Cozy Isekai Craftsman, chapter 20

As Rick slowly bent down, his taut muscles groaned in protest, like an old wooden floor under a heavy weight. With each stretch, his fingers reached for his toes, testing the limits of his body's flexibility. Despite the pain, he led the morning exercise drills for the guards, his body a testament to his determination.

Years ago, Rick sustained an injury that still caused his shoulders and arms to stiffen, a constant annoyance that he had grown accustomed to. But even with this hindrance, he persisted. This morning, he took it easy on the guards, only making them do mild exercises for an hour. The drills weren't meant to be intense, only to warm up their bodies for the day ahead.

Upon his return from the war, Rick remained steadfast in his commitment to maintaining his physical prowess. Although the guards at Lockwood seldom required combat skills, the stillness of their posts could cause one's muscles to atrophy.

Rick refused to allow such stagnation to overcome him. He believed it was wiser to be prepared for any situation than to regret having neglected his physical fitness. In moments of crisis, every second counted, and a well-conditioned body could mean the difference between life and death.

As the group of guards finished their morning exercises, Rick led them with precision and purpose. He observed their movements, ensuring they were in perfect synchronization before watching them disperse to their respective posts. As they left, Rick ascended a guard tower, where David awaited him. The morning sun beat down upon Rick's skin as he climbed each step, feeling the warmth seep into his bones.

David stood sentinel with a bow clutched in his hand, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon with a practiced ease. Rick knew David was the most skilled marksman of the morning shift, and he marveled at how he wielded his weapon. Approaching him, David rubbed shoulders with Rick, his body radiating heat.

"You seem to be a little lost in thought," David said, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

Rick admitted. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was just thinking of something."

David raised an eyebrow, still scanning the horizon. "Care to share it?"

Rick lifted his wrist and pulled down his armor to reveal a multicolored lanyard that his kids had woven for him. The sun caught the colors, and they shimmered.

"They gathered the string by asking for favors around the town," Rick said, a bit of pride in his voice, "and even had Emily the blacksmith teach them how to make the loops and everything."

David leaned closer to get a good look. "Your kids are really smart."

Rick grinned. "They certainly don't inherit it from me," he stated plainly.

David threw his head back in laughter, the sound echoing in the narrow corridor. "That's one thing we can both agree on.”

Then Dave’s expression turned serious. "I'm thinking of heading to the warfront in a few months," he declared.

Rick blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. "You can't be serious," he replied, a note of disbelief creeping into his voice. "I told you about my time there."

David's expression darkened, his lips forming a deep frown. "You never shared the real stories," he retorted, his tone growing defensive. "All I hear are tales of glory, of people slaying demons from merchants passing through. We're protecting our country, Rick. This is the invasion you fought. I can't let you have all the glory."

Rick had been anticipating this conversation for a long time. David, barely past his twenty-first birthday, had been one of the farmer's sons. He had undergone the rigorous guard training program for a few years before being officially inducted. He had always talked about leaving Lockwood and joining the war front or even moving to a bigger city.

Carefully selecting his words, Rick spoke. "Are you seeking fortune or is there something else you're looking for?" he asked pointedly.

David pondered the question for a moment before responding, his voice tinged with conviction. "I want to do something important. I've spent my entire life in Lockwood, and I refuse to die here without ever having seen the world," he stated resolutely.

Rick felt the urge to dismiss David's aspirations, to warn him of the dangers that awaited him beyond the city walls. The world was a treacherous place, fraught with peril and teeming with creatures that could rip a man limb from limb with ease.

But then Rick reconsidered. He had been in David's shoes once, not too long ago. He had been young and idealistic, craving adventure and yearning to make a difference. He needed to find a way to connect with David on an emotional level, to validate his desires and make him feel understood.

"You feel trapped here, like your life is meaningless unless you do something extraordinary," Rick began, carefully choosing his words. One of the most important lessons he learned from years of being married to Caroline, was that people didn’t care about facts and logic if their emotions were ignored. So, he chose first to listen, and to validate David’s feelings.

David's gaze bore into him, surprise flickering in his eyes. "That's exactly it," he replied tentatively, as if relieved that someone finally understood him.

Rick exhaled slowly, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I was once like you, eager to make a name for myself and seeking purpose beyond these walls," he admitted. He fell silent then, letting the weight of his words sink in.

David remained quiet for a moment, his expression pensive. Rick waited, allowing him to process his thoughts. He sensed that there was more to be said, but he didn't want to push too hard. He would let David guide the conversation from here on out.

David said, “The villagers and guards talk about your time in the war. A few of them saw your battles. You had the strength of ten men, and could wield a giant sword that ripped through demons as easily as fire through paper. You saved lives and took on five demons at once.”.

At first, Rick wanted to laugh it off, to make it seem like it was no big deal. But he knew that would be false humility. David needed to hear the truth. So, with a deep breath, Rick opened up and spoke honestly about his experiences.

"Yes," Rick said. "I was a hero. I killed many demons, just like my comrades did."

For a moment, Rick was surprised at how easily the words came out. As a veteran, he rarely talked about his time on the warfront. But something about David's admiration and respect made Rick feel comfortable enough to share.

David looked at Rick with wide eyes, clearly in awe of the man standing before him. For a moment, there was silence between them. Then David asked, "Are you okay talking about it now?"

"Yes," Rick said, finally. "I think I am."

Rick's mind drifted back to his younger years, to a time when he was about the same age as David. He had been in love with Caroline, a girl he had known his whole life. When they got married, Rick felt a newfound sense of purpose, a desire to protect his wife and prove himself as a worthy man.

"It was different from your situation," Rick said, his voice low and thoughtful. "But the feeling was the same. I wanted to do something with my life that was worthy of Caroline."

But Rick's expectations were shattered when he went to the warfront. He had fought in many battles, seen countless horrors, and made friends who died too soon. The scars on his body were proof of the dangers he had faced, but it was the scars on his mind that weighed him down the most.

"There are scars on my body that you haven't seen," Rick said, his voice growing heavy. "Scars that will make you think they should have killed me. And then there are the scars you don't see."

"Why did you stop?" David asked. "Was it because of all the horrors you saw in the war? Was it too much for you?"

Rick's head shook slowly as he spoke, his voice tinged with regret. "My job, I excelled at it. But as the sun set and the world grew hushed, my thoughts were always with Caroline. The one I left behind."

David leapt to Rick's defense. "You went to war to protect her, and to defend this land against the invaders."

Rick nodded, acknowledging the truth in David's words. "Yes, that's true. And it's something I'm proud of. But there came a moment when I realized that if I died out there, I would have been of no use to my wife."

Silence hung between the two men for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Then David ventured a question. "What do you mean?"

Rick looked out over the horizon, his gaze distant. "Honor, glory, wealth. Those things are all well and good. I chased them myself for a while. But in the end, what matters most to me is being useful to those I care about. That's how I want to live my life."

He paused, reflecting on his time at war. "When I lay wounded in those filthy trenches, I had an epiphany. I knew I had to retire to Lockwood, where I could be of use to Caroline. And when we had children, I felt even more fulfilled, knowing I was making a difference in their lives."

Rick looked back at David, his eyes alight with conviction. "I don't believe in trying to find one's purpose. We just have to create our own."

A hush fell over the group, broken only by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. The guards from below strode up to them, flanked by an old farmer who clutched his hat in his gnarled hands, a look of concern etched on his weathered face. Rick spoke up, his voice low and commanding. "What's the matter?"

The guard's face was grim as he spoke. "This one claims there's trouble at the dungeon. Multiple bodies were found outside the cave."

David shot Rick a nervous glance. "There are no monsters in the vicinity, and all the creatures inside the dungeon are known to stay within its walls." Rick nodded, acknowledging the truth of David's words.

But the fact that the young guard felt the need to state the obvious only served to underscore his unease. Turning to the guard, Rick issued his orders. "Send word to Sheriff Lucas and the auxiliary guards. The reserve guards will take our places. The Sheriff will join us at the dungeon. David and I will head to the dungeon and assess the situation." The guard saluted smartly and set off to do his bidding.

Turning to the farmer, Rick thanked him for his information. "For now, return to your field closest to the dungeon," he advised. "It's a sizeable plot, and if there are any monsters in the area, they're unlikely to wander past your borders."

The farmer nodded, but hesitated before leaving. "I saw the bodies," he murmured. "It didn't look like a monster did it. The wounds were made by weapons."

Rick's jaw tightened at the thought. If the killer was human, then the situation was even more dangerous than he had initially thought. It was time to investigate.

–

Rick and David approached the dungeon.

Their walk had taken them only half an hour, but the weight of their mission made every step feel longer. They decided against running, unwilling to raise any alarm among the other farmers who might be watching. In a small town like this, panic could spread like wildfire, and the last thing they wanted was to cause a commotion.

Rick knew from experience that mass hysteria could only lead to confusion and chaos. His own wife's anger had taught him that lesson well, as he recalled how she had flown into a rage on two or three occasions throughout their long lives together. In such moments, he had learned to remain as calm as possible.

As Rick and David arrived at the small cave that served as the dungeon entrance, a rush of fear flooded Rick's veins. But he refused to show any weakness in front of David, the younger guard. With a steady hand, he scanned the area. The sight that met his eyes was gruesome: three lifeless bodies lay on the ground, their blood staining the grass and soil beneath them.

A sign next to the entrance warned visitors to enter at their own risk, a stark reminder of the peril that awaited inside. Adventurers had to pass rigorous tests and obtain a license before attempting to enter dungeons, which were notorious for their deadly traps and ferocious monsters. Rick had never been in one himself, only hearing stories of their treacherous nature.

The fact that three skilled adventurers had met their demise here was cause for alarm. Only the most seasoned and intelligent warriors were allowed to enter dungeons, but something had clearly gone awry. David stood next to Rick, his bow at the ready as he surveyed their surroundings. He breathed in sharply and asked the question on both their minds: "What caused this?"

Rick raised a hand, gesturing for David to stay alert. They were here to investigate, to uncover the truth behind this tragedy. The slightest misstep could mean their own demise. "Keep a lookout," he instructed David. "We need to figure this out."

"Understood," Rick acknowledged as David replied in agreement.

Rick carefully stepped around the lifeless bodies, wary of any sudden movement. His experience on the battlefield had taught him the importance of caution, as even the gravely wounded could suddenly turn on their would-be rescuers. He kept a safe distance, taking in the gruesome sight before him. The amount of blood was staggering, leaving no doubt that the three bodies were beyond help.

David's voice cut through the silence, his eyes still scanning the surrounding area. "The wounds on these bodies could not have been caused by weapons, claws, or bites," he stated matter-of-factly.

Rick nodded, his expression serious. "There's never been a single recorded instance of monsters leaving the dungeon. According to the sorceress, Grace, they're not really individual creatures, but parts of the dungeon itself."

David's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "I don't get it," he said. Rick shrugged, scanning the area for any clues with his basic knowledge of tracking. The ground was imprinted with several boot steps, and one of them led away from the clearing in front of the dungeon. Rick followed the trail cautiously, his hand gripping the scabbard of his sword.

As he approached a nearby tree, he spotted a man in his mid-twenties with brown hair, his face and body splattered with blood. The man clutched his stomach, and Rick winced at the sight of the wound. Stomach wounds were the worst, hard to heal without a priest, and often grew infected.

The man's shoulders heaved erratically, and Rick spoke up in a hushed voice. "Hey, I don't mean any harm. I'm Rick, a local guard from Lockwood."

The adventurer, sitting on the ground and leaning against the tree, turned his head to look at Rick. His face was drained of color, and he seemed both exhausted and terrified. He breathed rapidly, unlike someone recovering after a fight.

Rick's suspicion grew. "What's your name?" he asked.

The adventurer groaned and winced, his eyes darting back and forth as if struggling to see Rick. It didn't make sense for an adventurer not to have good eyesight, and Rick grew even more cautious.

Rick's heart raced as the adventurer's eyes continued to dart around wildly. "Tell me what happened," he urged. The adventurer's words were garbled, as if he was speaking with his mouth full. Rector couldn't make sense of them, and the situation was growing increasingly unsettling.

Suddenly, the adventurer's body convulsed, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream. Rick jumped back, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. The adventurer's screams continued, and Rick realized with horror that the man's body was contorting in unnatural ways. It was like he was possessed by some malevolent force.

Rick's instincts screamed danger as he scanned his surroundings. A sharp creaking noise filled the air, like the strained groan of a tree under pressure. The adventurer's silhouette under the canopy of trees loomed larger, growing steadily as if reaching out to engulf them. Rick unsheathed his sword while David readied his bow, both on high alert.

"Did you find the killer?" David's voice rang out.

"We need to go, now," Rick answered truthfully, his heart racing.

"But if it's him, we should take him out," David countered.

Rick's grip tightened on David's collar as he barked, "I'm ordering you to leave, now!"

Suddenly, the tree the adventurer was leaning on snapped in two and began to topple over.

Rick's eyes widened, and he shoved David back just in time as a massive hand pounded into the ground where David had stood a moment ago.

The hand crashed into Rick, but he raised his sword in a defensive stance and leapt back, bracing for the impact. The force of the blow sent tremors through his muscles and bones, and he struggled to keep his balance.

With a quick leap, Rick regained his footing, adopting a high guard stance as if facing a charging beast or colossal monster. His movements were simple but efficient, lacking the paladin strength, agility, and heightened senses bestowed by the god Ezekiel.

With a sigh of relief, Rick confirmed that David had escaped unharmed. After pushing him out of harm's way, Rick had turned his attention to the monstrous creature that loomed over them, a towering mass of half-monster and half-man. The adventurer's armor lay scattered on the ground, torn apart by the creature's brute strength. Its eyes were deep, unyielding pools of midnight black, and its teeth gleamed with razor-sharp edges.

Without hesitation, David loosed an arrow at the beast, but it merely turned its attention towards him, bellowing a fierce roar.

Rick sprang into action, using the distraction to close the gap between him and David, pulling the young guard away from the creature's raging fists. In that brief half-second, their eyes met, and Rick knew what he had to do.

He delivered a sharp slap to David's face, his voice calm but commanding as he said, "Run, now."

In that moment, the confidence of his former days as a paladin surged back into him.

Finally, David seemed to heed his words, turning and sprinting towards Lockwood. The young guard sprinted away from the monster, toward Lockwood.

But the monster leaped in the air, blocking David’s path. It slammed an open palm at the archer. He was too slow and inexperienced. David’s body tumbled to the ground.

Rick ran to the young guard. David’s bow was broken, but he seemed to be alive. His armor was bent. Rick lifted him up. He commanded, “Go left. I’ll distract it.”

There was iron in his voice. David simply nodded and ran according to Rick’s order. The monster tried to block his way again, but Rick unleashed a flurry of attacks that made the creature stagger.

Rick did not let up until he saw David far enough away.

The monster's massive claw slashed towards Rick, and he ducked and rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike. Despite his best efforts, Rick could feel his strength waning. He gasped for breath, his lungs burning with exertion.

The monster's eyes glinted with a feral intelligence, as if it were calculating its next move. With lightning speed, it lunged towards Rick, its massive paw almost tearing him in two.

With a roar, the monster charged towards him again. It was too fast to dodge.

Rick braced himself for the impact, his heart pounding in his chest. In that split second, he caught a glint of light reflecting off the lanyard on his wrist. It was a simple thing, a gift from his children, but in that moment it felt like a lifeline.

Instinctively, Rick twisted his body to protect the lanyard, even as the monster's claws ripped through his arm. He felt the bones snap and splinter, sending a searing pain through his body. But even as he staggered backwards, he knew that he had to keep fighting.

Through a haze of pain and confusion, Rick forced himself to his feet. His sword arm hung useless at his side, but he still had his wits about him. With a fierce determination, he faced down the monster, his eyes blazing with defiance. He knew that he might not make it out of this fight alive, but he refused to go down without a fight.

Rick felt a presence fill his body, a surge of adrenaline that awakened every fiber of his being. He saw a vision that seemed to last an eternity: the dream of war and glory on the battlefield. In the vision, his breath was hot but not heavy, his footsteps light.

Ezekial called to him again, promising him renewed strength and martial might if he took up the mantle of the paladin once more and pledged his life to the god.

But Rick saw the lanyard on his wrist and shook his head, dispelling the vision. The monster loomed over him, casting a cold, wide shadow that chilled him to the bone. Rick knew he was dead.

Suddenly, something like quicksilver flashed behind the monster. The creature whipped around with inhuman speed. Then came the sounds of the clashes of steel and claws, and Rick's vision began to fade.

Rick's ears pricked up at the sound of a thunderous crash. It was the noise of a colossal tree falling over. But as he opened his eyes, he realized it wasn't a tree at all; it was the monster.

He blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his vision, and what he saw was astounding. The gargantuan bear-like monster lay motionless, defeated, and its outline began to dissolve into nothingness, resembling a body burning on a funeral pyre. Rick collapsed to his knees, awestruck, as the monster's remains turned into a pile of ash and a single black crystal.

A boot heel pounded the crystal.

The owner of the boot was Lucas, the sheriff, who held a gleaming saber in his hand. Though he looked grim, Lucas appeared confident and composed. David was standing behind him.

"Take him back to the village. I need to investigate the dungeon," ordered Lucas, his voice stern.

Rick sighed in relief at the sight of Lucas. If anyone could handle the situation, it was him. He wanted to thank his friend for saving his life, but he lacked the strength. Overwhelmed, he let himself succumb to the darkness.

The next moment, Rick found himself half-walking and half-stumbling, with David holding him up by his good arm. They were close to the village when David yelled, "Doctor, and hurry!" He could hear David mentioning his wife, Caroline, and something about a tavern.

Rick struggled to speak but managed to gasp out, "No tavern. Joe, take me to Joseph Johnson."

–

Joe gazed at the calendar, realizing he only had one week left until the grand reveal on July first. With a sense of urgency, he hurried to the backyard to continue his laborious work.

The sun beat down on his skin as he knelt down in the dirt, meticulously placing small bricks side by side in a shallow ditch that he had painstakingly dug himself just a few days earlier. His fingers were rough and calloused from the repetitive motion, but he refused to let up until the task was complete.

With a sense of satisfaction, Joe stepped back and admired the intricate pattern of bricks that he had meticulously laid in the shallow ditch. His hands traced the smooth surface, relishing the sensation of rough texture against his fingertips. He couldn't wait for his friends to see the finished product, to marvel at his hard work and dedication.

As he stood there, lost in thought, he heard a tiny voice emanating from the locket hanging around his neck. It was Thomas, the Patriarch of the mansion, who peered out from inside the small locket.

"I see it," Thomas exclaimed excitedly. "We're making a patio. When I first moved out here, we had a sprawling, acre-sized patio that was the envy of the neighborhood. But over time, more people moved in, and I realized that we needed to be more considerate of our neighbors. So, I decided to reduce our control of the land and give others some space."

Joe asked, "It must have been tough, trying to start a new town with only a few people," he was asking politely and didn't want to probe too much. The more Thomas talked about the past, the more Joe realized Thomas hadn’t just been a merchant, he had been a pioneer with various skills and a wide array of knowledge. It took a great deal of courage and wisdom to begin a new town. The fact that Lockwood was still around to this day, and thriving, spoke volumes about Thomas’ legacy.

Joe couldn't shake off the gnawing feeling that Thomas was hiding something, something painful that he didn't want to talk about. The thought of living for centuries, let alone being trapped inside a painting, was enough to send shivers down his spine. He wondered how Thomas had ended up in this predicament, and if this was even the real Thomas or some replica of the original.

As he continued to spread the sealer with a flat, large sealing knife over the top of each brick, Joe's mind was lost in a sea of thoughts. He worked with precision and care, ensuring that each brick was sealed tightly in place. The sun beat down on his skin, warming him from within, and the sound of birds chirping in the background provided a soothing background to his musings.

Back on his original Earth, whenever he worked on something for a long time, he drowned out his thoughts with music, podcast, or audiobook. But now, he only had his thoughts and Thomas to listen to. At first, working without something blasting in his ears had been odd. After a week, it became a blessing, cleaning out Joe’s mind of unnecessary thoughts. His mind felt so clear now, that any anxiety that threatened to bubble up in his mind was wiped away almost instantly with a deep breath and a small thought of gratitude for his new life.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the patio was complete. Joe sat back on his haunches, admiring the finished product with a sense of pride and accomplishment. He turned to Thomas, who was still trapped inside the locket, wondering what secrets he was hiding from him. But for now, he was content to revel in the beauty of the moment and the joy of a job well done.

The patio was a cozy, intimate space, barely large enough to accommodate ten people squeezed together. But its size didn't matter, for the true centerpiece of the area was a towering stack of bricks, nearly waist height, carefully arranged to resemble a chimney. Joe had spent hours painstakingly positioning each brick, ensuring that they fit together perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle.

With a sense of purpose, Joe fixed his eyes on the pile of stones beside him. Each stone was a testament to his hard work and dedication, meticulously gathered from the nearby river and polished to a smooth finish.

As he lifted the stones one by one, he marveled at their heat resistance he transferred to them, knowing that they would be the perfect addition to his new project. He placed them atop the stack of bricks, carefully transferring the heat resistance of the pebbles he held in his hand to the patio below. The job was a tedious one, but Joe didn't mind. He continued to work through the bucket of stones, his hands moving with practiced ease, until he had reached the maximum capacity.

While he worked, Thomas idly hummed a wordless sing-song tune to pass the time. The song changed every few minutes, reminding Joe of Thomas’ musical talents among his many other accomplishments.

Joe carefully spread the sealant on the top layer of the chimney stack, making sure to cover every inch of the bricks with the sticky substance. He worked methodically, his mind focused on the task at hand. As he placed each brick, he felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he was one step closer to completing his project.

When he finally reached waist height, he paused and placed his hand on the chimney grill, feeling the heat radiating from the bricks. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled up a digital screen and scrolled through the properties of the wet sealant. He picked up a pebble and pressed it against the sealant, transferring the wetness to the stone. In an instant, the sealant dried, leaving a smooth, glossy finish.

Joe grinned in satisfaction, feeling a sense of pride in his work. He pushed against the grill, testing its strength and stability. It held up to his weight, and he knew it was ready.

Moving on to the next step, he filled the inside of the chimney with bricks, stacking them carefully until they reached three-quarters of the way up. Then, he headed inside and picked up a bucket full of stones, each one imbued with the same properties as those he had made for the forge and fireplace.

He stepped out into the crisp evening air, his hand clutching a bucket filled with pebbles. With a deft flick of his wrist, he tossed a handful of fiery stones onto the top of the grill, their vibrant orange glow illuminating his face. Satisfied with his handiwork, he reached out to touch the sleek metal exterior of the grill, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, he scooped up another handful of pebbles, their smooth surfaces cool to the touch, yet with a hidden power to resist the heat. He carefully transferred them into the grill, the sound of their soft clinking echoing in the stillness of the night.

While technically unnecessary, he took pride in his ability to elevate this basic setup to the next level. With just a match and a bit of kindling, he could ignite a blazing inferno within the grill, the heat radiating outward in perfect harmony.

Finally, he walked over to the side of his house and saw a gargantuan piece of meshed metal propped up against the wall. The sun beat down warm rays from above, forcing Joe to sweat under the summer heat.

Taking hold of the hefty meshed metal, he lifted it onto the grill with a grunt, positioning it with care so that it covered the sides of the grill. With skilled hands, he began to bend the metal to fit snugly, watching with satisfaction as it enveloped the grill like a protective cocoon.

A vibrant blue screen materialized before Joe, its translucence adding a futuristic touch to his backyard. Bold letters emblazoned across the screen proclaimed, "Joe's Backyard Grill." Joe couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of it.

"Well, isn't that fancy," he mused, marveling at the fact that his ability had finally recognized an item with a name attached to it.

His mind raced with questions. What other items might have names attached to them? Was he the first to make this particular grill in this world, or was there something else that qualified it as a named item? The possibilities were endless, and Joe found himself lost in thought, pondering the mysteries of his ability.

Thomas, his friend and grill enthusiast, had questioned the purpose of the contraption. "Oh, I see. It's a grill, but a bit more complicated than the ones we had in my day. There’s that odd little stone compartment on the side as well. But why would you have it outside?" he had asked.

Joe chuckled to himself as he considered Tom's question. He said, "I know we have a kitchen inside that works, but there's nothing like having a cookout in your backyard. Especially when the weather's nice, and everybody just gets to sit out in the open and enjoy the view. That side compartment is a secret until my barbeque."

Thomas hummed in agreement. He said, "Where were you and I first started building this house?"

I wasn't even a dream on my own planet,” Joe joked.

"One day I'd like to get more stories out of you about your Earth, at least your old Earth."

"Agreed, as long as you tell me stories about your life."

Thomas chuckled and said, "In due time, boy, in due time."

With the grill officially done, Joe went inside and picked up a small wooden box with a handle and a wooden cover that could be sealed shut with glass leather clasps.

Thomas asked, "What is this an odd contraption? Are you hoping to trap Isabella the hellhound in this?"

Joe snorted. He said, "Not only is this box not large enough for our little princess upstairs, but I don't even think I can get her to do anything, let alone walk inside of a box. And I'm not strong enough to force her to do anything."

Thomas said, "It's odd that she's just been lazing about, sleeping on the bed and occasionally eating the food that you leave at her door. From what I’ve read, hellhounds are extremely active hunters. Although, with you providing food for her every day, she might not have a reason to go out looking for food."

Joe shrugged. He was over the hellhound to this point. Isabella didn't really act like a pet dog, one who followed him around and gave him unconditional love. Instead, she seemed like an introvert and just liked to be left alone.

Joe had nothing against introverts. He respected that whatever she had gone through probably made it difficult for her to trust people. Still, she trusted Joe enough to allow him to enter the room and give her food, at least not enough to pet her.

Joe scanned the backroom area, searching for the pebble he had left soaking in a bucket of icy water. He spotted it at last, gleaming like a diamond in the sunlight. Carefully lifting the bucket, he made sure to keep it in the shade the whole time. He knew that if the water had been warmed by the sun, his experiment would have been ruined.

With a sense of excitement, he grabbed a cup from the kitchen and dipped it into the frigid water, being careful not to splash any drops onto the parched ground. Holding the cup aloft, he concentrated on the task at hand, willing the blue screen to appear above it.

His heart skipped a beat as the screen materialized before him, its letters glowing brightly against the dark surface of the water. His eyes flicked across the properties listed at the bottom of the screen, his excitement mounting with each passing moment. "Coolness +2," it proclaimed, confirming his hypothesis.

"Oh boy," he said. "Man, I really hope this works."

Joe gazed at the odd little box before him, his mind racing with excitement. He carefully unstrapped the leather straps that secured the opening, feeling a rush of anticipation as he lifted off the lid. His eyes were immediately drawn to the inside of the box, which was lined with a shimmering metal that Joe had finagled with his ability.

With a sense of purpose, he placed his hand inside the box, feeling the coolness that emanated from the metal. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on transferring the "Coolness +2" from the cup of water to the metal surface. A feeling of relief washed over him as he sensed the transfer taking place. He had succeeded in transferring all of the points, ensuring that the metal would remain cool for as long as he needed it to.

Joe grinned to himself as he poured the water from the cup into the backyard, eager to continue his experiment. He scooped up another cup of cool water and repeated the process, his movements quick and precise. He continued in this manner until the bucket was empty, his excitement mounting with each passing moment.

Finally, he placed his hand inside the small box, hoping for the best. His heart sank as he felt that it was still not cold enough. But then, he looked up at the screen above the box, and his spirits lifted. "Coolness +100," it proclaimed, and he knew that he was one step closer to unlocking the mysteries of his ability. The possibilities were endless, and he couldn't wait to see what else he could achieve.

Joe sighed. "Oh man, I really thought it would work."

Thomas seemed peeved. "You know you've been hiding some things from me lately, and you refuse to tell me about this box or your secret job that you wanted to do. You've been taking the locket off for a few hours every afternoon while you do stuff in the backyard on your own," he said.

Joe laughed. "Hey, you can't know everything. The surprises are nice, aren't they?"

Thomas sighed. "You're right. As someone who's seen many things in his life, it's hard to be surprised. But ever since meeting you, I have been getting surprised every few days or every few weeks, which was much more than what it was like over the past one thousand years."

Joe chuckled. "Well, I'm glad it could be some form of entertainment for you."

At the very bottom of the bucket was the small pebble that he was looking for. He had hoped not to use it because he had stored nine hundred points of coolness inside of it, and it had been a small side project of his testing the limit of his powers. He picked up the pebble and touched the inside of his now very cool but not freezing metal.

As he dug through the bucket. At the very bottom, his fingertips finally met with the small pebble he had been searching for. It was a beautiful thing, despite its size, and he couldn't resist admiring the way the light caught on its smooth surface.

He had been hesitant to use it, for he had put in countless hours of work to imbue the pebble with an impressive nine hundred points of coolness. But he knew it was time to put his powers to the test.

With trembling fingers, he lifted the pebble and brought it to his metal box. The box was already pretty cool, with one hundred points of coolness to its name. But he knew he could do better.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The pebble hummed with energy as he transferred the coolness points to the metal box. It was a delicate process, and he was worried that the two substances were too dissimilar to work together. But he had spent so much time studying the properties of both rock and metal that he was confident in his abilities.

Joe's heart leapt with joy as he watched the pebble's magic come to life. With a flick of his wrist, the tiny rock zapped its power into the metal box, and to Joe's amazement, the metal began to glow with an icy blue light. He scanned the properties list, and his eyes widened with excitement as he saw the numbers dance before him. "Coolness +1000," he read aloud, "transformed into Freezing+10!"

With a grin on his face, Joe couldn't resist reaching out to touch the metal. But as his fingers brushed against the frigid surface, a sharp pain shot up his arm. "Ouch!" he yelped, yanking his hand away from the icy grip. He stared at his fingertips in disbelief, marveling at how something so cold could exist in this world.

Thomas cackled. "Serves you right. Trying to break the laws of the universe."

Joe said, "Well, it sounds like you know what I'm doing."

Thomas replied, "I have a good idea. I didn't think it was possible, but I get the point of it."

Joe said, "Well, this next part you'll never understand what I'm going to do. I’m pretty sure they don't have this in this world."

Joe bounded into the kitchen, and filled his arms with an array of fresh ingredients that he had just picked up from the market. After organizing them on the table for his mise en place, he rummaged through his backpack he had bought a week earlier and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, covered in scribbled notes and measurements. Each ingredient was carefully portioned out, and Joe dropped them into the bowl one by one, methodically following the steps he had memorized from his time on Earth.

With each addition, the mixture transformed, taking on a new textured. Joe grabbed a fork and began to blend the ingredients together, swirling them around with deft precision. He worked tirelessly, focusing all of his energy on creating the perfect dish. Joe had forgotten how tough it was to beat a mixture by hand and without the help of an electric stand mixer. That was something he would have to figure out to make in the future.

After ten long minutes, Joe stepped back, surveying his handiwork with a sense of pride. He reached over to a small pot of herbs and plucked a few leaves, sprinkling them over the top of the dish. He smiled to himself, knowing that although he had yet to create his own herb garden, the tiny pots would do for now.

Thomas sounded like he was frowning. He said, "It looks disgusting."

Joe said, "I promise you, if you could taste it, you would love it. Everybody loves it. And if you don't love it, then you're not to be trusted."

Thomas sighed and said, "I'll have to take your word on that. If there's one thing that I could do that I haven't been able to all this time, it wouldn't be to hug a beautiful woman and feel her embrace. It would be to eat good food."

Joe's stomach let out a loud growl, reminding him that it had been hours since he had last eaten. With all the hard work he had been putting into the house, he found himself growing hungrier by the day. When he had gazed at himself in his bedroom mirror that morning, he noticed a slight definition in his muscles, realizing that he needed more sustenance to keep up with his demanding tasks.

Closing the lid of the box, Joe couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over him. The small container was filled to the brim with his latest creation, a delicious mixture of flavors and aromas that had been crafted with care. He fastened the leather straps tightly, ensuring that the contents would not spill out even if the box was jostled.

With a sense of anticipation, Joe placed the box in a shaded corner, confident that the enchantment he had placed in the middle would keep the contents cold.

There was a ringing from the doorbell. Thomas stood up, stretching. He wasn't expecting company. Joe stood up, stretching. He wasn't expecting company either.

Thomas asked, "Are you expecting company?"

Joe said, "No. I told everyone I'd be busy until I came over on July 1st, next week."

The doorbell rang again, but this time, multiple times in a row. It was more insistent. Joe kept his hand around his mouth and said, "I'm coming."

As he strode towards the front door, the insistent ringing reached a fever pitch, sending a shiver down his spine. With a deep breath, he twisted the doorknob and swung the door open to a sight that left him reeling.

It was a guard by the name of Dave from the front gate, his face etched with exhaustion, standing on the threshold. Cuts crisscrossed his face, and his clothes hung in tattered shreds. He clutched someone bundle in bloodied cloth in his arms, and as he shifted, the bundle stirred, revealing a battered and bruised Rick.

Rick's face was a patchwork of purples and blues, his eyes swollen shut. His arm hung at an unnatural angle, limp and awkward.

Joe’s stomach churned..

Rick collapsed to the ground.