Ryuu sat cross-legged near the shore, steam curling from the cup in his hands. The scent of roasted beans filled the air, rich and comforting — impossibly familiar for a world that had never heard of espresso.
He took a slow sip. "That's some good coffee. Thank you."
The goddess hovered nearby, looking smug. "Of course it is. Brewed from the sacred beans of the Kavara Highlands! Blessed by morning dew and filtered through holy spring water!"
Ryuu nodded appreciatively. "Tastes like instant."
Her wings drooped. "You mortals have no sense of reverence."
He just smirked, watching the tide roll against his half-submerged rafts, with one floating gracefully, though utterly useless still. The test field around them shimmered faintly — dotted with tree stumps, scattered sawdust, and small system windows still floating idly above the ground.
The interface blinked one last time before dimming.
[Prototype: Successful]
[Blueprint Added: Basic Raft (Hybrid Frame Type)]
[Next Objective: Locate Shipwright Outpost]
"Looks like it's pointing somewhere," Ryuu said, standing and brushing off the sand. "Shipwright outpost?"
The goddess floated up beside him, stretching her arms dramatically. "Ah, the nearest one is in the Town of Asval! A charming little port where adventurers, merchants, and hopeless romantics gather to drink away their dreams!"
Ryuu raised an eyebrow. "And where do I fit in that?"
"You? The hopeless part."
He sighed, slinging his toolbag over his shoulder which the goddess materialized for him while he's out busy drinking coffee - and taking one last sip of coffee. "Lead the way, Your Majesty."
"Gladly!" The goddess gestured ahead, halo gleaming like a compass. "Onward, Chief Shipwright — to Asval!"
The wind picked up as they followed the dirt trail away from the shore. Behind them, the raft bobbed quietly in the fading light — the first step of something much greater waiting to be built.
----
The road to Asval wound along the coast, dotted with the skeletons of half-buried hulls. Ryuu trudged behind the goddess, watching gulls circle over what used to be docks. The air smelled of salt, smoke, and something faintly metallic—like an old workshop left too long in the rain.
The goddess twirled midair, her halo made of gears glinting. "Welcome to Asval! Jewel of the Southern Coast, hub of trade and—" She stopped, staring at the boarded warehouses. "…or, uh, it was."
Ryuu raised an eyebrow. "Looks more like a scrapyard."
The goddess landed on her feet with a short but dim light covering her body, her robe was turned into a normal dress, and her halo turned into small bubbles of light, jetting upwards and disappearing.
"Wha-?"
"I can't let other people know I'm divinity. I'll cause a ruckus."
"Right..."
They passed fishermen mending nets with frayed twine and market stalls with barely anything to sell. A town crier shouted from the square, his voice echoing off empty walls:"—Evacuation notice extended to the port districts! Demon King's forces sighted beyond the Gulf!—"
The goddess's usual cheer dimmed slightly. "The war's spreading faster than I thought…"
Ryuu glanced at her. "You mean that Demon King thing isn't just a fairy tale?"
The goddess shook her head. "Five years ago, the seas started turning black. His armies don't march on land—they sail. Every harbor they take, they poison the waters with dark mana. No trade. No fishing. No life."
"So they invade by amphibious means and expand from their landing zones?" Ryuu asked, scanning the coastline.
"Correct," she said softly.
His gaze drifted to the broken pier ahead, where a few children were stacking driftwood into tiny makeshift boats. They floated for a few seconds before tipping over and sinking beneath the gray water.
Ryuu exhaled. "By the way, I don't think I've heard you tell me your name."
"Ah—Cecilia, the goddess of machine spirit." She lifted her chin proudly. "I don't usually introduce myself. I rarely walk among mortals, let alone get groped during first meetings."
"You know that was an accident, right?"
She grinned. "Hmm~ sure."
Ryuu ran a hand through his hair. "In any case, since I'm stuck here, I guess I got summoned just in time to help defeat the amphibious-landing demons or whatever."
Cecilia's expression softened. "Then you'll fix this, won't you? You're the Shipwright, after all."
He didn't answer—just stared past her at the wrecked ships beyond the bay. Their hulls lay cracked open like graves, the sea lapping gently at their ribs.
A system chime rang softly beside him:
[New Quest: Rebuild the Asval Shipwright's Guild]
Objective: Restore functionality to Asval's dockyards. Establish a workshop and craft seaworthy vessels.
Ryuu rubbed his temple. "Great. Maybe next it'll ask me to drain the ocean with a bucket."
Cecilia chuckled softly. "Every great project starts with the first nail!"
"Yeah? Then I hope your divine budget includes steel, timber, and half a workforce."
They followed the old dock path toward the southern pier. What should have been a bustling shipwright's outpost now looked more like a scrapyard barely clinging to purpose. Cranes stood crooked, ropes hung like spider silk, and rust covered almost everything that once shone.
Yet, people were still there—patching hulls, boiling pitch, scavenging old iron fittings. Children carried scrap boards like treasure, and a few elders shouted instructions that sounded more like prayers.
"Looks like a scrapyard," Ryuu muttered.
"Scrapyard or not," Cecilia said, "these people are still fighting to live. That's worth something."
They passed through a battered archway marked Asval Shipwright's Guild – Southern Dock Division. The letters were half missing, but the faint smell of sawdust and oil was still unmistakable.
Inside, chaos thrived. Men argued over broken schematics, women hauled buckets of tar, and in the far corner, someone was trying to fix a pulley with a hammer meant for cooking.
At the counter stood a woman who seemed almost too put-together for the scene—a voluptuous brunette with a practiced smile, a half-buttoned vest, and the poise of someone used to keeping everything barely under control.
She looked up as Ryuu and Cecilia stepped inside. "Welcome to what's left of the Asval Shipwright's Guild. I'm Catherine, receptionist, counselor, part-time bartender, and unofficial fire warden. If you're here to complain, take a number."
Ryuu set down his toolkit. "Actually, I'm here to work."
That earned a surprised look. "Work?" She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "We don't exactly hire these days. Most of our builders left when the trade ships stopped coming."
Cecilia smirked. "He's not most builders."
Catherine arched a brow. "You two new in town?"
"You could say that," Ryuu replied. "Got a system order to fix your dockyards."
She blinked. "A what?"
"Never mind." He rolled up his sleeves. "Just tell me what's broken first."
Catherine handed him a clipboard filled with repair notes, her expression softening. "If you can fix even one crane, you'll earn yourself a place on the guild board—and a cup of something better than saltwater coffee."
Cecilia whispered as they walked toward the pier, "You didn't deny the 'saltwater' part."
Ryuu smirked. "That's because I've worked in worse places."
---
The pier stretched out like a wounded limb — planks warped from seawater, nails bent and rusted to the color of dried blood. Seagulls perched on broken masts, crying above the dull rhythm of waves slapping against hulls that would never sail again.
The crane stood near the end of the dock, a hulking silhouette of old timber and mismatched gears. Parts of its frame were patched together from what looked like cart axles and salvaged ship ribs. The ropes hung in uneven lengths, stained from oil and frayed from overuse. Each time the wind brushed through, the metal joints groaned as though complaining about another day of survival.
Ryuu crouched beside the main gear housing, running a hand across its surface. "Cracked bearings, warped sprocket teeth, and someone thought grease was optional."
A young worker nearby looked up, startled. "Sir, we—uh—we tried our best! The fittings kept seizing, and we didn't have replacements."
Ryuu waved a hand dismissively. "Not blaming you. Just telling the truth. What's the lifting capacity on this thing?"
"Used to be two tons," the boy said, rubbing his neck. "Now... half that, if we're lucky. She groans past a thousand kilos."
Cecilia watched him work, her human guise flickering faintly under the sunlight. "You think of machines like people don't you?" she remarked.
"I guess...They usually listen better," he muttered, prying open a bent access plate with his wrench.
Inside, the gears were caked with black residue, half-congealed from years of improper lubrication. A cracked piston rod dangled loosely from its housing, threatening to shear off completely. He sighed, setting his coffee cup on a nearby crate. "Catherine wasn't kidding. This dock's one storm away from sinking."
Cecilia peered over his shoulder. "Can it still be saved?"
He glanced up, a faint smirk forming. "If it's still standing, it can still be fixed."
She smiled. "That sounds almost divine."
"Yeah," Ryuu said, tightening a bolt. "Experience will teach you these things."
He rummaged through his kit, pulling out a small toolkit stamped with a symbol glowing faintly — the Osceania Shipwright Log interface flickering across his vision like an augmented overlay. It highlighted stress fractures, misaligned joints, and corroded sections with faint red lines.
[Material Familiarity: Ironwood - 68%][Composite Synthesis: Tier I available][Suggested Repair Schema: Ironwood + Reefpine reinforcement detected]
Ryuu smirked. "Not bad. Guess that testing session paid off."
He called to the nearby workers. "You got any Ironwood beams left in the yard?"
The boy hesitated. "A few, sir. We were saving them for rebuilding the north pier."
"Forget that," Ryuu said. "Bring two of the straightest ones here. And any Reefpine panels you've got left."
The boy ran off. Cecilia crossed her arms. "You're mixing materials again?"
He nodded. "Ironwood's too dense for the load shaft alone, but Reefpine can flex just enough to absorb recoil. If we pair them with reinforced bearings, the crane might not snap in half next time it moves."
She smiled faintly. "You sound like you're building a ship."
Ryuu chuckled. "You fix enough of them, you start thinking in hulls and beams."
A few hours passed in steady rhythm — metal clanks, shouted directions, the scrape of wood being cut and sanded. The outpost slowly gathered around to watch. Even Catherine leaned out of the guild doorway, arms crossed, watching the man who worked like he'd done this a thousand times before.
When the sun began to dip, Ryuu stepped back, wiping sweat and grease from his face. The crane's joints gleamed under the orange light, newly reinforced with smooth Ironwood braces and Reefpine tension plates. The cables had been rethreaded and properly greased, the mechanism inside humming gently.
"Hey, who operates this thing?" Ryuu looks at the gathered crowd. An old man wearing a worn-down pair of goggles stepped forward, hand raised.
"I do."
He looked at the lever operator. "Give it a test."
The man hesitated, then pulled. The crane's arm rose, steady this time, the gears turning in smooth rhythm. A cheer broke out among the dockworkers as it lifted a full hull plate without the usual lurch or grind.
Cecilia's expression softened. "As expected of my chief shipwright."
Ryuu exhaled and picked up his cooling cup of coffee. "I told you — if it's still standing, it's fixable."
Catherine approached from behind, hands on her hips. "Well, you just earned yourself a place on the guild board, Mister...?"
"Ryuu," he said, turning to her. "Just Ryuu."
Catherine smiled. "Then welcome to Asval, Ryuu. You've got no idea how badly this place needed someone like you."
The cheers continued in the background, the newly repaired crane rising over the battered docks while the moon slowly overtakes the dimming sunlight.