Chronicles Of The Crafting Hero

Outside the gates of Aria, the two guards remained stationed, their positions now more distant, reflecting the tension that crackled between them. The fat man stood with arms crossed, his gaze fixed on some distant horizon, a picture of sullen disapproval. The thin man, his spear held loosely but ready, stared at the ground, the silence between them heavy and unbroken.

Finally, the thin man spoke, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Alright, go on. Buy some."

The fat man's arms flew up in a gesture of triumph. "Finally!"

"But," the thin man added, his tone sharp, "only this once. And don't let them catch you."

"Yeah, yeah," the fat man grumbled, already turning away. "Don't worry. No one will see a thing." He lumbered into Aria, leaving the thin man to sigh, the sound carrying on the wind.

The thin man closed his eyes, the sigh a release of weary resignation. *This guy is going to get me in real trouble,* he thought, the thought laced with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. *Can't stay away from a drink for a minute, and now he wants us both to get drunk. I told him to get two bottles. Knowing him, he'll be back with more.*

He studied his spear, the polished point glinting in the moonlight, assessing it. He thought of the hunter, Tyler, who had passed through earlier. He thought, *I could take him.* The thought burst forth, a grumpy, defiant challenge to the unspoken doubts. He shifted into a fighting stance, dragging his right foot behind his left, the spear now a weapon of focused intent. His voice, low and filled with a yearning for lost opportunity, muttered, "If I'd used Rapid Pierce, I'd have taken him down before he knew what hit him." Even as the words left his mouth, the conviction was lacking, the confidence a fragile shield against the unseen.

He activated his skills, his gaze locked on an imagined enemy. He envisioned Tyler, the hunter, and launched his spear, a blur of motion as it sliced through the air at impossible speeds. He stopped, the phantom strike complete, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he closed his eyes. He held his breath, before coming to a stop, his stance still straight, he then planted the butt of the spear on the ground, before muttering "Yeah, I would have taken him down." A smile then spread across his face, he nodded to himself twice. "Mm-hmm, he'll be no match for me," he added, his voice filled with a sudden bravado.

"What are you doing?"

The man screamed, "Eep!" in surprise, spinning around, his spear now pointed in the direction of the voice. The fat man stood there, a grinning mountain of a man, clutching five bottles of booze.

"Don't do that! You scared me just now," the thin man said, his voice still tight with shock. He then noticed the number of bottles, and his face contorted in disbelief. "Hey! I told you to get two bottles. You came back with five?"

"Yeah," the fat man replied, unconcerned. He set the bottles down, grabbed two, and thrust them towards the thin man. "Three for me, two for you."

The thin man sighed, a sound of utter exasperation. "Seriously, I can't with you." He took the offered bottles, the fight draining from him. He raised a bottle to his lips, took a long, thoughtful drink, and then asked, "Where'd you get the money, anyway?"

The fat man shrugged, already uncapping a bottle. "Hmm? Our salaries."

The thin man choked on his drink, sputtering and spraying a fine mist of liquor. "What did you say"?

Before the fat man could answer, a deafening boom, like a thunderclap in the sky, echoed through the air. The sound reverberated, and the ground seemed to shudder. The two guards turned their heads to face towards the interior of Aria, startled by the sudden disturbance. "What the hell was that?" the fat man demanded, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and unease.

The thin man, unfazed, took another long pull from his bottle, before saying "Oh, I don't know." He then turned his back on the commotion, seemingly unconcerned.

"What are you doing?" the fat man pressed, his gaze fixed on the source of the noise. "Aren't we supposed to go see what that was?"

The thin man quickly swallowed his drink, his face a mask of annoyance as he turned to face his comrade. "What, and leave our post?" he retorted, before turning back to face forward, his gaze steady. "It's probably just the guild members' training, anyway."

"The Black Cloud Guild doesn't normally train at night," the fat man pointed out.

The thin man shrugged and took another sip from the bottle. "Well," he said, the words slurred slightly, "they're probably feeling energetic today."

As the two men continued to drink, ignoring the unfolding events, within the shadows of the alleyways, the man who had received Tyler's golden coin was enjoying a rare feast. He was eating, the taste of the bread a new sensation. His face was hidden in shadow, and was weeping openly, his muffled sobs barely audible. He was crying with joy, the warmth of the food, a luxury he hadn't experienced in what felt like an age. "Oh man," he thought, savoring each bite, "when was the last time I ate bread this good? Normally, it's just the scraps they throw away."

Suddenly, he was startled by the same booming noise. He jumped to his feet, bread half-chewed in his mouth, and gasped, "Whoa!" He swallowed quickly, and then took another hasty bite of the bread. "What was that?" he asked, his mouth still full.

He stepped away from the alleys, emerging onto the main cobblestone road. He stared in the direction of the thunderous sound, taking another bite of the bread as he chewed, and thought to himself, *Huh... It came from the direction the Black Cloud Guild's resides.* He swallowed hard, and then muttered, "Wait... that man... he asked me where the Black Cloud Guild was." Did he want to join them?

He closed his eyes slowly, savoring the taste, his mouth full. The memories flooded back. Tyler, that man... He had given him a *slap* earlier, and in that moment, the man felt like he was in the presence of a true savior. When he turned to look at Tyler, he could practically see Tyler glistening, smiling, and then gave him a gold coin. *Oh man*, he thought. *What an angel! I always hated the goddess... but I think I might reconsider my feelings towards her. She sent an angel my way!*

"He must want to join the Black Cloud Guild," he muttered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and excitement. *He was already dressed in black, huh?* He then took another bite, finishing the bread, as he thought, *They must be testing his skills right now! I heard they always do that with their new recruits.* A shadow fell over his face. *If only he knew that the Black Cloud Guild is full of murderers.* "Poor Mr. Angel... well, I believe he can do it." He finished the last of the bread and sighed, " I believe in you, Mr. Angel." He then took out a handful of copper coins from his pockets, examining them. Across the cobblestone road, a house door creaked open, and a woman emerged. She wore a simple white dress and had short brown hair.

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The woman closed her eyes, sighed dramatically, and then opened them again, her gaze fixed on the man with open disgust. "Disgusting," she muttered, her voice laced with disdain. "What are you doing in front of my yard?"

The man quickly scrambled to pocket his copper coins, his earlier reverie shattered. "Oh, I'm sorry," he mumbled, already turning away. "I'll be leaving now."

"Hey!" The woman snapped, one hand finding purchase on her hip. "What was that just now? Where did you get that money?"

The man continued walking, picking up his pace. The woman shouted, "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

He ignored her, hurrying away. The woman pointed a finger, her voice rising in pitch. "You stole that money, didn't you?" she accused, her voice ringing out across the quiet street. "Guards! Guards! Someone stole my money!"

The man clenched his teeth in a silent rage, but he didn't stop. Instead, he darted back into the inky shadows of the alleyways, muttering under his breath, "No... I won't let you take this money from me." Tears, small and glistening, welled in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill. *Mr. Angel gave me this money,* he thought, the words a desperate mantra. A small snot bubble formed at his nose, and he snorted, his head pounding as he ran. *I'm going to use it.*

Panting, the man finally stopped, the ache in his legs a stark reminder of his flight. He braced himself, hands on his knees, each breath a ragged gasp. *"That's far enough,"* he muttered, the words a promise whispered into the shadows. *"The guards won't even find me here."*

He straightened, his fingers instinctively reaching into his pockets. He felt the reassuring weight of the copper coins, counting them with a silent prayer. *Thank goodness, all the money is still there,* he exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him. His throat was parched, the bread he'd eaten hours ago now a dry lump in his stomach. *Water...* The thought sparked a fleeting smile. He had enough to buy a pouch. But the smile vanished as quickly as it came. He shook his head, his voice a bare whisper in the gloom. *"No. Food first. Where will I find more coin?"* He continued his walk, the dark alleys twisting like a maze.

Suddenly, a deafening BOOM ripped through the air, the ground trembling beneath his feet. The man instinctively spread his arms for balance, a startled "Whoa" escaping his lips. He stumbled backward, losing his footing and landing hard on his backside. *What the hell was that?* he gasped, scrambling to sit up. He paused, listening. The tremors had stopped. *"it caused an earthquake?"* he thought. Panic erupted around him. Voices, raw with fear, rose from the surrounding buildings. He lurched to his feet and ran, the alleys seeming to shift around him.

He emerged from the twisting alleys, the round building to his left – the hunter base – a familiar landmark. In the distance, a roiling cloud of dust rose, a silent testament to some cataclysmic event. He stared at the dust cloud, a thought forming in his mind. *"That kind of explosion... are they still training?"*

Suddenly, a sharp clack of metal against cobblestone echoed behind him. Before he could turn, a guard – not just one, but a cohort of five – collided with him. The impact slammed into his shoulder, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

"Hey! Watch it!" the guard barked.

"Ow!" the man groaned, clutching his shoulder. He watched the guards, their faces set in grim determination, as they ran past him.

He scrambled to his feet. "Sorry," he called after them.

The guards marched towards the source of the explosion, their boots pounding against the stone. The man stood, bewildered. *What is going on? I thought Mr. Angel was training with the guild members. But with that huge of an explosion and the guards heading there... I don't think this is training anymore.*

He slowly pushed himself upright, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Around him, the neighborhood was stirring to life. Windows creaked open, revealing anxious faces. Men, women, and even children cautiously emerged from their homes. Parents herded their children back inside, their voices laced with a mixture of fear and warning. *What is Mr. Angel doing exactly?* He saw the memory of Tyler giving him some money, and it remained perfectly vivid in his head

The man paused, torn. *Should I head there to see what's going on?* Another thought followed, tinged with apprehension. *But what if something terrible happens?* He knew, somehow, that Tyler was strong. He remembered the first time he'd seen him, the aura he possessed when he met Tyler. Even then, Tyler's Crimson gaze radiated a presence that dominated the landscape. An aura of raw power. He felt something, a demand for respect, a hint of fear. Then Tyler smiled, and the money came in his hands, and everything changed in that second. Tyler was a saviour, someone who had offered him a hand when he was desperate. *I have to see what's going on.*

He turned and started walking towards the source of the explosion, his resolve hardening. *Even if I get caught up in anything, I don't need to worry about it,* he thought. He muttered his faith, now deadly serious, *After all, it won't kill me.*

He glanced to his side and saw the same look that he's seen numerous times before. A small boy was looking at him, and giving him the look of ridicule and disrespect, he sighed and continued to walk, heading in that direction.

Meanwhile, the two guards stationed outside Aria were jolted from their stupor by the blast. The boisterous sound of them drinking had died down as they finished all of the booze they bought earlier. The fat guard, hiccuping loudly, slurred, "You...you hear that, right? That...that was even louder than before!"

The thin guard, his eyes glazed, replied with a sluggish "Yeah, I heard it."

The fat guard squinted. "You...you still think that's spar-spar-sparrin'?"

The thin guard's voice, thickened with alcohol, was unsure. "I...I don't know..."

The fat guard pointed a finger at the thin guard, a smug grin on his face. "Ha! I told you, you can't hold your liquor. You can't even....compete with me!"

The thin guard scoffed. "You're wrong. I'm not drunk. I'm just tired. We've been standing here for a while. I'm just going to sit down and rest."

"Sit down?" the fat guard echoed, his brow furrowed in amusement. He watched the thin guard. "I'm just going to sit down for a bit," he slurred. He slowly lowered his spear, clumsily shuffling backward as he sat, his back sliding down the rough stone.

The fat guard raised a brow. "You're just going to fall asleep again, aren't you? You're not really fun to drink with. Always falling asleep right after two.... bottles!" He sighed dramatically. *"What a waste."*

He waited for a retort, a protest, the usual arguments from his friend. But instead, a soft snore filled the air. The fat guard smiled, a small smile touching his lips as he looked at his sleeping companion, and thought, *Already fell asleep? Well, both of us can't sleep. I'll let him rest. I'm the one who pressured him into letting me buy the booze anyway. I'll just have to stand guard.*

He turned, walked toward the wall where he had placed his massive two-handed hammer, and hefted it. Then, he returned to his post, his gaze fixed on the distance, continuing to do his job.

The world swirled in a maelstrom of destruction, yet Tyler remained still, centered amidst the chaos. His gaze was fixed on the vice captain. Above the vice captain's head, a stark, digital display appeared: Lvl: 135 Grant Brunch. The man cradled his daughter, a fragile shield against the devastation, and his eyes glowed with a faint, crimson light. It was the visible manifestation of Tyler's words: a tempest of rage, sorrow, and crushing grief. Tyler saw it all, the raw agony etched across the man's face.

As the vice captain moved, Tyler moved with deadly grace, activating *Shadow Strike* and *Shadow Step*. A whisper of movement, a silver flash, and in a heartbeat, the dagger arced through the air. It found its target, a crimson line appearing across the vice captain's throat. The man's head lolled, the life extinguished as it fell, followed by the lifeless body.

Before Tyler, the system panel exploded with information: Level Up, Level Up, Level Up, Level Up, Level Up, Level Up Level up. The digital text flickered with each new level gained.

He turned, the echoes of battle still ringing in his ears. In the distance, the dust began to settle, revealing Silvia. She pushed herself upright with a pained groan, her hand clutching at her shoulder. One eye was squeezed shut, her jaw clenched as she fought back against the pain. *"That should have killed him. There's no way he survived that."* She began to walk towards the epicenter of the blast. A massive crater dominated the scene, a gaping wound in the earth. Dust still swirled within its depths, a testament to the devastating power unleashed.

Suddenly, the eye that had remained open widened in shock. Tyler was gone.

*"No, no, no, no, no,"* her thoughts a panicked scream. *He shouldn't have survived that. That's impossible. Where is he?*

Silvia stumbled back a few paces, her vision still hazed by the lingering, slowly dissipating dust. She squinted, struggling to pierce the veil of particulate matter. *If he survived that strike... that's it. There's no way we can beat him. We can't take him down without the captain. I have to get out of here. This is my chance. I have to get out of here while he can't see me,* she thought, desperation clawing at her throat. The words were a frantic prayer.

She whirled, a blur of motion in the swirling dust, and launched herself into a desperate run. Her muscles burned, screaming in protest against the sudden exertion. Then, she channeled her power, activating: Knight's Charge. A surge of energy coursed through her, and her eyes blazed with cold, unwavering focus as she took her first two strides. Her speed was instantly amplified, accelerating with frightening swiftness. The world blurred around her.

Suddenly, Tyler materialized, a phantom appearing directly in her path, a nightmare made real. Before she could react, before a single thought could form, before her muscles could even tense, he unleashed a fist of pure, devastating power. It connected with her face with bone-jarring force.

A shockwave ripped through her, sending her hurtling through the air, a crimson doll tossed by a monstrous hand. A front tooth, ripped from its moorings, sailed through the air, a tiny white projectile against the backdrop of carnage. She slammed into a thick-trunked tree, the impact a thunderclap.

The wood exploded, splintering into a thousand fragments that rained down around her, a deadly shower of wood and debris. The world stilled for a heart-stopping moment.

Tyler's crimson eyes, now gleaming with a predatory hunger, fixed on the wreckage, searching the aftermath. He muttered, his voice a low growl that cut through the lingering silence, "Where do you think you're going."