"Hey M1, thanks for showing me where I could find sulfur. Without you, I probably couldn't have made gunpowder."

 

Steven walked around the aftermath of the battle. It wasn't much of a battle, but more of a hidden slaughter. The gunpowder had done more damage than expected, peppering the ground with holes and shooting the dirt all over the place. Steven made his way to the center of the impact site, where he found one of the raider's corpses.

 

The corpse was charred beyond belief, with it's face burned off and several appendages ripped clean off. At least the explosion didn't destroy the armor and weapons, which were still in relatively good shape.

 

Steven slowly peeled off the armor off of the charred victim. The skin crackled, making Steven almost vomit his guts out. Turns out the armor had kind of fused with the burnt flesh, so eventually, after using a knife and some inner stomach power, he managed to get the leather armor off.

 

After that horrifying moment, He remembered that there were two other raiders besides from the one he just stripped. He looked towards the pond and saw a person floating on top of the murky pond water. Steven made his way over and placed his finger on his neck.

 

'Good, there's a pulse,' he thought as he hoisted the unconscious person atop his shoulders. Damn this guy is freaking heavy. Either that or I'm weak.

 

Since he didn't have a place to put the person, he had to improvise. He didn't want to live in the same room as the raider, then things could get real messy. He also didn't want him to be left in the freezing rain or toxic fog, that would be inhumane. Guess he had to make a whole new building all together.

 

After strapping the guy down with lots of reed rope and taking away his weapons, Steven set upon building a prison with the material he had left.

 

There wasn't much material to build anything to grand at the moment, only a couple stacks of bricks and some leftover old planks. Nevertheless, it would be enough. Steven set down to work, placing a brick foundation before constructing wood walls all around it. It was by far, one of the smallest prisons in the world. Probably more like a cubicle. Though what could he do? He didn't have much else.

 

The cubicle cell was placed adjacent to his workshop, so after busting down a couple walls, he placed a door to finalize the prison.

 

Finally, I thought I would almost run out of wood there.

 

Steven went back outside to find the raider still strapped head to toe in rope, which was good. It took a lot of effort, and after some grunts and panting, the raider was now the prisoner. But seriously, why was he so weak?

 

Steven walked back to his living room, where M1 was still sitting atop the table.

 

"Hey M1, what should I do next? I have secured a prisoner, and I'm out of wood. Is there anything atop my priority list?"

 

The AI booted up again, showing its 8-bit face. "No kidding. I procured a list of things you may need to do, or rather, what you're missing."

 

M1 produced a small chip from it's body, which expanded into a small watch. Steven picked it up and equipped it onto his arm.

 

"Now, you don't have to constantly come to me for guidance. Instead, you can consult the watch and I can communicate with you through that." With that, M1 turned off.

 

Huh, guess that's that. Let's see what's on this watch.

 

Steven flicked on the watch, revealing a slew of things to do:

 

-Harvest more wood, fruit, and vegetables

-Obtain a stonecutter's table

-Build a pump from the well that brings water inside the shelter

-Build a waterwheel for energy

 

Ah, there's a lot more stuff to do.

 

 

The night passed, and the morning sun shined across the horizon. Steven looked into his workshop, now a stockpiled disaster. Through sheer will and determination, (and the will to not do this ever again) he had chopped nearly an acre worth of trees, brought back all the rock chunks he could, and fully explored the rest of the ruins. At night. That was really stupid. He daresay he's acting really crazy right now.

 

He went outside to get a drink of water and a good look at himself. He looked like a mess. There was dirt covering every part of his face and clothing, his eyes were red, and there were blisters all over the palms of his hand. God, he was tired as hell. He just wanted to lay down onto his straw bed, a simple bed only made hours before the raid. But he still had so much work to do. What was he going to do again?

 

Oh wait. Yeah. The prisoner. He had totally forgotten about him.

 

Groggily, Steven made his way to the prison closet. He opened the door to see a tied up, miffed prisoner. He certainly did not look happy.

 

By closer inspection, the raider didn't look much like a raider, but more like a school student, and couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 years old. He had freckles, white skin, and brown curly locks. Just by that description, Steven could imagine him wearing big circle glasses.

 

He gingerly cut the kid's binding, and gave him a small meal of apples, sweet potato, and boiled lettuce. It was originally going to be his lunch, but forget it. That kid had probably gone through worse than he had. The kid sighed in amusement, and began to eat. Steven sighed, placed a wall torch, and closed the door.

 

Without a second to lose, he walked back to his living room, and flopped onto his bed. He was asleep in five seconds.

 

 

<Panin's Perspective>

 

He woke up, dazed and battered, lying on the wet grass. Was he safe? Pierre and Agnan must've escaped and dragged him back. He was just laying in this grass to heal.

 

He tried to move around. Wait. Why couldn't he move? Out of the corner of his eye, he look at his body. He was covered head to toe in bandages and rope, as stiff as a mummy. What's happening? Where was he?

 

Oh right. He was dragged into a stupid conflict with his two brothers, who wanted to do some missions for the Secretary. He could've been watching the clockwork in the towers, but he decided to go anyways. Speaking of which, where is the captor?

 

Panin rocked his body from side to side, peering from left to right to see what was happening. He felt like a baby, rocking in a crib. Finally, he managed to rock onto one side so he wouldn't fall back onto his back or fall on his face. Now he had a clear view in the direction he was facing.

 

The captor seemed to be constructing something. It was no more bigger than a small equipment shed, and was directly adjacent to a wall. 'Now's not the time to be doing garden work, it's time to help me! I'm a weak little shrimp that needs help! Come on!'

 

He screamed this in his mind, for he didn't have the guts to speak out to his captor. 'What if he turns out to be a really bad person? What if I yell out to him, and he stabs me because he realizes I'm alive? What if? Wait no. He's doing something, and he's not paying attention to me at all. What's happening?'

 

Panin watched him build for a good ten minutes. It seemed like he was finishing up, so he flipped back down and pretended to be unconscious. The captor went into the stone shelter, before walking out again and start to drag him inside. Well, at least tried to. Panin could tell he was weak, as he could only drag him a few ten feet before being put down. While being dragged along, he opened his eyes by a sliver. Enough to be able to see, but not enough to alert the captor.

 

He was being dragged into a living room with a table, a bed, and several shelves loaded with fruits and vegetables. A wall torch illuminated the room, making the room feel homey despite it's rudimentary furniture. On top of the table was a small, grey box. The patterns on it looked familiar and mechanical. It reminded him of the clockwork back home. Maybe he could escape and take a good look at it. Before he could think about it, he was dragged into another room.

 

It looked like a storage, which was quite messy. It was a little bigger than the living room, and was filled with a random stockpile of goods. There was steel, wood, and and strange blue plates stacked on top of each other. Again, more things he didn't recognize. Finally, he got to a door. The captor opened it, dragged him inside, and closed the door behind him. There were no lights.

 

As soon as the door closed, Panin tried to move around. His ropes and binding were getting a little less stiff, so he now he could sit down. Still, it was rather depressing being in complete darkness.

 

Ten hours. That's how long it took for Panin to finally hear movement in the shelter. He wasn't tired, for today's events had brought his adrenaline through the roof. In the place he was in, was cold, was dark, and there was a leak right above his head dripping water on his head. He was being driven insane. If this wasn't a torture chamber, Panin didn't know what was.

 

Finally, the door opened, revealing the captor in all his glory. It was the first time he had seen his face, as he only got to see his back the whole time. The captor had black hair, smooth skin, and bloodshot eyes. He looked pretty young, but not as young as he was. He looked like he had gone through hell, to be honest.

 

The man gingerly cut Panin's ropes and binding, which a huge gift, as he had been in the same sitting position for nearly half a day and his legs were getting cramps. He then placed a meal onto the floor. It appeared to be a meal of fruit, roots and vegetables which he had never seen. The only thing he ate before being tossed was only a couple pepper chips, so at least it was something.

 

He inspected his meal and noticed that the man was still watching him. So, he picked up the root and took a bite. The man seemed satisfied, placed a torch on the wall, and left.

 

After the man left, Panin could taste the meal he was given. It tasted better than any root he had eaten. Usually the roots that he ate at the Adventurer's Guild tasted dry and chalky, but this one tasted sweet and nourishing. Is the rest of the food here this good?

 

Panin picked up the fruit, a red orb like thing. The closest fruit that resembled this was the Gob Fruit, which was hard and bitter, and required proper grinding and water washing before it could be eaten, and that stuff was still pretty bad. He took a bite of it. It was, again, totally unexpecting. It was hard and sweet, and the delicious juice seeped into his mouth. Tasted kind of like a flat cocktail. It was true that there were many variants of sweet, delicious fruit, but this taste was like any other.

 

After his meal, he waited for the sounds of movement outside the door. There were none, so he assumed that the man had gone to bed. Another day of nothing to do now I guess.