Doc woke to the soft chirping of alien birds, feeling better than he had in days. The deep ache in his muscles had faded to a mild stiffness, and his mind felt sharp and clear. He stretched cautiously, testing each limb before sitting up.

  "Good morning, Doc," Lux's voice sounded in his mind. "You appear to have experienced optimal recovery during your sleep cycle."

  "Morning, Lux. Status report?"

  "Your vitals are stable and within normal parameters. Core temperature 36.8 degrees Celsius, heart rate normal, blood pressure 118/75. Your suit has completed its self-repair cycle and is now operating at 100% capacity. All systems are functional."

  Doc nodded with satisfaction. "That's excellent news."

  He glanced down at Fish, who lay curled at the foot of his makeshift bed, one eye cracking open to observe him. Her black fur rippled with faint violet energy as she stretched and yawned.

  "Hungry?" Doc asked.

  Fish's ears perked up at the word, and she rose to her feet with expectant alertness.

  Doc pulled on his boots and stepped outside his tent into the morning light. The camp was already bustling with activity—former captives tending to cooking fires, mending clothes, and checking the perimeter.

  As he emerged, Kesh and Dulric spotted him and changed direction, heading straight for him. Kesh wore an unusually broad smile, while Dulric's expression remained stoic beneath his beard, though his eyes held a hint of curiosity.

  Doc studied the two men as they approached. Kesh's posture had changed—there was a new respect in the way he carried himself, a marked difference from their first meeting.

  "Morning," Kesh called out. "Got a moment to talk about your kill yesterday?"

  Doc nodded, intrigued by their interest. "Of course. What can I help you with?"

  Fish padded out behind him, positioning herself at his side as if ready to contribute to the conversation.

  "The Ravageboar hide," Kesh began, his tone oddly formal. "Since the kill was yours, you get to choose what to do with it. I wanted to know your plans."

  Doc's brow furrowed slightly. "Plans? I don't have any specific plans for the hide. I was going to contribute it to the camp resources."

  Both Kesh and Dulric exchanged surprised glances. Their reaction seemed disproportionate to such a simple statement.

  "What?" Doc asked, genuinely confused by their response.

  Kesh cleared his throat. "The Ravageboar hide is one of the strongest monster hides anyone could hope to find. Most warriors would immediately claim it for personal armor. We just assumed a fighter of your caliber would want it."

  Doc shook his head. "The armor I have on is more than enough for me right now."

  Their eyes widened further, and Dulric's bushy eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. The dwarf's weathered face broke into an expression of astonishment that seemed almost comical.

  "Is something wrong?" Doc asked, perplexed by their continued amazement.

  "No, not at all," Kesh replied, his voice tinged with newfound respect. "It's just... well, few would turn down such protection."

  "Dulric here," Kesh continued, gesturing to the dwarf, "has a skill that allows him to shape almost any material into usable armor or weapons. Would it be acceptable if he used the hide?"

  Doc nodded readily. "Of course. I'd actually like to watch the process, if that's alright."

  Dulric grunted what seemed to be an affirmative response.

  "Lux," Doc thought internally, "run full spectrum scans on this process. I want to understand how this 'skill' functions at a molecular level."

  "Initiating observation protocols," Lux responded silently. "Preparing to analyze material transformation processes and any energy signatures present during the procedure."

  Dulric trudged alongside Kesh and the stranger toward the makeshift smithy he'd cobbled together from salvaged camp materials. The weight of his thoughts matched the heavy footfalls of his dwarven boots. This newcomer—Doc, they called him—defied every pattern Dulric had observed in his sixty-some years of watching warriors come and go.

  "Hide's over here," Kesh said, gesturing to where they'd stored the massive Ravageboar pelt after yesterday's hunt.

  Dulric ran his calloused fingers across the hide, marveling at its quality. Thick, rugged, yet supple enough to work with proper treatment. Most fighters would sooner cut off their sword arm than part with such a prize. Yet this stranger had surrendered it without hesitation.

  "Damn fine material," Dulric muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

  He glanced sidelong at Doc, studying him with narrowed eyes. The man stood there calmly, that strange wolf creature at his side, watching with curious detachment. There was something off about him—not wrong, necessarily, but different. When Maz had told Dulric she couldn't scan the newcomer, that had raised his hackles. High-level fighters could block scans, sure, but to do it so completely and instantly? That took serious power.

  Then there was the business with the monster cores. Kesh's story about Doc feeding high-quality cores to his wolf pup had made Dulric sputter soup across the fire last night. Monster cores were precious commodities—warriors hoarded them for their own advancement. Nobody, absolutely nobody, fed them to pets.

  "You're sure about donating this?" Dulric asked gruffly, needing to hear it again. "Could make yourself fine armor with this."

  "I'm sure," Doc replied simply. "My current gear is sufficient."

  Dulric grunted, hefting the hide onto his worktable. Sufficient, he says. The man's strange clothing did seem unusually resilient, but nothing compared to what Ravageboar hide could produce.

  "Right then. Stand back and let me work."

  Dulric rolled up his sleeves and closed his eyes, feeling for that familiar tingle at his fingertips. His Scrapshaper skill wasn't flashy like a mage's fire or a warrior's battlecry, but it was his—the quiet magic of creation.

  "Been a while since I worked with prime material," he admitted, placing both hands flat on the hide. "Might get my blacksmith class up a level or two from this job alone."

  He focused, drawing energy from his core into his palms. The sensation was like warm honey flowing through his veins, gathering at his fingertips. This was the moment he lived for—when rough material yielded to his will, becoming something greater than its parts.

  "What exactly does your skill do?" Doc asked, watching intently.

  Dulric opened one eye, surprised by the direct question. Most warriors cared about results, not process.

  "Scrapshaper lets me mold materials without proper tools," he explained gruffly. "Can work anything from scrap metal to monster hide into something useful. Not as pretty as forge work, but stronger in some ways. The material remembers what it was—keeps its nature but takes the shape I need."

  He returned to his work, feeling the energy pulse through the hide. This would be his first significant crafting since before the raid. With materials this fine, he might finally push past the plateau in his secondary class.

  "Going to make armor pieces first," Dulric decided aloud. "Chest plates for those with no protection. Then weapon grips and shields if there's enough left."

  As he worked, Dulric couldn't help but wonder about the stranger watching him so carefully. In all his years serving in the dwarven legions and later as a village smith, he'd never encountered anyone quite like Doc—a warrior who seemed utterly indifferent to the trappings of power that consumed most fighters.

  Whatever secrets the man held, Dulric decided, at least he had the good sense to appreciate craftsmanship. And that was something a dwarf could respect.

  Dulric felt the familiar warmth spread through his palms as he worked the Ravageboar hide. The material responded to his touch, softening and reshaping beneath his fingers without the need for conventional tools. This was the true magic of his Scrapshaper skill—the ability to communicate with materials on a fundamental level.

  "First piece for Kesh," he muttered, measuring the hunter with his eyes. "Need something light but protective. Can't have you slowed down when you're scouting."

  The hide rippled under Dulric's hands as he focused his energy. The tough material began to form into a sleek chest piece with overlapping plates that would allow for maximum movement. He didn't cut or stitch—instead, the hide seemed to flow like clay, retaining its natural strength while taking the shape he envisioned.

  "Never seen crafting like this," Doc remarked, watching with undisguised fascination.

  Dulric grunted in acknowledgment, too focused to speak at length. His fingers traced invisible patterns across the material, coaxing it into the proper thickness at vital areas—thicker over the heart, thinner at the joints. When he finally lifted his hands, a perfectly formed chest piece lay on the table, its surface retaining the distinctive mottled pattern of the Ravageboar.

  "Try it," he said, handing the piece to Kesh.

  Next came armor for Mazoga. Though the orc wasn't present, Dulric had sized her up plenty during their captivity. "Warden needs something with heft," he explained to Doc. "Mazoga stands between threats and the weaker folk. Her armor needs to take punishment."

  The remaining hide twisted under his touch, forming a heavier breastplate with reinforced shoulders and a high collar to protect the neck. Dulric felt sweat beading on his forehead as he worked—this level of detailed crafting demanded more energy than simple repairs.

  "For the shield," he continued, gathering the largest remaining section, "need to layer it. Single thickness won't stop what she might face."

  The material folded upon itself under his guidance, layers fusing together in a process that looked more like liquid settling than conventional crafting. The shield took shape—rounded at the top, tapering slightly toward the bottom, with a sturdy grip formed from the hide itself.

  Dulric felt the strain in his arms as he worked the last scraps of Ravageboar hide into a pair of sturdy gauntlets. His fingers trembled slightly, the familiar burn of mana depletion setting into his bones. He'd been at it for a while now, shaping piece after piece with his Scrapshaper skill, and the toll was becoming evident.

  "Need a break, old man?" Kesh asked, noticing the sweat dripping from Dulric's brow.

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  Dulric grunted, refusing to admit weakness. "Just warming up," he muttered, though his shaking hands betrayed him.

  Kesh rummaged through his pouch and produced a small blue vial. "Here. Mana potion. Had it tucked away for emergencies."

  Dulric eyed the potion suspiciously. "Where'd you get that?"

  "Found it in the leader's quarters. Figured it might come in handy." Kesh shrugged. "Better you use it than let it go to waste."

  After a moment's hesitation, Dulric accepted the vial. He popped the cork and sniffed cautiously—the sharp, almost electric scent of concentrated mana filled his nostrils. Without further deliberation, he tipped it back and drank.

  The effect was immediate. Cool energy flooded his system, like mountain springwater rushing through dried riverbeds. The trembling in his hands ceased, and the fog of fatigue lifted from his mind.

  "That's the stuff," he murmured, flexing his fingers. The renewed vigor felt almost intoxicating after working on empty for so long.

  Dulric returned to his task with renewed focus. The Ravageboar hide was exceptional material—responsive to his skill in ways that lesser materials simply weren't. It seemed to anticipate his intentions, flowing beneath his touch like liquid metal rather than animal hide.

  As he completed each piece—vambraces for the lumberjack brothers, a reinforced jerkin for Carl, protective leggings for the elderly villager with the bad hip—Dulric felt something building within him. A pressure, not unpleasant but insistent, like water rising behind a dam.

  It wasn't until he set down the final piece—a small protective collar for one of the children—that the sensation crested. A warm pulse of energy surged through his body, starting at his core and radiating outward to his fingertips. The familiar sensation of a level increase, but stronger than he'd felt in years.

  Dulric closed his eyes, checking his internal status—something every class-holder could do instinctively. What he saw made him blink in surprise.

  "By the mountain's roots," he muttered.

  "What is it?" Kesh asked, looking up from examining one of the completed armor pieces.

  "Just leveled up my secondary class. Three times." Dulric shook his head in disbelief. "Three levels in one sitting. Haven't done that since I was a beardless apprentice."

  The hunter's eyebrows shot up. "Three levels? From one crafting session?"

  "Quality of the material," Dulric explained, running his hand over the remaining scraps of hide. "Been working with scrap so long, I forgot what proper material can do."

  As the levels settled into his system, Dulric felt another shift—deeper, more fundamental. A new understanding bloomed in his mind, knowledge unfolding like a smith's diagram. He suddenly understood something about monster materials that had eluded him for decades.

  A small chuckle escaped his lips. "Finally," he said, shaking his head at the irony. "All it took was for me to be placed in a death zone for me to finally level my secondary class." He ran his fingers through his beard. "Funny how that class was a crafter class."

  "What did you get?" Kesh asked, curious.

  "New skill," Dulric replied, feeling the knowledge settle into place. "Hidebound Ingenuity, it's called. Lets me work with monster materials better—keep more of their natural properties in the finished product."

  He looked down at his calloused hands, still tingling with residual energy.

  Dulric gazed at the array of completed armor pieces with satisfaction, running his thumb along the edge of a vambrace. The Ravageboar hide had yielded more than he'd expected—enough for eight decent pieces of protective gear. His new skill hummed within him, a warm certainty in his chest that hadn't been there before.

  He glanced over at Doc, who had watched the entire crafting process with that strange, intense focus. The man hadn't moved much, just observed silently with occasional questions that cut straight to the heart of what Dulric was doing.

  "Sorry I didn't make anything for you," Dulric said gruffly, feeling a strange need to explain himself. "Figured your... whatever that is you're wearing... seemed sufficient."

  Doc looked at him with genuine confusion crossing his features. "I told you, I'm fine with my current suit. No need to apologize."

  "Never seen crafting like that before?" Dulric asked, unable to keep the pride from his voice. It had been years since anyone had truly appreciated his work.

  "No," Doc replied simply. "You're quite skilled."

  The praise caused Dulric to smirk a bit despite himself. He didn't know whether to believe the statement—Doc was clearly too powerful a person to have never seen more skilled crafters at work. Still, he decided to take it as a compliment. Praise from a warrior of Doc's caliber wasn't something to dismiss, even if it might be mere politeness.

  "Well," Dulric said, gathering up the remaining scraps of hide, "if you want to see more crafting like that, just bring me more materials." He chuckled at his own joke, knowing full well that forest monsters weren't something someone just hunted on a whim. Even that Ravageboar had been a significant kill.

  To his surprise, Doc smiled back at him with what seemed like genuine consideration. "I'll remember that."

  Dulric blinked, suddenly unsure if the man had understood he was joking. Surely Doc wasn't considering hunting more creatures just for their hides? Even with his obvious combat prowess, the Hollow Vale wasn't a place to tempt fate.

  "Right," Dulric said, clearing his throat. "Just don't get yourself killed trying. Hard enough keeping this lot alive without having to drag your corpse back to camp too."

  Doc's wolf—Fish, they called her—made a sound that almost resembled a snort. The beast had watched the entire crafting process with an intelligence that unnerved Dulric slightly. Not normal, that one.

  "I appreciate the concern," Doc replied, his tone light. "But I think between Fish and me, we can handle ourselves."

  Kesh, who had been examining his new chest piece, looked up with a grin. "If you do bring back another Ravageboar, I'll personally cook a feast that'll make yesterday's dinner look like trail rations."

  "And I'll drink to that," Dulric added, warming to the banter. "Been too long since I've had a proper celebration."

  For a moment, the grim reality of their situation—stranded in the deadliest forest known to civilization—seemed to lift. Just three men and a strange wolf, talking about hunts and feasts as if they weren't surrounded by certain death on all sides.

  Dulric found himself chuckling, a rusty sound he barely recognized as his own. Perhaps they weren't completely doomed after all.

  Doc left Kesh and Dulric to their conversation, walking across the camp with Fish padding silently at his heels. The armor crafting had been fascinating—not just the technical aspects, but watching Dulric's innate skill transform raw material into functional protection without conventional tools. It reminded Doc of nanofabrication, yet with an organic, almost intuitive quality that technology couldn't replicate.

  "Lux, what did your scans pick up during the crafting process?" Doc asked quietly, finding a spot away from the others where he could speak without drawing attention.

  "I detected significant energy fluctuations during the dwarf's crafting session," Lux replied in Doc's neural link. "His biological signature showed patterns consistent with what these individuals call 'mana' or magical energy. Analysis indicates the dwarf was channeling this energy through his nervous system and projecting it into the material."

  Doc watched as camp members began examining and trying on their new armor pieces. "Any similarity to known scientific principles?"

  "Partial correlation to quantum manipulation techniques, but with biological mediation rather than technological. The dwarf's 'Scrapshaper' ability appears to temporarily alter molecular bonds in the target material, allowing restructuring without conventional cutting or joining methods."

  "And the level increase he mentioned?"

  "My scans confirmed a measurable change in his neurological patterns after completion. This appears consistent with their 'leveling' system—a quantifiable enhancement in his ability to manipulate energy and matter. The three-level increase represented approximately a 27% boost in efficiency."

  Doc nodded thoughtfully. "His new skill—Hidebound Ingenuity—what can you tell me about that?"

  "Based on contextual analysis and observed energy signatures, this appears to be a specialized enhancement that allows him to preserve and utilize inherent properties of monster-derived materials. Essentially, he can now transfer qualities of the original creature into crafted items."

  "This world makes less sense the more I learn about it," Doc muttered under his breath.

  "Your frustration is understandable," Lux replied through their neural link. "The class system appears to operate on principles that contradict established scientific frameworks."

  Doc shook his head slightly. "A dwarf just molded leather with his bare hands like it was clay, gained three levels in something called a 'secondary class,' and unlocked a skill that lets him preserve monster properties in crafted items. And everyone acts like this is completely normal."

  "It is normal for them," Lux pointed out. "Our understanding of this world's fundamental laws remains incomplete."

  Doc sighed. "I'm starting to feel like I'm the crazy one for not having a class. Everyone else seems to slot neatly into this system—fighters, wardens, hunters, crafters. Meanwhile, I'm just... me."

  "Would you prefer to have integrated with the class system when we arrived?"

  "No," Doc said firmly. "But it would be nice to understand how it works. Is it genetic? Neurological? Some kind of quantum entanglement with local energy fields? We need more data."

  The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the camp. Doc realized they needed to focus on more immediate concerns than the metaphysics of this world.

  "We should speak with Mazoga about camp priorities," Doc said. "Water supplies, fortifications, repairs. Even with Dulric's new armor, these people aren't ready to brave the Hollow Vale."

  Doc spotted Mazoga across the camp, deep in conversation with Carl. They stood near what had once been the bandits' storage area, gesturing at crates and supplies. As Doc approached, both turned to look at him, their conversation abruptly halting.

  "Hope I'm not interrupting," Doc said.

  Mazoga straightened up, still wearing her old patched leathers, though Doc could see the newly crafted Ravageboar armor set aside nearby, waiting for her to try it on. She smiled, more genuinely than Doc had seen before. "Thank you for the monster materials. Dulric didn't say it outright, but having quality materials to work with after days of captivity meant more to him than just the armor pieces."

  "I'm just trying to help," Doc replied. "Actually, I wanted to ask what else I can assist with. The armor is a good start, but we need to think about other necessities if we're going to survive here."

  Mazoga nodded, her expression turning serious. "Water's our biggest concern. The bandits had a supply line to a spring about half a kilometer east, but we're not sure if it's safe to access regularly. The camp's cistern is getting low."

  "I could help with that," Doc offered. "Fish and I could scout the route, make sure it's secure."

  Carl adjusted his oversized glasses, looking up at Doc with undisguised fascination. "We also need to reinforce the eastern wall. The bandits never finished repairs after something big crashed through it last month."

  "Something big?" Doc asked.

  "They never said what," Mazoga replied. "But whatever it was left claw marks in solid wood. That's why they doubled the guards on that side."

  Doc nodded thoughtfully. "Water first, then fortifications. What about communications? Any chance of signaling for help?"

  Mazoga and Carl exchanged a glance that told Doc everything he needed to know.

  "The teleporter was our only way in or out," Mazoga said quietly. "And you killed him."

  Doc grimaced at that reminder. He'd killed the teleporter out of necessity—a fight to the death that he'd barely survived—but he couldn't exactly explain that to people who'd just lost their only ticket out of this death trap.

  "I was just trying to stay alive," Doc said, then immediately regretted how self-serving it sounded. "I mean, we all were. But I understand the situation it's created."

  Mazoga's expression softened slightly. "No one's blaming you. That bastard would've killed us all eventually. But it does leave us in a tight spot."

  Doc nodded, accepting the diplomatic response. "I'll help with the water situation first thing tomorrow. I got caught up observing Dulric's crafting today—the process was fascinating. The day just slipped away."

  "Understandable," Mazoga replied, her tusked smile appearing genuine. "And frankly, though I won't say it too loudly around camp, we desperately needed that armor. The monsters out here are dangerous—even the 'ordinary' ones would tear through unprotected civilians."

  Carl nodded enthusiastically. "The Ravageboar hide is amazing material! The way it distributes impact force—I've never seen anything like it outside high-level adventuring gear."

  "The armor will help level the playing field a bit," Mazoga added. "At least enough to give people a fighting chance if something breaks through our defenses."

  "That's good to hear," Doc said, feeling a small measure of relief. "I'll see you both tomorrow, then. Early start for the water scouting mission."

  As Doc walked away with Fish padding alongside him, he felt the weight of responsibility settling more firmly on his shoulders. These people were counting on him—not just for immediate survival needs but as their best hope for eventual escape.

  Later that evening, Doc sat against a tree at the camp's edge, watching the stars emerge in an unfamiliar sky. Fish lay curled beside him, her violet-streaked fur occasionally rippling with phase energy as she dozed.

  "Quite a day," Doc murmured, more to himself than to Lux.

  "Indeed," Lux replied through their neural link. "Would you like a summary of today's events and achievements?"

  Doc smiled slightly. "Sure, let's hear the official report."

  "Day seventeen on unidentified fantasy planet," Lux began in an overly formal tone. "Subject Robert Duckworth continues his accidental career as local superhero and provider of monster-based fashion accessories."

  Doc snorted. "I'm hardly a superhero."

  "Evidence suggests otherwise. Today's accomplishments include: facilitating the creation of eight pieces of protective armor, advancing a dwarf's crafting abilities by three levels, and being politely reminded that you eliminated the only means of escape from this death forest."

  "When you put it that way, it sounds terrible," Doc said with a wince.

  "I should note that you also managed to avoid being killed by anything today, which statistically represents a significant improvement over previous days."

  Fish's ear twitched at this, and she lifted her head, making a soft huffing sound that almost resembled laughter.

  "Even Fish agrees with my assessment," Lux noted.

  Doc reached over to scratch behind Fish's ears. "Traitor," he said affectionately. Fish responded by phase-shifting her head briefly through his hand, causing a strange tingling sensation.

  "Fish appears to be developing a sense of humor," Lux observed. "Analysis suggests she is now deliberately phase-shifting for comedic effect rather than practical purposes."

  "Great," Doc sighed. "A wolf with teleportation powers and a comedy routine."

  Fish made another huffing sound, then deliberately phase-shifted her tail through the ground and back up, wiggling it in a distinctly playful manner.

  "I believe she is showing off," Lux commented.

  "I can see that," Doc replied, unable to suppress a smile. "Tomorrow we'll put those abilities to better use. Water duty, remember?"

  Fish's ears perked up at the word "water," and she made an eager whining sound.

  "At least someone's excited about tomorrow's mission," Doc said, patting Fish's side. "Let's just hope it doesn't involve fighting another Ravageboar. One fashion collection is enough for now."

  Thanks for reading Chapter 13!

  Chapter 14 drops Friday.