[Cass]
The eel's hiss clung to the stone long after the fight was done. Every ripple in Rootwater sounded like teeth. But hunger pressed harder than fear, and so the Warbles kept working.
They carried baskets of pods to the vats, steam rising bitter and earthy. The smell wasn't pleasant, but it meant food. Laughter slipped out of empty stomachs, weak but real. The hamlet breathed again, though Cass knew shallow breaths could still end in suffocation.
He opened the system view and ignored buildings, stores, and queues. Instead, he scrolled through names until his vision blurred.
[Citizen Aptitudes]
Rilka — Memory: High | Pattern Recognition: Rare | Potential: Rare
Torv — Strength: High | Nerve: Above Average | Potential: Uncommon
Eshna — Empathy: High | Patience: High | Potential: Common
Varek — Creativity: Moderate | Memory: Average | Potential: Common
Each entry felt heavier than stone. The Bastion's future wasn't walls or spears. It was people.
He shut the menu and walked the tunnels.
Rilka sat cross-legged with her slate, chalk smudging her fingers. Lines sprawled in every direction — tunnels, cracks, crude notes in the Warble tongue she'd taught herself quicker than most children learned to sing.
She looked up, cheeks streaked with dust. "The patterns stay in my head longer now. Before I lose them, I can trap them here."
Cass crouched beside her. The sketch was crude, but alive — veins running into a heart. He traced one curve with his finger, imagining a chamber he hadn't yet reached.
"You're right," he said. "It feels real."
Her smile flickered, then faltered. "But sometimes I draw places I've never walked. That scares me. Like the lines are older than me."
Cass remembered how cartographers had become priceless in his last life. One had saved his settlement from a collapse; he never managed to repay them.
He rested a hand on Rilka's shoulder. "Don't fear it. That's your gift. We'll shape it carefully."
[System]: Citizen Path Awakened — Cartographer (Uncommon → Rare Potential).
Cass exhaled. Another thread secured.
At the forge pit, Torv hammered chitin plates until sweat slicked his back. Each strike rang sharp, echoing like drums. Karrek stood nearby, arms crossed, nodding only when the curve held.
Cass leaned against the wall. "How many shields?"
"Five," Torv grunted. "Two cracked. Three hold."
"Why cracked?"
Torv lifted one broken plate. "Bad strike. My fault." He tossed it aside. "I'll do better."
Cass studied his hands: scarred, raw, but steady. No smith yet — but the hunger was there.
[System]: Citizen Path Awakened — Smith (Uncommon Potential).
Cass hid the notification and smiled faintly. "Not your fault. Chitin breaks. Steel doesn't. One day you'll shape steel."
Torv paused, eyes narrowing. "Steel?"
"One day," Cass repeated.
Torv swung again, sparks snapping, his eyes sharper than before.
That evening, Cass gathered them near the shrine. Steam thickened the air, glowshrooms lit the faces around him pale blue and green.
"I saw what the Dawn gave us today," Cass said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried. "It gave us Rilka's patterns. Torv's strength. Each of you has something the Stone wants to grow. My task isn't to order you like tools — it's to help you become what you're meant to be."
The elder tapped his staff. "Words of Propervy."
Cass looked at the children curled together, thought of the ones yet to be born. Every life hinged on his choices. His chest ached with it.
"Faith alone won't keep us alive," he said. "But faith with skill, with hands, with hearts — that will. I'll find your gifts, one by one. And together we'll build a place the dark can't swallow."
Nods rippled through the crowd. Not cheers, not worship. Just steady agreement. That was enough.
[Forum – Global Noise]
[FarmerJay]: "Blight wiped my crops. Done trying."
[IronFist88]: "Wave scaling is broken. Balance trash."
[TravelerClipz]: "Arena highlight: BloodPrince triple-kill!"
[Skeptik]: "Mole people hoax again. Fake. Stop posting."
[Nocti]: "Cartographer path spotted. Rare. Who's training this early?"
[MapCrafter]: "Map fragments showing Rootwater caverns at auction. Bids already up."
Old blurry clips still circulated, reposted as "bug content." A few joked "Ghost Lord," most scrolled past. The threads drowned under trade spam and arena chatter.
Cass checked once, then closed it. The less they believed, the safer he stayed.
[Cass]
Later, he checked the healer's alcove. The wounded guard's leg no longer stank of rot. Silverroot paste had slowed the infection. The healer's hands trembled with relief.
"Your herbs saved him," she rasped. "Without them, gone."
Cass shook his head. "Rilka found them. I only trusted her."
The healer studied him, then nodded once. "Then you know how to listen. That matters more than blades."
Cass wanted to laugh. He wasn't rare. He was desperate. Every choice carried his mother's face in its shadow.
He stood, staring into the shrine's glow. "Tomorrow we push further. If Rootwater holds, we live. If not…"
He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
[Media – World's Dawn Chronicles]
"Rivermere's famine deepens. Greenward quarantines whole districts as fungus plague spreads. Ashenfolk export surges after furnace repairs.
And in rumors: claims of 'Underdark cartographers' have stirred interest, but analysts dismiss them as procedural noise. No confirmation.
In entertainment: BloodPrince climbs into the global top five after tonight's arena victory."
The anchor smiled. The word Ghost Lord never left her mouth, though it scrolled half-joking through side chat.
[Cass]
Night pressed down. Cass sat beneath the Dawn Hole, staring at the faint thread of air drifting from above.
"They'll laugh. They'll forget. Good. That gives us time."
The draft brushed his cheek. He closed his eyes and held his mother's face in the dark until sleep took him.