-Will Eisner

"This is not going to work," John grunted, staring at the makeshift furnace he'd come up with. Using some of his leftover clay and the materials they'd gotten from the Iron Dwarves plus the environment’s natural abundance, John had formed a small, almost vase-like structure out of dirt, stone, and clay. It was definitely fire-proof, and mostly water-proof save for the hole he had left near the bottom, but all the same it was not doing its job properly. In the three hours since their return from the last dungeon run, that was the best John had managed. Unfortunately, even felling a tree for firewood and mixing in everything flammable in his inventory had failed to produce enough flames to melt the cluster of Iron Ore he had dumped in the center.

"Maybe we need to find somethin' that burns hotter?" Seras asked, shrugging as she glanced in through the side hole. John had only seen one video about forging, a very long time ago, and replicating (at best) mediocre medieval forging based upon a twenty-minute miniature documentary he'd probably seen a half-dozen years ago was… not the most prolific of endeavors.

"Well there's nothing around here but grass and wood, so there's not much we can burn by default. Dungeons are a no-go because you, Maera, and Sophia are all exhausted as far as what I'm willing to risk and would still have something worthwhile. The mountainous terrain might contain something… but by the time I covered the entire square mileage of the new zones, there's no chance that we could experiment, and I doubt Evellyn is suddenly going to chime in with new knowledge."

"Negative, Master Newman. I have limited advanced knowledge of your abilities, but I am afraid my input on mundane or magical methods of making use of the fruits of your labor are rather incomplete. If you can acquire any knowledge on it, I will store it, but that is the most I can offer you."

"Weren't you programmed by Gaia? Not sure why she wouldn't give you knowledge of everything, just to make stuff easier. If Moira was even right about that."

"Wouldn' really be fair if you could just know everythin' though, would it?" Seras asked, shrugging.

"Yeah, but… I dunno, I already break all these rules - when did fair come into play? Why would it?"

John didn't have an answer for that question, but he was able to distract himself with focusing on his makeshift furnace and trying to learn how he could convert his Iron Ore into Iron Ingots and then further on into actual equipment. Getting as close as he could to the small hole he'd left at the bottom, John peered at the fire with rising curiosity.

"The enemies that I faced, even a ton of levels ago, took almost no damage from me spraying them with 'mundane' fire… what happens if…"

John let his own thoughts trail off as he knelt down, focusing on his mana. He didn't have enough regenerated since the dungeon to do a whole lot, but it was something to work with at least. John placed a hand as close to the small hole at the bottom as he could in the intense heat - a proximity he found to be surprisingly close given the intense blaze - and began to spray fire from his palm. The familiar crimson spray wouldn't be enough, though - he was sure of it. So John focused and poured more mana into the ability, trying to bypass his limits, to break through and create flames more intense than his ability normally allowed. It wasn't much to go off of, but visual mediums seemed to help him with creating new spells, so he pictured his mana as the tinder of a growing flame.

John's stream flickered and started to taper off, leading him to wonder if he was interrupting or disrupting his natural flow of mana. But after a few moments, it became clear that the stream was not fading but intensifying, despite his rapidly decreasing mana. John's narrowed blast of fire shifted colors, rotating through red, into white, and then all the way into a deep blue, until even his palms were feeling the incredible heat released despite it being firmly pointed in the opposite direction. That blue continued to shift and fade in hue for seconds, John's mana steadily trickling downward.

At first there was no sign of his increase. John received no pop-ups, no signs of gaining a new technique or leveling up his old one. All he could tell was that the flame had changed colors… and then, through the hole that he had bored into the bottom of his makeshift furnace, iron began to drip down.

It was glowing orange, clearly an unnatural liquid, and it fell for several seconds - until, eventually, the event reached its natural conclusion. John ran out of mana, leaving a dripping mess of Iron Ore slowly seeping out of his furnace. As his flames died out, John did the only thing he could think of, stupid as it was - he threw his hand forward and tried to obtain the melted ore.

The glistening, molten metal found its way into John's inventory with a startling ease, something labeled as Smelted Iron Ore hovering in one of his slots as a glowing crimson orb of metal. He couldn't craft anything with it, since it didn't seem to count as an Iron Ingot or any similar craftable material, but there was no way to safely set it free and solidify it yet. He had discovered the ability to melt ore, but he had nothing he could pour it into yet, and no tools to work the molten metal with even if he had a way to store it to smelt again and shape later.

So John, with his allies now thoroughly depleted (or in the case of Maera and Mithra off exploring their new territory), was left with naught to do but bide his time and think of things to improve about his world. Sophia had busied herself collecting some of the fruit trees' magnificent harvest once again, Seras was alternating between cleaning her weapon from their dungeon runs and glancing over in his direction with a thirst that was simultaneously arousing and alarming, and Lunaya was training whenever she pleased. For the first time in quite a while, John was left with only his thoughts - even if they were occasionally about how he needed to be concerned about his blood content.

So it was understandable that when he heard a sudden burst of static, followed by a blurry but unmistakable voice, John Newman's first reaction was to shout several obscenities and stare at the drone now glaring directly into his face.

"Surprise I can understand, but vulgarity? You were well aware that this would likely happen at some point, given that I could discern your strange abilities at all, John Newman," Tricia's voice chastised, as John was left staring at a very disapproving robot.

"Tricia! You finally figured out the wavelength, or whatever?" John asked, still a bit uncertain as to the actual mechanics.

"I have determined the way to adjust my standard mana-based communications arrays, yes," Tricia sighed, and John could almost feel her shaking her head as she dumbed down whatever methods she had utilized to finally make contact while still explaining almost nothing to John. "But that is hardly important yet. Moira is quite eager to hear from you. The Cabal have been mobilizing, and she wants to ascertain your current situation."

"Mobilizing? Are they really moving on the Manor? I can come back right away if she's in danger."

"No," Tricia said, her confidence slipping for the first time. "The Cabal are quite clearly not attacking - if anything, they seem to be retreating. Most of their forces have been redirecting from their outposts to group up within the deeper parts of their territory, and a few have been outright leaving. We aren't quite certain whether they are under orders to seek outside aid or whether they are abandoning their fellow Cabalists - whatever the case, Moira wants to strike before they have an opportunity to return. She's hoping you could cut your visit short."

"Oh, that's… I mean, that's amazing!" John glanced to Seras, eyeing her health bar nervously. He had a feeling that Moira's hope was more of a demand, but that would be impossible given how hard he had pressed his two most reliable fighters.

"Given the static I am going to assume that was poorly-conveyed sarcasm and not a blatant lie," Tricia deadpanned, sighing so loud it was carried across the slightly unstable communication. "Moira would like to know whether your day of training was worthwhile. She expects much from you."

John opened his menu and took a quick glance at where his stats were. Honestly…? He wasn't much improved from when he left. He had an entire +2 to most of his stats from when he had left, plus the miscellaneous points he'd distributed. He had even lost a level, not that Moira would know that without joining his party and inspecting his GUI.

"So far it's only a small gain. I'm low on mana, a bit low on health… I'm going to need the rest of my resting period to heal up, and I wasn't able to improve quite as much as I wanted to."

"John Newman, I have endangered our operations for your sake at the request of my father."

The intruding voice was stern, and even more easily discernible than John's original conversational partner. He could practically feel the self-righteousness and headstrong nature resonating through the drone as the commanding voice echoed around the lake's clearing.

"The Cabal are either planning a group strike or they are going to attempt to flee Springfield altogether before we can finish them off. Either way, waiting a full twenty-four hours for you to merely return to us as you were is not a viable option. You must either return now or find some way to make a notable improvement in the next several hours. Which will it be?"

John fought back the urge to scream at Moira, to tell her that even with his apparently bullshit abilities he couldn't muster that kind of change, even with his best effort. But as his mind scanned over the past half-day that he had experienced, between training and Crafting and strengthening his relationships with his creations, John realized one pathway that was still left open to him. One that perhaps only Moira could ensure remained available.

"I will return in two hours, after we have had a chance to rest and recover. I have grown, but not as much as I hoped. Seras and Sophia will be coming with me, and they have improved greatly as well. If you do something for me, I could be even stronger still."

"I grow tired of these delays, John Newman, and I-"

"I don't need much. Not a day, maybe not even an hour," John interrupted, grabbing the drone by its sides and hoping that Moira could see him. Glaring with as much intensity as he could muster, just in case there really was a video feed on the other side of that multiversal camera, John steadied his nerves and his voice.

"I just need a few minutes… and I need you to tell Etriyya to answer all of my questions."