

— Stop it! This is good food, come on, eat it! — the raven immediately retorted, again mimicking someone’s voice.

— We’ll see...

The doctor didn’t make him wait long. Returning, he silently handed Raynhart the ointment, and he paid 32 gold for it. As he was about to leave, he noticed a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. It was the same man who had received a free sample of the medicine earlier. Now, he had returned, but this time he pulled out his wallet and, without slowing down, took out the money.

— Doc, this medicine is simply amazing! — exclaimed the man, rushing to the table with uncontained enthusiasm. — I’m leaving Sandrok soon, but damn it, I need to stock up on this magical remedy! My knees don’t creak when I walk anymore, and I can finally climb stairs like a normal person!

Fang seemed to have no reaction to this passionate speech. Calmly, without any unnecessary movements, he brought two bottles to the man.

— Uh-huh.

— No, no, you don’t understand! I need more! — the customer poured a whole handful of gold onto the table. — I want to take it to my city so my kids can try it too!

The doctor froze, slightly tilting his head.

— Not for little ones...

His voice was steady, but there was a hint of doubt — it seemed he was seriously considering the sanity of this man.

— I know, I know, doc! — the man waved his hand, eyes still fixed on the medicine. — They’re already grown boys!

He scooped the bottles with both hands, clearly ready to sweep everything off the table.

— Wait... — Fang finally relented, taking the needed amount and counting the sum before returning the extra coins.

Raynhart watched as the satisfied customer left, clutching a pile of bottles to his chest, and no longer found it surprising. In this world, such things were not unusual.

Returning home, he immediately opened the purchased ointment and, with some skepticism, applied it to the irritated areas of his skin. The salt he had used to wash his wounds only worsened the situation, but he didn’t expect quick results. How surprised he was when, after just an hour, the unpleasant itching and redness disappeared, giving way to a pleasant cooling sensation. Perhaps Fang really knew what he was working with.

Raynhart thoughtfully stepped away from the grinding machine — the blueprint for it had recently been given to him by Qi when he brought him the discs. For a while, he examined his hand, the skin of which now looked much better, then agreed that he should take the risk again. Although the attempts had been unpleasant, Fang continued to accept him in his clinic, so it was a fairly common reaction to experiments, and the doctor was prepared for them.

When Raynhart left the workshop gates, his attention was drawn to a girl carrying a heavy vessel. He barely had time to make out her silhouette when the stranger suddenly stumbled, losing her balance. Instincts worked faster than reason — Raynhart quickly covered the distance between them and caught her before she would have fallen to the ground.

— Hm... thank you for the help. — The girl straightened slightly, as if checking if she was alright, then nodded. — I’m fine.

Her appearance conveyed charm and even nobility: dark chestnut hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, her light-brown skin contrasted with violet eyes, in which a thoughtful gaze glided. A white and violet robe with a belt over a light dress accentuated her statuesque figure, and long socks and brown lace-up boots added an unpredictable touch to her look. Golden, emerald, and sapphire jewelry sparkled in the sun, drawing attention to her graceful hands.

— It seems I overestimated my strength. — She cast a thoughtful glance at the vessel, which had shattered into fragments. — I thought I could bring all this clay at once, but it turns out it’s more difficult than I thought...

Without wasting any time, she began carefully collecting the scattered shards, placing them into the largest fragment.

— I can help you. — Raynhart saw nothing shameful in it — helping someone in need was natural for him.

The girl was still busy cleaning up and responded thoughtfully:

— From time to time, I do think about asking someone for help...

She stood up, carefully holding the collected pieces.

— Perhaps it’s time to try, — the builder replied, shrugging lightly. — In my excavations, I often come across clay.

— Hm, yes, resource gathering — that’s what you builders do, right? — she tilted her head thoughtfully, examining him. — Can you bring me six kilograms of clay per week? If it’s more convenient, you can split the delivery into two parts. Of course, you’ll receive proper payment. My shop is near the stairs leading to the church. You can navigate by the clay vessels...

— No problem... Hm, and how should I address you? I think you already know my name.

— Yes, my brother... Arvio has already told me about you. Strange that he...

— Amira! — Raynhart guessed, grinning slightly. — I noticed the resemblance but thought it would be awkward to assume. Nice to meet you.

— Ha, he’s already been buzzing in your ears? Sounds just like my little brother...

— Yes... — the builder preferred not to mention that he had first heard about her from Owen, who was in love and losing his mind at the mere mention of her name.

— Well, thank you. See you!

— I’ll come to you today. I think I already have enough clay, — he called after her before turning around and heading back to the workshop.

Work brought him much more satisfaction than the prospect of standing on the doorstep of Fang’s clinic again, looking for light at the end of the tunnel. After retrieving the clay from the storage, Raynhart carefully navigated through the crowded space, trying not to disturb the other workers. At the assembly station, he weighed the material with his usual precision — in the mechanisms, even a slight deviation in mass could lead to critical consequences.

By the time he finished, his own clay supplies were depleted, but this didn’t trouble him. Another visit to the mines would quickly solve the problem. Work filled him with energy, coming easily, as though it were a natural continuation of his being. The lift was just the beginning — a warm-up before the new wave of orders, for which he was ready.