The store in the front of the shop had been changed into what looked like a command center. He had moved a large table into there where various books and documents rested. All the previous items in the store had been sorted, disposed of, recycled, or been used in some way. He had read most of the books he had picked up. Many more remained elsewhere in town but were not of interest to the man.
He was wearing leather pants and a linen tunic; with the armor and bow in a corner of the room. He had found many books, one of which helped him to process the pelts he had acquired, which he used to make into some bedding. He had also patch worked a few tents into a single usable one, which he would use during his travels.
He had found a book on edible plants and vegetables, so he carried it around with him as he explored the town. He found several locations where there were wild versions growing and marked them on a rudimentary map he had made. He had also found a few books on cooking, so when he wanted to cook, he could go to where he needed certain herbs or vegetables, pick them, and use the cookbook to fashion himself a meal.
He had picked several different types of herbs and dried them out in the shop. After some time, this made the shop smell rather exotic to him, and made him enjoy returning to it. He used a mortar and pestle he had found along with some jars to store the spices in.
His tool collection had grown to be respectable, and all unusable or duplicate tools were then set aside to be used as salvage. His forging of usable weapons had progressed slightly. He had repaired the bellows in the forge and used it on the furnace in the back to make a rudimentary blast furnace. He got lucky in that he made some rough steel from the melted down armor and weapons from the front of the shop.
With this steel he attempted forging weapons different ways. Some attempts at cast weapons ended with failure, while drawing a lump of steel into a sword shape took a longer amount of time and gnawed at Evren’s endurance. He felt he was spending more time resting than he was at hammering the steel.
In the end, he settled on a cast sword that had been hammered into shape instead. He had fixed the grinding wheel, even the foot pedal, so he could work with his hands free. He was using that now. He had set a log next to the wheel that he would set the sword on to try to grind it all down at a similar angle. Occasionally he’d pick it up, stair down the blade and then let the sparks fly again.
When he finished, he set the sword in his lap, and used a file on the grip to make it smooth and rounded. He also filed down the guard and the pommel to a rough finish. When he was satisfied, he placed the blade in the forge. While the blade was heating up, he prepared a trough out of wood, and filled it with water. He then used his newly learnt magic ‘chill’ to cool the water until it started to freeze. When the top and sides had frozen, but the center remained thawed, he stopped freezing the water to check on the condition of the sword.
The sword was glowing a deep red now, so he used the bellows to heat up the fire. When the sword reached a color of orange going on yellow, he pulled the blade from the fire and set it into the trough. The top layer of ice melted immediately, which let the sword sink into the chilled water. There he let it sit until the bubbling stopped, and he pulled the blade out again to check it.
He would tap it with a hammer along its length and listen for the tone, and he would run his fingers over the metal as he checked with his eyes for any cracks. Once he was satisfied, he lowered the blade onto the burning coals instead of inside them this time and left the blade to heat. He would be letting the blade stay on the flames as it burned itself out. He watched the blade until it began to glow and move it and the coals around to make the heat even, yet not too hot.
When this was done, he left the forge to the outside where the air was much cooler. “I hope all those documentaries I watched pay off and this sword isn’t crap.” He said as he sat on a stump he had been using in the back yard. At his side was a bucket that was filled with marble sized rocks. Grabbing a handful at a time, he would send the rocks off towards the log he used as a target some twenty meters away one at a time.
He wasn’t throwing the rocks; he was using telekinesis. He had gotten into the habit of doing this daily. At the most, the little rocks would only dent the wood as it struck but doing such a menial task took his mind off his situation. He was alone in what seemed like a post-apocalyptic dystopia. There had been movies of situations similar to this he had watched previously.
In his previous life, he had never been in a situation like this before. When he was 18, he joined the military. When he was 20, he had been genetically modified. He had fought in wars time and again; both on and off planet. He had been in rough situations time and again, but there was always a safety net. There was always someone else he could contact, rely on, help, get help from, or meet that would end his difficult situation.
By the time he left the military at 149 years old, he had already lost his wife and two oldest children to time. He was crippled and spent the next 39 years alone. His family would occasionally pay him a visit, but even though they were direct descendants, they weren’t very close. Even the people he knew from the military had either passed on already or were too far separated from him to be more than acquaintances.
He thought back to the moment he had been kidnapped. He didn’t sleep with his prosthetics on, and that was the moment he had been captured. He originally thought someone had captured him for revenge, or some misguided political reason. But he was wrong. The man who had taken him was a special kind of pervert who tortured him for two weeks. He had been hung on hooks, burned, electrocuted, given acid baths, and other such gruesome events before he finally died from blood loss. That pervert’s final gift to him was to see him finish just before he died.
One of the stones got stuck in the end of the log, about halfway deep into it. He stared at it for a while before letting out a slight chuckle. Now he had a target to aim for! Rock after rock was sent towards the target before finally hitting the embedded pebble. The rock ricocheted and flew back towards Evren, landing about halfway between himself and the target.
He looked up to check the sun’s position in the sky. Figuring it was time to start preparing for dinner, he walked around the building to the front of the shop where his cookbook was. Selecting a recipe fit for the supplies he had, he picked up his plain wicker basket that he had made when he first arrived and went out to get some herbs and vegetables.
