Absolute Craft-Chapter 63: An Abandoned Village (3)

Chapter 63: An Abandoned Village (3)

If Eru were to share the story of this expedition with her friends in college, no one would believe her. She met a player who had both a pet and a familiar—each so distinctive that encountering them in a tutorial zone felt like cheating. She also saw a swordsman bullying zombies to an absurd degree. Off in the distance, an odd man surveyed the village with a mysterious air.

Meanwhile, Eru found herself in dire straits.

Determined not to lose to the man who had provoked her, Eru decided to join his training and spar with Superbia’s familiar—Beatrix.

Both Eru and Joel lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for air. Beatrix towered over them with a general-like glare, ordering them to stand up and not waste her time.

Joel bellowed, "YES, MA’AM!"

He forced his aching muscles and waning stamina to their limits, rising to his feet. Eru did the same. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Kyria was no longer staring off into the distance; he had started walking toward Blake. That flicker of curiosity earned her a swift smack from Beatrix’s spear.

-

Thunder echoed across the village.

Kyria appeared beside Sol and aimed a kick at him. Blake reacted on instinct, unsheathing his katana to deflect the blow. Stopping just shy of the blade, Kyria spun around and slammed his heel into Blake’s mask. The sheer force—and perfect momentum—sent Blake flying into a dark alley.

Confused, Sol sized up Kyria, unable to fathom the man’s motives. Sol spat a burst of flames, but Kyria dodged like a lightning beast, leaving Sol’s attack to sail harmlessly by.

Then, a powerful aura descended.

It felt familiar and electrifying, stirring Kyria’s thoughts of truly battling Blake. Still, he focused on dodging this single strike. When Blake emerged from the alley with a Prideful Step, slashing at Kyria, the man raised his hands as though held at gunpoint.

Blake stopped in front of him, blade at Kyria’s neck, radiating demonic menace. "What are you doing?"

Kyria harrumphed. "Interrupting you."

"Why?" Blake growled.

"For someone who told me how to recruit people, you sure are disappointing at handling your familiars," Kyria snapped, turning away to avoid meeting Blake’s gaze. "What’s your pain adjustment?"

"No changes," Blake replied. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Players could adjust their pain sensors for a less intense experience, but serious ones found no point in lowering them. Pain was a vital signal—seasoned fighters used it well.

"No pain, no gain," Kyria said. "Act like a man in front of your familiar, or neither of you will grow—then you’ll fall short in the future."

For a moment, Blake understood Kyria’s point. Yet when he glanced at Sol, his heart softened. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting Sol fight alone until his dragon husk cracked. Even with his expression hidden by armor, his hesitation was plain.

He couldn’t bring himself to train his pet properly.

"Trash," Kyria muttered, walking away.

The word stung Sol. Blake had once called Silver Dash and his friends "trash" for their inability to meet his standards or grasp his skills. Sol refused to let anyone label Blake that way. If they did, he would fight them and force an apology, just as Wolfang had apologized to Joel. Since Sol couldn’t speak, he’d use his flames to communicate!

That was what he’d learned from Blake—adapt to any situation.

Squirming in Blake’s arms, Sol demanded freedom. Blake assumed he wanted to harass some zombies, but to his surprise, Sol rocketed toward Kyria!

It was reckless—Sol knew how strong Kyria was. Worse, Blake couldn’t stop him.

Sol activated his newly acquired skill, darting forward. Kyria closed the gap and smacked his palm against Sol’s muzzle, knocking him back. Sol hit the ground hard, rolling until he finally stopped.

He flailed for a moment, then rose onto all fours. Cracks lined his dragon husk, bits flaking off like broken cement. Yet his eyes glowed with renewed intensity—no more starry innocence. Instead, they had a feral look, akin to a real dragon’s. Within those narrow pupils, white flames churned, daring anyone to stare into that searing blaze.

His existence synced even more with the spirit of the stone dragon husk Blake had crafted. Sol himself didn’t comprehend what that meant.

What did it mean to be a dragon? What did it mean to be the Sun?

He didn’t linger on such questions. Rage simmered within him, aimed squarely at Kyria, driving him to prove Blake’s worth. Parting his jaws, Sol spat out a wave of white flames, condensing it into a small sphere edged with swirling red embers. In the darkness, it looked like a tiny Sun, an omen of apocalypse.

But the power overwhelmed Sol, and he sneezed, sending the ball of white fire plummeting to the ground.

The entire zone shook as a white column of flames erupted skyward, consuming a small apple and blazing into a second Sun in this dim realm.

When the flames receded, Sol remained on all fours, his eyes half-lidded. Kyria approached and crouched beside him, placing a hand on the dragon’s head—but quickly pulled away from the intense heat.

He smirked. "You’ve got some fight in you, little guy."

Sol nodded, turned to Blake—wanting to share his feelings—and dozed off.

Blake smiled softly. "Yeah, it’s too soon for me to act like an overprotective dad—and you don’t need that anyway, Sol."

In a strange turn of events, Blake realized how he appeared to everyone except Sol. He truly was an overprotective father who, if he kept this up, might turn his son into a real coward. This revelation felt odd, given that Blake was never good at reading moods or dealing with matters outside his comfort zone—battles.

He looked up while Sol curled up on his lap.

Here, Kyria stood still. His expression was hard to decipher since only his eyes were visible. Within those red hues, Blake could see happiness, pride, and something daring shining through.

True, only Sol had "manned up," just as Kyria had said.

A new challenge appeared.