Merchant Of Yliaster

Maxwell arrived at the forest and checked the timer once more to see how much time was left before the nobility ranks were given out, and saw half an hour remaining. He knew there would be great chaos in the following days.

He started to move towards the little refugee camp Blueberry indirectly created as he considered how to proceed. He assumed there would be an assembly of kind for the new nobles, but he was not sure where he would fit in that scheme.

From what he has seen so far, Bob and Gendor would also receive some kind of nobility, too, making his two best friends noble in a world riddled with complicated politics when it came to nobility. Any other world would have been fine, but this world would immediately be thrown into chaos when the laymen realized how much the upper class was hiding.

I guess everyone gets what they deserve in the end. With the new changes, old nobles who were particularly harsh towards the commoners would be the first party to leave this world. Either somehow physically, or in a much more permanent manner.

As he thought, he reached the camp and realized in surprise that it didn't look bad at all. The place was hardly a camp right now, and it was almost a kilometer in diameter. Many wooden houses stood side by side in a planned manner, circling an empty place in the middle where many facilities were placed.

Is Tom a city planner or something? Maxwell thought as he examined the little town through his dominion. He could definitely see that some houses were not on the same standards as others, as they were shoddy at best, but he couldn't expect Tom to carve all of the houses himself.

"Chirp! Chirp, chirp," Blueberry chirped excitedly before flying off as a green blur towards the center of the place.

"You abandon me as soon as you can, huh?" Maxwell tutted as he walked leisurely towards Tom. He could feel the young man around a hundred meters away, and he was busy carving something.

It didn't take long for him to reach him, but he didn't disrupt his work, watching the man with curiosity. With the initiation, more specialized tools started to disappear, making the crafting process of artisans really interesting to watch.

Tom, for example, apparently didn't need anything but a small wood carving knife to do his job. The fact that he was cutting giant pieces of wood from a statue didn't help with how ridiculous the process looked when evaluated from a pre-initiation perspective.

Right now, though, Maxwell didn't think all about that; he was entranced by the boy's movements, as he slowly detailed a great statue without any wasted movement. Every stroke removed a piece of wood, and the statue became more and more lifelike.

Tom moved once more, and even to Maxwell's senses, the changes he made to the wood were nonsensical. With a stroke of incredible precision, the statue was finished, its effects not being limited to a single spot.

Maxwell looked at the statue, smiling, as Blueberry landed on its head, chirping smugly. The statue was an incredible depiction of the bird herself, and Maxwell was impressed that it could express some of the qualities that the bird exhibited. The statue felt like it could move any time.

Tom, meanwhile, was completely drenched in sweat. His skills definitely didn't come cheap to his body, but Maxwell found the cost only expected. The boy sat down on a wooden chair nearby, clearly carved with the same skill as the statue, and took a sip from a cup, likewise carved from wood.

Just now, he seemed to realize that he had visitors, and glanced at them in surprise. "Oh, welcome back," he said, looking at Maxwell with some wariness still.

Maxwell was going to answer, but he was suddenly distracted by a strange feeling. Deep from his soul, a strange feeling arose, immediately spreading to his mind like tidal waves. He immediately recognized the feeling; it was just curiosity, amplified to a ridiculous level.

Curiosity towards what? Maxwell asked himself, but he knew already. The whole scene before gave him a weird sense of deja vu, yet he couldn't tell why. It was as if he had lived through something similar before. If someone was so talented without any help, what would happen if he just gave him a tool to get better? He was curious.

"Hey, kid. Would you want to be an even better woodworker?" Maxwell asked. He felt weird, as he felt a strange sense of belonging as he asked the question. It felt like it was only natural to ask questions like this.

Tom suddenly turned to him, staring at him with great intensity. This was the strongest gaze he saw from the boy since they had met, and this was after the boy had been a slave in a bandit convoy. Some people truly had a strong passion for their interests.

"Of course I would, but I don't see how," he answered, and Maxwell smiled. It felt natural as he came up with a trade in his mind. He didn't even need to ask the system to see if it was balanced or not. Somehow, he was sure that it was.

"Do you like fighting?" Maxwell asked.

"Not really. My father used to say that it was not an artisan's place to fight. We are the creators, not destroyers," the boy answered, and Maxwell's eyes widened.

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The answer was so perfect to the idea in his mind that it didn't make any sense. Why now, though? There were no reasons for his trait to work like this, suddenly, from what he could tell. Wait? Maybe it's about the tether? He theorized. Maxwell didn't really believe in coincidences, and this didn't feel like one at all. Nonetheless, he voiced the trade in his mind.

"I can give you a skill that could make you a better woodworker, but you would lose something. I don't think you would mind it, though," Maxwell said.

"What would I lose?" Tom asked, taking a few steps towards him in interest.

"Your ability to destroy," Maxwell said, smiling. It was an interesting idea, but he knew that it would work. His trait would remove the whole intent of destruction from the boy's soul, making him a paragon of creation. No act of destruction without them being rooted in creation remains possible for the boy.

Tom squinted as he contemplated. Maxwell realized that no one seemed to question his ability too much when it came to things like this. Did the system really change the perspective of people so much that they could believe in anything now? Even in crossroad deals with random people? Maybe it helped that this was a medieval world.

It only took a few seconds for a light of resolve to appear inside the boy's eyes, and Maxwell knew that he had the boy. For some reason, though, he never really doubted that he would accept.

"Let's do it, then. When will we do it?" Tom asked, and the world slowed down to a crawl as Maxwell's dominion intensified, covering the world with a green sheen.

"No reason to wait," Maxwell said, and his trait activated.

Trade Commencing.

Maxwell felt the familiar feeling of his trait taking over his body, yet this time, it felt a bit different. It was as if in the periphery of his mind, he was aware of what was going to happen next. It was a frustrating feeling, even worse than the complete takeover from before.

Complete ignorance had been much better than the truth being just on the periphery of your mind. His energy moved, soul energy turning into threads, and Maxwell watched as they latched on to specific parts of the boy's soul like they did to Bob weeks before. All in all, the process was similar, and Maxwell figured most trades would proceed in a similar manner in the future.

This time, though, Maxwell could feel a metaphysical "snip" if it was the right word, in the boy's soul. While the threads covered the whole soul of the boy, the snip only made it a little dimmer in light, not breaking the wholeness of it.

After experiencing the sizeless dimension of the pure spiritual world, Maxwell realized what he was missing before. It was not that he was not missing it right now, but now, he could actually understand that whatever happened when he activated his trait happened in a dimension beyond the conventional measurements.

Maxwell focused as his trait changed the part it received from the boy's soul, completely rewiring it in a way that left Maxwell in complete darkness. If anything, his advancement made it even worse, as he could now see how much beyond him the whole thing was.

Soul Amputation Complete.

Soul Part Reconfigured.

Replanting.

Just as the time with the snipping, this time, Maxwell felt the missing part fusing back into Tom's soul, and it once more shone like a complete soul. Actually, it shone much brighter than before, whiter, in a way. It reminded him of Mary. That girl's soul was whiter than anyone he had seen, and he guessed that it was due to the absence of negative feelings. Right now, he could see that he was probably right.

Slowly, the world returned to normal, as the green sheen disappeared. There weren't many people who realized that there was something happening at all, Romin being one of the few as the man came near them from the forest, apparently feeling something.

Tom stumbled like he was drunk, and the newly arrived man almost frantically moved near him, supporting him to stand. "Something similar to my change?" he asked, not looking at Maxwell but examining Tom for any signs of change.

"A bigger one, I hope," Maxwell answered, and he received a proof from the system immediately.

Trait "Listener of The Trees Of Creation" bestowed.

Listener of the Trees of Creation:

Some say that the world was carved from a tree that wanted to experience all.

Listen, and you will hear the wishes of the ancient nobles of the creation. Carve, and you shall deliver.

A communication skill? Or more? Maxwell asked as he read the trait's description. He turned his attention to Tom, trying to see any changes to the boy. He could clearly see mental energy radiating from the boy like a sonar now, but it felt weird. The energy was definitely similar, but it felt more... treelike.

Tom glanced around him, taking in all the camp filled with carved houses, and Maxwell was surprised to see tears fall from the boy's eyes. In the next moment, a wave of something exploded from the boy, passing through them without doing anything.

The wave covered the whole camp immediately, and Maxwell felt the mana in the air get thicker. Nature mana in the atmosphere flowed into the camp, not belonging to the boy, but still heeding his call as if they sympathized with the boy.

"They don't want to be houses," Tom said, and mana activated.

Throughout the camp, the houses slowly turned green, dead wood sprouting into life in a miraculous wave of growth. The distinctly separate planks fused into one, and roots started to form. The circular formation of the houses slowly caused the roots of the trees to fuse, and then, vertical growth started.

Soon, all of the houses were little trees with a house-shaped hollow space inside them. It was like the trees didn't want to be houses, yet they still accepted the fact that people needed places to live.

Tom's mouth was moving rapidly, and Maxwell focused for a moment to hear the boy. "Please give them a place to live," the boy was repeating over and over again, and it seemed to have worked, forming a land of wonders around them.

"Something more, I see," Maxwell couldn't help but comment out loud.