“This is a problem. It’s too soon,” Goddess Tippy said to her divine brother.

God Rion slowly shook his head but agreed all the same. “We both knew it would be.”

“But so soon? I thought years—not hours.”

Their shared domain flickered, changing from the normal white landscape to the room Luka sat in studying. The World Walker read about an oddity in glyphcraft, the Pierre Theory. In essence, glyphs have more power when utilized within rocks. In reality, unknown to most of the world, glyphs worked more efficiently in dense materials, just like the passage of sound waves through matter.

Goddess Tippy saw no reason Luka wouldn’t figure out the truth; he understood the physical world more than most. But then again, she had no qualms about his magical progress—it was his mental state she worried about.

“If he starts to remember his old self…” She just shook her head, the outcome not needing to be said.

Rion looked to the side, eyeing the strains of the universe—strains that only the gods could see. “I’ve never been the best at reading fate, but—”

Tippy raised her hand. “I’ve already read them. Three days is the most conservative outcome.”

“Another memory patch, then, right? At least, until he visits a temple.”

The Goddess took a deep breath. The feeling of breathing was something long lost to her. But with this newest World Walker, she and her brother had realized just how far they’d wandered from the humanity that they were created from. Breathing, a simple, often overlooked function, was safe. It was comforting. It was… it was calming.

“Yes,” she eventually said. “I will… edge fate to push him to me. If the patch fails before then, I only hope my limiter ceases whatever hell he tries to create.”

Rion smiled. “Your limiter; happiness, was it? Bombs are creations of greed and arrogance—Luka won’t fall. I trust him.”

Tippy regarded her brother. “You trust a mortal?”

“Only because you do,” he said with a smirk.

And when Tippy thought about it, she supposed she did.

***

Luka woke up before Eve and Franky again. After checking on the still-sleeping Leo, Luka ventured into the oddly unlocked bar to find some paper. Taking a seat at the counter, he started sketching.

Last night, while reading the tome of glyphs, Luka realized just how wrong his preliminary ideas about the carousel had been. The mechanics all made sense, though importantly, magic wasn’t anything like “mechanics.”

Rotational glyphs rotated. Simple enough. But they didn’t necessarily translate that motion into whatever it was inscribed into. A gear can rotate in two directions, but those directions can be in any direction—so long as it rotates around an axis.

Rotational glyphs—and nearly all other movement-based glyphs Luka researched—didn’t account for axes. The fix was simple, however: an axis glyph.

Of course, there’s an axis glyph, Luka mused to himself as he made his adjustments. The trick now was connecting the two glyphs. Maybe there was a cluster that already did—

“Oi!”

Luka flinched and swiveled on the bar stool. An irate older orc with tattoos of foamy mugs across his muscular arms stood in the doorframe, staring. He was short, half the size of Franky, and closer to Ren’s height than not. The man, obvious from his wicked beard, spewed hot exhales from his flared nostrils. He stalked across the bar, presenting himself like some kind of messiah.

Luka immediately recognized Mr. Todd, although he’d never met him and had only seen him sling bubbling ales and dropping off chewy hunks of meat.

“Hello,” Luka said, slowly sticking his fist out in greeting, “we haven’t met yet. I’m L—”

“I know who you are,” Todd snarled, a dirty rag and a half-smoked cigar behind his ear. “And don’t think for a second that you being from another world gives you the right to steal my PAPER!” He screamed the last word, splattering Luka with spittle.

Luka turned away, scrabbling up his horde of blueprints and notes. “Sorry—I didn’t think—”

“Oh, of course, you didn’t think you were stealing. Humans, can’t trust the lot of them.”

Do humans steal a lot? Luka wondered. He hadn’t met an alien-human yet, only orcs and the like. Or maybe Mr. Todd is just being racist… speciesist?

“Riggght,” Luka drew the word out, “I’ll buy the paper from you and the pen. I don’t have money—” Todd loudly scoffed. “—but I can trade for them. Need something fixed? I’m good at that.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The orc rolled his eyes. “Paper’s expensive here, you know that, right? This ain’t one of those fancy human cities, now is it?”

“Wouldn’t know. Only been here two days. Emberwood’s all I’ve seen.”

Todd’s eyebrows twitched, some anger draining from his face. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be stealing regardless. What kind of world did you come fr—”

“I’m happy to pay with magic.”

Luka watched Todd stew on that. He didn’t know how much a few pieces of paper cost here, but he felt sure it was cheaper than repairs. But then again, he didn’t know how much anything cost. Maybe paper was expensive.

Todd rapped his knuckles across the bar top. “Does your magic work on beer?”

That was… not what Luka was expecting if he was being honest. And as he thought about it, he didn’t see why it wouldn’t. Food was made of material, and he could work with any material, right? Hopps, water, yeast, flavorings. Was it possible?

In the end, Luka said, “I don’t know. Never tried. I can fix and create things—haven’t done anything else.”

Todd chewed his lip. “I need new beer to attract new customers—something to get customers from the city to stay here for the night. Not that I’d make much money, for how cheap I’d sell a mug.”

“Ah,” Luka mused, understanding, “you don’t need a new beer. You need marketing.”

Todd growled, “I need what?”

“You sell cheap drinks here, right?”

“Watch your mouth—”

Luka held up a surrendered hand. “What I’m trying to say is that, your customers are tired patrons wanting to get off the road and rest, right?”

Todd nodded.

“Then you don’t need new beer—I’m sure customers will drink anything. What you need is marketing. A sign by the road to attract the tired and thirsty.”

The short orc glare lessened. “You can just… build a sign like that?”

“If I have the materials, yeah.”

“What kind of materials?”

“Wood, metal. Whatever’s available and sturdy.”

Todd glanced at the paper and pen. “A sign for what you’ve stolen, aye?”

Luka shrugged. “So long as you’ve got the materials.”

Smiling like a cat, Todd held out his first. Luka punched it as hard as he could, not so much as feeling the impact.

“Come with me.”

Exiting the bar, the two men walked only a few steps. It was early morning, and yet, the highway at the end of the road was already bustling with traffic. Carts, mount-drawn carriages, people on foot—everyone rushed by, not so much as looking at Emberwood.

“That work?” Todd asked, nodding toward a half-collapsed barn.

It was made of faded offcuts of emberwood. The usual orange amber color all but gone, looking more like dying embers than roaring flames. Nails jutted from the edges and overlapped, each rusted and bent. Shingles of rotted bark and straw draped over the top prime real estate for decomposers and bugs.

Luka watched a greenish raccoon exit the shed, scampering tiredly into the woods. “This’ll work perfectly. Mind if I keep the extra wood?”

Todd shrugged. “I don’t care. The woman who owned it long moved away after the mine collapsed.” He spat onto the ground. “Coward.”

With some experience under his belt, Luka didn’t move the wood by hand. Instead, he deconstructed the barn into a few piles based on rot levels. The strands in his vision had no issues with the task, ripping nails and tossing slats.

But a thought occurred. Can I just remove the rot?

The quick answer, the one that came to Luka first, was no. But the longer he thought about it, why couldn’t he? Wood was wood, and rotted wood was rotted wood. Separating the two was like scraping mud off the rocks from yesterday, as far as his magic was concerned. Sure, some wood would be lost from the process, but rot wasn’t usable in buildings.

Luka commanded the strands to peel away the rot, dropping it in the grass for snails and termites to feast on. The wood lost its dullness, revealing the golden-orange hue of fresh emberwood. From there, the wood “melted” together, forming proper slats. Pieces fused at the grain, becoming one as if cut directly from the tree.

Luka grunted at that. Worked better than expected.

“What in the Goddess’ name,” muttered Todd as he watched pieces of the barn jump from one pile to another.

“Where do you want the sign?”

“By the highway…”

Luka turned on his heel and strolled off, the wood following. The piles bounced along, moving as if yanked by marionette strings.

Starting with a proper foundation, Luka dug wooden spikes into the soft grass. From there, he grabbed a few buckets full of loose gravel, melting the rocks together for added weight. An added durability glyph—one of the few Luka memorized—etched lightly into the framework only a hair deep. Slats of emberwood connected to each other, bending slightly to fit into a perfect cylinder. Luka mounted it onto the base and foundation.

Thinking of Earth’s signs, Luka decided Mr. Todd’s bar needed a nice symbol for people to recognize. He stole a glance at the man himself. Orcish tattoos were personal and heartfelt. Eve’s little birds sang about her loving nice character while Mr. Todd’s cheersing, frothing beer mugs spoke of the man’s love for the drink.

Luka made the symbol from thinned out dark rocks so that they would pop against emberwood orange. He told the strands to hoist the thing after a few finishing glyphs.

The sign loomed over the highway, inching into one of the lanes of traffic. It was double-sided, calling attention from both those leaving the city and those approaching. Two cheersing mugs clashed at the top, each foaming with thick bubbles. A wooden arrow curved down from the top, pointing toward the bar. Lastly, highlighted with a trifecta of colored light glyphs was the establishment's name.

Todd’s

The strands of magic in Luka’s eyes danced happily when all was said and done, especially after seeing Todd gawk. And while Luka’s legs slightly wobbled and his head hurt from magical exertion, the fruits of the situation already started to bloom.

A two-person cart veered off the highway, turning into the outer section of Emberwood.

“Looks like you’ve got customers already, Todd.”

The orc looked at the World Walker, horror plastered across his face. He started pacing, muttering curses about Luka and “the Goddess.” Despite this, the barkeep was smiling largely.

Is that blasphemous? Luka wondered, smiling himself.

Two more faces soon found the massive overhand sign—Eve and Franky. They appeared from the bar, both finding the sign before they found Luka. They quickly rushed over.

“Hey guys,” Luka said. “I bought a few pieces of paper and a pen. Did I overpay?”

Eve’s eyes were glued to the small lighting glyphs.

Franky had no problem saying, “By about a thousand times.”

Mr. Todd shook his head and pointed. “I was expecting a sign like that one.”

Luka and the others looked, finding a rectangular slat of wood nailed to two posts. Written in black pain was “inn,” along with a crude drawing of a bottle of ale.

Slowly, Luka turned back to the sign he created. “Oh. I think I went overboard.”