The Master Builder System

Finn was running. The points he allocated to Speed that pushed it from 4 to 17 really made him many times faster than he used to be.

He was running not out of panic or fear, but from pure excitement.

His legs carried him faster than usual, his stamina already showing signs of improvement. But he was not running to his cottage. Not exactly.

He was heading toward the Reading Hut.

The moment it had finished building, a faint light had pulsed through the air, and now, the small wooden structure stood quietly beside his home, as if it had always been there.

The outer walls were made of polished wood panels, tightly fitted together. A narrow, slanted roof capped the hut.

There was a small rectangular window on each side, and a simple sign above the entrance read, "READING HUT".

Finn slowed as he approached. To his surprise, a few villagers were already inside.

He stepped closer and saw three adults—two men and a woman—standing just past the entrance, their expressions uncertain.

They looked around the room with vague interest, but when their eyes landed on the shelves of scrolls and thick bound books, their excitement faded.

One of the men muttered something about expecting tools or weapons, and not "old parchment."

They didn't stay long. Moments later, they stepped outside and walked off, shaking their heads.

Finn didn't blame them. To most villagers, books were foreign and impractical. Reading was something only scholars or wandering monks did. But to him, it was treasure.

He stepped inside.

The scent of aged paper and herbal ink hit him immediately. It was earthy, comforting. The interior was brighter than he expected, lit by several softly glowing crystal orbs embedded in the corners of the ceiling. The light wasn't harsh. It felt warm, like afternoon sun through a canopy of trees.

Despite being called a "hut," the space inside felt organized and efficient. Five meters by five meters might not have been much, but every inch was used with purpose.

Shelves lined the walls, made of dark wood with intricate carvings along the edges. Each shelf was labeled with hand-written tags. Some in the common language, some in older scripts. The scrolls were tightly rolled and tied with ribbons of different colors, each placed neatly in compartments. The books were stacked upright, each with a title inscribed along the spine in clean, golden ink.

A small table stood in the center of the room, with two wooden chairs tucked beneath it. On the table lay an open book, blank but clearly waiting for something to be written. A feathered quill hovered just above it, unmoving, as if awaiting instruction.

There were sections marked with simple signs: History of the World, Heroes of Old, Beasts and Their Classification, Foundations of Alchemy, and Basic Combat Arts.

Each title made Finn's heart beat faster.

"This… is perfect," he whispered.

He walked slowly, running his fingers across the spines of the books, feeling the weight of knowledge pressing gently against his thoughts.

He paused in front of the section labeled Beasts and Their Classification, eyes scanning the scrolls. He pulled one out at random and unrolled it.

There was a simple illustration of a creature resembling the one they had fought earlier. Beneath it was text, clean and sharp.

=====

Name: Feral Howlhound

Classification: Low-Tier Wild Beast (Level 1–2)

Traits: Large and muscular wild wolf-beast with thick black fur, glowing yellow eyes, and powerful snapping jaws. Known for its aggressive charges, bone-hardened shoulders, and disorienting growl.

Weakness: Exposed area behind the ears or the soft underside of the jaw during a lunge.

=====

Finn's eyes widened.

"This… This could've saved Old Hann and everyone a lot of pain."

He tightened his grip on the scroll and gently rolled it back.

This was what he needed. Not just strength. Not just power.

Information.

Understanding.

He looked around the hut again, taking it all in—the quiet, the books, the countless answers tucked within leather covers and coiled parchment.

This was more than a building.

It was his new weapon.

A soft knock on the doorframe broke the silence.

Finn turned around.

Lisa, Old Thom's daughter, stood at the entrance, her head tilted slightly, one hand resting gently against the wooden doorpost.

"Finn?" she said, her voice unsure, almost hesitant.

She stepped inside with slow, careful steps, as though afraid she might wake something sacred.

Lisa was three years older than him. She had long, straight black hair that framed her gentle face, and her dark eyes always seemed to carry a quiet curiosity.

Unlike most villagers, who often had rough hands and sun-darkened skin from laboring in the fields, Lisa's complexion was soft and smooth, her fingers more used to weaving thread than lifting tools.

She wasn't a warrior. She wasn't a hunter.

She was a reader and she was the one who taught Finn how to read and count.

Finn had seen her always borrowing scraps of parchment from the elders, reading them by the riverbank under the willow trees, sometimes whispering the words out loud like poetry.

"I heard…" Lisa began, her eyes sweeping across the room. "Some villagers were talking. They said a book place appeared near your cottage."

She took a few steps forward, eyes wide now as she looked at the glowing crystals, the shelves, the rows of scrolls and bound books.

"…But I didn't think they meant this."

Her voice was filled with wonder.

She walked slowly along one of the walls, running her fingertips lightly over the carved wood of the shelves.

"There's… so much," she whispered.

Finn smiled faintly, watching her as she moved.

"It's called the Reading Hut," he said. "It just… appeared."

Lisa turned toward him, brows slightly raised.

"It just appeared?"

She walked toward the central table, staring at the floating quill before asking, "Is this magic?"

"Maybe. Or something like it."

Lisa reached out but didn't touch anything. She looked up at him again.

"I love this."

Her words were simple, but honest.

"It's quiet. Warm. It feels… right. Like it belongs here."

Finn exhaled softly. It was the first time today someone had said something that wasn't full of blame or suspicion.

"I thought I was the only one who'd be excited," he said.

Lisa shook her head, smiling now.

"There's so much we don't know, Finn. About the world. About the past. If this place has even half the knowledge it seems to hold… then we need it."

She paused in front of a section marked Heroes of Old, her fingers brushing the titles.

"I used to dream about stories like these," she said quietly. "But we only had two or three books in the whole village. Most of them were missing pages. Some were just legends."

"Well," Finn said, "this hut might have the rest."

They stood in silence for a while, surrounded by the scent of parchment and the faint, comforting glow of crystal light.