The trio made their way to the village forge, hindered by Erik's injuries. Even the strongest healing magic Dr. Castellanos had placed upon him weren't working as fast as he wanted them to. Despite that, it wouldn't stop Erik from getting right back to work.

Entering the sweltering heat, the three of them found Kinnesthe and Grom hard at work, supervising the other blacksmiths. The smell of burning metal and sweat filled the air as hammers rang out against the anvils. Erik approached the burly dwarf, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the various weapons and armor scattered around the forge.

"Ah, Erik Park!" Grom boomed in greeting, standing on his tip toes and giving him a smack on the back.

Erik yelped and immediately collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain. Grom had a look of horror and shock on his face as Myrese calmly stooped down next to Erik, stabbing him with her needles.

"The healing magic wasn't enough," Myrese murmured as she worked. "You need to rest, Erik. You're pushing yourself too hard."

"The fuck?! That wasn't even my fault!" Erik shouted as the pain subsided. He gingerly picked himself off the ground and faced Grom, who was still in a stupor.

"I, uh, apologize, Erik. I didn't realize that you were still recovering," the dwarf muttered, embarrassed.

"It's fine, dude, I've had worse injuries," Erik grunted, waving off Grom's apology with his uninjured hand. He turned to the others, his eyes alight with purpose. "But now that we're all here, I need to show you something."

The group stood in a circle, staring at the drawings that Erik sketched in his journal. With a dramatic flourish, Erik pointed to one of them.

"Honestly, I was already planning on developing these after the problem with the hunting party arose, but what you see before you are designs for throwable weapons," Erik announced proudly, pointing to a series of small, sleek devices with intricate mechanisms. "They're like grenades, but more versatile, engraved with runes. We can fill them with different substances to achieve various effects."

He pointed to the next page, which looked like clothing, but bulkier. "From what I've seen in the village, we lack any practical armor, so I thought I'd take initiative and introduce some designs from my world. Lightweight, but durable, they're perfect for combat and won't hinder our movements. Also incorporating runes."

Kinnesthe leaned over, his eyes widening. "These are... incredible. We've never seen such intricate designs here."

Erik gave an awkward smile. "Yeah, well, most of these designs require materials I'm not sure this world has. Or discovered yet."

"We'll manage," Grom said with a nod, his enthusiasm returning. "The forge has seen its fair share of innovation, and I'm eager to work on these."

"When did you get so intimate with the village forge?" Erik asked the dwarf in surprise. He could've sworn that the dwarf had only been in Restia no longer than a week, yet Grom seemed almost completely at home now.

"Heh, after I shared the designs for your rune generator with the others in the Dwarven Kingdom, I was granted a visa and permitted to live in Restia Village for a while," Grom replied with a grin, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I will admit, for a human, you've got a knack for inventive ideas. The Dwarven Kingdom has urged me to establish a good relationship with Restia Village, and subsequently you."

Erik made no effort to hide the devilish greedy smile on his face as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. "Oh? Does that mean that the Dwarven Kingdom will invest in my projects?"

"O-oh, I mean... y-yes, we will..." Grom stuttered, caught off guard by Erik's demeanor. It seemed as if he wasn't used to it yet.

"Great," Erik said, slapping his good hand on the dwarf's shoulder, ignoring the wince it caused him. "We'll discuss more in detail about these weapons and protective armor. I've got more designs in the tank, but I'm on a tight schedule today."

Talia and Myrese glanced at each other.

"What do you mean? You barely survived an assassination attempt," Myrese narrowed her eyes, "and now you're already planning your next venture?"

"It's because I barely survived that I need to work twice as hard now," Erik replied, retrieving his journal and walking towards the exit. "For the sake of profit, not even death will stop me."

The women followed him out of the forge, exchanging concerned glances. They had seen Erik's relentless drive before, but this was a new level of intensity.

As Erik checked in with Alyssa for the burger shacks and Ricteronu for the water park, his mind raced with the possibilities of his new inventions. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a commotion coming from the center of the village. A crowd had gathered around a makeshift stage where a group of performers were setting up.

"Oh, it's the Firelight Troupe," Myrese exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "They're here to perform!"

"Firelight Troupe?" Erik asked the women. Talia nodded, her usual stoicism slightly lax with merriment.

"They're a traveling group of entertainers," she explained. "What good fortune for them to come across Restia Village. I've only ever seen them in the Orithane kingdom."

Erik's curiosity grew as they approached the stage. From the fantasy novels he had read, he was expecting some sort of talent-performance show, akin to a circus.

"What do they do?" He questioned as they reached the edge of the crowd.

The answer was quickly granted as the three of them stepped closer. The Firelight Troupe was indeed setting up for a performance, but it was anything but the typical traveling entertainment one would expect in a fantasy world. Instead of jugglers and acrobats, the stage was lined with peculiar contraptions that Erik had never seen before. A tall, lanky man with a wild mop of hair was attaching wires to a wooden frame that looked suspiciously like a...

Erik stared in disbelief at the rather normalcy of the troupe. He was expecting a spectacular display of acrobatics, risky acts, or thrilling daredevilry. Instead, the stage was set for something that looked like a science fair from his own world.

"Behold, the trebuchet!" The wild-haired man announced proudly, standing beside the wooden structure. It was a surprisingly accurate replica of the medieval siege engine, minus the rock-flinging capability. "But not just any regular trebuchet- rather, it's a music box trebuchet!"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

A small green goblin in miniature armor strolled up to the contraption, holding what looked like a lute. After several frantic attempts to climb into the wooden catapult seat, he finally settled in, and with a dramatic flourish, began to pluck at the strings. The melody that floated out was oddly soothing. The crowd, mostly children, watched with rapt attention, some even giggling at the sight of the tiny performer.

Two more performers rolled out a giant circular board, most likely a bulls' eye target just a few feet in front of the trebuchet. An elf dressed in a jester's suit tiredly walked up behind the playing goblin, his eyes giving off the impression that he had done this one too many times.

Without warning, the elf yanked the cord, launching the goblin well above the target and soaring off into the forest beyond. Erik was stunned as everyone around him clapped and cheered, the sound of the screaming goblin and the lute fading in the distance.

"Wh-what... just happened?" Erik stuttered, his eyes wide with shock. The crowd's cheers grew louder as the goblin's distant shrieks grew fainter. "Is he... is he gonna be okay?"

No one responded to his shock as the wild-haired man bowed, the other performers following suit. As they cleared the stage to make way for another performance, Myrese leaned over and whispered into Erik's ear, "It's all part of the act. The goblin's fine. They're probably just playing dead for dramatic effect."

"He's dead?!"

Yet again, Erik received no response. He was fairly certain that wherever that poor goblin had landed, it was not fine. The crowd, however, didn't seem to share his concern. They were already eagerly awaiting the next act.

Then, perhaps it was because Erik was wearing his suit that was tailored to him perfectly, he felt his journal slip out from behind him. Actually, it felt like someone had taken it out.

Erik spun around, his eyes scanning the area around him. The crowd was too dense for anyone to be sneaking around without causing a commotion. His gaze landed on a young boy with a mischievous smile, holding the journal open in his small hands.

"Hey, kid! Give that back!" Erik called out, his voice a mix of irritation and amusement. The boy looked up, his eyes widening before taking off, the journal fluttering in his grip as he ran.

Erik winced, pushing off the ground as he ran after the child. "I can't believe I'm chasing after a thief in a suit," he muttered to himself, grimacing at the pain that shot through his body with every step.

The boy was fast, weaving through the crowd with the agility of a street urchin. Erik's long legs, however, allowed him to close the distance quickly. The child glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening further at the sight of the determined man in pursuit. He tripped over a loose cobblestone, and the journal flew from his grasp. Erik lunged, catching it before it could hit the ground.

"Gotcha!" Erik exclaimed, his chest heaving from the exertion. He shot the boy a glare, noticing the look of panic on his face. The child couldn't have been more than ten years old, with a smudged face and tattered clothes.

"What the hell, kid? That's no way to treat a man's life's work!" Erik barked, holding up the journal. The boy looked at him with wide, fearful eyes, his breath coming in short gasps.

Seeing that, Erik took a deep breath, calming himself down. He was never good with kids, but he at least knew when to tone it down.

"Look, I'm just saying, stealing is bad, okay?" Erik spoke gruffly, but gently. The boy trembled before him, his wide eyes never leaving Erik's face. "What, are you poor or something? Do you need some help?"

It was then Erik realized that, in the forest, he was surrounded by a posse of children, and though they had a mean look to them, they couldn't have been older than ten.

"Uhh..." Erik was at a loss for words as another boy confidently stepped up to him, his expression a mix of curiosity and defiance.

"What do you mean, 'help'?" the boy spoke up, his voice a mix of bravado and contempt.

Erik raised an eyebrow, looking around at the group of children who had gathered around him. He got the sense that they weren't as innocent as children should be. "I just figured... with the whole stealing thing, you guys might need some kind of... mentorship."

The boy who spoke up seemed to be the leader of the group as he stepped forward, his charcoal eyes narrowing at Erik's offer. He couldn't have been no older than eleven, with a smudge of dirt across his cheek and a fiery spirit that didn't match his size. "We ain't nobody's charity case," he spat, his voice filled with a surprising hostility. "Just hand over all your gold and that magic journal or whatever."

Erik's smile was sharp. "Now, now, little man. No need to get greedy. Besides, I've had enough drama for one day." He held up the journal, the pages fluttering in the breeze. "This isn't just any book, it's my life's work. It's not something I just give away."

The children's expressions grew more defiant, and Erik could see the beginnings of a confrontation brewing. Once again, this was out of his expertise.

"You saying that we can't have it?" the leader of the children challenged, his hand inching towards a small dagger at his side.

Erik wasn't exactly intimidated, but he wasn't about to start a brawl with a bunch of kids. "Look, I get it. You're all just trying to survive, but stealing isn't the answer," he said firmly, holding the journal closer to his chest. "But maybe I can help you out with something else. What do you guys say to working for me?"

The children exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and skepticism. "Are you suggesting child labor?" One of the girls spoke up, her voice filled with disdain.

"What- n-no! No, I'll pay you guys," Erik stuttered, trying to recover from his blunder. "I've got a job that needs doing, and I think you all might be just the... right size for it," he said, trying to think of a position that would require children.

It seemed as though the children sensed his hesitation, and their expressions grew more suspicious. The leader of the pack narrowed his eyes at Erik. "What kind of job?" he demanded, the dagger still at the ready.

"Uhh..." Erik began to back away. "We can start with something simple," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I need some... uh, some information gathered around the village. You know, the kind of stuff that only locals would know."

The leader looked him over, then glanced at the journal in Erik's hand. "What's in that book that's so important?"

Erik frowned. "You know, even if I try to explain to you guys, I don't think you'd understand," he said, turning the journal in his hands. "And it's not about the journal, it's more about what's in my head that's making money."

"So, we just have to use your head to get money?" The leader's expression grew curious, and the children around him leaned in closer.

"That's- no, I mean, yes, but no," Erik stuttered, realizing he'd walked into a verbal trap. "Listen, kid. I myself have no value that you can exploit. But I can teach you a thing or two about how to make coin without resorting to theft. What's your name?"

The boy hesitated before speaking. "They call me Rat. Short for Rathacaius Monterogery."

"Just gonna stick to Rat... well, anyway, Rat," Erik said with a nod, trying to keep his cool. "How about this? You and your... friends here work for me for a bit. I'll pay you, and in return, you help me out with some... let's call them 'special projects'. And maybe, just maybe, I'll throw in some extra tips for the good work."

Rat's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What kind of projects?" he asked, the dagger still not lowered.

Erik had to think. So far, his upcoming projects were a production factory, agricultural expansion, and delving into weaponry for the first time. Nothing that children should be involved in. But the way Rat looked at him, with that sharp curiosity in his eyes, made him feel like he had to offer something that would appeal to the kids.

"Delivery system," Erik said, quickly coming up with a plan. "For now, it'll be messages, but once I start churning out products, we'll need a delivery system for the village."

The children exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of doubt and hope.

"Alright then," Rat nodded in agreement. "We've decided."

Erik breathed a sigh of relief, but it was cut short when all the children suddenly drew their makeshift weapons, surrounding him. "What the-" he began to protest, but Rat held up a hand to silence him.

"Mr. Moneymaker, you'll be working for us now," Rat declared, the shadows playing across his grimy face as the children closed in.