I wanted to say that I had crafted amazing, flawless gear on my first attempt.

I really did.

But the truth was, my first attempts were far from perfect.

The Training Stones didn’t work exactly as I had hoped. They helped with skill comprehension but didn’t actually increase experience gain the way I had envisioned. I had expected them to provide a passive growth boost, but instead, they seemed to function more like skill catalysts, making it easier for someone to understand and refine a technique.

The Training Stone was a learning aid designed to enhance skill comprehension for a specific ability. Rather than granting direct experience, it helped users develop techniques faster, allowing them to refine their skills with greater efficiency. Each stone could be attuned to a particular skill before use, ensuring that the user gained targeted benefits from their training.

However, the Training Stone had limitations. It only worked on skills that the user already had some level of affinity for—meaning it could not be used to learn completely new abilities from scratch. Instead, it acted as a supplementary tool, accelerating mastery over existing talents while refining the user's technique.

It wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned, but it was still useful. If people could master their techniques faster, it would still be an advantage.

The Druidic Pendants, on the other hand, were easier to create. Each one contained a small connection to my nature magic, reinforcing the user’s ability to channel Druidic energy. The effect was simple: it strengthened their connection to nature magic, improving their ability to cast nature-aligned skills.

But the real benefit was something I hadn’t anticipated. The bond I created between myself and the pendant’s wearer allowed me to sense their general location. It wasn’t exact, but it was enough to know if they were in trouble. And if I could track them, then Fernando could track them too.

I had a feeling that as my skill levels increased, I’d be able to expand the range of this connection, maybe even communicate remotely with pendant users in the future.

The Summoning Marks, however, were a disappointment. The sigils worked, but only on the weakest of creatures. I had hoped to create powerful bonded companions, but for now, they were little more than glorified animal tags.

Still, I was cautiously optimistic. This was only the first step, and I had room to refine the process.

When morning arrived, I gathered the Training Stones I had prepared and left them for Kim at the café. I attuned two of them: one for The Stance of the Leaf and another for Beginner Healing. If they worked properly, they would help her trainees develop those skills more efficiently.

The Druidic Pendants were harder to make, so I had only managed one so far.

I handed it to Kim, explaining its effects. “This will strengthen the nature magic of whoever wears it,” I said, fastening it in her palm. “But more importantly, it has a connection to me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You can track me with this?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “I won’t know your exact location, but I’ll have a sense of where you are. And more importantly, Fernando can use that connection to find you.”

She turned the pendant over in her fingers before nodding. “Alright, show me how it works.”

I placed my hand over the pendant, channeling a small pulse of energy through it. The bond flared to life, and within seconds, Fernando appeared, scampering onto the counter with his usual no-nonsense attitude.

“Yo, boss, what’s the big idea? I was in the middle of a scouting run,” he grumbled, his leafy tail twitching.

Kim blinked. “That… was fast.”

Fernando clicked his claws together. “Of course it was fast. I got beacon access now, remember?” He turned to me. “You got any actual work for me, or is this just another test run?”

I smirked. “Just testing, but it works. If Kim needs to reach me, she can call through the pendant, and you’ll come find her. Then you relay the message to me.”

Kim nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s actually really useful.”

“Damn right it is,” Fernando muttered.

With that, my first round of tools was officially in play.

They weren’t perfect, but they were a start.

And that was enough.

Thor and Loki’s tails wagged at my words, but I could see the disappointment in their eyes. They weren’t just my companions—they were my family, and right now, they were pulling at my heartstrings hard.

Thor, the black-furred Labrador mix, let out a low whine, shifting on his paws. “Boss, come on,” his eyes practically pleaded. “Just a little bit? No one has to know.”

Loki, my sweet, playful husky mix, cocked her head to the side, her ears twitching as she perfected her most pathetic expression. She wasn’t even trying to hide her tactic—she knew exactly how to manipulate me with sheer cuteness.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I was losing this argument.

Loki gave a happy bark, immediately pouncing forward and nudging my arm as if to seal the deal. Thor’s tail thumped against the ground, his excitement bubbling just under the surface.

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I shook my head, trying to sound firm, but my voice came out exasperated instead of stern. “Fine, tell you what. We’ll go back to Fairhope, and you can play with all your friends there.”

Loki immediately let out a series of happy yips, bouncing in place, while Thor grinned like an idiot, giving a single, satisfied woof before rubbing his head against my leg in victory.

Yeah. I had lost this one.

With a final sigh, I gathered myself, and together, we left Kim’s shop and stepped back into the Dimensional Shard, the familiar warmth of its magic wrapping around us as we prepared to return to Fairhope.

After we got back to Fairhope, I made a decision—I would stay away from Schoolville as much as possible. If they didn’t want me there, fine. I had an entire world to explore. There was no reason to linger in a place that had pushed me out.

Thor and Loki didn’t share my concerns. The moment we arrived, they bolted toward the village, eager to find some children to play with. Their carefree attitude was something I envied. They didn’t dwell on the past or worry about things they couldn’t change.

I took a slow breath and focused on what I could do now.

I didn’t exchange many words with Regina Apis or Queen Seraphina, but their work never stopped. The bees and ants were always moving, always working, their presence a quiet reassurance that progress was happening, even when I wasn’t paying attention.

The stockpiles of raw materials in my Dimensional Shard continued to grow—wood, stone, metals, herbs, everything I needed for crafting and expanding my projects.

Regina Apis handed me another bundle of seeds, encouraging me to experiment with growing them.

Seraphina, never one to be outdone, clicked her mandibles and said, “I can find better plants. Give me time.”

I took the opportunity to ask them both for something specific. “I need plants for potions—something that could be made into a drink for energy, or something for healing and well-being. Just basic, useful stuff.”

Regina gave an approving hum, her wings fluttering. “That is reasonable. I will instruct my foragers to seek such plants.”

Seraphina, ever practical, nodded. “We will search. But if what we find is insufficient, I will attempt to engineer better variants.”

I appreciated their efficiency.

Maybe, if we found the right ingredients, I could even set up a coffee stand or something.

That thought led to another realization—if I wanted to make drinks, I needed supplies. A blender, cups, pots, an entire kitchen setup.

I got distracted almost immediately, experimenting with different ways to make cups.

Wood and stone were easy. With my earth and plant mastery, shaping materials was like working with clay—I could mold stone into smooth surfaces or carve wooden cups with a simple application of magic.

But then I wondered—what if I used a potter’s wheel? Could I throw earth and stone on a wheel the way traditional potters worked with clay? I set that thought aside for later.

Then, a better idea hit me.

Disposable cups.

If I could grow leaves into the shape of a cup, I wouldn’t need to craft individual ones—I could just grow them directly from a plant.

I spent the next hour fine-tuning the process, using my mana control to shape broad, sturdy leaves into cup-like structures. At first, they were flimsy, barely functional, but each attempt was better than the last. My control improved, and soon enough, I had smooth, organic cups that were water-resistant and biodegradable.

It was an oddly fun way to train my magic, and the skill gains were noticeable.

That was when someone interrupted me.

Mira approached, watching me with curious eyes, her gaze flicking between me and the small collection of leaf-shaped cups I had been crafting.

“What… are you doing?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

I glanced at the cups, then back at her, shrugging. “Making cups.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to see if I could.” I smirked, setting down another finished one. “And because it’s good skill training.”

Mira crossed her arms, her expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. “So… does that mean I can get my next lesson, or are you just going to sit here playing with leaves all day?”

I chuckled, stretching my arms. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what you remember from last time.”

The training would continue.

I nodded to myself. There was no reason not to practice The Stance of the Leaf today, but I decided to keep the group smaller this time.

Mira was there, along with her son, and by the time everyone had gathered, there were about seven people total. Apparently, more had shown up in the morning, but they had left when I hadn’t been around. That was something I’d have to fix in the future—if I wanted people to take this seriously, I needed a more structured schedule.

For now, I focused on the lesson at hand.

I led them through the familiar forms, guiding them as they shifted their stances and adjusted their footing. The energy flowed through me again, spreading to the group, strengthening their movements.

As expected, my mana reserves drained quickly, but this time, I was prepared. Instead of pushing myself to exhaustion, I sent the group to run laps while I recovered.

It became a cycle—alternate between practicing forms and running, allowing me to drain and refill my mana multiple times throughout the session.

The more I pushed my reserves to their limit, the more I noticed something unexpected—every time I emptied and refilled my mana, my overall capacity grew, and my regeneration increased as well.

It seemed like my body was adapting, finding ways to make my magic more efficient.

That was valuable information.

If I trained my mana the way I trained my physical body, I could potentially push my reserves far beyond their current limits.

After the sparring lessons wrapped up, I led the group through a meditation exercise. Controlling mana flow wasn’t just about casting spells—it was about understanding energy, learning how to pace yourself and recover faster. If they could master meditation, they’d improve not only their magic but also their mental resilience.

Once we finished, I decided to try something new. Using some berries that Regina Apis’ foragers had gathered, I experimented with making a simple fruit juice. The result was tart but refreshing, and it gave the trainees a much-needed boost after the training session.

As I was cleaning up, Fernando appeared, his tiny leafy tail twitching as he relayed a message.

“Boss, a few folks need some healing. Nothing serious, but figured you’d wanna know.”

I nodded, wiping my hands. “Alright, I’ll take care of it.”

When I arrived, a small group of injured villagers was waiting—minor cuts, bruises, and sprains, nothing urgent, but things that would still slow them down.

As I worked through healing them, I noticed one of the women watching me closely. She had the look of a nurse, someone who had probably helped patch people up long before the system had given her a class or abilities.

After finishing with one of the injured, I turned to her. “You’ve got the look of someone who knows what they’re doing,” I said. “Ever thought about learning magic-based healing?”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded immediately. “If you can teach me, I’d love to learn.”

I pulled out one of my Technique Stones, pressing it into her hand. “This should help. It won’t be much at first, but it’ll give you a low-level healing ability to start with.”

She activated the stone, and I could feel the system recognizing her new ability. Excited, she immediately turned to the first patient and tried casting a simple heal. The magic flickered into existence, weak but functional, sealing a shallow cut on the man’s arm.

Then, as expected, she ran out of mana immediately.

She blinked in shock, rubbing her temple. “Wow. That drained me fast.”

I chuckled. “Happens to everyone at first. Your mana pool will grow with use. You just need to pace yourself.”

While she recovered, I finished up healing the last person for her.

It was a good start. With more practice, she’d become self-sufficient, and eventually, she wouldn’t need me to handle every minor injury.

And that was exactly what I wanted.