The edge of the forest loomed over Don.
I haven’t had the luxury of spare MP for experimentation. If my idea works... I’ll finally have a workaround for [Cup of Plenty’s] massive drawback.
Right there on the border between tamed land and the wilderness, Don opened his Door just a crack. This time he shut it before he could even process the tug. It was enough. The windswept canopy went still.
MP: 9 / 10
Right on the ground, he tried.
Water [Splashed] atop the canopy, adding clean new dew to the leaves. His eyes widened. It doesn’t listen to me, but it lands where I’m physically focusing!
His cooldown was too long. Eight seconds felt decent on paper, but he had been nearly disemboweled by the Giblet in only one. Lucky, then, that there’s no time pressure.
He watched the water drip from the trees and soak the ground. Don wouldn't waste any more MP. The packed, fertile earth gradually turned to runny mud. Don placed his hands in it and scooped a ball free. It squelched between his fingers.
“Okay,” he said aloud. “Now how can I mold it into a bowl?”
And another problem shoved its way to the front of his mind. If water would make the dirt runny, his makeshift mudbowls would fall apart soon after he formed them. If he was lucky, he’d barely get back what MP he spent on them. He’d probably have to fire the mud somehow, but he wasn’t sure if he could do that with a bonfire and no clay.
Only now did it occur to Don that he should’ve asked Lil for a bowl, or a cup, or something. He had enough problems without trying to manufacture self-reliance. But...
“I’ll do magic my way or not at all,” he declared. “I don’t want to depend on the people of this world for anything I can learn myself.”
Then Don snorted. He’d eaten his fill of her food and suddenly he was too ambitious to place a reasonable request? But, privately, the whole thing still unnerved him. How could humanity have possibly made it here?
Don realized the Guide’s assessment was correct. He was remarkably stubborn. He wanted to prove that his ingenuity alone was enough. It was only desperation that led him to the Rayne Bed And Breakfast... which then created more problems than it solved. Now that he was out of the immediate crisis-
“Fuck it,” he said. “I’ll figure it out.”
He gathered tinder from the shrubbery and started a small fire on the outskirts. He shaped the mud into a sort of oblong, misshapen dent of a bowl. And he held it over the flame.
Don scratched his chin. Sure, it was drying, but he wasn’t sure if it was going to handle water again. He’d need some kind of glaze, right? By now the bonfire had died down to ashes, and his gaze lingered on them. I could do a dusting of wood ash. It’s not exactly a glaze, but...
He refocused on the world. For the first time in a while, the Guide blinked at him.
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He dragged it into the open. It was mostly the same until he got to the bottom. There he discovered that both [Splash] and [Cup of Plenty] had new details hovering beside them.
[Splash] Lv.1 (40/50 XP) {Forgettable}
[Cup of Plenty] Lv.1 (9/50 XP)
He did some quick mental math. I’ve only used [Splash] three times. Once to fight off the Giblet, once to put out the fire, and once just now. Why does it have 40 XP? Cup of plenty makes sense, at least. I’ve regenerated 9 MP, so it has 9 XP.
Additionally, there was a little asterisk beside his Skills. When he focused on it, another piece of text burst forth:
* Eligible for [Earthenware], [Firestarting].
Mindful of his few skill slots, Don prodded at [Earthenware] first. If trying to get a skill’s description also slotted it, he didn’t want to be stuck with [Firestarting].
He was thankfully allowed to preview the skill.
[Earthenware]
Imparts minor knowledge about the creation of pottery.
Imparts minor knowledge about glazing techniques.
Earthenware you create is 30% more durable.
Don immediately zeroed in on the final line. That’s a weakness I didn’t even think about. If someone destroys my Goblet in battle I’ll stop regenerating MP until I can build another one. But I can’t guarantee that I’ll always be using homemade earthenware, and if I’m not this will be a dead slot.
“I’ll wait on this for a bit,” Don muttered. “Next.”
[Firestarting]
When you look at a flame: you can tell how long it will burn.
When you look at tinder: you can tell how much time it would add to a fire.
When you rub your palms together: you can choose to create sparks from the friction.
The skill’s effect bordered on that of a spell. It wasn’t just expertise—this was genuine magic, of a sort. Don still didn’t think he needed it, especially in light of his four skill slots, but there was an allure to it.
It was flashy.
When he realized that, Don frowned. But I don’t need to be flashy. I need practicality.
His choice came down to one simple fact: Earthenware boosted durability of things he crafted with it. He was certain this would be useful until he had money—and perhaps even after that point.
Moreover, there was a skill leveling system. Don wanted to have the core parts of his build in place as soon as possible.
Learned a skill: [Earthenware] Lv.1
Skill slots remaining: 2/4.
Knowledge shot into his mind like rioting fire ants. Don knew immediately that he was on the right track with wood ash, but he would need clay and water as well. He could also use some wax alone... but it might be hard to get his hands on without paying for it. The silver lining was that wax must’ve been cheap—since the impoverished Lil could get her hands on enough candles to light her Bed and Breakfast even when she wasn’t expecting guests.
Still, Don had an idea of where to get clay. He needed either a running stream or a deep enough hole. In the interest of avoiding back injury, Don decided to go for the former.
While he was at it, he made one more slip of a bowl from the mud, fired it, and attempted to douse the flames.
Mana: 8 / 10
This time, he kept his sight right on the fire, not allowing his gaze to wander to other points of interest even as they slowed in an eye-catching manner. There came the snap of sound he’d come to associate with conjuration.
The pure water hit his campfire and was eaten into steam. Don smiled.
I’m getting the hang of this.