Looking at his hands, Altan could only sigh to what looked like the start of a plague covering his hands. It was not contagious, as he had already tested, but it was indeed something that he had tried to get rid of for more than ten years...If only...

If he could wait longer, to find some cure...

No, he had to get out now before it was his end...Before he could no longer do what he was fighting for...

He wanted people to have a choice, to be able to choose what life they wanted. He didn't want them to be forced into a craft that will only waste their life away, a craft that will not get you anywhere, or if it gets you anywhere, no one should get hurt in the process!

He guessed that his hands will only last for about five more years...

If his hands weren’t his and everyone else’s best asset, because of what was known as ‘Crafts’, it might be alright…But it wasn’t. Without his hands, he would no longer be able to do any craft, unless made beforehand into an item.

Even if he got rid of the biggest reason that he had come up with upon why he has this plague over his hands, he is sure that his life was slipping away from him.

His life had already been nearly two lifetimes now. It wasn't what he had meant to have happened, it wasn't something he could take back now either...It is what it is and as much as he regrets some things, there are things that can't be changed...However much he wanted them too...

Getting up, Altan put on two more layers of clothes, with little things dangling from many places, and stretched his neck. He had attached many things onto his attire, things that could easily get plucked off and thrown...For certain reasons...

He had been in seclusion for quite some time and if he had it his way, he'd stay there but...Time was of the essence now and the world had to change!

Five years...That's all that was left! He had to change the world...In five years!

Well...He'd made all these little gadgets, so he was better of using them...

Jumping up and down once, Altan sighed and then put a hand to the door. With a skill such as his, he opened it easily.

Stunned faces stared at Altan as he casually walked towards them. For them, that area had always been walled off, it was nothing...Until suddenly a door opened out of nowhere, and someone walked out!

Some knew who this person was, some didn't.

"Altan." Oliver spat out.

"He's the boss?" Someone else asked, who seemed just as shocked.

Smiling at Oliver, a person that Altan had known before he went into seclusion, Altan put a hand to his shoulder, "It is good to see you."

Oliver frowned, looking up and down, then up and down once again...

Altan knew that it was a time like this, where questions were written in someone’s eyes, that people were without.

He had already giving Oliver the ‘Craft of Thinking’, but it seemed that…It might take some time to get used to…

For so long, people had not thought and just did…They did what they were ‘born’ with and what they were ‘born to do’…

Being open, having thoughts and opinions…This was just one reason why Altan chooses to fight!