Chronicles Of The Crafting Hero [REMASTERED]

Tyler sat on the soft fibers of the rug. The glowing screen of the TV illuminated his young face. The corners of his mouth pulled upward as he watched his favorite show, Mr. Maker. Unblinking, he stared at the scientist on the screen. The man stood in a sterile white void, wearing spectacles and a crisp white coat. On the table before him sat pieces of cardboard and a bottle of glue, and his fingers gripped a pair of scissors.

The man’s lips moved, but the screen abruptly dissolved into a storm of black and white static. The audio warped, breaking into a harsh, shaking frequency that grated against Tyler's ears.

Tyler’s brow furrowed. He leaned closer, straining to hear the words, but the visual wiped away completely, leaving only pure, hissing static.

A rough, heavy hand clamped down onto his shoulder from behind. The weight and the coarse texture of the palm felt deeply familiar. A violent shudder ripped through his small frame.

"Kid, wake up."

Tyler jolted forward, his chest heaving as he dragged in a sharp, heavy breath. He blinked rapidly, the bright static of the dream dissolving into the dim shadows of the bedroom. James stood beside the mattress, his large hand still resting firmly on Tyler's shoulder.

"Relax," James said, his voice low. "Were you having a nightmare?"

Tyler swallowed hard, the dry lump in his throat bobbing. He let out a long breath, letting his tense muscles slacken against the sheets. "Yeah, kinda."

"What was it about?" James asked.

Tyler shook his head. He pushed his palms into the mattress, letting out a low grunt as he forced his torso upright. "Nah, it was nothing. It was just a dumb dream."

James kept his gaze fixed on Tyler’s face for a long second. Slowly, the older man straightened his posture, lifting his hand away. "All right. We're going training again. Let's go."

Tyler blinked, his vision finally clearing enough to take in the details of the room. He realized James was already fully strapped into his gear.

*Did he come late last night? But when?*

He stared up at the older man's unbothered, alert expression.

*He looks energetic. Does he ever get some sleep?*

Tyler grabbed the edge of his blanket and pushed it aside, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet met the floorboards. He pushed himself up to a stand, raising his arms high above his head to stretch his stiff back, a wide yawn pulling at his jaw.

"I heard you fought a monster while I was gone."

Tyler dropped his arms, letting them hang heavy by his sides. "Yeah. A monster appeared. It was an Elin, but I managed to kill it."

James took a slow step backward, shifting his weight until his shoulder leaned against the wall beside the window. He crossed his thick arms over his chest. "How did you manage that?"

"I used one of the bloom fruits from my inventory. When I threw it at the monster, the juice burned it and it died."

James's eyebrows shot upward. He uncrossed his arms, sliding his hands into his pockets as he shook his head. "I didn't think a monster would appear like that. It's pretty rare." He pushed off the wall and walked toward the bedroom door. "To think that the one time I left you there, it happened."

Tyler brushed his fingers against the back of his neck. "Yeah, I have some pretty bad luck. But it wasn't all for nothing. I leveled up two times in the process."

James stopped in his tracks. "Two times? I thought you told Lisa it was a low level."

"No, that's what I told her. But to be honest, the level was way higher than mine. It was a level thirty-six. I only managed to kill it because of the fruit."

James drew in a sharp breath. "Wow. So you leveled up twice? And you were just level nine. To be honest, I think you should have leveled up at least three times from a jump like that."

"Yeah, about that..." Tyler proceeded to explain his penalty, detailing how the system automatically cut his earned XP by twenty-five percent with every single kill.

James slowly nodded, his jaw tightening. "That's tough. That makes leveling up a lot harder."

"Yeah," Tyler said, his chin dipping in a firm nod. "But I won't allow that to stop me."

The corners of James's mouth pulled up into a faint grin. "That's the spirit." He reached out, his heavy palm coming down solidly onto Tyler's shoulder. "Did you level up from the training as well?"

"I doubt that," Tyler said.

With a quick thought, his system panel materialized in the air before him. His eyes widened as the faint blue light illuminated the new numbers on his status screen.

He gave a slight nod. "Yes, I actually leveled up."

"What level are you?" James asked.

"Twelve," Tyler replied.

James rubbed his chin, his stubble scratching against his fingers. "So that means you leveled up once." He held Tyler's gaze for a long moment. "Well, that means today might just be the last day we train."

"Why?" Tyler asked.

James turned and slowly walked out of the bedroom, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. "Like I've said before, the stronger you get, the harder it is to level up through training alone. I doubt those laps or that bag will do it for you anymore."

Tyler watched James's broad back disappear into the living room.

*He's right. I don't think it will do it for me anymore. I think I'll have to level up through killing monsters from now on.*

A faint blue light shimmered around Tyler's bare feet. An instant later, the solid, familiar weight of his boots settled around his ankles as they equipped directly from his inventory. He stepped forward, the soles clicking against the floor as he walked out of the room.

He met James by the front door. The older man already had his heavy leather bag close to his hip. James gripped the handle, pulling the door open, and they stepped out of the house, heading toward the marketplace.

"I'm going to train you how to defend yourself again," James said as they walked. "I want to see how much you've improved. How much your strength has risen."

Tyler walked silently beside him.

*My strength stat increased by more than ten. He's going to be surprised.*

They reached the carriage and climbed inside. The wooden wheels rattled against the uneven road for the duration of the ride until they finally arrived at their destination. James pressed a few coins into the driver's palm, and the two of them stepped down onto the dirt.

They walked side by side toward the training ground, coming to a halt beneath the wide branches of the tree.

James turned to face Tyler. "Since you are an F-rank now, you must have gotten a skill. Care to tell me what it is?"

Tyler blinked, his stride faltering for a fraction of a second. "I got a skill called Weapon Mastery from reaching F-rank, but it was put under my passive skills. What is a passive skill?"

"Weapon Mastery?" James rubbed his chin, his brow furrowing. "I've never heard of a skill like that before. But to answer your question, a passive skill is a skill that is always active without consuming any mana. Think of it like breathing or blinking. It's always happening. You never need to activate it."

"So, does that mean any skill that's a passive is like that?"

James nodded. "Exactly."

He reached down to his hip and drew his blade. The polished steel scraped smoothly against the inner lining of the steel scabbard. "Hector told me you made a sword the other day. Use your spatial magic to retrieve it, and I'll teach you how to use it."

Tyler shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... don't have it anymore. It broke while I was fighting that monster."

James's shoulders slumped. He lowered his blade slightly. "It broke?"

"Yeah," Tyler said. "The equipment wasn't that tough."

James flipped his grip on his weapon and tossed it through the air. Tyler raised a hand, his fingers clamping firmly around the leather-wrapped hilt. He adjusted his grip, feeling the surprisingly light and balanced weight of the steel in his palm.

James unhooked his empty steel scabbard from his belt, gripping it firmly in his right hand. "I'll use this instead."

"Huh?" Tyler tilted his head, staring at the empty scabbard in James's hand.

"What?" James asked.

"You're gonna fight me with that?"

The corners of James's mouth pulled upward into a wide grin. "Lesson one of combat, kid. Never underestimate your opponent."

"Alright." Tyler gave a slight shrug and wrapped both hands securely around the hilt of the steel sword.

James lowered his stance, squaring his shoulders. "Alright, attack me. I want you to attack with full intent. To kill."

Tyler's grip faltered for a fraction of a second. "To kill?"

Without warning, James launched himself forward. The older man closed the distance in a blur, whipping the heavy wooden scabbard upward. Tyler jerked his upper body backward to evade the rising strike, but James instantly reversed his momentum, bringing the hard steel crashing down directly onto Tyler's collarbone.

The blunt impact echoed in the air. Tyler let out a sharp grunt, his boots dragging against the dirt as he stumbled backward. He brought his free hand up, his fingers pressing into the angry, red welt already swelling against his skin.

"Ow," Tyler hissed through clenched teeth. "That hurt."

"That's because it's supposed to," James said, his expression hardening. "If I had a sword right now, you'd be dead. Concentrate."

Tyler dropped his hand from his bruised collarbone and clamped it back onto the hilt.

James narrowed his eyes, tracking the younger man's posture.

*Well, he has certainly gotten faster. Way faster than a level twelve.*

Tyler pushed off the dirt and charged. He raised the blade high over his head, driving all his weight into a heavy downward strike. James simply pivoted on his heel, letting the steel slice through empty air before swinging the scabbard directly into Tyler's abdomen.

The heavy force drove the breath from Tyler's lungs in a sharp wheeze. He winced, his core muscles seizing as he staggered back.

"Never attack your enemy like that," James said, lowering his weapon. "You're leaving your entire center wide open. Plus, you're swinging a sword, not an axe."

Heat crept up Tyler's neck, settling warmly in his cheeks. He tightened his jaw.

*What the hell is that scabbard made of? Is it steel covered in leather? That's the only way it would make sense. It hurts like hell.*

"Again," James commanded.

Tyler forced a heavy exhale through his nose and rushed forward. He swung the blade, but James easily stepped inside his guard, delivering another blunt strike to his ribs. Tyler gritted his teeth, adjusted his footing, and swung again. James sidestepped, letting the steel pass before driving his weapon into Tyler's shoulder.

They clashed again and again. Each time, Tyler met nothing but air, followed immediately by the bruising, undeniable impact of the scabbard.

Desperate to land a hit, Tyler let out a frustrated breath and launched a wide, horizontal arc aimed right at James's neck. James immediately dropped his weight, ducking smoothly beneath the whistling steel. He stepped firmly into Tyler's space and drove the heavy back-end of the scabbard squarely into Tyler's stomach.

Tyler folded forward, his knees completely buckling. He collapsed onto the dirt, the steel sword slipping from his numb fingers and clattering against the ground.

A shadow fell over him. He looked up to find the tip of the leather scabbard hovering mere inches from his chest.

"Another lesson," James said, his voice completely calm. "Never, ever lose your sword in a sword fight."

James pulled the scabbard back, lowered it to his side, and extended his empty hand. Tyler stared at the calloused palm for a second before gripping it. With a firm tug, James hoisted him back to his feet.

Tyler wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist and reached down, wrapping his fingers around the leather hilt of the fallen sword. He lifted the steel, his bruised muscles aching in protest.

James pointed the tip of the wooden scabbard at Tyler’s feet. "Your stance is a mess. Widen your base. Bend your knees."

Tyler shifted his boots apart and lowered his center of gravity.

James stepped closer, using the metal scabbard to tap sharply against the side of Tyler's calf, forcing the leg outward. Then he tapped Tyler's elbow, pushing it closer to his ribs. "Keep your guard tight. And most importantly, stop swinging to hit."

Tyler frowned, looking at the blade. "What do you mean?"

"You're using it like a club," James said, stepping back into his own stance. "You're throwing all your weight behind it, hoping the sheer force crushes your target. It's a sword, Tyler. Not a heavy stick. You swing to cut. Let the edge of the metal do the work and pull it through the target. If you just hack at it, you'll leave yourself wide open exactly like you just did."

Tyler nodded slowly. He adjusted his grip, feeling the rough friction of the leather against his sweaty palms. He looked at the sharp edge of the steel, visualizing the path of the blade rather than just the impact.

"Show me," James commanded.

Tyler pushed off his back foot. Instead of raising the sword high over his head, he kept his elbows tucked and launched a horizontal strike aimed at James's ribs. He focused on the edge, pulling his wrists backward at the end of the motion to drag the blade across the air.

The steel sliced through the wind with a sharp, clean whistle. James brought the scabbard up, catching the steel. The collision sent a harsh vibration traveling down Tyler’s forearms, but his grip held firm. His footing remained planted securely in the dirt.

James pushed the blade away, his eyes narrowing slightly.

*His posture... he fixed it instantly. Just two minutes ago he was hacking blindly like a lumberjack. Now his center of gravity is firmly locked.*

James stepped to the side, maintaining his guard. "Keep your wrists tight. Do it again."

Tyler lunged forward. This time, he led with his hips, driving the momentum into his shoulder before extending his arm. He brought the blade down in a clean diagonal arc. James sidestepped and raised the scabbard to deflect, but the moment the scabbard met the metal, Tyler instantly shifted his weight. Using the recoil of the strike, he twisted his wrists, turning the blade into a rapid upward slash toward James's exposed side.

James barely managed to drop the scabbard down in time to intercept the steel. The heavy force of Tyler's rising strike pushed James's arm back a fraction of an inch.

James stepped backward, creating distance. He stared at the younger man, his pulse quickening in genuine shock.

*He transitioned from a failed downward strike into a rising cut without losing his balance. People train for months just to build that kind of muscle memory. Is this what that passive skill does?*

Tyler stood ready, the blade held steady in front of him. His chest heaved with heavy, measured breaths. The awkward, heavy weight of the weapon was already fading. The steel no longer felt like a foreign object he had to force through the air. Instead, his muscles naturally shifted to accommodate its length and balance.

"Better," James said, a low hint of respect bleeding into his voice. "Much better. Now, let's see if you can do that while you're moving backwards. Defend yourself!"

James rushed forward, whipping the heavy metal scabbard toward Tyler's head.

Tyler raised the steel horizontally, locking his wrists to shield his upper body. James drove the heavy scabbard down against the flat of the blade. The blunt force transferred straight through the metal, violently shoving Tyler backward. His boots dragged across the dirt as he stumbled.

James advanced instantly, swinging the scabbard again. The scabbard crashed against steel in rapid succession. The relentless, heavy impacts forced Tyler into a frantic retreat, his arms trembling under the strain.

James narrowed his eyes, tracking the younger man's desperate blocks.

*His strength has spiked. Even if he leveled up just three times, it's almost unnatural.*

A translucent blue panel flared into existence in Tyler's periphery.

Skill Activated: Rush

James whipped the scabbard toward Tyler's shoulder for another heavy strike. A sudden, volatile surge of heat flooded Tyler's veins. His muscles coiled tight. He planted his back foot firmly into the earth and swung his blade in a sharp, horizontal arc. The edge of the steel slammed into the scabbarb, completely deflecting the strike and knocking James's heavy scabbard wide.

James took a sharp step back, his grip tightening. He stared at the faint blue glow now radiating from Tyler's irises.

Before James could fully reset his stance, Tyler launched himself forward. His boots tore into the dirt, his speed instantly doubling. He slashed the sword upward. James twisted his torso, sidestepping the attack, but the cold tip of the steel sliced the air mere inches from his neck.

Tyler swung again, bringing the blade down, then across, then rising in a relentless flurry. James retreated, weaving his shoulders and bringing the scabbard up to deflect, but the heavy steel strikes hammered against his guard with pinpoint accuracy.

*What is happening? James thought, gritting his teeth as the impacts vibrated down his forearms. He suddenly got faster and stronger. With this much strength, he could even take down an E-Rank hunter.

Mid-swing, Tyler shifted his weight entirely. He torqued his hips, spinning his body in a rapid, full rotation. Using the brutal momentum of the turn, he launched himself into the air, clamping both hands tightly over the leather hilt.

James’s eyes stretched wide. He threw his arms up, bracing the scabbard horizontally above his head.

Tyler brought the steel crashing down. The metal collided violently with the steel. The sheer downward force of the airborne strike traveled straight through James's guard, compressing his posture. The older man’s boots broke their grip on the earth, skidding backward across the dry grass as he fought to remain upright.

Tyler gripped the leather hilt with both hands. His chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, tracing lines down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. He swallowed hard, his throat as tight and dry as dust.

"You've certainly become stronger. I'm impressed," James said.

The tension instantly drained from Tyler's shoulders. He exhaled a long breath and lowered the blade, letting the steel tip rest toward the dry grass. "Well, it's all thanks to your training."

James lunged.

Before Tyler could even twitch, the older man closed the distance. James whipped his scabbard forward, slamming it directly into the flat of Tyler's resting sword. The brutal, unexpected force ripped the hilt right out of Tyler's slick grip, sending the weapon spinning high into the air.

In the exact same fluid motion, James stepped inside Tyler's broken guard and drove an open palm directly into his abdomen.

The impact drove every ounce of air from Tyler's lungs. His eyes bulged. He folded forward, crashing hard to his knees before curling onto the dirt. Both hands flew to his stomach, a choked, wet wheeze tearing from his throat as he fought for breath.

James straightened his posture, looking down at the gasping younger man.

"In a sword fight, never let your guard down. Let that be another lesson."

He watched Tyler's shoulders tremble as he struggled to pull air back into his lungs.

*Did I hit him too hard? I thought I held back a little.*

"Come on," James said. He reached down, gripping Tyler firmly by the shoulder, and hauled him upright.

*Gotta admit, I almost took it seriously with that hit.*

James supported Tyler's weight as they walked over to the large tree. They sank onto the dirt together, the sudden drop in temperature washing over them as the canopy's deep shade blocked out the glaring sun.

James rested his arms on his knees and turned to look at his student. "Was that a skill? You got stronger and faster all of a sudden."

Tyler gave a tight nod, his right arm still pressed firmly across his aching stomach. "It's called Rush. I learned it while I was trying to utilize my mana yesterday."

James’s brow furrowed, his posture straightening against the trunk. "You learned a skill yesterday?"

Tyler nodded. "Yeah. I spread my mana throughout my body, trying to use it to fill my muscles with energy as I ran."

"That's strange," James said, rubbing his chin. "Mana doesn't usually work like that. It's a fuel source meant to power your abilities, but it doesn't just turn into physical stamina on its own. Sure, there are specific skills that can give you a boost, but they mostly burn your body's own natural reserves to push you beyond your limits. And they always come at a heavy cost."

Just as the last word left James's mouth, Tyler's breath hitched. The lingering adrenaline from the spar evaporated instantly, replaced by a hollow, leaden weight flooding his veins. His muscles locked tight. He clamped his teeth together, a violent tremble racking his entire body. His head rolled back against the rough bark of the tree, his vision blurring as he stared up into the canopy of branches.

James leaned in, dropping his hand to Tyler's arm. "What's wrong?"

"The side effects..." Tyler groaned.

The last fraction of strength drained from his limbs. He began to tip sideways, his weight sliding off the trunk toward the dirt, but James's thick arm shot out. The older man grabbed him by the shoulder, halting his fall and shifting him back until his spine rested firmly against the wood.

"Thanks," Tyler breathed out, his voice barely a ragged whisper.

James stared down at him, slowly shaking his head. "Tyler, this is incredible. You have no idea what you just did."

"What do you mean?" Tyler forced the words past his dry throat, the sentence completely devoid of energy.

"People don't just learn skills out here," James said, a heavy trace of awe bleeding into his tone. "It's almost impossible to do on your own. For you to have figured it out by accident... it's amazing."