NOVEL NEXT Chapter 53
Chapter 53
Bianca
Day 45
Population of Thornhill - 52
I dreaded this day—the one where my life would devolve into a series of endless meetings. First, the town meeting, where I had to reassure everyone we were doing all we could to find Super, our escaped thief. Then the council meeting, plotting out the village’s future and policies. After that, a town planning meeting was held with the builders and masons to discuss the town’s expansion and projects. Now, here I was, at the security meeting, surrounded by dungeon regulars and Anika.
“Any sign of him?” I asked Cade. He shook his head, frustration tightening his jaw.
We gathered in the half-finished mess hall, where Bruce, Marek, and their assistants tiled the floor while we figured out what to do about Super. In the mess hall, Molvin, our carpenter, was busy shaping new tables and chairs. To add to the improved decor, a massive red bear’s head was mounted on the wall, courtesy of Alex and Sasha.
Astrid, ever eager, piped up. “I can take an elk out and track him.”
“I can’t let you take that risk, Astrid,” I said. Her courage made me proud, but the thought of her alone in the woods, hunting a man with nothing to lose—it terrified me. Besides, I wasn’t sure how good her tracking skills or her knowledge of the land were. Also, we needed her here to take care of the animals.
“He’s hiding in the forest somewhere,” Cade snapped. His voice cracked with exhaustion. His red-rimmed eyes betrayed how little sleep he’d had. “He’s going to come back for more food. He can’t last out there forever.”
When Super left, he stole supplies, but several days had passed since, and he hadn’t struck again. Alex suspected he had more than lockpicking skills—like stealth, maybe worse—which kept us on edge. We'd all been sleeping with one eye open, wary of every creak in the walls.
“What do we do if we catch him?” Anika asked, her voice measured, though I knew she was feeling the same unease. “It’s not like we have magical locks to hold him.”
“Execute him,” Sasha said bluntly, drawing her thumb across her throat. “I’m sick of this. There’s no other way.”
“What? That seems kinda harsh… I… no, I can’t…” My voice faltered, the weight of her words pressing down on me.
Is this who I am now? The kind of leader who signed off on executions?
A thick silence followed, no one argued with Sasha, not openly. Maybe they agreed. Maybe they were just as exhausted by Super’s whereabouts as she was.
“Maybe he’ll run into that party heading to Kronfeldt." Anika suggested, trying to break the tension.
“Even if he does, he’ll lie his way out of it,” Cade muttered. “He’s always been a smooth talker.”
I hated this. The idea of punishment—of having to make these decisions about people’s lives—felt heavy. Super had already caused enough damage, but what were we supposed to do? How long do we lock him up? And what if he escapes again?
“There’s not much we can do until he makes a move,” I said, frowning. “Cade, Alex, you’ll have to keep an eye out. If he tries anything dangerous…”
They looked at me, waiting for the final word.
“Handle it,” I said softly, the weight of the words settling in my chest. “If you can restrain him good. I think the best we can do is to throw him in a pit he can’t climb out of.”
With that, the meeting was over. No one had any better ideas. A manhunt through the forests would drain resources we didn’t have. Super Nine would have to slip up first. Until then, all we could do was continue waiting.
I climbed up to a familiar cliff and looked down over Thornhill. Slate was finishing the hostel, a stone rectangle building that needed something—something to make it look less like a cubic stone prison. Maybe a deck, maybe even a pool.
God, how awesome would it be if we could find a hot spring source?
I pulled out the Hostel card, watching it shimmer as the card signaled the building was complete. That familiar tingling sensation inside me meant that my Founder class card had leveled up. I’d hit level 10.
Here we go again.
The world flickered, and I found myself pulled back into the cosmic void. Stars glittered in the endless expanse, cold and distant. The void stretched out in every direction from the round card table that lay in the heart of the dimension. There, the Dealer sat, as always. Silent, waiting. My skill and class cards were neatly spread out on the table between us.
“H-hiya! Long time no see, Mr. Dealer,” I stammered, my voice too high, too shaky. I tried to control my fear, but it was hard. The emptiness of this place gnawed at me—endless, terrifying. Nothing but the dark and those stars, twinkling like distant eyes watching me.
You aren’t alone, Bianca, I reminded myself. You’ll be back in Thornhill soon. Let’s just get this over with.
The Dealer gave no response to my nervous greeting. He never spoke beyond what was necessary, never engaged beyond the deal. Its pale, expressionless face stayed fixed on the cards. Elegantly, it withdrew a single blue card from a portal on its palm and placed it in front of me.
I stared at the card, the tension in my chest tightening as I prepared to face whatever choice lay ahead.
The Builder Sovereign Path
Requirements:
Founder Class ✔
Familiar: Golem✔
Builder 3/3✔
Crafting 3/3✔
Pottery 4/3✔
Lights illuminated my shoulders like a firework was exploding behind me, a whistling sound followed as a shooting star blazed across the void. My breath caught as I watched it arc overhead, leaving a glowing trail in its wake. As it vanished in the sky, a new constellation lit up where the comet disappeared. Its outline was unmistakable—a golem. The massive form was sketched out in stars, like some celestial guardian watching over me from the heavens.
But the Dealer didn’t react. He never did. His attention remained fixed on the task at hand. Calmly, methodically, he slid a foiled package across the table toward me. No words, no expressions. Just the silent, inevitable motion.
I reached for it, the weight of the decision sinking in. The stars overhead gleamed brighter, as if they, too, waited for my next move.
The Building Sovereign Booster Pack
I opened it carefully. Three cards hovered before me, and a slot opened on the table, awaiting my choice.
Familiar: Lumberjack Golem - A
A second golem. This one will specialize in processing wood.
The card shows a golem mid-swing, its massive axe cutting through a tree with ease, dressed in a flannel shirt and sturdy overalls.
Familiar: Farmer Golem - A
A second golem. This one will specialize in farming.
This card depicts a golem standing in a field, wearing a straw hat and working with a plowshare. Rows of crops stretch out behind it.
Familiar: Quarry Golem - A
A second golem. This one will specialize in cutting and placing stones.
The golem on this card holds a hammer and chisel, poised over a block of stone. The background shows a quarry with towering rock walls.
I’d considered choosing the Farmer Golem—James was away in Kronfeldt, and Samar was overwhelmed with the farmwork. I’d already had to shift some workers her way, but we were stretched thin. Still, the Quarry Golem felt like the right choice. We couldn’t mine, couldn’t dig, and our need for limestone and salt was growing daily.
The last time I stood in the void world, I doubted myself. Now, though, there was no room for that. Thornhill had to grow, from a cluster of wooden huts into something permanent—something lasting. I wanted to turn Thornhill from a village of wood shacks into a city of marble.
Ummm…. Do we even have marble around here?
I chose Quarry Golem and placed it next to Walking Sawmill. The Dealer’s voice echoed as he bowed. “The cards have been dealt. Until we meet again, fellow holder.”
With a blink, the world reassembled itself, and I stood again on the cliffs overlooking the village. I summoned my new skill card—Familiar: Quarry Golem—and tapped it. From the rock ledge below, the stone began to stir. Slowly, a hulking figure of basalt emerged, nearly fifteen feet tall. Its form was a crude mass of rough stone, shaped like a blocky refrigerator with a flat back. One arm ended in a long saw, the other a drill. Blue light pulsed from its head, seeping through the cracks in the stone to form two visored eyes.
“Hi, Mr. New Golem,” I muttered as it lumbered toward me, awaiting orders.
The Familiar card revealed three skill cards for the Quarry Golem: Drill, Cut, and Haul. Playing around with the commands reminded me of when I first worked with Slate. Tossing a Drill card, the golem would bore into the rock precisely as I imagined. Cut would shape the stone into blocks, and Haul dragged the materials wherever I visualized.
Simple, but effective.
“You’re going to need a name,” I mused aloud. “Crag. How does Crag sound?”
Crag gave no indication it cared, far less responsive than Slate had ever been. I could get it to do tasks on its own, but it wasn’t intuitive like Slate. If I wanted Crag to work, I had to be specific.
I asked Anika where Crag’s talents were most needed, and she suggested we use them to gather limestone and salt. Together, we scouted for deposits in the Eastern hills. By the end of the day, Crag had lugged several hefty blocks of limestone and one giant block of salt back to a stockpile just outside the village.
After a long day of scouting limestone, the next morning brought a fresh challenge, I met with the town planning committee to discuss a new project—a storm drain that would eventually lead to a full sewer system.
“We’re going to need cement pipes,” Marek said, scratching his balding head. “We don’t have the materials for metal or plastic.”
“We can make cement from the limestone Crag digs up,” Bruce, our mason, suggested.
“Slate can lift the cement pipes, and Crag can dig the trenches, providing limestone and sand,” I added.
Marek frowned. “If we’re putting in a sewer system, we’ll need to move some buildings around. Could take months, even with your magic rocks.”
I knew Marek had a special ability that allowed him to flatten surfaces evenly which would help us reshape the way Thornhill looked.
“We have months,” I said, offering him a smile. “And it’ll be worth it. Now that people are settled, we have to think about the long-term layout of this place. Eventually, the old shelters will have to be repurposed or destroyed to become brick buildings.”
That conversation sparked a series of long days and nights as we set to work creating a cement mixer—metal sheets from the blacksmiths formed the drum and frame. With Slate and Crag working side by side, trenches were dug, pipes laid, and the foundations of our storm drain took shape.
Without the constant need to make pottery for trade, I could now focus on planning alongside the town’s builders. We mapped out cesspits and a graywater filtration system using sand to clean the waste before dumping it into the ocean as safely as possible.
I’m sure the trade expedition is working hard. We had to make sure we weren’t going to get left behind, either.
Yet, as I threw myself into the work, the same nagging feeling gnawed at me—a sinking dread in the pit of my stomach. I hated not knowing.
Super Nine was still out there.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that we hadn’t seen the last of him.