The wind in Veirdale always whispered.
Through the cracked bones of old trees, across scorched stone and blackened grass, it carried the ghosts of what once tried to grow here—of the people who had lived, loved, and fought for a future that was now nothing more than charred memories.
Kail stood in the clearing that used to be his family's village. The burnt remnants of their home still smoldered faintly in the heat of the morning. Some of the wagons had survived. One of them still had the wheel intact. A few crates lay half-melted in the rubble, their contents now lost to the flames. The well, miraculously, was untouched.
And then there was the toolkit.
Kail crouched beside the battered crate, fingers tracing the rusted hinge with a gentle, reverent touch. His father's toolkit. It had seen better days—half-melted tools were strewn inside, the hammer's head slightly warped from heat. But it was intact. The measuring rope. The worn chisels. And there, wrapped in old oilcloth, was the handaxe.
He gripped the familiar handle, feeling the old weight of it. A sudden surge of nostalgia hit him. It had been his father's favorite tool, the one he'd always used when they built or repaired something together.
"I remember this," he whispered to the wind. "You carved my name in a post with it, didn't you, old man?"
His father's voice echoed in his mind: "Tools are your best friends, Kail. They never leave you—so long as you don't forget to sharpen them."
Objective UpdateShelter Construction in ProgressRequirements:
4x Drel Bark Panels
6x Support Poles
1x Stone FoundationReward: +5 KPNew Feature: [Stability Rating: 38% — Upgrade recommended]
Kail smirked at the system's prompt, though the thought of stability was far from his immediate concern.
"Yeah, yeah, stability. One thing at a time."
He turned toward the towering drel trees at the edge of the clearing. They were massive, their bark coiled like thick muscle fibers, much tougher than anything he had ever encountered back on Earth. Their roots sank deep into the cracked earth as though they had always been here. While they didn't resemble any tree he'd seen before, he could recognize the form—drel trees resembled something akin to willows, with the thick bark capable of bending and stretching without snapping.
The sap, though... that was something special. Sweet, almost honey-like when boiled, and it made the perfect glue for construction. It was a resource, Kail knew, one that would make his task easier, but first, he had to get the wood.
One swing of the axe sent a jolt through his arm.
"Damn," he muttered, wincing. "Guess my ten-year-old muscles aren't ready for this."
Still, he kept at it, swinging the axe with an effort that felt too big for his small frame. He switched arms, alternating just as he used to when training back in Jakarta, where muscle fatigue was the enemy. Between swings, his thoughts drifted.
His father's voice came back to him, soft and warm in the air. "Wood doesn't chop itself, but you can sure pretend it does if you yell loud enough."
His mother, always the strategist, would have told him to brace the tree before making the final cut, careful with the way the grain would split. She would've insisted on doing it methodically.
He missed them both, a hollow ache in his chest, but he didn't stop. Grief, he knew, was something you couldn't let freeze you in place.
By mid-morning, his arms ached, but he had enough bark and two solid support poles. Not much, but enough to feel like he was making progress.
He took a break beside the well. The water, somehow still cold and clear, was a strange comfort in the midst of this desolation. He drank deeply, his mind racing through the plans he had in his head for the shelter. The foundation first, then the framework.
The more he worked, the more the task began to feel like a puzzle. And puzzles? Puzzles he could solve.
"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Keep it together. First the shelter, then we'll see about food."
A voice broke through his thoughts.
"You work like a lost goat."
Kail froze, his grip tightening on the axe. He swung around, nearly dropping the tool. A girl stood not far away, her dark eyes watching him closely, a look of mild curiosity mixed with skepticism. Her clothes were worn, patched in places with scrap fabric, and her feet were bare, covered in dirt. A small, travel-worn pack hung from her shoulders. Her hair was matted but had a wildness to it that seemed almost... untamed.
"Who the hell—wait, where did you come from?" Kail asked, his voice tinged with surprise and suspicion.
The girl shrugged, her pointed ears twitching slightly. "The other side of the forest. Saw your smoke last night. Thought maybe a fire spirit was rebuilding the dead place."
Kail blinked. "A fire spirit?"
"Better than rats," she replied, giving a half-smile before her expression grew serious again.
Kail took a cautious step forward, eyeing her carefully. She wasn't armed, at least not in the way he would've expected someone out here to be. But there was an alertness to her stance. A survivor's stance.
"You got a name?" he asked, trying to gauge if she was a threat.
"Rin."
"You live out here?"
"Not exactly," she said with a noncommittal shrug. "I follow the dying. Easier to find food near ruins."
Kail could respect the honesty. "Follow the dying?" he repeated. "That's... an interesting way to put it."
Rin's lips quirked up in a ghost of a smile. "It's the truth. Dead cities, ruined homes—people leave things behind. Sometimes the dead leave food. Sometimes they leave worse things."
He nodded. "I get it."
Side Character DetectedRin [Scavenger Tier – Unaffiliated]Potential Ally: HighTraits: Quick-Witted, Mistrustful, AgileSystem Suggestion: Offer Food or Shelter to Begin Trust Path
Kail hesitated, then reached into his small bundle and broke a dried meat strip in half. The food wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
"Want some?" he asked, holding it out.
Rin eyed the offering with a mixture of wariness and calculation. Her gaze flickered over him, sizing him up. Then, in one swift motion, she snatched the meat from his hand, chewing it cautiously. Her eyes never left his, evaluating him like a fox checking if the trap was safe.
Progress.
Relationship Path: Rin – Initiated Trust: Low (2/100)
Kail grinned slightly, watching as she chewed, not particularly worried by the low trust score. This wasn't some RPG. Trust was earned in the real world—through actions, not points.
He turned back to his work, feeling a sense of strange satisfaction. Maybe he wasn't rebuilding alone after all.
"Guess I'm not rebuilding alone anymore," Kail muttered, feeling a glimmer of hope.
As he set to work once more, the wind in Veirdale whispered again, but this time it wasn't only the ghosts of the past. It was the promise of something new.
End of Chapter 2