Steve pried every last Mana Crystal from the exposed veins until his pack overflowed—five full stacks, and then some.
It was a massive crystal deposit, practically sitting along his self-dug mineshaft. Whenever he needed more, he could just drop by and stock up again.
After estimating that he had enough to last a while, he stopped mining and returned home to stash the haul.
Since Mana Crystals could substitute for iron, he decided to save his precious ingots and crafted himself a new Mana Pickaxe.
The pick gleamed with a translucent bluish-violet glow, like something out of a high-fantasy mod. Soft purple particles shimmered around it, and faint currents of liquid light flowed within the crystal body.
Its durability wasn't great—but it was absolutely gorgeous.
He crafted some Mana Leather next—three sheets per crystal—and the material came out etched with faint runes that shimmered faintly in the light.
Then he walked into Old Rose's home, "borrowed" her sewing table, and pieced together a full set of Mana Leather Armor.
The moment he put it on, a new blue arcane bar appeared beside his health and hunger HUD. It filled about one-fifth of the way—corresponding to a total of 20 points of magic resistance from the armor.
He wasn't sure yet whether that meant 20% damage reduction or a flat defense boost, but either way, higher defense was always good news.
Durability was a bit lower than iron armor, sure—but it was worth it.
Afterward, he crafted a Mana Flask, poured water into it, and watched as the lid snapped shut automatically. The brewing animation began to swirl on its own.
In time, it would yield Mana Water—a core ingredient for alchemical potions and holy water.
Simple recipe. Handy utility. He tucked it neatly into the corner of his home and set off again to explore the cavern system.
...
Meanwhile, Holls had returned to the village with every intention of settling down—only to find there wasn't much room left.
Half the houses Steve had "renovated" were missing key structural supports. They still stood—barely—but even Holls wasn't brave enough to live under them.
The villagers were already squeezing in where they could, sharing what few intact homes remained.
Even Elena was staying at Old Tom's clinic for now—her bed was still inside Steve's place, and no one dared move it.
As for Jack and Old Rose, the two had borrowed bedding from Steve's stash and set up camp under a rough cobblestone shelter.
Jack, ever the dreamer, had a wild thought: "Do you think… Steve made this place to match us up? Like, he wants us to… you know…"
Old Rose burst into wheezing laughter. "What nonsense! If he were matchmaking, why would he pick me? I'm old enough to be your grandmother!"
Jack turned beet red, sputtering excuses, and Rose just chuckled, thinking it was the kind of youthful foolishness boys needed to outgrow through adventure.
In their village, it was tradition for young men to eventually leave and travel the world. Only Jack and Elena still remained behind.
Listening to them, Holls rolled his eyes. When the village chief suggested he take one of Steve's empty houses—"plenty of beds there"—he firmly declined.
Instead, he marched straight to Steve's door, sat down against the wall, and promptly fell asleep snoring.
Sometime before dawn, strange noises woke him. Half-awake, he assumed Steve had returned—but when he cracked an eye open, he saw a stranger's face peering through the doorway.
"Excuse me," the man said in a deep voice. "Are you the blacksmith, Mr. Holls?"
Holls rubbed his stiff neck and squinted at him. The sun was just rising; even the early-rising farmers hadn't stirred yet.
The man stood tall, clad in immaculate white armor engraved with holy scripture. Holls blinked. "You're from the Holy Cross Church? What are you doing here?"
The knight looked relieved to finally find him. He drew himself upright, his expression turning rigidly formal.
"I am a sworn knight of the Church—Sir Cedric Pecas. As for why I'm here…" He paused dramatically. "That's classified!"
Holls flinched. "Right, right—no need to yell, mate."
Sworn Knights were the Church's elite—men who'd made sacred vows to the Holy Light itself. Their power came directly from the oaths they swore, and as long as they kept them, their strength would never fade.
Usually, they were trustworthy types—noble, dutiful, law-abiding. Unless they'd lost their minds.
"The Holy Saint wishes to speak with you," Cedric said sternly.
"…Huh?" Holls blinked. "The Saint? With me? Why?"
"Classified!"
Of course.
Resigned, Holls followed the knight to a waiting carriage.
Inside sat a young woman who looked barely of age—long golden hair, clear blue eyes, and the kind of gentle, porcelain beauty noble ladies cultivated from birth.
She seemed frail, almost delicate, her small frame draped in the silvery robes of the Church. Even her chest was as flat as a forging anvil—something Holls, being a dwarf with a craftsman's appreciation for sturdy builds, couldn't help pitying.
"So you're the blacksmith from town?" she asked, unabashedly staring at him like he was some exotic creature.
"Yes, ma'am. How may I be of service?"
Despite his confusion, Holls kept his manners sharp. The knight had confirmed her identity—she really was the Church's Saint.
Still… since when did the Holy Cross Church have this little girl as their Saint? Nepotism, maybe?
He kept his suspicions to himself, bowing politely. Something told him this visit was connected to Steve, and that alone made it worth taking seriously.
"I need you to repair something for me," the Saint said, ducking back inside the carriage.
There came a sound like a latch unlocking. She extended two heavy objects outward.
They fit together perfectly—a massive, broken key, large enough that Holls instinctively wondered if it was made for a giant.
"Who even uses a key that big?" he muttered. "Cyclopes?"
Then his instincts as a smith took over. "I can fix it," he said, turning it over. "But I'll need a lot of Mana Steel—or Mana Crystals. I can forge them myself. I'll also need a mage. The runes on this piece are complex—I can't replicate them alone. And I'll need proper tools, too; my forge here isn't set up yet."
"Wait, wait!" the Saint interrupted, rummaging through the carriage. She pulled out a leather-bound notebook and began scribbling furiously. "Mana Steel… Crystals… Mage…"
Holls gave her the exact quantities. She nodded seriously, taking notes with the concentration of a student cramming for exams.
"How long will it take?" she asked.
"If everything's ready—one day."
"One day?!" She gasped, then muttered under her breath, "That means it'll delay so many days..."
After a moment of pouty contemplation, she sighed. "Fine, fine! I can wait."
Holls glanced sideways at the knight, silently asking what the hell was going on.
Cedric immediately stiffened, face serious as stone. "Classified."
The look on his face screamed, Don't ask me, I don't know either.
Holls' mouth twitched. He sighed heavily.
"Everyone's crazy," he muttered.