The demon horse was a restless, powerful creature, its coat the colour of dried blood and its eyes burning with a low, amber intelligence.
Eis dismounted outside a familiar, well-kept hut on the village's eastern edge, tethering the beast to a sturdy post. It snorted, steam puffing from its nostrils in the cold air, but settled under his firm pat.
He didn't bother knocking. He pushed the hide door aside and stepped into the warm, fragrant interior. His aunt, Mira, was by the hearth, grinding herbs into a fine paste with a smooth stone.
She was a beautiful woman, a few years younger than his mother, with the same dark, lustrous hair but eyes that held a sharper, more mischievous glint.
She looked up, and her face, which had been set in a look of mild concentration, instantly softened into a radiant smile.
"Eis! My favourite nephew!" She set her grinding stone aside and stood, wiping her hands on her hide skirt.
"What brings you here so early? Did you miss your Auntie already?" She opened her arms, and he stepped into her embrace, which was firm and warm, her body soft and yielding against his.
"I always miss you, Auntie," he murmured into her hair, inhaling the scent of herbs and clean, warm woman. He pulled back, his hands resting on her hips. "But I have news. Big news."
"Oh?" she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. She guided him to sit on a pile of furs by the fire, settling herself comfortably on his lap, her arms looping around his neck. "Tell Auntie everything."
"I'm leaving the village," he said, watching her reaction closely. "Tomorrow. I'm taking Mother and Kaela to one of the stronghold cities."
Mira's playful expression vanished, replaced by shock and a sudden, raw hurt. "Leaving? But… why? The village is safe. We have everything we need here." Her grip on his neck tightened slightly.
"It's not enough," Eis said, his voice low and serious. He told her about the cities, about the Chief's advice, about the opportunities for someone of his Tier.
As he spoke, he saw the conflict in her eyes, the same fear of the unknown his mother had shown, but mixed with a deeper sense of personal loss. She wasn't just losing a nephew; she was losing him.
"And… you want me to come with you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, hope warring with disbelief.
"Of course I do," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her soft skin.
"I don't want to leave you here. I want you with us. With me. In the city, you wouldn't have to grind herbs for the rest of your life. You could have a real home. With us."
Tears welled in Mira's eyes. She searched his face, looking for any hint of a lie, any sign of obligation.
All she saw was a fierce, possessive certainty. A sob caught in her throat, and she buried her face against his neck.
"You mean it? You'd take me?"
"I wouldn't go without you," he stated simply.
She pulled back, her beautiful face streaked with tears, but now lit with a brilliant, joyful smile.
She kissed him then, not as an aunt, but as a woman claiming her man, her future. It was deep, passionate, and full of promise. When they finally broke apart, she was breathless.
"Then I'm coming," she declared, her voice firm. "Just let me gather my things. I don't have much, but… I have something for you."
She slipped off his lap and went to a small, intricately carved chest in the corner. From it, she pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle.
Unwrapping it, she revealed a pair of exquisitely crafted daggers. They weren't large, but the blades were a strange, smoky black colour, and the edges seemed to drink in the firelight.
The grips were wrapped in dark, supple leather. "These belonged to my father, your grandfather. He was a hunter in a settlement far from here. He called them 'Night's Bite'. They're Tier 1, but they have a special property. They don't reflect light.
They're silent when drawn. Perfect for a hunter… or for someone who needs to be discreet." She offered them to him, hilt first, her expression solemn.
Eis took them, feeling their perfect balance. They were light as a thought, yet he could feel the deadly potential in them. "They're perfect," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
He leaned forward and kissed her again, a promise sealed in steel and flesh. "Pack what you need. Come to our house tonight. We'll all leave together at first light."
"Okay," Mira whispered, her eyes shining. "I will. I'll be waiting for you. Don't be late for dinner," he added with a playful, watery smile.
He stood, tucking the daggers into his belt. Before he turned to go, he pulled her close one last time, his hands cupping the generous, perfect curve of her ass through her skirt.
He kissed her again, deep and possessive, pouring all his intent into it. When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, a thin, silvery strand of saliva briefly connected their lips before breaking.
He left the warmth of her hut, the taste of her and the promise of a new life lingering on his tongue.
The cold air felt sharp and bracing. He led the demon horse back to his own home, tethering it beside the hut. In the small, cleared space of the backyard, he focused his mind.
System, I need a hammer, some steel poles, nails, and a blueprint for a one-horse carriage or cart, something sturdy but simple to build.
[Materials Deducted: 10 Units of Basic Biomass.]
[Blueprint: 'Light Travois Cart – Single Draft Animal' downloaded.]
[Materials Provided: 1x Hammer (Tier 0, Basic), 10x Steel Poles (Tier 0, Basic), 50x Iron Nails (Tier 0, Basic), 1x Coil of Hemp Rope (Tier 0, Basic).](refine and correct mistake and expand)
One hundred thousand? For basic materials? Eis thought, a spike of frustration running through him.
[The primary cost is not the materials, User Eis. It is the energy required for a stable, localised interdimensional breach and materialisation. Basic tools are inexpensive. The breach is not.]
Sure, just get me everything.
A soft, ethereal chime sounded in his mind. Before him, the air shimmered like a heat haze over stones. One by one, objects materialised on the hard-packed earth with soft thumps.
A sturdy, well-balanced hammer with a worn oak handle.
Ten long, straight steel poles, each about eight feet long.
A small, heavy sack that clinked when it landed, full of thick iron nails.
A large coil of rough, strong hemp rope.
Finally, a simple, rolled-up parchment tied with a leather thong appeared, floating gently down to land atop the pile.
Eis picked up the parchment and unrolled it. It wasn't paper, but a strange, flexible membrane covered in clear, glowing diagrams and annotations.
The "Light Travois carriage" was exactly what he needed—a simple, robust frame on four wheels, with a flatbed enough for four people and a small, sheltered bench at the front.
It was designed to be pulled by a single powerful animal. The instructions were intuitive, almost seeming to shift and clarify as he looked at the parts he needed to assemble.
He looked at the pile of raw materials, then at the powerful demon horse stamping its hoof impatiently.
A fierce grin spread across his face. He had the tools, the knowledge, and the strength. By afternoon, they would have their ticket to the city.
He picked up the hammer, hefting its familiar weight. "Time to get to work."
The final nail, a thick iron spike, sank into the cured blackwood with a satisfying thunk. Eis leaned back on his heels, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. A sigh of pure relief escaped him.
It was done.
Before him stood the carriage. It wasn't ornate, but it radiated a sense of brutal functionality. The body was fashioned from strong, Tier 1 Blackwood he'd traded for from the village chief, its grain dark and tight.
The frame and axle housings were reinforced with bands of the System-provided steel, creating a rigid chassis.
His most ingenious addition, inspired by a half-remembered concept from another life, was the thick, braided hemp ropes he'd woven and fixed around the wheel rims, acting as crude but effective shock absorbers.
It was a four-wheeled, open-backed cart with a sheltered bench at the front and a deep flatbed behind, capable of carrying their belongings and then some.
The demon horse, now hitched to the front pole for a test, stood placidly, as if approving of its new burden.
A fierce grin of victory spread across his face, only to be immediately wiped away by a violent, guttural groan from his stomach.
"Oooh, shit," he muttered, his hands going to his abdomen. "Totally forgot about breakfast. Now it's lunchtime."
Leaving the carriage in the yard, he walked back into the house. The interior was a flurry of subdued activity.
His mother, Lysara, was carefully folding a worn but clean dress, her movements precise.
Kaela was across the room, silently placing a chipped clay plate into a woven basket. The atmosphere was tense, thick with unspoken words.
"Guys, you don't have to pack all that," Eis said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Really, I want to buy everything new in the city."
Lysara paused, holding the dress to her chest. "But that would be wasteful, Eis. And expensive. Good cloth, metal tools… they cost a fortune. We should take what we have."
He walked to her, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Without a word, his hands found the familiar, beloved curves of her hips, sliding around to cup the full, soft flesh of her ass.
His fingers sank in, possessive and reassuring. She didn't startle, simply letting the dress fall back into the basket as her own arms came up to loop around his neck, her body melting against his in a long-practised dance. She looked up at him, her dark eyes searching his.
"Mother," he said, his voice low and firm, "trust your son. I will make everything work."
He gave her a gentle, squeezing pat before releasing her. "Can I have my food? I'm really hungry now." He turned. "Kaela, could you heat it?"
His attention shifted fully to his sister. She had been unusually quiet lately. The Kaela he knew would have launched herself into his arms by now, or argued playfully with their mother over his attention, or chastised him for being too rough. This silent, efficient ghost was wrong.
Did I do something wrong? The thought was a cold stone in his gut. He watched her as she moved to the hearth, his eyes trying to read the set of her shoulders, the angle of her head.
"Okay, I will do that," she said softly, not meeting his gaze.
A reckless impulse took him. A test. As she bent to stir the pot over the fire, he stepped close behind her.
His hands came around, not in an embrace, but to cup her breasts through her tunic. He squeezed, not harshly, but with a firm, familiar pressure, his fingers sinking into the softness. A bit of flesh spilt between his digits.
She froze. Not in shock, not in pleasure. It was a statue-still tension. Then, slowly, she straightened.
She turned her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder and offered a smile. It was a small, brittle thing that didn't reach her eyes, a mere polite curve of the lips that was more painful than a slap.
Yeah, he thought, the cold stone turning to ice. I did something wrong.
He removed his hands as if burned and walked stiffly to his bed, sitting down heavily.
But what? He replayed the last few days, the conversations, the decisions. The impending departure. The inclusion of Mira. His mind churned, trying to find the source of her silent hurt.
Lysara, having finished her folding, watched him for a moment. She saw the victorious builder vanish, replaced by a pondering, troubled man. Smoothly, she crossed the room and settled onto his lap, her weight a comforting anchor.
She didn't speak, just rested her head against his shoulder, one hand idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. She sat there, a warm, silent presence, and watched her son get lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, waiting with him for the food and for the words that would inevitably have to come.