Chương 16: Chapter 15: The Workshop and the Berserker’s Edge

Once we crossed the threshold into the living room, Frank unbuckled his tactical rig, set his sledgehammer against the wall, and headed down the hall to wash up and change into some clean clothes. Mom and Alex sat down on the couch, completely relaxed. Neither of them seemed even remotely worried about a breach on the perimeter. With Dog and Pepper out in the yard, any local looter trying to jump the fence line would be dealing with a pair of overgrown apex predators.

I pulled up a chair across from them, leaning my elbows on my knees.

"Alright, fill me in. What exactly has been going on around here? How have you two been holding up?"

"Honestly, not too bad," Alex said, leaning back against the cushions.

"Right after the sky fractured and the world flipped upside down, the System initialized me with Bramble Wall and Vine Whip. I also noticed I had incredibly high starting marks in Alchemy, and an even higher score in Herbalism. The second I crossed the threshold into Level 5, it unlocked the Druid archetype." He rubbed the back of his neck, a small smile cracking his expression.

"Before all this madness started, I wanted to go to college for botany so I could research natural cures. I took a ton of botany and a floral design class back in high school because I've always loved working with plants. I'm guessing the System just mined my real-world passions to dictate my starting toolkit."

"Makes perfect sense," I nodded, resting my chin on my hand.

"That mirrors exactly what happened to me and Frank. It seems to be a baseline rule across the board. Frank locked in the Warrior class, which fits perfectly since he's spent his entire adult life practicing martial arts and working as a commercial bouncer. By the way, can you see my class profile on your HUD? Your Intelligence score should be high enough by now if you're a primary caster type." Alex squinted at me for a beat, his brow furrowing.

"No, nothing's popping up."

"Alright, let's try an experiment," I said, leaning forward.

"I figured out a trick when I was traveling with Frank, and the System awarded me a dedicated skill for it. Look directly at me, but focus your absolute, singular intent on extracting my personal information. Hold that focus until the interface forces a notification." Alex narrowed his eyes, staring dead at my chest. For a few silent seconds, nothing changed. Then, I watched his pupils slightly de-focus—the universal indicator that a person was actively scrolling through a floating system menu.

"Holy cow, I got it!" Alex said, his face lighting up.

"I got it too," Mom piped up from the armchair, completely surprising both of us. She hadn't even realized she was channeling her focus until the interface snapped open.

"Human, Level 6, Ranger," Alex read aloud, whistling low through his teeth.

"Level 6 already, huh? Sounds like you guys had a pretty memorable hike home."

"That's an understatement," I grinned, adjusting my vest straps.

"We can break down the road tax later, though. I want to hear more about your progression. How the hell did you push all the way to Level 5 in forty-eight hours? Have you been fighting off human raiders out here?"

"Yeah, pretty much non-stop," Alex said, his expression hardening.

"We've had several groups of scavengers try to breach the property lines to pillage our food stores and hunt for firearms. I think one group even tried to lasso Pepper, but she wasn't having a single bit of it. Honestly, defending the line hasn't been overwhelmingly difficult. I just use Vine Whip to tangle their legs up and hold them in place, or I just lash them directly. The thorns on those conjured vines inflict massive damage.

Plus, I can force them to sprout from the dirt anywhere within a fifty-foot line of sight, so I don't ever have to let them close the distance." He paused, a flash of exhaustion crossing his features.

"The hardest part is the sleep deprivation. I haven't caught more than a couple hours of solid rest over the last two days because I have to manually re-summon the Bramble Wall every single hour to maintain the perimeter, and that's assuming it hasn't taken damage from local hostiles. Thankfully, the second night wasn't nearly as frantic as the first. I don't know if the local scumbags are starting to die off, or if they just migrated toward the urban center."

"What did you pick for your Level 5 milestone awards?" I asked.

"What spell and ability did you lock in?"

"I grabbed Dark Vision for the passive, and an active utility spell called Overgrowth."

"Nice choice on the vision," I said.

"I locked in the exact same one. What's the mechanics of Overgrowth?" Alex gestured vaguely toward the window.

"You saw the greenhouse out in the garden when you rolled in, right?"

"Yeah, it looked incredibly lush from the driveway."

"Well, I can expend a flat chunk of my mana pool to permanently imbue a two-foot diameter plot of soil, which is what I did with Grandma's raised planters inside the greenhouse. Or, if I have the time, I can channel my focus in unbroken four or eight-hour increments to enhance much larger plots of land. A four-hour channel covers a quarter-mile radius, and an eight-hour channel blankets a half-mile. But it requires completely uninterrupted concentration."

He smiled, a spark of genuine excitement returning to his voice.

"The spell permanently accelerates plant metabolism. Any crop resting in the imbued dirt yields twice as many fruits or vegetables per cycle. The baseline leaves and foliage sprout almost instantly, though the actual produce takes a little longer. The vegetables in the greenhouse were already established before the world broke; the magic just forced them to hyper-mature and balloon in size.

We haven't tested new seeds yet, but my math says it'll take about a month from seed to full harvest out here, which completely destroys a standard three-to-four-month seasonal agriculture cycle. You should see the strawberries we've got growing in those bins, Dad. I swear it would only take four or five of them to fill a pint jar of jam."

"Sweet," I grinned.

"Now all we need to do is scavenge some peanut crops, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are officially back on the menu."

"The absolute best part," Alex continued, "is that once the soil is successfully imbued, the mana matrix anchors to the dirt for up to a full calendar year. The only way it breaks early is if an external force physically corrupts the terrain—like a hostile casting a 'salt the earth' hex or something."

"What about utility?" I asked, shifting in my chair.

"Anything else?"

"Well, I've been using my Herbalism and Alchemy skills to brew healing poultices and tinctures for Grandma. I harvested a bunch of dandelions and Aloe Vera from the field and refined them into a major medicinal tea. I even threw in some wild lettuce for its natural pain-killing properties, and a handful of wild mint to mask the bitterness."

"It's the absolute truth," Mom agreed, nodding fervently.

"I haven't physically felt this good in a decade. The chronic pain in my lower back and hip completely vanished after the first cup, and I haven't suffered a single migraine since the power went out. Plus, just watching Alex work and helping him sort the leaves has awarded me baseline Herbalism and Alchemy skills on my own sheet. Granted, my ranks aren't anywhere near as high as his." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Alex chuckled.

"Heck yeah. Acting as the instructor actually unlocked a secondary Teaching skill on my tracker. It's sitting at Beginner 3 right now."

"Very impressive, son," I said, genuinely proud.

"I actually had to scramble to brew a crude medicinal tea out of dandelions and green pine needles while we were moving cross-country. Frank's diabetic, and his blood sugar was starting to crash hard. I picked up a Minor Heal spell on the trail, but it seems strictly coded for physical structural damage like cuts and bruises. It won't touch systemic diseases or blood chemistry. I'm guessing I'd need to unlock a high-tier Cleanse spell to patch something like that." I tapped my chin, thinking.

"What other skills did the System log for you?"

"Let's see," Alex muttered, scrolling through his mental HUD.

"I picked up some baseline combat proficiency in Hand-to-Hand. I'm assuming that pulled from the boxing and kickboxing modules we did when I was younger, not to mention all those defensive tactics and pressure-point takedowns you drilled into us growing up. And, surprise surprise, simply being your son apparently granted me automated Beginner ranks in Building, Crafting, Bow Mastery, Wilderness Survival, Axe Mastery, and even Sword Mastery.

That's definitely a direct result of all those times you dragged us out to the yard and beat us over the knuckles with your wooden training swords." I let out a sharp huff, crossing my arms defensively.

"I never beat you guys. I mean... okay, technically I did, but it was structured instruction! I didn't ' beat you' beat you." Alex just laughed, shaking his head. I turned my focus to the armchair.

"What about you, Mom? What did your status screen end up calculating?"

"Well, thank goodness, I didn't receive a single combat skill," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

"I have absolutely zero aspirations to go out into those fields and 'adventure,' as Alex calls it. I'm still safely sitting at Level 2. But the System did award me mid-Apprentice ranks in Cooking and Baking. Which makes total sense, considering I've worked in the commercial baking industry since I was seventeen years old. Shoot, I taught you how to bake and decorate cakes since you were in grade school, Derrick."

"Yeah, you definitely did," I smiled warmly.

"And you taught me how to crochet and needlepoint, too."

"The interface also granted me a Journeyman level of proficiency in Crafting," she continued.

"I've been sewing and fabricating things out of raw textiles since I was a little girl. Heavens, if we didn't manually sew our own clothes growing up in the country, we simply wouldn't have had anything to wear. Plus, you have to remember I spent nearly forty years working in industrial electronics fabrication before I finally retired." My brain instantly short-circuited. I bolted upright in my chair, my eyes wide.

"OH SNAP! I completely forgot about that! Mom, do you still have all your old trade tools and electronics hardware? The spare resistors, capacitors, transistors—all that junk?"

"Of course I do," she replied, looking at me like I was crazy.

"Every bit of it is organized out in the shop." By "shop," she meant the heavy, forty-foot steel shipping container we had dropped onto a gravel pad on the back side of the property years ago. A massive, dangerous grin spread across my face.

"That's right... the shipping container. The metal container. The exact one I made Frank attach a heavy copper grounding rod to when we leveled the pad. I'll bet every single thing inside that steel shell survived the initialization completely untouched. Even the power tools."

"Of course they work," she said smoothly.

"How do you think we've been cooking hot meals and boiling our water for the past two days? I went out there, salvaged an old heating element from a broken electric stove, and wired it directly to the deep-cycle marine battery from Frank's fishing boat, then hooked it up to a solar battery tender. I had Alex use his tools to chisel a custom groove into a concrete paving stone to act as an insulated base. Works like an absolute charm." I stared at her, completely blown away.

"Mom, you are a literal genius. I knew I inherited my engineering brain from somewhere."

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't from your father," she quipped without missing a beat.

"With your workspace and raw components, we might actually be able to swap out blown capacitors and fix some of our fried household electronics," I said, the long-term survival strategy clicking into place.

"You don't even need a complex schematic or blueprint, right? If you had the burned-out module right in your hand?"

"Nope," she shrugged.

"As long as the component isn't melted into a puddle of slag, I can just copy the trace lines and structural layout by eye, assuming I can identify the model numbers on the housing."

"Perfect," I said, slamming my fist into my palm.

"We are definitely keeping that project on the back burner for now. Ha! Get it? Back burner. Because you literally fabricated a cooking burner." I busted out laughing at my own joke. Alex slowly dragged his hands down his face, rolling his eyes back so far I thought they'd disappear.

"Wow, Dad. Exceptional dad joke. Truly top-tier."

"Hey, the world might be ending, but the humor stays intact," I chuckled, leaning back.

"But seriously, that's a massive asset for us. We'll deep-dive into the electronics once we establish a permanent, week-one survival protocol for the family." Just then, the hallway door clicked open, and Frank walked back into the living room. He had washed off the highway dust and changed into a set of loose, incredibly comfortable-looking sweatpants and an old t-shirt. I looked up at his choice of attire.

"Are you officially turning in for the night, Frank?"

"Damn right I am," Frank barked, throwing his hands up.

"We've been marching through marshes and dodging snipers for two straight days, and neither of us has closed our eyes in over twenty-four hours. My internal battery is at zero."

"I don't blame you at all," I said, standing up from my chair.

"I'm heading back out to the truck in a minute to drive back to Chad's place and get some rack time myself. Alex," I turned, looking my son in the eye.

"I want you to stay pinned to this location with Frank and your grandma. Are you comfortable holding down the fort here?"

"Absolutely, Dad," Alex nodded, his tone turning serious.

"The wall is locked down, and Pepper has the perimeter covered."

"Okay, perfect," I said.

"Frank has his comms handset and the charging cradle, so he can dial us into the net anytime. If a crisis hits or you see a threat you can't handle, hit the push-to-talk and I'll bring the truck back hot. I'm leaving the black Ford van parked in the driveway with Frank so you guys have a reliable, heavy-duty logistical asset if you need to evacuate or relocate. That's why I brought Chad's old square-body truck with me. Is that play okay with you?"

"Definitely," Alex grinned, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"You worry way too much, Dad."

"Damn right I do," I laughed.

"It's my literal job description." I turned toward the corner table to gather up my broadsword and pack, but my eyes caught a glimpse of something resting on top of the entertainment center—an ornate traditional Katana resting securely in its lacquered scabbard on a wooden display stand.

"Oh, that reminds me," I said, a thought striking me. I grabbed my family broadsword and extended the hilt toward my son.

"Now that you've got the Inspect skill unlocked on your HUD, take a look at this hardware." Alex accepted the heavy broadsword, focusing his intent on the steel. Within two seconds, his eyes bulged out of his head, his jaw completely dropping.

"Holy crap..." Alex whispered, his fingers trembling slightly against the leather wrap.

"Dad, this blade is listed as Exquisite quality. And it's a named weapon—it literally has our family name stamped onto the System properties! Damn, look at those slashing and piercing damage modifiers... and these traits are insane. This is the custom display sword Mike gave you after he finished basic training, right?"

"The exact one," I smiled proudly.

"How on earth did a totally mundane, unsharpened wall-hanger translate into an absolute engine of destruction like this?" Alex asked, staring at the polished steel in amazement.

"Who knows, son. Honestly, how does any of this System Fuckery work? I guess the System was just incredibly good to me when it ran the calculations on my inventory." I turned my head toward the couch.

"Hey Frank, do you mind if I pull your katana off the stand and run a quick diagnostic sweep on it? I want to see if the System upgraded your hardware, too. Oh, by the way, once you wake up tomorrow, these two can coach you on how to force the Inspect skill to unlock on your screen."

"Yeah, go right ahead," Frank grunted from the recliner, yawning heavily. I stepped over to his entertainment center, pulled his personal Katana from its tactical scabbard, and drew the steel a few inches, actively channeling my focus to trigger the prompt: [You have found: Katana Blade of the Berserker. Material: Steel. Rarity: Uncommon. Quality: Fine. Damage: 30 Slashing, 30 Piercing. Traits: Sharpened.] A massive, dangerous grin split my face, and I slid the steel back into the throat of the scabbard with a crisp, mechanical snap.

"Hot damn, Frank. This blade packs some incredibly solid damage numbers, and the System flagged it as a named weapon, too. Want to guess what your title is?" Frank looked up at me, a knowing, tired shake of his head accompanied by a smirk.

"Sure, Derrick. Let's hear it. What did the computer call me?" I held the weapon up proudly.

"It's officially registered as The Katana Blade of the Berserker."