Chapter Twenty one: Winds of June, Stones of Purpose
The morning winds rolled across the grassfields like waves in motion—tall blades bending and dancing under the overcast June sky. Here in Elarion, June wasn't the soft song of summer as it was on Earth. It was wild. A month of rain-hardened winds, heavy skies, and unpredictable weather—hot, humid, and then suddenly storming.
But work didn't stop for weather. Not in a world where Travelers built their own purpose.
In the wide clearing, the Nation of Nobles was beginning to take shape—block by block, spell by spell.
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Eryndor Hale, sleeves rolled and focused, was the anchor of the effort. He knelt by a staked outline and summoned glowing blueprints through the Systematic Guide, his hands steady as he stacked stone blocks, forming the foundations of wide walls and future homes. The wind blew his red hair and flared his turquoise robes, but he barely noticed—he was in his zone.
Nearby, Aurelia Dawnmere stood beside Goldie, both tending a crackling furnace. A simple smelting setup now, but essential for glass, tools, and reinforcements. Aurelia adjusted the control dial while Goldie, giggling slightly, puffed out a warm flame from her hands, raising the heat in bursts.
The glass was bubbling perfectly.
"Watch the left corner," Aurelia warned. "That side always cracks."
"Mm-hmm!" Goldie chirped, tail flicking as she pressed her fingers together, adjusting the temperature like an art.
Out on the edge of the clearing, Nico Finnikin Faelwyn crouched low behind a bush. His orange hair tousled with every breeze, and his fox tail waved slowly behind him. He gripped a stone dagger and scanned the woods, his eyes sharp, ears twitching.
"Still clear..." he muttered. "No beasts. No strangers. Just trees and birds and—wait, is that squirrel wearing pants?"
He blinked. Nope, just leaves.
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Meanwhile, Garrick Ironhart, halfway through setting up his own stone-walled hut, was called over by Riven.
The older teen stood with hands folded neatly behind his back, a breeze tugging at his dark jacket and cap. His eyes were calm, but calculating.
"Garrick," Riven said.
"What's up?" Garrick asked, brushing blonde hair from his eyes and stretching. "Don't tell me we're out of bricks again."
"No." Riven's voice was firm but polite. "It's about... image."
Garrick raised a brow. "Image?"
"You're our Face. The mascot. The frontline charm. The Ironhart of the people." Riven paused, then gestured toward the busy scene behind them. "But you're also not… doing enough, Garrick. Not compared to Hale. Or Goldie. Even Aurelia has found her stride, connecting the river with her [Water Flow] spell."
From the forest's edge, clear water now curved in a controlled channel, flowing into the base—a brilliant feat of magical utility.
Garrick glanced sideways, then scratched the back of his neck. "I mean... I was building my house—"
Riven stepped forward and politely removed the wooden signpost from Garrick's incomplete structure. The word "Garrick's Pad" still burned into it with childish pride.
Garrick's brow furrowed. "Hey! I like my pad…"
"I know," Riven said softly. "But sometimes... we sacrifice comforts to build something bigger than ourselves."
He held the sign for a moment, then laid it down gently on the grass.
Garrick stood frozen. His pride tugged. His frustration boiled just under his breath. But his eyes met Riven's—sharp, certain, and honest.
"…Sacrifice, huh?" Garrick muttered.
"For the nation," Riven said, placing a hand on Garrick's shoulder.
The dwarf-human hybrid hesitated, then slowly nodded. "…Fine. But I'm keeping my hammock."
"Fair."
---
And so, under the heavy June sky, with wind in their hair and sweat on their backs, the Travelers continued their work.
Stone by stone. Spark by spark. Spell by spell.
Their nation of misfits was becoming real.
Their banner not yet raised—but their purpose already clear.
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Chapter Twenty one: Wooden Warnings and Waking Shadows
Back within the cool hush of the forest, Oliver knelt down near a clearing—a patch of soil half-stomped, half-cleared, surrounded by tall grass and tangled roots. His green hoodie fluttered slightly as wind slipped through the trees, but he paid it no mind. Sweat beaded his brow as he hammered together basic stone and wood... again.
Clunk. Clank. Creak.
He sighed, standing back to admire his... attempt.
What stood before him was less of a shelter and more of a confused box with one wall taller than the others, like a wooden hat that had never found a head.
"...Not ideal."
He turned to the Workbench, a simple yet magical station outlined with faint Systematic glow, and tapped its side. A glowing message blinked on the screen.
> ⚠️ Missing Components
[Metal Base] – Required
[Support Beam II] – Required
[Stone Reinforcement] – Optional but recommended
"Right..." Oliver muttered, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "No metal, no marbles, no base…"
Frustrated, he swiped the Workbench back into his inventory with a shimmer, then summoned it again moments later out of indecision. He did this two more times—an unintentional ritual of hesitation.
Finally, as he sat cross-legged on a mossy stump, the Systematic Guide opened up on its own. A softly glowing screen hovered before his face with a calm chime.
> Systematic Safety Protocol Activated
⚠️ You are in an Unprotected Zone
Potential Threats Detected:
— Lesser Forest Demons (Wooden Imps): Low risk
— Bogstalkers: Moderate risk in swampy terrain
— Verdant Wraith: Severe threat – Avoid at all costs
World Demons in this area are born from high-Vita saturated ecosystems. Forests are the breeding grounds of living malice—manifested through roots, bark, vines, and negative emotions fueling.
Tips:
🔸 Remain alert around trees with hollowed faces.
🔸 Avoid lakes that ripple without wind.
🔸 If flowers turn black, run.
Oliver's eyes widened slightly as he read the line again.
> "If flowers turn black, run."
"...Cool. Great. Super reassuring," he mumbled, glancing around.
The woods around him were serene—for now. Birds chirped, the leaves rustled, and a soft breeze passed through. But the Guide's warnings settled like a chill in his chest.
The Verdant Wraith—a name that sounded like it belonged in a nightmare.
> [Description Unlocked]
Verdant Wraith – Tier: Unknown
Enormous forest entity. Body formed from ancient bark, glowing green veins, and moss-covered limbs. High regeneration, massive strength, plant manipulation, and predatory instinct.
Sightings: Rare. Survivors: Fewer.
Behavior: Hunts down unsuspecting low-ranked Travelers.
Weakness: Fire (Partial)
Oliver closed the Guide with a gulp and stood, eyes scanning the forest.
Nothing moved—but now, every creaking branch felt louder. Every rustling bush, suspect.
He gripped the stone stick he'd barely sharpened earlier, sighing with nervous humor.
"Okay, okay... fire weakness. I just need a torch. And fire. And courage. And an escape plan."
The forest around him seemed to breathe.
Welcome to the wilds, Traveler.
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