Chapter 71: Craft. Die. Repeat. I

His home and the entirety of the neighborhood had been thoroughly cleaned.

What remained though, was the warehouse.

“When you first started helping construct this building, I questioned the merits of it,” Zaessythra communicated internally. “Now though, I’ve grown a new respect for this.”

“We are what we do. If I simply lounged about and focused on the sword all the time, where would I be?” Orodan questioned back. “If a warrior is unwilling to do work considered beneath them, then when a novel challenge or struggle comes along, they’ll quail before it. People often make a big deal out of my willpower and drive, but these small things I’ve committed to through virtue of discipline and work ethic, are what built the willpower everyone sees.”

“I suppose… though no amount of sweeping floors and throwing up beams can allow one to withstand the terror of a Boundless One. You’re still an anomaly.”

Perhaps. Was he some proto-Boundless One himself? Was he the result of some spark of a cosmic force dropping unto Alastaia and System Space? Who knew? Orodan wasn’t entirely without imagination, he’d pondered on what his place in the grand cosmos and greater universe might be. He’d pondered… and then gone right back to work. He wouldn’t dismiss her suggestion, but what did it do for him now?

There was a warehouse to build, and a familiar foreman who was looking at Orodan with wide eyes as he trivially hurled the stacks of wooden lumber across the site and onto their designated spots where the workers could reach them easier. Yet, of greater note was the spread of tools he’d set up.

“O-Orodan…! What is all this?! Where did you even get all these things?!” Old Man Hannegan demanded. “Don’t tell me you stole it all!”

“Not at all,” Orodan said. “The jewels and dust were sourced from the Department of Public Sanitation. And the tools, I’m going to create.”

“The Department of…! How can you find jewels in the trash?!”

“You’d be surprised at what gets thrown away. Just have to be willing to muck about in the garbage,” Orodan said. That and a bit of chronomancy or cleaning as needed to restore things to default condition. “No sense in letting this stuff go to waste.”

The old man took a moment to shake his head and calm himself.

“Orodan, you walk over, throw the lumber around with far more strength than you’ve ever shown before, and then lay out an assortment of random items on my table. What are you here for?”

“To help build this warehouse,” Orodan answered. “Though, with a bit of sprucing up. In order to do that though, I’ll need tools.”

He then brought out a few hunks of rock and iron ore. Frankly, it looked silly. Like a caveman, Orodan was working with large rocks and chunks of raw ore he’d torn directly out of the ground. Vision of Purity let him easily locate any deposits deep in the ground, and a quick swim through solid earth let him reach them easily enough.

The old man gaped as Orodan carved the rock with his bare hands into the shape of a kiln and brought the chunks of ore into it. Then, his hands lit up with the familiar magic of the Draconic Fireball, uncast of course, but held in his hands to heat the ore to great temperatures. All throughout, he carefully controlled the air content present and would periodically throw some wood scraps inside the kiln.

Why throw wood scraps inside? Chiefly, smelting iron ore wasn’t about melting the ore and simply getting pure iron, but about removing the air which had bonded to the iron itself. The conventional method of doing this was to heat the ore, which caused the air bonded with the iron to loosen and escape, and to then have a substance containing material which the heated and loosened air could instead bond to. Normally coal would be used both as fuel for the flame and for the escaped air to bond with… but when Orodan was providing the fire himself through magic, wood would do. The resulting iron was relatively pure.

The unconventional method of course, involved cleaning the air right out of the ore. Frankly, Orodan didn’t think he needed any heat for it either, and his ability to alter reality in tandem with Domain of Perfect Cleaning meant he could turn raw ore into pure iron…

…but that would have been cheap. He sought to develop a new skill after all.

It was nice, to have the System back, specifically, one of his own making. He could target each skill without System crutches at a time of his own choosing, but having its assistance when needed was a nice convenience. And of course, he planned on developing each of his skills without it as he went along.

The grand rune at the center, the symbol for infinity. It periodically pulsed and glowed as Orodan drew upon the combined knowledge of all System space within which corresponded to his skill level.

In truth, if he wanted, he could have taken the easy way out and simply pulled directly without the foundational understandings of his own. But Orodan Wainwright refused to use such cheap methods to attain easy power. Forcibly drawing upon knowledge that wasn’t earned was a good way to cripple his foundational understandings and neuter himself from innovating past the bounds of the combined knowledge.

With access to it all, Orodan now knew that his two Celestial skills were innovations of his own which the font of knowledge had no imitation of. If he simply drew upon the stored knowledge without care, what advancements or breakthroughs would he be robbing himself of?

“For once, I don’t disagree. Power borrowed cheaply will not last when put to the real test,” Zaessythra said. “Though… you really could have stood to buy or borrow the tools…”

“What’s the point of all these crafting skills if I have to rely upon others? From start to finish, handling the entire supply chain myself is a good target to strive for.”

Orodan pulled the glowing hot metal out, bare-handed, and let it cool. He repeated this process multiple times before finally getting the message he wanted

[New Skill → Smelting 6]

He had academic knowledge of what smelting involved. Unlike a complete beginner, Orodan theoretically knew how smelting worked and applied this knowledge. As a result, he’d gained six skill levels instead of one.

Following this, the molten metal was poured into a rough mold which he’d fashioned, and the mallet of a hammer, and various tools came forth.

With these metallic tools, Orodan brought out the next thing he’d need.

Obsidian.

“Enchanting? Since when do you know how to do that?” the old man asked, though with far less doubt as he watched Orodan bring out the hunk of raw obsidian and lay it upon the table.

Obsidian wasn’t a material he could just brute force. Unlike regular rock, attempting to carve it into a shape with his bare hands might damage the material. And he had yet to unlock the Masonry or Stonecutting skills. The old man watched with wonder as Orodan used Tool Mastery and finesse to carve the obsidian into a flat surface. An obsidian plate, an enchanting base.

The obsidian plate was the basis of preventing the mana of the enchanter or any mana from the enchanter’s tool from leaking out and causing unwanted effects. Orodan didn’t strictly need it but decided to source some obsidian from the ground by digging downwards with his hands.

It was important to be self-made. What was the point of learning all these crafts and gaining all this power if he couldn’t handle it all himself?

Finally, he focused on the rough quartz he’d laid out on the table earlier, and the tools of Jewelcrafting he’d fashioned got to work.

Most jewelcrafters used a hammer alongside the chisel, Orodan though, needed only the chisel. His raw strength sufficed.

His chisel struck the quartz, and slowly, the raw gem itself was shaped into a fine point, polished and finally fitted into a metal handle Orodan had cast earlier.

[Artificing 26 → Artificing 27]n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

An enchanting pen.

Some enchanters used enchanting pens and chisels; others used quills. And exceptional ones preferred to conduct freeform enchanting where just their hands were used. Orodan, with his Adept-level Mana Manipulation, could engage in freeform engraving, but for now working on the basics was his intent. Though he did intend to practice freeform later.

“Orodan… how did you create all this?” the old man asked.

“I did it in front of you, weren’t you paying attention?” Orodan asked, a smile on his face.

“I… are you really Orodan Wainwright?” old man Hannegan asked. “What orphanage were you reared in?”

Now Orodan was perplexed.

“The Lady Sashwari Home for the Wayward,” Orodan answered. “Why would I not be Orodan Wainwright?”

“The Orodan I know is a warrior. To be capable of such crafts… it’s simply unbelievable,” the old man said. “How have you done this? A Blessing which makes you capable at the crafts? None of the Prime Five are dedicated to crafting, it makes no sense! Unless… a demon!”

“Now hold your horses, don’t go calling the priests on me thinking I’m possessed,” Orodan said, his hands raised. “You don’t usually question me like this. Who knew that displaying multiple crafts in quick succession would make you so suspicious?”

Orodan had been blessed by the scum Agathor, and he’d had Blessings from other Gods too. No God on Inuan was dedicated to the crafts though. Furthermore, displaying prodigious might, martial and magical prowess was one thing. The old man perhaps felt it was expected for Orodan to do these things or acquire a Blessing related to them.

Proficiency in multiple crafts though? Perhaps he’d done a bit much.

“Explain to me why I shouldn’t,” the old man threatened. “Not even a Bloodline could allow someone to suddenly become so skilled in this many-”

“I’ve lived through this day tens of thousands of times,” Orodan suddenly interjected. “I’m in a time loop.”

“A… a what?”

“A time loop. Every time I die, I keep coming back over and over,” Orodan clarified. “Does that answer everything?”

“Now’s not the time to be making silly jokes, Orodan!”

For once, Orodan got up, looked Old Man Hannegan dead in the eye, and spoke.

“How long have you known me? I don’t lie, and you know that.”

Something in his tone had the old man quietening down. Orodan suspected he believed him now.

“Can you elaborate?

“Certainly, but let’s work while I do.”

#

Old Man Hannegan’s arms were crossed, and the man looked to be in great distress yet also deep thought.

“This… Boundless One… are we all meant to die against it?”

“Far from it. If anything, I get the feeling it wants to co-exist with us. Assuming you refer to the one which empowers the System,” Orodan elaborated. “The one outside of System space though, is a different story.”

“Then, are we all doomed?”

“No. I intend to deal with it eventually,” Orodan promised. “You looked after me when I was a rowdy young idiot, I won’t let anyone, Boundless One or Administrator, lay a finger on you.”

“Well, I suppose if the most troublesome delinquent I’ve ever known is promising that… I can rest easy,” the old man remarked with a smile. Orodan felt content seeing it. “And did you truly achieve all this through these time loops? To think so unfair an ability exists… the power to re-do it all over and over, as many times as desired. And to then bestow it upon the most bull-headed maniac in existence… even those indulgent works of fiction in the city libraries can’t make this up.”

“I wondered it myself at times, why I was chosen,” Orodan replied. “An orphaned troublemaker from the poorest town in the weakest nation on Inuan. My only virtue was that I enjoyed fighting too much.”

“Bah! You fail to see how valuable a work ethic like yours is,” Old Man Hannegan said. “There’s a reason I paid you more than the rest of the crew when you used to work with me.”

“Hard work does solve all problems,” Orodan agreed.

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to solve the problem you’ve created here,” the old man complained, pointing at the finished warehouse. “Vilia wanted to tear her hair out with how often you forced her to re-do the blueprints! This place will get robbed and ransacked the moment anyone finds out!”

The warehouse was fully built.

And it was also a massive target on the back of whoever owned it. Which in this case, was the Republic’s Department of Public Infrastructure. Yes, the warehouse was technically government property, but this wouldn’t dissuade opportunistic scoundrels at all.

Not when the warehouse was worth thousands of gold coins by now.

“What’s the matter? Are the furnishings not to your liking?” Orodan asked. “If anything, they might give you a bonus for overseeing this construction, no?”

“Who told you to put enchantments on everything?!” Old Man Hannegan exclaimed. “Your ludicrous ability to generate power endlessly will break the local economy!”

The problem wasn’t just the fact that Orodan had enchanted the warehouse. But that he’d enchanted every inch of it.

Frankly, if he didn’t have Wood Communion, the material simply couldn’t take the sheer amount of mana coursing through. Not when nearly a hundred separate enchantments were applied.

The walls, made of sturdy wood, were enchanted to be capable of taking the attacks of Master-level combatants. The door itself had a tricky one which scanned the surface of someone’s mind to determine whether they were a member of the Republic’s government or the Department of Public Infrastructure; only then would entry be granted. And two murderholes pointing toward the entrance had light calibre cannons pointing out.

These could hurt a Master and kill most beings below that level of power.

Needless to say, this would raise a stir.

Orodan had begun working before the regular construction crew arrived, and when they did, the old man sent them away with the promise of full pay for the day. The only witnesses were Old Man Hannegan and Vilia Coventor the architect.

“If anyone causes trouble for you, I’ll give them a beating myself,” Orodan promised. “You need not worry.”

“Damn it… that skill of yours, can’t you just purge my mind of this knowledge?”

“I don’t go around tampering with people’s memories,” Orodan said sternly.

Not anymore.

“What if I asked it? The knowledge of what you did is going to make us a target,” Old Man Hannegan said. “Better that anyone wanting to know simply sees that I have no knowledge of it.”

“The thought of having my memories erased is… frightening,” Vilia added. “But better that than being locked in some interrogation chamber and beaten for answers. If you simply erase our memories, at least any mind mage looking in can verify that we know nothing.”

“And then promptly killing you,” Orodan informed. “You’d be naught but a loose end to whoever is seeking answers about this warehouse. Nobody shall interrogate you.”

Not only did the existence of this building imply the existence of a powerful crafter. But it also possessed two cannons which were beyond anything the Republic could militarily field. The Empire of Novarria had tried making decent quality firearms, and the experiment had gone poorly. The Republic, in a similar vein, didn’t bother. For two such cannons to suddenly appear in the building of a random warehouse?

It would raise questions.

Bit of a mess for a long loop.

“Ah, good. You were impressing me so much lately that I was beginning to wonder when the reminder of your stupidity would come forth,” Zaessythra remarked, glibness in her tone. “Did you forget that your hometown is full of bumpkins? Why did you create such a thing if you planned on going through with a long loop?”

“I may have become somewhat absorbed in the process of making the cannons…” Orodan shamefully admitted.

He enjoyed making black powder weaponry, was that so bad?

“It is when you fail to account for your long-term goals when making short-term decisions.”

“And here I was, planning on having a long loop.”

“Why not change it up?”

“What do you mean?” Orodan asked.

“Well, you speak so much of these short loops whenever you recount the time loops. Why not throw caution to the wind and do what you need to through a number of short loops?”

Now that was an idea.

How long had it been since Orodan had engaged in a proper series of short loops? Frankly, the checkpoint system he’d had access to prior had taken away the tactical advantage of beginning from Ogdenborough again. Waking up to the keening wail of the harpies, it was a blank slate, endless potential from where he could go anywhere and do anything.

“I think I have a plan,” Orodan said. “Perish the thought of erasing your memories. The consequences don’t matter.”

“Being tortured in the basement of some noble’s mansion matters very much to me!” Vilia exclaimed.

“Which won’t happen at all,” Orodan said. “Because I’ll simply kill anyone who tries.”

“Wouldn’t that… complicate your long-term plans for this loop?” the old man asked.

“Well, you see, old man… I have no long-term plans for this loop.”

“That sounds exceedingly stupid,” the old man said. “Even if you can’t join Bluefire, you should at least do something with your time. Why not join the Elmswith Academy at Trumbetton?”

“A crafting academy?” Orodan asked. “Not even Bluefire, but a regular crafting academy in one of the poorer counties of the Republic?”

“I didn’t take you for a spoiled brat, Orodan. Does your bum ache without the soft cushions of Bluefire Academy and the noble life?” the old man teased. “You can’t see the value in bettering yourself through humble methods?”

Orodan grumbled at the joke but gave it some thought.

“It has been some time since I’ve explored and broadened my horizons,” Orodan admitted.

“And nothing stops you from working on your other skills throughout it all. How long has it been since I’ve trained you in magic?”

She sounded a little too excited about the prospect in his opinion, but that was good. He needed this, particularly spatiomancy which wasn’t enough to carry him all the way to the Vystaxium Galaxy yet. If Lonvoron, the previous looper and the Prophet were his targets, then he had work to do in order to reach them.

“Look at this flyer,” the old man said, handing him a sheaf of paper. “It works well, because the contest is a day from now.”

‘Innovation and Wonder! Join the brightest minds of Volarbury County in Trumbetton for a display of genius! The Elmswith Academy County Craft Competition!’

‘Winner receives an all-expenses paid tuition for Bluefire and an opportunity to be in the personal employ of Burgher Ignatius Firesword!’

‘Applications open for academy students only.’

“Not bad. A good opportunity to test my craftsmanship and perhaps learn some new things,” Orodan said. “Though… how much is the four-year tuition for the Elmswith Academy? I know the martial academy in Exerston County requires ten gold for the four years.”

“Without any scholarships or sponsors, crafting academies cost more than their martial and magic equivalents,” Old Man Hannegan said. “Last year the tuition for four years was set at thirteen gold pieces. Do you have enough? I could pull a string or two with this warehouse and secure it.”

Old Man Hannegan was doing decently for himself but was by no means a rich man. This man had always been fair and helped Orodan by giving him a fair opportunity. And despite hearing about the time loops, despite seeing the results of Orodan’s labor… the man was still offering help?

Warmth, and a singular determination to ensure the old man would never have to struggle filled him. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“No. You’ve done enough for me,” Orodan said, in a tone which brooked no dissent. “Now let me help you. Look forward to a windfall by tomorrow.”

“…don’t go robbing people on my behalf!”

Robbery? The old man insulted him with such an insinuation. The tuition was only thirteen gold after all, and Orodan had dealt with sums of money in the hundreds once upon a time.

It was time to put the monetary value of his various crafting skills to the test.

#

The commercial district of Trumbetton was abuzz with activity, a typical sight for a working day of the week. Trumbetton was at the center of Volarbury County and where House Firesword’s base of power was situated. Locals and customers from other towns who were interested in the goods being marketed walked the streets, and merchants lined certain sections with stalls and the occasional hawker of wares. County militia patrolled the streets with far more frequency than they ever did in Ogdenborough, and on watchtowers above, the occasional Adept-level watcher kept an eye on the town.

The commerce was booming, and even if Volarbury County was the poorest one in the Republic, it was still doing decent enough and the economy was flourishing. Proof that without House Argon’s meddling, Ogdenborough too could become prosperous.

Even the hawkers, merchants who peddled their goods and weren’t well-off enough to afford a stall let alone property, were well-regulated in this town. A far cry from his hometown where wandering merchants and peddlers often came by with goods of questionable quality at times.

And amidst all these merchants, Orodan’s target was a man selling odds and ends of decent quality, yet without a stall.

“Esgarius’s Oddities! Come have a look at the fascinating things which adventurers have found in their forays into infestation sites!” the man proclaimed. “Weapons, jewelry, materials, sourced directly from monsters, vermin and criminals! We have it all! Support your local adventurers! Buy now and help support their efforts to keep us safe!”

Adventuring.

It was a career path Orodan had dreamed of once upon a time. The Republic’s military, the militia for each county and the guards of noble houses were often concerned with things such as national security, military readiness and threats of a larger nature. Or just the interests of the nobility who funded them. They didn’t have the time to make forays into the wilds for minor things.

The common folk still had problems though. Particularly for towns which were further out near the wilderness. Ogdenborough and Volarbury County weren’t too far from the capital and civilization. Exerston County, particularly the far south-eastern portion of it, bordered the Novarrian wilderness which was rife with goblins, small monsters and other sorts of vermin like slimes, wolves, harpies and the lot.

Ogdenborough didn’t have much involvement with adventurers at all. Orodan’s hometown was landlocked against Mount Castarian and consequently there weren’t many things to kill besides wolves and slimes, which the militia handled. For a poor county, banditry was exceedingly rare thanks to the presence of House Firesword. For towns which bordered the wilds however, the working people faced issues with monsters and bandits, or just smaller requests which needed someone capable of travel and combat. In which case, adventurers came into play.

Adventurers were under the purview of the Republic’s Department of Monster Management and upon receiving their licensing, were granted authority to take requests to deal with monsters or criminals. They could also function as mercenaries within certain bounds, provided they didn’t act against another nation, noble house or political entity. Hence, they could sometimes be seen working as caravan guards and escorts, or procuring valuable materials from areas rife with monsters.

Of course, such folks required a verifiable education from one of the academies as a prerequisite to their license. Orodan had thus not bothered with the idea of going down said path. He had been far too poor to afford the tuition to any academy.

Now though, that need not be the case.

“An interesting shop, you must carry a lot of gold on you,” Orodan said.

“Er… what business is that of yours, good sir?” the merchant asked, looking wary.

“Ah, I’m not here to rob you,” Orodan clarified, causing the man to ease up a bit. Not that anyone in town could stop him if he did. “You merchants who trade with adventurers tend to carry a lot of money around. Which means you should have enough to buy things. Are you Esgarius?”

“No sir, that would be my employer,” the merchant clarified. “I’m just one of his affiliated merchants who runs the peddling side of things. He has a physical store just down the road near the taverns.”

“Alright. How much gold do you have on you, if you don’t mind me asking,” Orodan said.

“Just over a hundred gold pieces sir. In case any adventurers stopping by feel the need to sell something,” the merchant answered. “Did you have anything to sell?”

“I do, but it’s not ready yet,” Orodan said and then eyed a simple ring. “How much is that?”

“Two-hundred and fifty silver pieces sir. It’s just a plain metal band found during an expedition into a level I infestation site. I’m told that the former owner was some nasty goblin who the adventurers slew.”

“Good, I’ll take it,” Orodan said, handing a pouch with most of his life savings over.

Anything could be enchanted, but the more powerful the effect, the stronger the material needed to be. At a glance, the ring seemed ordinary enough, but somebody must have missed how durable it was even if unenchanted. It was well suited to Orodan’s needs, particularly for the enchantment he had in mind.

He produced the enchanting chisel he’d fashioned during the creation of the warehouse.

“…do you plan to enchant it sir?” the merchant asked. “Depending on the power of the enchantment, I can offer up to twenty gold pieces.”

“You’ll need all hundred you have on you for this one,” Orodan said as he began skillfully and intricately etching the metal. It wasn’t with any other script besides the standard Imperial enchanting language. But it was three-dimensional. A feat which should have been impossible.

Enchanters working on metal typically needed spells, magical devices or a forge to keep the metal pliable. Orodan though, simply etched away, his chisel carving right through the metal with raw muscle.

The merchant wasn’t an enchanter and didn’t seem to understand the significance of the three-dimensional work, but that was fine.

However, it was when Orodan began channelling Dimensionalism in tandem with Enchanting, that the man began trembling.

“By the Five… a spatial ring! You can make spatial rings?!”

“What? This isn’t just some piddly spatial ring… it’s a dimensional ring,” Orodan said, as his soul energy went towards not the honing of space, but the creation of a miniature dimension which the ring was tied to. “A spatial ring isn’t anywhere near this in value.”

Frankly, it was Orodan’s first time making something of this nature. He’d fashioned spatial rings before during his time learning enchanting. And making just those was supposed to be quite the feat, with perhaps two hundred crafters capable of it in the entirety of the Republic. Furthermore, it was a mana-intensive process which required the average crafter to expend mana crystals, potions or remain near a device throughout the process. Which meant fashioning even a spatial ring came with hefty costs.

Orodan however, took it one step further. He was making a dimensional ring.

Spatial rings and the entirety of the space within them still existed in the material plane. It was power, and the application of enchanting and spatiomancy which allowed for their creation. A spatial ring or spatial amulet had an incredibly small compartment within. This compartment was then expanded and shrunk through spatiomancy, with a customary barrier and shielding between the holding space and the regular world so that items wouldn’t fall out or be easily stolen. And so that items could be produced from the ring without any destructive occurrences.

Technically though, the weakness of a spatial ring was that if the ring was damaged or destroyed, the holding space could also be affected. And there were stories of rings exploding as the inner compressed space suddenly expanded outwards, causing damage or death.

This ring in his hands though…

…was tied to a small pocket dimension he’d just created.

The enchantment on the ring only served to bridge the ring-bearer to the dimension, and the destruction of the ring would merely close that particular entry point, and not the dimension itself. Which meant Orodan could make multiple rings accessing the same pocket dimension.

A ludicrously powerful enchantment which could skirt national security measures all around. And after ten minutes of work, it was finished.

[Dimensionalism 54 → Dimensionalism 55]

He threw the ring to the merchant who scrambled to catch it.

“Now then, I believe that’s a hundred gold pieces,” Orodan said.

“Y-yes! Of course!” the merchant said as he activated the ring and then promptly stared with a slack jaw as a man-sized dimensional opening appeared before him. Upon looking inside, the merchant’s eyes widened. “How… how have you created a separate opening to the space? This is… worth far more than just a hundred gold pieces sir. I cannot accept this.”

“Then take me to someone who can,” Orodan offered. “Your employer would be a little unhappy if the chance to buy this cheap was passed up, no?”

The merchant got the message, and Orodan was hastily guided towards a storefront a short walk away. The merchant practically smashed the doors open as he barged in.

“Damn it Felric! What have I told you about going easy on the door? The damned rookies break that door often enough!”

“Sir! This man is selling a spatial ring!”

“…a dimensional ring,” Orodan muttered.

“What? Bring him here!” the owner of the shop barked. He was an older man, grizzled and by the calluses and bearing Orodan surmised he knew how to fight. Rare for a merchant, but respectable. “I’m Esgarius, owner of Esgarius’s Oddities, and Esgarius’s Adventuring Essentials. Felric says you’re selling a spatial ring?”

“A dimensional ring. Not just a spatial one,” Orodan clarified. “Your peddler seemed to think a hundred gold pieces was too little for it.”

“A… dimensional ring? I’ve never heard of such a thing…” Esgarius muttered. “I’m all too happy to purchase any spatial rings on offer. That woman, Helga Firesword, is notorious for running a monopoly on those. But I’ve never heard of a dimensional ring.”

Frankly, Orodan had seen

“Do you not want it then?” Orodan asked.

“When did I say that? I’ve just never heard of dimensional rings,” Esgarius added. “But, my years of adventuring in my younger days and my intuition have never let me down. I have a good feeling about this. Can you show me what this ring does that makes it different from a spatial ring?”

In response, Orodan channelled mana into the ring. A human-sized opening into another dimension was immediately created.

“Look how big the inside is, sir!”

“There are three pathways for mana channelling in this ring. The first, creates a dimensional opening at close range where the wielder wills it,” Orodan explained. This opening was then closed and Orodan channelled mana through the second pathway, which resulted in the ring rippling and creating a small opening right before Orodan’s hand. “The second pathway creates a smaller opening, larger than two palms. You can stealthily draw something from behind your back or from inside of a container. And the third…”

Orodan cancelled the miniature opening and activated the third function. A man-sized dimensional opening was created before him yet again.

“…if you look outside the window. At the top of the watchtower there, is an opening which this one before us connects to,” he explained. “Currently, the range is limited by one’s mana pool. After all, the ring isn’t self-powered but user-fuelled. The average untrained person could probably create an opening a quarter mile away.”

Dimensional travel was normally rather prohibitively expensive, but Orodan had created the miniature dimension the ring connected to by himself. It was a dimension of his own making, and connecting to it was dramatically cheaper than having to part the normal dimensional boundaries and travel someplace like the divine dimension. Plus, having both ends connecting to the material plane made travel far cheaper than if he tried connecting from here to any other dimension.

“I-incredible…!” Esgarius muttered in awe, clearly amazed. “The applications of this are just unbelievable…”

“Are they? I think it’s a pretty failed product in all honesty,” Orodan admitted.

“You consider this to be a failed product?!” the underling merchant exclaimed.

“Quite so. For starters, there’s no enchantment of shrinking upon the openings created by this ring. Unlike a regular spatial ring where you can pull out an entire dresser from the ring, the opening created needs to be large enough to accommodate whatever’s being placed inside or drawn out. Which, if one doesn’t have enough mana, can be a limitation,” Orodan explained. Though, even for the completely untrained, they could still generate an opening the size of a carriage with this ring. “And finally, the user had best not enter and throw the ring outside, or worse… have the ring destroyed while inside the dimension. I should probably create some sort of fail-safe device and keep it in there to allow for safe exit.”

They would be trapped unless an expert of Dimensionalism, or Orodan himself mounted a rescue.

“That’s it? Is that what you consider a failure?!” the owner exclaimed. “No, this is simply too much. I can’t call myself a merchant if I don’t capitalize on this opportunity. I, Esgarius, will buy any and all products you create, failed or not. How many can you make?”

“As many as you have the metal for,” Orodan honestly answered.

“Yes, but how about mana crystals or potions? How many do you require for each one?”

“I don’t need any. My reserves of power are more than adequate.”

If Orodan had been asked what greed looked like in human form, then he’d have pointed to this shopkeeper’s eyes as an example. Esgarius looked positively nefarious as the man rubbed both hands together and licked his lips. Orodan felt more than a little dirty at being looked at in such a way.

“Hehehe… to have found such a golden goose…” Esgarius muttered and then adopted a serious expression. “Felric!”

“Yes sir!”

“Close shop immediately!”

The underling merchant complied right away. An adventurer outside looked as though she wanted to enter, but the merchant shooed her away like an unwanted fly. Soon it was just Esgarius, Felric and Orodan within.

“Now then… my future partner, my most esteemed friend!” the man said. “My long years in the adventuring trade have allowed me to pick up a useful skill or two. Observe doesn’t work on you, and the artifact I’ve been trying to use to get a read on your soul is also proving useless. Now, I’m not an idiot. Your size, the calluses on your hands and that dangerous bearing about you tell me that it would be foolish for anyone to attempt accosting you. However, I want you to know that your business is your own and I have no interest in knowing it.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“That’s good and all, but I’m in a time loop.”

“…”

“I’ve lived through this day thousands of times.”

“…”

“So, knowing that, can we work on a deal where I get to make things for you, and you provide me with money?”

“…this is the single most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard,” Esgarius said and then smiled while extending his hand. “You have a deal!”

Well, that was easy! The man hadn’t even asked for Orodan’s name! It was refreshing to meet a merchant so greedy that the man accepted the time loops without any questions.

“Alright, give me all the rings and jewelry you have. I’ll continue enchanting jewelry until you run out of capital to pay me,” Orodan declared.

“This is a bit shameless… even for you. It’s not as though you need the gold,” Zaessythra remarked.

“No. But the old man back in Ogdenborough will, and it’s high time I repaid him for all he’s done for me.”

Even if the gesture wouldn’t stick, the skills and ability to earn money through his crafts was an interesting experiment. And in a longer loop he planned on setting Old Man Hannegan up for life.

#

It took two hours before Orodan had drained Esgarius of all the liquid gold the shop owner had on hand. Not that the greedy merchant looked displeased by it. If anything, the man was cackling with glee and looked entranced with the five additional enchanted items that he’d received.

They all had dimensional enchantments, and Orodan had sold them for quite a cheap markdown after all.

Would it have effects on the supply and demand for spatial rings and that section of the economy? Without a doubt.

Did Orodan care about that when he’d gained three levels in Dimensionalism and one in Artificing? Not at all.

This was meant to be a short loop anyways. In a longer loop, he’d have to consider carefully whether creating items capable of bypassing spatiomancy wards was a good idea. He didn’t want to give assassins around Alastaia a new tool to abuse without thought.

Orodan had crafted separate miniature dimensions for each ring, and furthermore, made failsafe devices and placed them inside to prevent anyone being trapped inside these dimensions. Finally, he’d succeeded in adding the shrinking enchantment onto these dimensional storage items as well, which meant an entire house could be pulled out of the ring without a gigantic opening. Though, it took a slightly sturdier material to add that particular enchantment on, and Esgarius planned on selling those models at a premium.

All in all, Orodan had been paid just over fifteen-hundred gold pieces for the creation of five more enchanted items. Orodan felt that they were of passable quality, and they had no shortcomings or the glaring lack of a safety exit from the miniature dimension.

Esgarius begged him to remain and that he could create more liquid wealth by tomorrow, but Orodan had business to attend to.

“Make sure the remainder of this gold reaches Gregory Hannegan in Ogdenborough,” Orodan said. “The man is important to me, and I expect no discrepancies in the transfer.”

“Of course, partner! Why, by the hells, I’ll even make sure this Gregory Hannegan is well taken care of! Any family of yours is family of mine!”

Perhaps this greedy merchant was laying it on a bit thick, but Orodan had to admit Esgarius was good at his job. The catalogue of items, the mercantile knowledge of the ever-changing prices of the economy, and the various connections to noble houses that the man had were no jest.

Esgarius’s underling and employee, Felric, had simply gaped like a fish the entire time and seemed awfully intimidated and subservient towards Orodan. Well, perhaps that was the natural way of things when someone met a high-level enchanter who could also deliver a beating. If anything, Esgarius was the daring and opportunistic one for approaching Orodan and so boldly making a deal.

“I have someplace to be,” Orodan said. “See you later, Esgarius.”

“Hahaha! I’ll see you in the next loop partner! And remember to use that letter I gave you if those prickly registrars give you trouble,” the greedy man said, cackling like a lunatic who only saw gold. “Say, there’s also a heavy demand for potions which permanently increase one’s abilities, as well as enchanted tools and jewelry to assist the farmers and herbalists of House Simarji. Lots of gold to be made if we capitalize on those! Remember that for next time.”

“You’re an odd one,” Orodan remarked. “You really aren’t concerned at all about the loop ending and it all going back to having never happened?”

“Who cares about that? Does life change for me if I wallow in despair? Are my coffers filled if I ponder the meaning of my existence in these time loops?” Esgarius asked. “How do you think I got to my position? It’s not easy, clawing one’s way to becoming an Adept-level adventurer and then transitioning into one of the most successful merchants in the county. The people who count on me, those who were injured adventuring at my side or whose bereaved families still need support, will they be helped if I undergo a bout of existential dread? No, what matters is my own hard work and cunning. Those are the things I can control. I care not for the rest, which includes these time loops of yours.”

“A strong mentality,” Orodan admitted. “I can respect that.”

The underling didn’t seem to feel that way, and Orodan was certain the man would blab. But that was fine, for this was a short loop.

“Hehe, why thank you partner. Plus, you could’ve simply robbed me blind if you wanted. That you didn’t, says something about your character. Befriending you is a good business decision, even if I don’t remember it,” Esgarius said with a genuine smile. “Do come by in your next loop, there’s always more money to be made.”

Orodan nodded and left Esgarius’s Adventuring Essentials. Aside from that industrious merchant and his underling, nobody else had seen the crafting process.

Fifteen gold coins in hand, he made way for the Elmswith Academy.

The foot traffic on the streets of Trumbetton became thinner as he got closer to the academy district and away from the town’s commercial district. Instead of merchants and wealthy customers he began to see smaller inns, restaurants and bookstores. These were all catered towards students, and he began to see these young and impressionable folks on the roads.

Trumbetton had a martial and a magic academy as well, though neither of those were of interest to Orodan. He’d always been a big man and naturally drew the eye, and this was amplified when the crafting students of Elmswith Academy saw him making for their institution of learning.

“…who’s that? Why’s a martial student going that way?”

“Never seen someone that big before… what the hells do they feed him?”

“Isn’t that the tunic of the militia? My cousin’s serving there too…”

Orodan ignored the chatter and simply walked onto the campus. It was small, far smaller than Bluefire by a large margin. There were better county academies in Exerston County, and Kelredian County to the north had academies with cheaper tuitions as they prioritized education for more people. Volarbury County was frequently cited as the poorest one in the Republic.

There were five buildings in total which comprised the campus, a far cry from the premier academy of the Republic. Still, students were going to and from, and despite its small size the academy seemed lively.

A building titled ‘Administration’ was rather apparent, and Orodan walked in, heading for the clerk behind the front desk.

“Good afternoon and welcome to Elmswith Academy. How might we help a member of the county militia?” the registrar asked politely.

“I’m here to register as a student,” Orodan declared, putting the pouch of gold down on the counter.

“Er… good sir, the window for registration for the current academic year is…” the registrar muttered and then saw the gold in the pouch.

“A bribe so you can ignore that,” Orodan said plainly.

“Sir! We do not accept bribes at this institution!”

“Well, how else will you let me join for the current academic year?” Orodan asked. “How about I make something in front of you to impress?”

The registrar looked at him curiously but relented. He looked over his shoulder, gesturing for what looked like a supervisor.

The supervisor was an older woman who looked tired of all the commotion. She’d been in the midst of examining a gemstone when the front desk registrar called her.

“Ma’am, this applicant wishes to undergo a practical test.”

“And why, pray tell, should we admit you in the midst of the school year?” the supervisor asked, looking somewhat irritated.

“Because you’re polishing that gemstone all wrong. Your smoothing is introducing minute damage which will impact how much energy it can hold,” Orodan said.

“Claiming my skill is insufficient is an interesting way of seeking admission in the middle of the school year,” the supervisor said. “Can you do better?”

Orodan took no issue with the woman’s skill at all. In fact, he had a hunch as to why she was working on this gemstone.

“I’m an Adept Jewelcrafter,” Orodan said. “I’m willing to give it a fair try.”

He also had a skill which made it slightly unfair.

The supervisor had a smug look on her face and threw the gemstone his way.

Ruby, sourced from one of the many mines of Exerston County no doubt. The quality of this particular stone was a bit suspect, and it had some minor faults which were exacerbated by the poor smoothing of this woman.

“The tools are on the ta- ah, I see you have your own,” the woman said. “They don’t look to be of standard make, where did you get them?”

“I made them,” Orodan said as he produced his own chisel from a dimensional ring and lined it up.

“The entire thing? You’re a Woodworker and a Blacksmith then?” she asked, and Orodan nodded.

“I dabble in a number of crafts,” he added.

“No hammer?” the woman asked, raising an eyebrow. She then promptly dropped that train of thought as Orodan simply began carving the gem without it. “Never mind… you soldier sorts have certain privileges we don’t.”

“Anyone can do it, and it isn’t too difficult either. Most gems can be directly molded by hand once one reaches the Apprentice-level in Physical Fitness,” Orodan said. “All things are connected to our body. Mages can cast faster, increase the size of their mana pools and channel more power through their bodies. Craftsmen can work for longer and even focus more intensely. Reaching even level 15 in the skill would benefit any craft which requires long hours and labor.”

The woman looked to take his words seriously and was now beginning to get enraptured with the process as Orodan carved, chiselled and honed the gem to a fine shape, smoothing out the faults. A good portion of the material was lost, but the finished gem had far fewer faults and imperfections. Which was important if one was to use it in a magic ritual or in the fashioning of a magical item meant to hold a self-powered enchantment which didn’t draw mana from the user.

“Impressive… you seem to know a lot about such things,” the supervisor said. “Your name?”

“Orodan Wainwright.”

“Mister Wainwright, this gem is well done,” the woman said. “If you were to utilize it for crafting, how would you do so?”

“It’s a ruby of tolerable quality, but I wouldn’t use it in anything besides a magical ritual where it’s ground to powder and the gemstone isn’t used as a focus,” Orodan said, and upon the look of confusion from her, elaborated. “Naturally, this gemstone has too many faults to begin with. Using it to hold mana in reserve for an enchantment would be a bad idea for anything beyond the Apprentice-level. You said I was taking issue with your skill in the first place? Far from it. Rather, I can see why you were working with this ruby. It’s flawed, damaged. And in working on it, you were seeking to improve your skill levels, weren’t you? Am I right to assume you’re an Elite-level Jewelcrafter?”

The woman smiled.

“You would be right to assume so. In fact, this ruby still isn’t as good as I could do myself. But then, I get the feeling you have something else up your sleeve.”

“Do I now? What makes you say that?”

“The entire time you’ve worked, you seemed careful to avoid cleaning anything off the gemstone, Mister Wainwright.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Well, it was time to get serious. Orodan produced not a chisel, but a small brush, meant for the cleaning and touching up of gems and jewelry. And with a singular motion of his fingers… he swept.

What was cleaning?

It was the realization of a vision, the imposition of one’s version of order unto reality. In contrast to the cosmos shaking things he’d done with his Celestial skill, affecting a mere flawed gemstone was no contest at all.

The cracks from within were smoothed out, his order imposed. the minor fault lines vanished, and what was once a flawed ruby sourced from a county mine, which would perhaps fetch less than a gold piece…

…became a flawless gemstone which would sell for many times that value.

“What on Alastaia? How did you do that?” the junior registrar asked, bewildered. “Are you a mage? Is that… an illusion? How can a gemstone be turned from flawed to perfect?”

Orodan didn’t hold it against the registrar of a crafting academy in Trumbetton that the man didn’t know of other methods. Volarbury County was poor, and there wasn’t a single Grandmaster in this town that Orodan knew of.

Off the top of his head, Orodan could think of two ways to turn a flawed gemstone flawless.

Placing the gemstone in a specialized compression device with a high temperature and using a chronomancer to accelerate it in time was one method. In fact, even without copious mana crystal consumption, a chronomancer could gradually turn a gemstone flawless through the repeated expenditure and recovery of their mana pool over several attempts. With just their mana pool, the process could take months.

The other method involved someone skilled in spatiomancy, and targeting the internal faults through spatial manipulation. Though, this too was a method which took a great deal of time and a high level of precision.

In any case, both methods were expensive and time consuming, and the production of a flawless gemstone in such a manner was a waste of the mage’s time and labor. Both of which could be devoted to far more profitable ventures. The Republic’s mines typically produced enough flawless gemstones for high-level rituals and enchantments. Though, they were always in high demand and not enough supply.

Little wonder the registrar was shocked.

“Enough.”

“But ma’am, how can such a feat be-”

“That’s enough. His business is none of our concern,” the supervisor said.

“To answer your question. I cleaned it.”

“C-cleaned it? That’s simply outrageous, how did you really do-”

“That will be enough. Give him his schedule to fill out. Orodan Wainwright, was it?” she asked, and Orodan nodded. “Delna Elosian. Headmistress of Elmswith.”

“You don’t have an office?” Orodan queried.

“Does this look like Bluefire to you? Our campus consists of five buildings,” she replied.

“You could still have an office in one of the buildings…”

“I do in fact, but why would I sit there all day? Far more entertainment in sitting behind the desk, pretending to be a registration supervisor so I can reveal myself at opportune moments and watch those with poor attitudes stammer out their excuses and apologies,” Delna answered with a smile. “Though, I suppose the dramatic effect is lessened when some disguised prodigy like yourself comes along.”

“Disguised? I’m not hiding anything at this time,” Orodan said.

“Right… and I’m supposed to believe you’re a member of the county militia? Why you’re here and not at Bluefire is your business. I know not which noble house you’re affiliated with, but I’m washing my hands of the matter,” Delna said. “Your schedule’s open for you to fill out as you wish. Anything we can do for you at Elmswith?”

“Yes actually. I wish to enter the county craft competition,” Orodan answered. “The flyer specifically stated that entry was limited to academy students.”

“And you’re more than welcome to enter,” she said. “Though with it being tomorrow, the workshops are booked up so I fear you may not have any place to work on your project before then.”

“That’s fine, I’ll make my own arrangements,” Orodan said as he filled out the schedule. He could only pick one class for the next day prior to the competition. Enchanting it would be. “Thank you for your time, headmistress.”

With that, Orodan walked out.

“You’re about to do something ostentatious, aren’t you?” Zaessythra asked.

“You know me too well.”

She was right of course.

So what that the headmistress said all workshops were booked up? Orodan could simply make his own.

Elmswith Academy was quite small, and just a few steps from the Administration building, it bordered a preserve which the students of Woodworking and Lumberjacking were allowed to draw from. A few studious students could be seen hacking away at trees with axes and saws or attempting to study them to better understand their crafts.

“Hey… you can’t cut down trees here, this is Gedricson’s turf!” one arrogant-looking student said.

“I’m not going to cut it down,” Orodan said. “And I wasn’t aware anyone had a turf here.”

“Er… Velic, maybe we should leave him alone. His arm’s as big as both your legs put together…”

“Nonsense! Gedricson’s going to make sure this lousy lout can’t get a job anywhere once he graduates! And if he wants to be a fool… my cousin’s a mounted unit rider in the militia! An Adept!”

“An… Adept?” Orodan slowly questioned.

“That’s right! I don’t care how big you are, my cousin will teach you some manners!” the boy declared.

“By all means, tell your cousin to come around,” Orodan declared as his hand shot into the dirt underneath the nearest tree…

…and the earth shook as Orodan tore it out of the ground with a single hand.

Nearby students gaped at him, shock and horror written on their faces.

The arrogant fop fell backwards, his friend immediately turned tail, and the spectators all around began clamoring.

How dramatic. Had none of these people seen anyone with a Physical Fitness beyond 40? Well, he couldn’t judge too much. At one time, Orodan himself had also been such a bumpkin, one who knew nothing of what was possible through hard work.

One tree was uprooted, and then another. These were hurled towards the center of the campus, and then Orodan proceeded two uproot three more trees and toss them the same way.

He made way for the spot, directly in the center of the five buildings of Elmswith Academy, where his collected materials lay.

The headmistress had come out and was looking at the scene, incredulity in her eyes.

“M-mister Wainwright…! What is the meaning of this? I’d hoped you would wait at least a day before causing any mayhem.”

“Apologies, headmistress. I’m simply making my own workshop,” Orodan said. “Can’t practice my Engineering without a table to work on.”

The poor woman looked as though she wanted to wither into the ground and disappear. Why, Orodan could almost see her hairs turning greyer as he spoke!

“Just… just remove this obstacle by dawn tomorrow. The stalls and stage for the craft competition will be set up here,” she said, her tone a resigned one.

“Of course. I shall compensate you for this slight.”

She walked away, uncaring of anything else he said. And Orodan got to work carving tables, workbenches and shelves out of the trees he’d uprooted. He also fashioned a rough kiln, forge and anvil from sturdy rock. And once that was done, produced a variety of ingredients necessary for the creation of black powder that he’d sourced from Esgarius beforehand.

In a later loop he planned on sourcing even these ingredients by himself.

Black powder, while not a common fixture outside of the dwarves of the Dokuhan Mountains, was still adopted for use in certain magical cannons, mining operations and low-level banditry. As a result, alchemists knew how to concoct the mixture, and alongside his Tool Mastery, Orodan’s near-Elite level Alchemy served him well.

Sulphur, charcoal and saltpetre. Orodan threw all three of these things into a large hand-crafted barrel and set about the labor of crushing them together and mixing them into a fine grain. The process would have ordinarily required a specialized crushing device; one powered by either mana or crude hand-strength, but Orodan had no issues simply brute forcing the task.

Furthermore, with Domain of Perfect Cleaning, the quality and purity of his black powder was top notch.

The finalized product was then dipped into another alchemic mixture which was meant to prevent vulnerability to static shock and easy ignition. And the fine powder was made.

“You really enjoy making these things,” Zaessythra remarked.

“Much like Woodworking, the concoction of black powder is something I find oddly relaxing. Grain size impacts how quickly it burns, the purity determines how hot the powder gets inside of the barrel and there’s so many magical mixtures that can be added to improve the punch it packs,” Orodan explained. “Yet, at the end of the day, improving the quality of my basic black powder will be what propels my advancement in the craft.”

“I doubted it myself until I saw how fearsome the weapons of Lonvoron were.”

“My imitations are rather poor in comparison. Perhaps I’ll go study under a gunsmith at some point…”

If Alastaia had any dedicated gunsmiths outside of the dwarves that was. Not only was it a long shot that they’d even agree, but Orodan’s bull-headed nature meant he’d have trouble keeping a low profile when near the atrocities of the under-mountain confederation.

He was just about to start the process of smithing the actual rifle when he someone walking up.

“That’s him!”

“I don’t recognize him at all… I would know anyone capable of uprooting trees. A stolen uniform?” a horse rider with a sword in hand said.

Frankly, the Volarbury county militia was so obscure and unknown on the global stage that Orodan was unused to people recognizing him by uniform. He wore his basic tunic and belt at all times and had grown used to people not commenting on the outfit. Within the county though, the headmistress of Elmswith had identified his employment, as had this rider from the mounted unit.

“Not a stolen uniform. Orodan Wainwright, Volarbury county militia. Private. Ogdenborough barracks,” he recited. “You are?”

“That’s not important Wainwright,” the rider said. “Under authority of my captain, Keharion Taj, I’m here to investigate reports of a disturbance. And you appear to be at the center. Explain yourself.”

“What’s there to explain? I’ve registered as a student at Elmswith, alongside all the rights and privileges that affords,” Orodan said.

“Any secondary employment or education requires a letter in writing to the duty sergeant of your barracks,” the rider said. “Has this been authorized?”

“No. Consider this my act of resignation,” Orodan said as he began the creation of the rifle itself. “That’s not illegal.”

“That is… your decision. However, the matter of you causing a disturbance still remains,” the rider said. “The report said that you assaulted a student. You’ll need to come with me for questioning.”

Orodan smiled as he casually stuck his hand into the forge and used his bare hands to manipulate the metal like clay.

“Come arrest me then.”

[Intimidation 24 → Intimidation 25]

Molding metal with one’s bare hands was possible, even at Apprentice-level Physical Fitness. However, doing so casually without any effort at all was a different matter.

The act of molding metal within a forge with his bare hands had its desired effect. The rider clearly looked to be rethinking his life choices.

“Cousin… who in the seven hells did you offend?” Orodan’s ears overheard as the rider quietly asked the arrogant boy. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

“Er…”

“Mister Orodan Wainwright,” the rider said. “Allow me to apologize. Clearly this matter has been an embarrassing misunderstanding. I know not which barracks of Trumbetton you’re from, or if the Elite response unit has sent you… but I was not aware of your… abilities.”

“If only you acted smartly and efficiently like this more often,” Zaessythra said.

That sounded entirely too sane and reasonable for Orodan. Where would the fun be in that?

“In any case, I’m almost certain word will spread, and this man will report the encounter to his superiors,” Orodan mentally replied.

The rider left all too hastily, likely glad of the fact that Orodan hadn’t taken offense and taken it out upon him. The arrogant student looked about in disbelief for a few moments, but then also left.

Which then left Orodan with the black powder and partially complete rifle before him.

Like that… the hours flew by.

Day turned to dusk, which then turned to night as Orodan tirelessly crafted away.

At some point, he sensed Elite-level individuals observing him from the distant rooftops of the town center, yet they never approached and Orodan was content to keep working.

His soul’s inability to be detected must’ve thrown them for a loop.

Zaessythra groaned at his idiotic wordplay.

He continued working at it, forging various rifles and a cannon, enchanting them and then casting regular and specialized magical ammunition for them. Once dawn came, he had a plethora of weaponry he’d made himself, and with the sun came the arrival of the crew meant to set up the stage for the craft competition.

Tool Mastery, Blacksmithing, Engineering and Artificing all gained levels over the night of work.

The workers looked confused at his workshop set up in the middle of the courtyard, but Orodan tore it down easily enough, causing more than a bit of chaos amongst them.

And once his workshop was tucked into his dimensional ring, he made way for the Enchanting class.

The building was a small one, a stark contrast to what he was used to from Bluefire, and the various students gaped at the size of him as he entered the enchanters’ classroom.

Orodan looked rather out of place and stood out among all these frail and bookish enchanting students. Blacksmiths, Woodworkers and other crafts which involved labor could expect to have some levels in the Physical Fitness skill. Enchanters though, fit the academic shut-in stereotype quite well.

“Oh? A new student? Er… are you a new student?” the teacher asked, looking up at the far taller Orodan.

“Yes. Orodan Wainwright. I joined today,” he replied.

“Well… I shan’t question it,” the older man said. “There’s a free station at the front, please join us.”

As expected, few of the socially anxious enchanters wanted to take a seat up front. Unlike Bluefire, where the students were the cream of the crop and there was more widespread confidence and a bit of arrogance among them, the students here were of a more milquetoast sort. Oh, they weren’t bad by any means, but Bluefire existed for a reason, and anyone who displayed a semblance of real talent was scouted and taken away for the best education there.

And Orodan soon experienced why Elmswith Academy wasn’t Bluefire.

“Now then, continuing where we left off from last week when it comes to the differences between the Imperial-tradition and its competitors. The Imperial enchanting language is the greatest one in the known world! Humanity has risen above the elves and dwarves, and our crafts are proof of it.”

The instructor was a peddler of blatant propaganda.

Yet, that was fine.

“The two-dimensional enchanting of the Imperial-tradition is more cost-effective and reliable than any crafts of the other races,” the instructor said.

“But… why is it more cost-effective and reliable?” Orodan asked.

“A good question, Mister Wainwright! The mana pathways of the Imperial-tradition are uniform and narrow, which allows for an even flow to the enchantment all throughout.”

That wasn’t correct. The mana pathways of the Imperial-tradition were narrow and uniform at the lower levels because enchanters were given chisels of uniform make and strictly taught not to deviate. At higher levels, enchantments laid using the Imperial enchanting script could have mana pathways of varying width. In fact, the reason these enchanters were taught not to deviate was because getting the mana flows even in pathways of greater width was a more difficult task.

“Yet, high-level enchantments of the Imperial-tradition have pathways of differing width,” Orodan corrected. “Can you explain why?”

“Why, you are mistaken, such a thing is merely an illusion! Allow me to elaborate!”

And so, the discussion went.

The man truly attempted to justify his incorrect view. This low-level enchanting teacher at Elmswith was genuinely set in his ways.

“Why are we listening to this fool?” Zaessythra asked.

“Because, even in listening to a fool, there is wisdom to be had. Especially if the fool is self-assured and defends his view to the end.”

Learning and advancement came not just from learning what was right. But also, through dwelling on what was wrong. His time without the crutch of the System had opened Orodan’s eyes to this method of alternative learning. The System gave people a crutch, it took away the wall before them.

But that wall was a tool, a boon. It forced people to innovate if they wanted to cross it, as Orodan had to do. And meeting a stubborn and self-assured man who was spouting an incorrect viewpoint was an excellent thought exercise.

After all…

…what if Orodan adopted this utterly incorrect view and attempted to run with it?

It was lunacy. But… it strained his mind and all he knew in a way nothing else ever had.

To adopt the wrong viewpoint, to start from a position he knew to be false and incorrect. And to then attempt to reason his way out and try to move forward anyways.

Like a soldier caught in an ambush with no way out.

Orodan sought to batter his way out.

“Hmm, so perhaps if I weave the enchantment with uniform and narrow pathways, the outcome will be more powerful?” Orodan asked as he quickly weaved a very basic weight enchantment on a stone.

This, he weaved using the methods he knew to be correct, the current height of his Enchanting knowledge. The mana pathways were not uniform, yet the flows were even, Then, he weaved a similar enchantment on another rock, but strictly following the viewpoint of the teacher. The mana pathways were uniform and narrow, but the overall power of the enchantment was lower.

“Yes! Do you now see what I… hmm… wait, how is this rock lighter?” the teacher asked, a bit confused as he began to realize that his viewpoint was being proven wrong. “Are you perhaps… correc-”

“No. Keep going. Tell me more about how the mana pathways being narrow and uniform makes the enchantment better,” Orodan demanded.

Madness. Lunacy.

How on Alastaia was he expected to make the rock enchanted with inferior methods, superior to the one enchanted with advanced methods?

The instructor seemed to want to amend his view, but Orodan wouldn’t let him.

He immersed himself in the incorrect view, he truly believed in it.

And the hour of class was entirely wasted as he produced no results and got absolutely nowhere.

The other students looked on incredulously, and a few even began looking as though they were rethinking their enrolment at Elmswith. The hour was wasted, yet Orodan had basically proved that his advanced methods of enchanting were superior to what this low-level instructor at a basic crafting academy was preaching. But this wasn’t what he wanted.

Impossibility made reality. The superior made real through inferior methods.

No matter how many loops it took, Orodan would see it done.

“What’s the purpose of this loop? Or I should say, these short loops,” Zaessythra asked as he stepped out of the classroom and beheld the stalls and stage of the county craft competition which were set up.

“The distance between galaxies is utterly astronomical. Which means my target, the Vystaxium Galaxy, is quite far away,” Orodan replied. “Getting there through spatiomancy would require channelling enough power to destroy my body. I’m not ready for it yet.”

“Then why not train spatiomancy like a madman till you can?”

“Which, ordinarily, I would do. However, one of the people I seek is the previous time looper, and they’re quite paranoid,” Orodan explained. “Any large scale spatiomancy of that caliber, even if I succeeded, would draw some serious attention. Even the Conclave’s grand array which we used in the last long loop drew attention. There’s no avoiding it.”

“Then… why?”

“This ring. What does it imply is possible?” Orodan asked.

“Dimensionalism…”

Zaessythra caught on to what he was saying.

Yes, spatiomancy was something Orodan planned to train to the point where he could warp between galaxies. And though the time it would take was of no concern to him, the fact that spatial travel would alert the inhabitants of his destination was a concern. The Prophet would be alerted too, but that wasn’t Orodan’s main concern. The problem was the previous looper, who Orodan felt was an incredibly paranoid and slippery individual.

In the last long loop, this previous looper had only appeared when King Alstatyn of the Blackworth Collective was threatened by the Prophet, and Orodan wasn’t the sort to meticulously re-create circumstances to arrive at the events of a prior loop. That, and threatening someone else to draw the previous looper out seemed weak and slimy. Since when did Orodan Wainwright engage in such skullduggery?

Still, the problem remained in that he wasn’t even sure how to go about finding them unless he held the element of surprise and was allowed to go investigating Lonvoron.

This, was where Dimensionalism came in. Enchanting was an incredibly versatile skill which allowed Orodan to create items with functions he himself wasn’t yet capable of. Orodan could craft enchanted rings which spewed ice shards, amulets which conjured lightning cages…

…and dimensional rings which could create openings from one destination leading someplace else.

“You intend to use the ring to cross into Lonvoron undetected?” Zaessythra asked. “That’s a smart plan.”

“What? Who said I intend on using some silly trinket? I plan on using the ring to instead study and learn how to do it myself!”

“Never mind… I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment.”

Indeed. Enchanting was a most unique art. Enchanters were capable of making items which could do things they themselves weren’t capable of. An enchanter who couldn’t cast a single spell could make a ring which spewed fire.

And Orodan, who not only studied how to enchant, but what the actual enchanting script meant and translated to… had an incredibly potent ability to re-create many functions.

Which really meant that Orodan didn’t need to visit fancy magic academies. Enchanting an item, studying the enchantment and effect, and then working hard to replicate it himself could be his best teacher. In fact, it was a superior method of learning in comparison to rote repetition and mere skill level gains.

True mastery came from learning a skill inside out, without the crutch of the cumulative knowledge within the central glyph of his own System. And studying an enchantment and its energy flows was an excellent way to dissect and learn a spell from the ground up.

There were some limits of course, and the more esoteric the skill, the harder it would be to learn from merely studying the enchantment version of it. However, Orodan still planned on supplementing his self-study with relevant tutors. That irritating dimensional phase spider hadn’t seen the last of him yet.

Most importantly though, and relevant to what he was laying out on his assigned stall… was his newly acquired mentality of attempting to brute force his way to superior results through inferior methods.

It was a thought experiment of a most vexatious and insanity-inducing nature. Yet it now had him viewing everything he’d made under this unhinged lens.

Perhaps these rifles could be better made if the hammer was propelled to launch the bullet like a slingshot? Maybe the ammunition could be coated with a sticky and stringy adhesive so that the tension force when it broke would add to the power of the shot?

It was utterly contradictory and beyond stupid, even for Orodan.

And yet…

…what could he achieve if he stubbornly tried defending these perspectives and trying to make them work?

More. He needed more mad views!

The county competition was soon to start, and this meant that spectators had already begun showing up, drink in hand, ready to enjoy the day.

Orodan immediately made way for the drunkest one among them. The announcer began going off, but Orodan ignored them.

“Eh? Where’d the tree come from?” the drunk slurred and hiccupped as Orodan stood in front of him, blocking the sun. “By Halor’s dirty toe… you’re a big tree…”

“He’s not a tree…” the drunk’s friend corrected and then sighed. “Damn it Krenvus, how much have you had to drink? It isn’t even noon!”

“Not a tree? Oh! Right… it’s a really big fellow…” the drunk muttered and squinted. “What the hells do they feed you? You sure you aren’t a tree?”

“Positive,” Orodan said with a smile. “Now then, I could use your help. Can you tell me about the Imperial enchanting language?”

“The cereal planting baggage? I didn’t steal it! I swear on my drink!”

He could hear the very audible sigh of Zaessythra from within.

“Enchanting, tell me about it,” Orodan said and threw a gold coin the man’s way. “Gold piece in it for you.”

The drunk was entirely too slow to react, and it bounced off his forehead only for Orodan to catch it again.

“Gold? Where?” the drunk asked, and Orodan held it up in front of his face. “Heheh! I’m rich!”

“Not yet. Tell me about enchanting.”

“What’s there to say about it? Just snap your fingers like a silly mage and things begin glowing!” the man exclaimed.

“Yes, but how do you do it?” Orodan asked.

“Oh, I don’t know… don’t those shut-ins scrawl some chicken scratch onto it with those glowy stones of theirs?”

Scrawl some chicken scratch?

Orodan focused, and his entire mindset was dedicated towards this view. The gold piece was handed off to the now happy drunk, and he got to work enchanting a plain rifle.

The judging for the county craft competition had already started as the panel of appraisers began going around. They nearly walked past his stall, however one of the judges saw what was laid their and walked over.

“Don’t bother… this student’s been disqualified for leaving the stage…”

Oh, was that what had occurred? Orodan couldn’t have cared less about actually winning the contest on paper.

“Yes, but look at these… rifles and black powder,” the judge said.

“A failed experiment whose results we’ve seen when the Empire tried outfitting soldiers with them,” the critical judge said.

“You don’t look like a student of Elmswith… that tunic… county militia?” the curious judge asked and Orodan shook his head.

“Technically, I resigned.”

For this loop anyhow.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” the curious judge said. “And these weapons, you made them?”

“Aye. In fact, I’m making my magnum opus now,” Orodan declared. “Want to see it fired?”

“This is going to go terribly wrong…”

Orodan ignored her lack of faith and primed the black powder on his newly enchanted rifle.

“What enchanting language is that? I’ve never seen it before,” the curious judge said.

“Chicken scratch.”

“Chicken scratch? What do yo-”

The gun went off. A terrible bang reverberated through the air causing nearby competitors and spectators to cover their ears.

“Such a pretty metal flower…”

“No Krenvus… that’s a defective rifle, not a flower! Enough drink for you!”

“Oh…”

In truth, the gun hadn’t gone off as much as it had gone apart. The mangled heap of metal in his hands wasn’t in good shape, with the barrel sprouting outwards like a poor imitation of a flower.

Well, at least Orodan had now verified that the chicken scratch enchanting language could generate a lot of power.

“Every time you impress me, you also remind me shortly after that you are still Orodan Wainwright.”

“You were a lot more tolerable as a mute book inside of my soul,” Orodan shot back, letting the faithless Zaessythra have a piece of his mind.

The judges were speechless. The spectators were speechless, and the nearby competitors were silent too.

Oh well, he had many more loops to get this right.

And the familiar individuals flying his way atop a gold-feathered griffin signalled the end of the loop. A decision of his own making.

A Favored, and the High-Burgher.

Once upon a time, he’d been impressed by their entrance. In the very early days of the loop, having the High Oracle and the High-Burgher of the Republic approach him had made the young Orodan take notice.

“It’s Lady Lakshiya… what’s she doing here? The High-Burgher alongside her…”

“The High Oracle! Praise be to the Five!”

Lady Lakshiya. High Oracle of the Cathedral of the Prime Five, and a Favored of Ilyatana, the Goddess of Fate. If Chosen had three Blessings, then Favored were a step below, with only two.

This woman was the very first person unto whom Ilyatana had descended when she’d approached him for the first time. The origin of Orodan’s troubles with the divine. The man next to her was Sarvaan Ilsuan Arslan, High-Burgher of the Republic of Aden, the leader of the country’s elected council.

And both these figures were Masters.

Both the man and woman looked closely at him, their eyes glowing gold.

“Do you see it as well Lakshiya? Like a void… there is nothing where his soul should be…” the High-Burgher said.

“I can detect no presence in the tapestry of fate either,” Lakshiya said. “Who are you?”

“I am Orodan Wainwright,” he introduced himself. “Sworn enemy of the Gods you serve.”

The descent of Ilyatana unto this poor Favored was immediate.

As was Orodan’s instant cleansing of that foul Goddess of Fate from Lady Lakshiya.

And with a subtle peeling of the dimensional layer…

…Orodan followed the thread of connection and stepped into the divine dimension.

The familiar ethereal plane of the divine realm. The strange and impossible shapes around him, the veins of System energy pumping power throughout. And a large vortex where he was, at whose center was a dark-skinned woman covered in radiant gold.

Frankly, she looked quite similar to Mahari, or more accurately, Mahari looked similar to her, which hinted at some ancestry. Orodan wasn’t squeamish about such matters, however. He was dead set on what needed to be done.

“You… how have you entered this-”

Her words were cut off, quite literally, as a sword separated her head from her shoulders.

Tyrant. Oppressor. Domineering dictator.

Ilyatana was the first God Orodan had spoken to, and she’d set the stage for his distrust of them forevermore. Agathor had betrayed his trust, but Ilyatana was the first one on the list, marked for death.

The vortex he was within trembled and let out a wail of pain. It then shattered in a gigantic explosion of divine power.

The nearby vortexes shuddered, their owners taking notice. And Orodan quickly identified and began making way for his next target.

Eximus.

The space between these divine domains was gigantic, but a full power cast of Spatial Fold got him to where he needed to be easily enough.

[Spatial Fold 79 → Spatial Fold 80]

Orodan had skirted the issue by dimensionally traveling directly inside of Ilyatana’s domain, but from the outside, these vortexes, these divine domains, had barriers. Unfortunately for their owners, these barriers consisted entirely of divine energy. Something Orodan was resistant to.

He pushed past the barrier with brute force, the divine energy battering against him but washing over ineffectively. Inside, he saw the true form of Eximus, an old man with a staff, preparing for battle, yet looking quite alarmed at the intrusion

“Worm,” Orodan greeted. “Do you tremble in fear at the approach of your death?”

“Who are you?! I have never done anything to earn your ire!” Eximus roared.

“And yet, in another time, you would have gladly worked with the coward Agathor and the tyrant Ilyatana to oppress me,” Orodan said. “Our enmity is set in stone. Don’t bother attempting to grovel, stand and fight me and I’ll grant you a quick and dignified death.”

“Damn you… damn you! This is brazen murder! The other Gods in this divine realm will not stand idly by!”

“Spare me the moralizing. You’ve done far worse things than I in your long divine lifespan. I’m not some mass murderer. This is between me and you,” Orodan spat.

To his credit, Eximus had a grim look on his face as he hefted his staff and charged.

Orodan met him halfway, and his first downward swing with an All-Strike cleaved right through Eximus’s staff and him in a singular blow.

Once again, the vortex trembled, wailed, and another divine domain was destroyed.

Astalavar, one of the Gods of the Hegemony, was roused to action in the great distance. He could already see the peak-God rushing through the expanse between divine domains at a mighty pace, making way for Orodan who’d dared to slay Gods within the Hegemony’s territory.

Still, it would take time, and Orodan was confident he could slay Agathor and the foul Guzuharan blood God Agorhiku in that timespan.

Which was when he felt the dimensional boundary tear apart, and a gaping maw capable of swallowing an entire world rush towards him.

Right. He’d almost forgotten about the existence of this world-devouring abomination under the Hegemony’s control.

Avraxas, a Crusader. The mangled and heinous dragon was a grotesque fusion of a God and a Transcendent. A method which was taught to the Hegemony by the Reject himself.

This meant that the world-devouring dragon could freely move between both the material plane and the divine dimension. It made it a terrifying foe.

Still, the Orodan of then, who’d fought against the Hegemony in the last long loop, and the Orodan of now, with his own System and a new Celestial skill, were two different people.

How did one stop a charging dragon which was large enough to swallow an entire planet? Especially when it looked poised to swallow him whole.

Incipience of Infinity had caused the amount of soul energy he could expend at once to skyrocket. Compared to the prior Eternal Soul Reactor, it was dramatically more powerful. What then, would that power be thrown towards? Spatiomancy to send it careening away? Chronomancy to reverse it?

Orodan instead poured it towards a skill he hadn’t used in a while. One whose originating world he eventually intended to delve deeply into.

[Shield Intent 69 → Shield Intent 74]

Most cultivators powered their techniques with Qi, and only the exceptional among them were capable of using soul energy. Orodan, by virtue of being talented in the soul arts, began his forays into cultivation techniques with soul energy. And the shimmering white shield projection, the size of an entire planet, was proof of just how monstrous such a combination could be when backed by someone capable of throwing endless power into it.

Avraxas, the mutated Crusader of the Hegemony, slammed right into Orodan’s Shield Intent and rebounded with a hiss of pain. The shield light took some damage but held strong. Partially due to the sheer strength of it and also for the fact that half of the attack consisted of divine energy.

Dodging? Sending the enemy backwards in time? Elegant moves which had their place, but Orodan was a warrior, and meeting the charge of a titanic foe directly was what his blood demanded.

With the charge halted, the dragon glared at him, and Orodan returned it.

A furious melee began.

It was comical, a human-sized warrior battling against a planet-sized dragon. In terms of pure force and power, Orodan was overwhelmed. Even if half of Avraxas’s power was divine, the other half was soul energy based, and Orodan had no resistance against that. In clashes of raw force, he was sent flying about.

Frankly, the dragon was so large that Orodan felt he was fighting a planet rather than an actual combatant. It was akin to a man standing upon the ground, swinging downwards into the dirt and claiming he was fighting the world. How silly was that? He stood upon it and swung downward with full force, leaving great ravine-sized furrows in its flesh. Yet, these wounds were small in contrast to its incredibly large body. Furthermore, it regenerated from these tiny injuries.

Avraxas also had sense enough to remain in constant motion, refusing to allow Orodan the opportunity to burrow inside and start a destructive slaughter from within. The tactics Orodan might ordinarily use against such gigantic enemies were something this foe was aware of and working to prevent!

Having a high Combat Mastery didn’t necessarily mean he was well-suited to employing that skill against such a large creature.

Still, Orodan held on, and he survived. He wasn’t winning, but his opponent was forced to use its full power and still failed to kill him.

The gaping maw which the mutated dragon attempted to swallow him with was some sort of dimensional kill zone. It was what Talricto the Wanderer, that dimensional phase spider, had attempted to hit Orodan with. Except, the spider didn’t have the raw reserves of power that Avraxas did.

A kill zone consisting of intersecting dimensional boundaries, and one backed by the reserves of a planet-sized dragon? Orodan had endless power himself, but he could only hold so much energy within his actual body at one time. In terms of pure power, for now, this world-devourer had him beat in the amount held within the body at one moment. Getting swallowed into that maw meant death.

The combat between the two of them fell into a rhythm. Orodan countered attempts at swallowing him by conjuring a planet-sized shield light which the dragon ineffectively smashed into. And Avraxas countered Orodan’s attempts at burrowing into it by remaining incredibly fast, flailing about violently, and occasionally emitting burst of pure force from its wing tips which sent Orodan flying off of its body.

The only event of note was when Orodan managed to surprise it by compressing Spatial Fold to an unfathomable degree and then releasing it into an already carved wound. The resulting explosion of space could have destroyed a small planet and caused the peak-Crusader to bellow in pain and fear. It quickly gained distance, recovered and resumed the fight after patching the wound up completely.

He never got the chance to repeat that particular move again as from then on it began casting constant spatial disruption spells. It wasn’t just some big beast, but a smart one with combat sense too.

Still, the din of battle favored him. Yes, this gigantic foe was overwhelming in direct clashes… but the enormous size disparity actually helped him in some ways when he managed to land upon it. It also allowed him to maneuver about and prevent it from hitting him too many times in quick succession as its own body would often get in the way.

Its energy wasn’t infinite. If given enough time, Orodan felt confident that he’d eventually win.

Of course, endless time wasn’t on the table. And the arrival of a fifty-armed God reminded Orodan of that.

“Astalavar. Good of you to join us,” Orodan said as he conjured a shield light, causing the dragon to smash into it. “Come, let’s make this a two-on-one.”

“You know of me? Who are you? Mortals should not be capable of crossing the divide and entering this realm. The System itself should bar it.”

Was it supposed to? Orodan hadn’t encountered any resistance or failsafe out of the ordinary. But, perhaps the fact that he no longer had the regular System made him immune to its safeguards?

“Anyhow, we’re talking too much. Come jump in already.”

The God of the Hegemony didn’t need to be told twice.

With two working together, Orodan was suppressed. Astalavar was weaker than Avraxas, Orodan also felt he could eventually beat the fifty-armed God. However, the God was far smaller than Avraxas, being only the size of a nation. And with fifty arms each wielding a golden weapon, this meant it was far better at tracking, pinning down and suppressing Orodan.

He held on valiantly for another five minutes until the inevitable happened and the many arms of Astalavar kept him pinned while the maw of Avraxas finally managed to catch him.

The kill zone of intersecting dimensional boundaries hit him… his soul roiled with power, and before the darkness took him, he was fairly certain he saw the explosion of multiple dimensions falling apart as the dragon’s mouth was utterly destroyed from colliding the kill-zone in its maw against a being of such titanic power as Orodan.

Well, it was good to know that Orodan could brute force his way through that attack with some training.

#

A keening wail ringing in the night sky awoke him.

“Rise and shine,” Zaessythra said. “What’s next? Shall we go elsewhere? Shall we perhaps sit down and concoct some intricate plans to best our foes?”

Orodan rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in her tone.

His goal was clear.

Lonvoron. But he had to get there without triggering any sort of alarm lest he scare his target into hiding.

To that end, he had to perfect his crafts. Something which would involve taking the most counterintuitive and inferior methods possible and attempting to make them work with brute force. Even better, he planned on shutting off the switch for his central glyph and doing so without the crutch of its cumulative knowledge.

He had crafts to hone, money to make and dimensionalism to learn. And at the end of each of these short loops, he planned on entering the divine realm and engaging in honest battle.

Furthermore, nothing said he strictly had to enter Elmswith in each loop. Who knew what more madness and excellent training methods he could engage in outside of there?

Old Man Hannegan had once mentioned a mad carpenter he’d apprenticed under in his youth, and the eccentric Talricto the Wanderer was also an option once Orodan found it.

This would be Orodan’s new set of short loops leading to victory.

Craft. Die. Repeat.