The Tinkerer’s Odyssey

The sun hung lazily in the sky as Sylvie wiped sweat from her brow. The morning's chores had left her arms aching, but it was a different kind of exhaustion that gnawed at her—one that came from the lingering effects of using [Tinkerer's Blessing]. Even after a full night's rest, she could still feel the weight of fatigue clinging to her limbs.

Her mana hadn't fully recovered.

She wasn't sure how fast it replenished, but based on how sluggish she still felt, it wasn't instant. That was a problem.

"Sylvie!"

Her mother's voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned to see the woman standing by the well, a wooden bucket in hand. "Come fetch some water with Sylas."

Sylvie hesitated. Carrying heavy water buckets in her current state wasn't exactly ideal, but she wasn't about to refuse. Pushing through the exhaustion, she trudged toward the well, where Sylas was already pulling up the rope, grunting as he hauled the full bucket to the surface.

"Took you long enough," he muttered, wiping his forehead. "You get the next one."

Sylvie nodded and grabbed the rope. She braced herself before pulling, but the moment she started, a wave of dizziness swept over her. The bucket barely moved before she had to let go, her grip weakening.

Sylas frowned. "What's with you? I know you just broke your mana sickness recently, but you're not usually this weak."

Sylvie scowled, trying to mask her struggle. "I didn't sleep well."

"Yeah, well, we don't get days off." He sighed and took over, muscles straining as he lifted another bucket.

Sylvie clenched her fists. She hated this—feeling drained, feeling fragile. In her past life, exhaustion had come from long hours of work, from pushing herself to meet deadlines. But here, magic had its own cost, and it was one she hadn't accounted for.

She needed to figure out exactly how much she could use [Tinkerer's Blessing] before it left her useless.

As they carried the water back to the house, Sylvie made a mental note: She had to find the limits of her mana.

And the only way to do that was through testing and pushing her boundaries.

That afternoon, while her mother and Sylas were occupied, Sylvie slipped away to the small storage shed behind the house. It was a cramped, dusty space filled with discarded tools, rusted hinges, and broken wooden planks—perfect for experimentation, especially since her mana was finally back to normal.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled out a worn whetstone and a chipped knife blade, running her fingers over the dull edge.

Let's see how much I can actually handle.

Closing her eyes, she focused.

That familiar warmth flickered to life in her chest, spilling into her hands as she visualized the blade in perfect condition—sharp, sturdy, pristine.

The magic responded. The metal shimmered faintly, the nicks and scratches smoothing out. But almost immediately, a wave of exhaustion hit her like a brick wall. Her vision blurred, and her arms trembled as the warmth faded.

She barely managed to check her status before her head lolled forward.

[Tinkerer's Blessing] (Proficiency: 2/10)

Current mana: 2/10

Her breathing was ragged. The restoration had worked, but at what cost?

I barely used it, and I'm already this drained?

She had underestimated how much mana even small repairs required. If she had pushed further, would she have collapsed entirely?

The realization made her stomach twist.

I can't just use this recklessly. If I don't manage my mana properly, I'll be useless.

She needed a better understanding of how long it took to recover mana and how much different repairs would drain her. Until then, she had to be cautious.

But one thing was certain—if she could master this ability, it could be extremely powerful.

A creak sounded behind her.

Sylvie's heart jumped into her throat as she spun around—only to find Sylas standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked suspiciously.

Sylvie quickly shoved the repaired knife behind her. "Nothing."

Sylas narrowed his eyes. "Liar. I saw you hunched over something."

She clenched her jaw. Damn it. How much had he seen?

Instead of answering, she stood and dusted off her skirt. "Shouldn't you be helping Mom?"

"Shouldn't you?" Sylas shot back. His gaze flicked toward her hands, and she could tell he wasn't buying her excuse. "You're acting weird. You barely lifted a bucket this morning, and now you're sneaking around in here?"

Sylvie exhaled through her nose. If she pushed him too hard, he'd just get more suspicious. She needed to give him something.

"I was just looking for something to fix." She held up the now-repaired knife. "You know how Mom gets when things start falling apart."

Sylas raised an eyebrow. "And since when do you fix things?"

She forced a shrug. "Since I got tired of watching you fail at it."

His scowl deepened. "Ha ha."

For a long moment, he stared at her, clearly still unconvinced. But finally, he sighed and stepped back. "Whatever. Just don't come crying to me when you break something."

Sylvie gave a small nod, waiting until he disappeared back toward the house before releasing the breath she'd been holding.

That had been too close.

If she wasn't careful, Sylas was going to start asking questions she wasn't ready to answer.

She needed to be more discreet.

That night, as Sylvie lay in bed, she stared up at the wooden ceiling, thoughts racing.

She had limits. Her mana ran dry quickly. The recovery time was uncertain. And Sylas was already noticing something was off.

She couldn't afford to make mistakes.

But despite the risks, she felt something stir inside her—something fierce.

It was a part of her, just like her skills had been in her past life. And if she could learn to control it, refine it, push it past its current limits…

It could change everything.

Her grip tightened on the blanket.

Tomorrow, she would train.

Tomorrow, she would start figuring out just how far she could take [Tinkerer's Blessing].