Weeks 1–2
The forest surrounding the dwarven village was a biological anomaly. The trees here absorbed minerals directly from the volcanic soil, rendering their wood fibers as resilient as raw iron.
Day one was a failure in calculation.
I chopped like an amateur, relying purely on raw kinetic output. Every time the axe struck, agonizing vibrations traveled all the way up to my shoulders. The blade dulled within ten swings. The result: a mere three felled trees, and blistered palms with the skin peeled back to expose raw, stinging pink flesh.
My physical output simply exceeded the threshold of this low-tier axe. If I applied my maximum force, the tree wouldn't fall—the handle of the axe would shatter instead.
On the second day, I stopped.
I stood before a massive tree. Silent. Observing.
My fingertips traced the coarse bark, reading the alignment of the fibers, searching for the natural points of tension. My brain shifted gears, reallocating focus from muscle to physics.
A 45-degree strike angle for the undercut. Perpendicular to split. Leverage. Momentum.
I reprofiled the edge of my axe to a different bevel—sharper, thinner. It made the blade more brittle, meaning careless swings were no longer an option. Every strike had to be executed with surgical precision.
I took a breath. Focused.
THWACK.
The sound was clean. The blade bit deep without resistance.
CREAK. THUD.
A single, optimized strike now accomplished the work of ten brutal hacks.
I was no longer a lumberjack. I was a recalibrated biological machine. The rhythm of my breathing synchronized with the arc of the axe. My heart pumped at a slow, steady, powerful pace.
My body moved faster—far faster than an ordinary human's. My true physical parameters, which I had unconsciously kept restrained, were now being fed outward incrementally through flawless technique. There was no wasted motion. No kinetic bleed-off.
Passing dwarves began to pause in their tracks. At first, they only cast cynical glances my way. But as the days rolled by, their scoffs changed pitch—shifting from quiet disdain to silent acknowledgment.
The lumber stockpiles in the village warehouse grew at twice the rate of their usual productivity standards. I was outputting the labor of three dwarves in half the time.
By nightfall, rest remained a myth.
Fergaer tasked me with breaking stones for the foundation of a new structure. A test of endurance.
I stood before a chunk of granite the size of a buffalo.
I didn't strike blindly. My eyes scanned the micro-structure of the rock. I looked for the cleavage plane—the natural fault line within the stone's crystalline lattice. The point of highest fragility.
There.
A single, calculated strike to the exact coordinate.
Crack.
The massive boulder sheared cleanly into two symmetrical halves.
Sweat drenched my entire body, mixing with the granite dust to coat my skin in a layer of ash-gray. The physical exhaustion was very real. My joints burned. Yet, within this state of extreme fatigue, my mind achieved a state of absolute clarity.
There was no room for existential queries about who I am or why I am here when every muscle fiber was screaming for respite. Manual labor was the ultimate anesthetic.
Every night, the dwarves held their feasts. They drank heavy ale from wooden casks, their raucous laughter echoing around the bonfires as they celebrated another grueling day.
I never joined them.
I sat in the darkened corners, far removed from the warmth of the hearth, nursing a cup of black coffee.
I lit a cigarette. The smoke drifted upward, dissolving into the starless void of the night sky.
A passing dwarf tossed something my way.
"Take it, boy. You can fetch a decent coin for that in the human cities."
It was a raw crystal. A leftover cut from their daily haul.
I caught it mid-air, slipping my hand and the crystal back into my pocket.
It was warm. Then cold. Then... hollow.
The ambient energy trapped within seeped into my body without any conscious command. Like water soaking into parched earth.
Within seconds, the crystal in my palm was reduced to a dead, translucent stone.