Chronicles Of The Crafting Hero

Mani sat centered in the mansion's library, perched on one of the room's worn wooden chairs. Malisa stood behind her, the tips of her fingers glowing a soft, golden hue as they rested on either side of Mani's head.

"Thank you," Mani said, breaking the silence with a soft voice.

Malisa, still standing behind her, responded, "It's okay. There's no need to thank me, I'm just doing my job as the Guild's healer." The golden light from her fingertips still faintly illuminating the space.

"I should be thanking you," Mani insisted, her voice carrying more emotion. "You saved this entire guild from collapsing earlier. If it weren't for you back there, who knows what could've happened." She leaned back slightly in the chair, her eyes closed.

Malisa's voice was level. "It was the only thing I could do at that moment. Everyone was getting… agitated. I had to use it… my skill." Her expression remained unreadable in the dim light.

"Light of Calm..." Mani considered, attempting to recall. "If I remember correctly, it keeps the target in a state of calm for three minutes."

Malisa corrected, "Six minutes, actually."

Mani nodded, a small sigh escaping her lips. "Right. After that... The Captain and the members all came to an agreement. Honestly, I didn't think the Captain and Vice-Captain would react the way they did. They both withdrew as the light engulfed them. Even Sabrina."

Malisa's hands remained on Mani's head as she spoke. "It's impossible for anyone to get angry once the skill has taken effect. Even if one knows what I just did, they still won't be angry over it. And if I focus and apply my skill on you like this, while focused on a specific trait…" Her voice faded slightly, but still maintained its emotionless rhythm.

She slowly removed her hands. The golden glow faded. The only sounds were in the air.

"I'm done," Malisa said, her voice flat.

"Really?" Mani responded as she stood up from the chair, turning to face Malisa. The room felt quiet, a stark contrast to the tension that had been present before.

Malisa's expression remained unreadable, her golden pupils, wide and unblinking, fixed on Mani. "Yes. You don't need to worry about it anymore. How do you feel?"

"You're right," Mani said, a genuine lightness in her voice. "I feel better now. Please keep this a secret from everyone else."

"Why?" Malisa asked, her gaze unwavering. "If you tell them, I don't think they're going to do what you think they will."

"I told you, I know these kinds of people," Mani replied, her voice hardening slightly. "As soon as they know you're the kind of member who holds them back, they'll quickly kick you off the guild. You know that."

"But we've been with them for half a year now," Malisa countered.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything," Mani said, her tone sharp. "You saw the Vice-Captain and the Captain fight. And they've been together for more than four years, or so I've heard. Do you think my being with them for half a year would cause them to feel pity for me? We also know they weren't even angry about Ian being killed; they just used that as another excuse to go kill that hunter because of Gary and Steven."

Malisa sighed. "Alright. I'll continue to keep this a secret between the two of us, but just so you know, try to think less about these kinds of things. I didn't fully get rid of the trauma that the hosts suffered. I just suppressed it. My ability doesn't fully heal mental wounds." The weight of her words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgement of the deeper issues at play.

Mani sighed, the weight of her thoughts heavy on her shoulders. "I understand. You know, we both were recruited into this guild in the same week. I was taken in because of my ability to sense if members are dead, and the truth crystals and things like that."

She paused, then continued, her voice tinged with bitterness. "You know that in magic... crystal mages are the weakest of all mages. Our mana capacity isn't like the others. We run out of mana quickly, and we can only make basic spells—elemental spells, mostly, not different spells like binding, or ones that silence another person's abilities. Nothing outside of those elemental abilities, or the standard crystal abilities everyone knows. They just took me in because of the crystal skills. You heard what they said: 'A mage is still a mage,' right? But if I tell them what this ability does to me, they might think I might hold them back."

She looked down at her hands, clenched now. "Almost all mages can use Heal, but I can only use Light Heal. And the Regeneration Heal I have is a skill that has a long cooldown, lasting half a day. And it's not automatic. I actually have to activate it *if* I've received a lot of damage. But you... you're different. Even if you're just a healer, you're still a saint. You have holy magic. You can give buffs to guild members. And once you reach A-rank, you can use the first purification skill. You can get rid of dark skills, can't you? And dark skills won't affect you at all."

Malisa offered a small, weary sigh. "You're doing it again."

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Mani looked up, her expression questioning. " Doing what?" The air between them was thick with unspoken anxieties, the ever-present fear of inadequacy.

"I told you not to think of these kinds of things," Malisa said, her voice gentle but firm. Even in her eyes, the golden glow seemed to have diminished, replaced by a concerned gaze. "You have a tendency to do that, don't you? You're thinking of bad things again. Remember what I said? I only suppressed those feelings. I didn't get rid of them. The more you dwell on these things, the higher the chance they'll likely resurface. Try to think less of the bad situations around you. If they don't truly concern you, you shouldn't think about them. Or even if you can't solve them right now. Even about that hunter, try to think less of him. Try to get your mind off of these things... or something."

"Ah, you're right," Mani said, a sigh escaping her lips. Her gaze turned towards the window, with the sunlight slowly pouring into the library through the curtain.

"I'm going to go train for a little while while I wait for the others to come back," she announced as she passed Malisa, already half-turned towards the door. As Mani left the library, Malisa was left alone, and she thought, *She's right. If it weren't for her ability, these guild members wouldn't have recruited her. And if they found out that this ability is affecting her in the way it is… They might just think she's going to hold them back. After all, she is just a crystal mage. She can't even give any of them buffs, and she can use only simple elemental magic. So far, crystal mages don't even have surprising skills, even if they reach S-rank. So, if it weren't for this special skill, they might not have recruited her at all.*

Malisa, left alone in the quiet library, lifted the wooden chair Mani had been sitting on, her movements precise. She then carried the chair to one of the large tables, placing it carefully before continuing to think.

*The dark aura around these hunters… every time I see it, it seems to have gotten thicker.* She paused, a shadow crossing her face. *Does Mani know that almost every single one of the members in this guild is a murderer?* The weight of the secret, of the untold truths, settled heavily upon her.

Meanwhile, in Veridia, within Hector's shop, Emily sighed with relief as she sold the last of Tyler's crafted shields, the hunter who bought it exiting the shop. *Finally, I sold all of Sir Tyler's shields,* she thought. *It's too bad he couldn't craft more than three of them. So many people wanted them.*

Hector emerged from the crafting room, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You sold all of them?" he asked, his voice a little gruff.

"Oh, yes, I sold all of them," Emily replied, straightening her posture and meeting his gaze.

"Great," Hector said, some of the tension easing from his face. "I'm trying to replicate the shield created by Sir Tyler. But it seems that they don't look exactly the same. I want you to come in here and tell me how it looks."

"Oh, okay," Emily replied, her interest piqued. She followed Hector back into the crafting room.

Hector held up a round shield, its surface studded with metal spikes. He held it by its sides, presenting it to Emily for inspection. "Look," he said, "how does it look?"

Emily studied the shield, putting her finger on her chin in a thoughtful pose. *Hmm, it kind of looks like Tyler's shield,* she thought, *but it looks less impressive… or, maybe, less attractive. The spikes on top aren't as shiny as his, and they're not slightly bending upwards either. It looks strong, but…* The comparison was inevitable, the subtle details – the quality of the craftsmanship – making all the difference.

Hector, interrupting Emily's internal assessment, asked, "Just be honest—what do you think?"

Emily hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Well, it does kind of look like Sir Tyler's shield, but the craftsmanship is totally different. It looks strong, but… it's less appealing, in a way. I'm sorry." She instantly noticed Hector's disappointed expression.

"It's alright, what are you apologizing for?" Hector said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "That's exactly what I needed. Just a few tweaks and changes, and I'm going to match the exact crafting skills of his... offense's shield. I want to replicate it perfectly. If you're okay with it, you can tell me where exactly I went wrong. You know, as a craftsman, it's also good to get information from another person's perspective, not just your own."

"Oh, alright," Emily said, her earlier hesitation now replaced by a willingness to help.

They began to discuss the shield, Emily carefully describing what she saw as the key differences. She focused on the aesthetic variations and the quality of the finish, but refrained from offering any direct suggestions, not wanting to offend Hector's skills. The conversation continued, a focused exchange of observations and analysis.

Hector, after a time, said, "Alright, I'm gonna do just that. Thanks for the help. You can go back to the counter now."

"Right, you're welcome," Emily replied, relieved. She turned and went back out of the crafting room, returning to the counter in the shop. She sighed softly and thought, *Time has really passed.* She wondered, *I wonder if Sir Tyler's going to come back with more materials to craft more things. He does have such an incredible skill, very different from Hector's crafting skills.* The anticipation of their next visit, the potential for more masterful creations, filled her thoughts.

Meanwhile, in the monster zone, Tyler was hunched over, his hands braced on his knees. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from his forehead and onto the forest floor. *Oh, man, this is really bad,* he thought, his heart hammering in his chest. *I think I did too much. I finished all of my mana reactivating my skill and I forgot about my stamina, It has the lowest stat points among my stats.* The exertion had taken its toll.

In front of him, Rebecca stood bathed in the sunlight reflecting off her silver bow, her face alight with joy. *I can't believe we really did it,* she thought, a surge of elation coursing through her. *I became a B-rank! We slayed so many monsters in so little time.*

She turned to Tyler, her voice brimming with happiness, "Tyler, thank you!"

Tyler straightened, his breath still a bit labored as he tried to compose himself. The world seemed to tilt slightly. "No problem," he managed, a weak smile flickering across his face. "Just make sure to Keep your end of the…" His voice faded as his vision began to darken at the edges.

He stumbled backwards, his legs giving way. He collapsed onto the forest floor, and then his vision went completely dark. He was now unconscious.

Rebecca gasped, "Tyler!" She ran to him, her bow still clutched in her hand. She knelt beside him, her voice filled with concern, "Tyler, are you alright?"

He didn't respond, except for the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

*He overexerted himself* she thought, a wave of concern and guilt washing over her. *He did all of this while helping me.* The realization of his sacrifice, of his dedication, filled her with a complex array of emotions.

"I've got to help him up," Rebecca said, her voice firm with a renewed sense of purpose. "Let's get out of here."

She gently placed the bow, still shimmering, onto the ground. Just as she was about to lift Tyler, the bow suddenly shimmered with a faint blue light and dissolved into nothingness, disappearing into Tyler's inventory. She jumped slightly, startled, and then sighed in resignation.

"Even when you're unconscious," she murmured under her breath, "your skills still activate?"

*He always surprises me,* she thought, a small smile playing on her lips. *Every time, with his skills. Even when he's unconscious. His skill can activate… something that never really happens. He really is different from every other hunter I've ever met.*

She carefully wrapped her arms around Tyler's still form, and hoisted him onto her back. His stillness made her heart ache a little. *He's so light,* she thought. *Is it because I've gotten stronger? Yeah, that must be it.* Her strength had grown exponentially. She focused, activating one of her new, newly acquired skills, "Archer's Flight."

With incredible speed, a burst of power propelling her forward, she sprinted out of the monster zone. Her legs barely touched the ground, her focus on her precious cargo.

*So this is the skill,* she thought, as the forest melted into a blur around her. *It gives me a boost in speed. I've become a lot faster. I'm level 84 now…which means I'm B-rank. And I have to be faster than Tyler…But*... *for some reason, I still feel that he's a lot faster than me. His speed… I'm still nowhere near it.* The image, the sheer intensity of his speed, flashed through her mind. The forest continued to blur, showcasing the truth of her perception.

Meanwhile, as Rebecca sped through the forest, the sun now began its descent, heading towards the horizon. The Black Cloud Guild members had arrived at the Hunter Crossroads base.

Five guild members walked together as a cohesive group, Jason leading the formation, his face set in a firm expression, masking a trace of suppressed anger. Behind him were two archers, their quivers and bows ready, a single sword at their hip. Then came the fighter and a knight, all clad in sleek, black cloud-guild armor, each ensemble emblazoned with a small, stylized cloud pattern in white upon their chest, a symbol of their collective strength. The air around them felt heavy with purpose.