Chronicles Of The Crafting Hero [REMASTERED]

As Tyler slept, he felt the slight warmth of sunlight hit against his bare skin. Behind his closed eyelids, he could only see a bright red hue. The light forced him to rapidly blink his eyes open. He groaned, putting a hand over his face as he woke up.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position and stretched his arms. He looked toward the window, then down at the floor. The curtain had completely fallen to the floorboards.

"How did that happen?" he muttered, his voice still groggy. He then gasped as a sudden realization hit him.

"Shit! James told me to meet him early this morning."

Tyler immediately sprang out of the bed. His boots materialized onto his feet before they even touched the ground, and his shirt materialized as he quickly walked out of the room. He moved down the hallway and into the lounge area, where he saw the innkeeper sitting behind his reception counter.

"Good morning, sir," the innkeeper called out.

"Morning," Tyler responded, showing no signs of slowing down.

He exited the inn, and the morning sun poured down over him. He squinted against the bright light, holding up a hand to shield his eyes. He blinked hard, and as his vision cleared, he was surprised to see that the street was incredibly clean. The houses were decorated with flowers, and a crowd of people already filled the streets, passing by in every direction.

"Whoa..." he exhaled in awe.

The place felt entirely different from before. He stepped off the curb, joining the river of people moving along the road.

*It's so crowded. I could've sworn there weren't this many people in Veridia.*

Tyler picked up the pace as he headed toward James's house.

*Why'd I have to wake up late?* he thought, his walking speed increasing even more until he eventually reached the property.

He saw that James's house was clean, too. It was always well-kept, but today it was even cleaner than usual. There were flower decorations set up, similar to the ones all over the main streets. The flowers here were yellow, almost golden, and absolutely beautiful. They looked fresher and larger, blooming more vibrantly than the flowers he had seen on the other houses.

He opened the small gate, stepping into the yard, and knocked on the front door. He heard footsteps approaching before the door creaked open, revealing Lisa. She had tied her black hair back into a neat ponytail. She was wearing a beautiful yellow and cream-white dress with golden-yellow edges. She looked even more beautiful than usual.

"Oh, Tyler. Come in."

"Good morning," Tyler said.

"Morning."

Tyler stepped inside. The interior of the house was spotless. Near a wooden stool, he saw Heather. She was pressing her hands against the seat, groaning slightly as she tried to pull herself up to stand. She was barefoot, but she wore the exact same dress design as her mother.

"Heather, don't do that, you might fall," Lisa said quickly. She immediately went over to her daughter, lifting her up and setting her safely back down on the floor.

Lisa left Heather to play and moved toward the kitchen. A distinct aroma drifted from the room, smelling a bit sour and sweet to Tyler's nose.

"I'm sorry to tell you this," Lisa called out, "but if you're here for James, he left already."

"He left?" Tyler said, completely surprised.

"Yes, he left for the town square to help prepare for the feast that's happening later this afternoon," Lisa said.

"A feast?"

"Yes." Lisa crouched down, briefly disappearing from Tyler's line of sight behind the kitchen counter. A moment later, she stood up straight again, holding a heavy ceramic bowl piled high with golden-brown buns. Thick, sweet-smelling steam wafted off the freshly baked bread, filling the room with a warm, comforting aroma.

Tyler blinked in mild surprise. Lisa didn’t seem bothered by the intense heat, even though her bare hands were directly gripping a bowl that had clearly just been pulled from a blazing oven—though Tyler couldn't actually see the oven from where he stood.

"Oh. I guess I'll just meet him there, then," Tyler said.

"You know where the town square is, right?" Lisa asked, setting the heavy bowl down on the wooden counter.

"Of course," Tyler answered.

But out of the corner of his eye, Tyler caught a sudden movement. Little Heather was trying to scale the tall wooden stool again. She was already halfway up, her legs dangling precariously over the floorboards. She grunted softly, her tiny elbows rubbing awkwardly against the smooth base of the stool as she struggled to pull her body weight up. Suddenly, her grip slipped. Her balance completely gave out, and she began to fall backward.

Tyler's breath hitched. His heightened Agility kicked in before he even consciously decided to move. In an absolute blur of motion, the air rushing past his ears, he crossed the room and caught Heather inches before her head could strike the hard floor.

Heather had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, bracing for the impact.

"Hey, I got you," Tyler muttered softly.

But suddenly, his breath hitched again, this time catching in his throat as a sharp, searing pain flared across his skin. He wheezed, hurriedly setting Heather down onto her feet on the floorboards.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice tight. The sudden, intense pain felt exactly like a rough, red-hot iron rod had just been pressed directly into his flesh.

He looked down at his forearm. There, burned starkly into his skin, was the raw red imprint of Heather's small hand.

Tyler's eyes widened in disbelief as he looked back down at the toddler. For a split second, Heather's small, chubby hands were glowing a faint, pulsing red, like deeply stoked embers burning from the inside out. As quickly as the glow appeared, it vanished. Heather suddenly slapped her hands over her eyes and began to cry, her loud wails echoing in the quiet house.

"Oh, what happened?" Lisa asked sharply, dropping one last bun into a woven wooden basket.

"She almost fell down, but I caught her," Tyler explained, his voice still shaken.

Lisa immediately hurried out of the kitchen, sweeping Heather up into her arms. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. Don't cry," she cooed, gently bouncing the toddler to calm her down.

Tyler stood frozen, staring at the fading red welt on his arm. *How the hell did she do that?* he thought.

Driven by a sudden, overwhelming surge of curiosity, Tyler focused his mind. He mentally commanded the system to analyze the child. A blue panel seamlessly materialized in his mind's eye, hovering directly over Heather's head.

Tyler exhaled sharply, his breath trembling. The crisp text read:

[HEATHER - LVL: 60]

"How is this possible...?" Tyler whispered.

"What is it?" Lisa asked, turning her attention back to Tyler. Her gaze dropped, and she saw the raw, red handprint branded into Tyler's forearm. Her eyes widened dramatically, all the color draining from her face.

"Lisa," Tyler said, his voice dropping to a serious, urgent whisper. "Heather... Heather's a C-Rank."

Lisa froze completely, stiffening like a statue. Even Heather stopped crying, sniffing quietly into her mother's shoulder.

"What are you saying?" Lisa demanded. Her voice had dropped its usual warm, motherly tone, replacing it with a cold, serious edge that Tyler had never heard from her before.

"I'm saying... your daughter. Her level—"

"How would you know that?" Lisa interrupted sharply. "How can a child's level be that of a C-Rank? You sound ridiculous." She quickly turned her body away, angling her back toward Tyler and retreating a half-step into the kitchen. Over her mother's shoulder, Heather stared silently at Tyler with wide, brown eyes.

Tyler frowned, scanning the room. His sharp eyes locked onto a metal spoon resting inside a partially open kitchen drawer. The thick metal handle was completely warped and bent, looking as though it had been subjected to flash-melting heat.

A memory clicked into place. He remembered the night Heather had dropped a spoon at the dinner table. Lisa had practically lunged to pick it up, immediately whisking Heather away to her bedroom. It had felt so abrupt and strange at the time.

But now, looking at the heat-warped metal, he knew exactly why.

Lisa followed his gaze. She saw the ruined spoon, and her breath hitched audibly in her throat. She quickly slid the kitchen drawer shut, hiding the evidence.

"You came here looking for James, right?" she asked, her voice tight, trembling with a sudden, defensive anger. "I already told you exactly where he is. So why are you still here?"

Tyler held her defensive glare for a long second. "Right. I'm leaving."

He turned and opened the wooden front door. Before stepping out into the bright sunlight, he glanced back one last time. Lisa was standing completely rigid, frowning deeply, her eyes locked onto the kitchen drawer. Quietly, Tyler pulled the door shut behind him.

The moment the latch clicked into place, Lisa exhaled a heavy, shaking breath she didn't even realize she had been holding. She leaned heavily against the counter, her chest heaving as she stared at the closed drawer.

"No," she whispered.

She gently set Heather back down onto the floorboards.

"How could I forget to throw that away? What have I done?" she muttered, pressing a trembling hand tightly against her mouth as a wave of dread washed over her. She looked down at her daughter.

"Mama," Heather cooed softly. The little girl toddled forward, wrapping her tiny arms around Lisa's leg, looking up at her with big, innocent brown eyes.

*How did he know this?* Lisa thought, panic clawing at her chest. *I didn't even know she had grown this much. Could she really be a C-Rank?*

Meanwhile, outside in the bright, bustling street, Tyler walked aimlessly, deeply lost in thought. He was completely perplexed by the heavy scene he had just witnessed. He rubbed his thumb lightly against the raised, tender skin of the handprint on his forearm.

A level sixty toddler. A baby with stats rivaling seasoned hunters.

What had just happened completely contradicted everything James had taught him about this world, its rules, and everything he thought he had come to know.