The Master Builder System

Finn didn't remember falling asleep.

One moment, he was reading, the book warm in his hands, his thoughts tangled between beasts and heroes.

The next morning, he was waking up to sunlight pouring softly through the cottage window.

He blinked slowly.

"Is it morning already?"

The lantern beside him had long burned out. The book, "The Natural Order: Beast, Man, Hero", was still resting on his chest, one side slightly folded as if it had waited for him to keep reading.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I must've knocked out while thinking," he muttered, then chuckled under his breath. "Figures."

It was the kind of sleep that didn't feel like rest. No dreams. No tossing or turning. Just a quiet surrender to everything he had read and absorbed the night before.

And yet, when he stretched, he didn't feel drained.

He felt… clear.

A day ago, he wouldn't have been able to explain the difference between a wild beast and a hero. He wouldn't have known that stat thresholds existed, or that rituals could transform ordinary warriors into legends.

But now?

Now, he understood.

At least, a little.

"I actually learned something useful," he said, smiling faintly to himself. "That's a good start."

He stood and placed the book carefully on the low shelf beside the straw mattress.

His body felt stronger too, not from the reading, of course, but from the points he had steadily placed into his physical stats.

There was weight in his arms now. Stability in his legs.

Still, it wasn't enough.

But it was better than the past few days.

And in Finn's world… to be better than yesterday was already a kind of miracle.

He moved to the window and looked out.

Riverwood was just waking up. Thin trails of smoke curled from the early cookfires. A few voices called from house to house.

Villagers still marveled at the sight of tall, sturdy stone walls surrounding their village. Some of them stared at it from their windows all night.

The walls, somehow, gave them a sense of security that they never felt before.

As Finn moved to wash his face, he heard a soft knock.

He blinked, then glanced at the door.

Another knock followed, firmer this time.

"Just a second," he called out, wiping his hands quickly on a cloth before making his way across the small cottage.

He unlatched the door and pulled it open.

Standing outside was Xabi.

Finn straightened a little without realizing it.

Xabi wasn't someone who came by for casual visits.

He was tall for his age and was three years older than Finn, but already built like someone who had lived with a sword on his back since childhood.

Lean but solid. His arms were marked with small scars from training and hunts. His skin was sun-darkened, his black hair tied into a short tail at the back, with a few loose strands falling near his sharp eyes.

Those eyes—dark, quiet, watchful—rarely gave anything away.

Right now, they were scanning the interior of Finn's cottage, as if taking in everything in a single glance.

He wore his usual sleeveless dark green tunic, belt strapped tightly with a hunting knife on the side, and his boots were still marked with bits of mud and pine needles.

He looked like someone who had already walked the edge of the forest this morning and wasn't here by accident.

"Xabi?" Finn asked, surprised. "Everything alright?"

Xabi gave a small nod, not smiling but not cold either.

"Yeah. Just wanted to talk."

Finn blinked again. That wasn't something he expected to hear from Xabi.

He stepped aside. "Come in."

Xabi hesitated for only a moment before ducking inside.

His presence made the small cottage feel even smaller.

Finn shut the door behind him, still unsure what this was about.

"Sorry. Got nothing for you to sit on," Finn said.

Xabi chuckled as he looked around the cottage.

"Well, doesn't seem much different than mine."

Finn smiled faintly.

He remembered hearing from others that Xabi lived alone. His mother had passed away two years ago. His father? Gone long before that, when Xabi was just ten. People said he was a strong warrior who left to find a cure for his wife's illness. He never came back.

Maybe that's where Xabi got his strength. Maybe that's why he always looked like someone carrying something heavier than a blade.

Xabi took a seat on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Sorry for bothering you this early," he said.

Finn joined him, sitting across.

"It's alright," he replied. "What brings you here?"

Xabi leaned back on one hand and looked at him.

"You know… I'm still thinking about the wall and the gates. Magical stuff. Clean lines, no seams, solid as a fortress. It's the kind of thing I always hoped the village would build someday. Something that would make us feel safe. Like we finally mattered."

Finn stayed quiet.

Xabi continued, his voice steady.

"Everyone says it was the gods. Or the spirits. Something divine. But I don't buy it. And I don't think you do either."

He looked at Finn.

Finn kept his calm and gave a small shrug.

"Well… maybe they're right. Magic isn't exactly rare in this world."

Xabi smiled a little.

"Of course I know that. Magic isn't rare. But you know what is? Magic that happens at the perfect moment. You were running from that beast, then boom—stone walls. And now there's a book hut right next to your house. Didn't exactly grow out of the ground, did it?"

Finn didn't reply.

Xabi let out a breath.

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I just… I've seen enough to know when something's off. And this? This is something else."

He paused, then shifted his tone.

"You know what worries me more than the walls, though?"

Finn glanced at him.

"Kent."

Xabi's voice was quiet now, but there was weight behind it.

"He's trying to take over. Everyone sees it, but no one's stopping him. And I don't trust him."

"Why not?" Finn asked.

Xabi scratched the back of his neck.

"I found something. A journal. My father's. It was hidden in the old chest in our house."

He looked down at the wooden floor for a moment before going on.

"There's stuff in there. About the village. About the way things used to be. Apparently, there were times when some of the villagers—important ones—disagreed with Old Hann. Kent's name came up more than once."

Finn frowned slightly.

"Was it serious?"

"I don't know. My dad didn't write the details, just notes. Phrases like 'Kent wants more control' and 'The village is in danger.' Nothing clear, but enough to make me look at him differently."

He met Finn's eyes.

"And now, with Hann injured, he walks right into the chief's seat like it's his. People are scared, so they stay quiet. But I don't think it's right."

Finn didn't know what to say to that.

He had seen the way Kent moved. The way people listened. It was clear that Kent was strong, and he acted like someone ready to lead. But Finn wasn't sure if that meant he should.

Xabi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm telling you this because I think things are going to change fast. And when they do, I'd rather stand with someone honest, not just strong."

Finn looked at him, trying to read between the words.

Xabi leaned back, his eyes still on Finn.

"That's why," he said, voice low but steady. "If you're the one making all this magic possible… I want to stand with you, Finn."

Finn looked at him, caught off guard.

There was no doubt in Xabi's tone. No hesitation. Just quiet certainty.

"I don't need to know how it works," Xabi went on. "I don't need answers right now. I just know what I saw. The walls. The gates. The reading hut. And I saw you—standing in the middle of it all."

He paused, then added, "You're not just some scared kid trying to survive. You're changing things."

Finn felt his heartbeat pick up.

He didn't know what to say.

Xabi gave him a small, rare smile.

"And I want to help. However I can. Not because I want power. Not because I'm looking for a title. But because I think you're going to need someone who sees the bigger picture."

Finn stared at him for a moment, then gave a quiet nod.

"Thanks," he said softly.

That was all he could manage.

But in his chest, something shifted, like a weight he hadn't realized was there had finally been lifted.

He wasn't alone. Not anymore.

Xabi was with him. And that meant more than he could say.