Chương 22: Difficult Choices

You have two options. Breadth or depth. One is not inherently better than the other, but instead, they complement one another. If you have already made your choice, do not despair. Every class combination, every winding path, has a purpose and a place. —The Artificer's Guide to the Apocalypse Sparks fell onto dried shavings, and smoke began to rise from kindling assembled in front of me. The embers glowed brightly in response to my soft breaths, then flared to life.

I fed the smaller sticks quickly, and the blaze grew. I didn't have a use for the fire this time. It was for my own comfort. I just stared at the crackling campfire and lost myself in the flames. It warmed my face while the cool night air chilled my back. I let it burn away my thoughts and just… existed. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the heat of the fire and the silence of my mind. No longer fighting to be heard through the noise, a single thought surfaced. Combat, or Support? The questions followed.

Which one is better? What makes one better than the others? I didn't have an answer for that. By what criteria is one class elevated over another? Darby seemed excited with his choice, at peace. That was something I wanted for myself. What do I want from this world? The truth was, I didn't want anything from this world. I certainly wanted to change it, to make it better. That's what I really wanted. I wanted to keep my neighbors—my friends—safe.

I wanted to change this world to help the deserving, to fight back against the nobility that tore down and used good people like August, Wilhelmina, Wendy, and the fisherman at the docks, whose name I'd never learned, a man whom I only knew by the kindness of his face and his grateful thanks when I'd kept him from being extorted. Darby was right. I liked to fix things. I inserted myself where I didn't belong, and whether asked for or not, I wanted to fix things.

And goddammit, this system was broken, and I wanted to fix it too. I would do it the best way I knew how. With my mind made up, my path forward was clear to me. I mentally selected my choice. > Are you sure you wish to upgrade your Production Class? > Warning: selecting this is a permanent choice. > Yes/No Without hesitation, I selected Yes. > Determining class influences… > Crafting skill convergence: > Leatherworking… > Salvage… > Woodworking… > Pottery… > Blacksmithing… > Mana Manipulation… > Imbue Item…

> Class upgrade confirmed. > Based on the wide range of crafting abilities, you are granted two options. > Master Craftsman: A Production class focuses on the mass production of items. Practitioners of this class often hold military positions and are in high demand for burgeoning cities. Provides +3 Strength, +3 Vitality, +3 Dexterity, +1 Intellect, and +2 Wisdom for each level in Master Craftsman. > Arcane Artisan: A Production class that specializes in high-quality goods.

Often magical in nature, the items crafted by an Arcane Artisan are highly sought-after by adventurers and nobles alike. Provides +2 Strength, +2 Vitality, +2 Dexterity, + 3 Intellect, and +3 Wisdom for each level in Arcane Artisan. I hadn't expected to be presented with options, or a new class at all, for that matter. The wording of the previous notification led me to believe that it would just be a straight upgrade. I wasn't opposed to either one; both would be extremely beneficial.

As a Master Craftsman, I'd be able to keep up with the demands from our small village now and in the future, as refugees from the war arrived. At the same time, it did feel limiting. Would it still let me craft high-quality items? Or is it just more difficult to do so? I didn't know who I was kidding. I stopped delaying the absolute inevitable and mentally slammed the Arcane Artisan selection. There wasn't a thing I wanted more than to make some magic gear.

Well, aside from the obvious destabilization of the noble class, that is. > Production Class assigned: Arcane Artisan. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. > Relevant class skills have been consolidated under the Arcane Artisan class. > Note: Concepts may still be assigned to specific skills, even when consolidated. My heart skipped a beat as a wave of energy rushed into my core.

It was like a window in a stale room had opened, and a rejuvenating breeze flowed in, filling me to bursting with potential. I felt like I could do anything; I needed to test it. I grabbed the heaviest thing I could find nearby—the anvil. Heaving upwards, it lifted from the stump it rested on—just barely. It was heavy, but substantially easier to lift than it had been at the settlement. I couldn't imagine how Darby felt with his nearly thirty strength.

Laughing gleefully, I opened my stat sheet to get a better look at my new class. ╔═════════════════════════╗ Logan - Human Level 4 Health 50 / 50 Mana 155 / 155 Stats (Base: 8) Strength: 10 Dexterity: 20 Vitality: 10 Intellect: 31 Wisdom: 31 Classes Production: Arcane Artisan Level: 1 Skills - 1 / 6 + Recall - Lv. 4 Craftsman: Legacy Level: 10 Str: 8 - Dex: 18 - Vit: 8 Int: 28 - Wis: 28 Locked: Locked Level: N/A General Skills 1 / 10 Inspect - Lv.

6 Titles - Otherworlder Currency Copper - 18 Silver - 2 ╚═════════════════════════╝ The field for my Combat and Support classes had disappeared, replaced by a new locked field and my Craftsman class, now denoted as legacy. Apparently the warning wasn't kidding when it said it was irreversible. One large benefit was the extra two stats per level. Not to mention the freed-up skill slots.

I hoped that it would offset no longer having access to the six class skill slots that I would have gained with an additional class.

A new plus sign indicator sat next to my skills, and I mentally expanded the field. Salvage - Lv. 4 Leatherworking - Lv. 5 Mana Manipulation - Lv. 1 Woodworking - Lv. 5 Imbue Item - Lv. 1 Pottery - Lv. 1 Blacksmithing - Lv. 1 > Note: Crafting-related skills will automatically reside in the Arcane Artisan umbrella. > This does not prevent the skills from being chosen for concept merging. I felt in my heart that this was the right choice. My path had become clear to me, and this was the first step in walking it.

I didn't need to be a heavy fighter to protect others. I didn't need to know how to heal wounds to save the ones I couldn't defend. These were jobs for those who walked those paths. I needed to trust in others, trust that they would succeed where I could not. I needed to let go. I needed to accept that I couldn't fix everything. What I could do was supply every single person I knew with the best magical armaments or weaponry or tools to do their jobs as efficiently as they could.

I would assist them through my works. My work would be present in every fight, every building, every suture that saved a life. Perhaps it was my ego talking, but I couldn't think of any other way that I could make more of an impact. Yes. This will do. This will do nicely.

The following day brought about the beginning of a long week of preparations. The biggest thing keeping me from creating the tools we'd need to really progress our village's construction was fuel for my forge. A charcoal furnace was the only real solution for the present, but I would need to find a better source soon. There was only so much deadwood to be had in the surrounding area, and we didn't want to cut down very many trees, potentially instigating another attack like the one on the expedition's settlement.

My morning was spent working clay into bricks, which I set out to dry in the sun. The pile of material slowly dwindled until I was left with several tidy rows of the red bricks. Using my makeshift shovel, I cut a shallow circular hole into the ground and lined it with the last of my clay. I matched the shape of the hole before taking it back out to dry. It would provide a better insulation layer than the dirt, keeping temperatures hotter for longer. I had a plan.

I would use combustible wood to start and heat the fire, but replace half of the wood intended for charcoal with the fireleaf wood, placing it around the other wood. My theory was that the bark would trap heat, increasing how quickly it turned to charcoal. Either that would happen, or it would take longer. Or maybe it would explode if the wood wasn't dry enough when leftover moisture got too hot and was trapped by the bark. I'd have to keep my distance on that one, just in case.

I approached the edge of the hill and looked down at the steadily growing settlement below. Danny's stone outlines were completed, and holes were being dug into the corners for supports. Already, a large hall was being built from wood, cut from nearby trees. It made me nervous, but there wasn't any way around it. With no more to be done but wait, I slipped down the slope to assist with the work below, leaving my project to soak in the morning sun.