Chapter 28: The Ice Tool Era

Wade dug three small pits in the ground and placed three thorny branches diagonally across their edges, connecting the upper ends to areas with ice blocks. His purpose was to collect melted water – as the ice melted, water would flow down the branches and gather in the small pits.

The soil in the cave wasn’t pure sand. Pure sand couldn’t form a natural hollow providing shelter from strong winds, and this earth didn’t absorb water so readily that he needed to worry about all the water seeping away. By tomorrow, these three pits should contain small amounts of murky water.

The water collected in the scales would be used to water the glowing moss, while the water in the pits had another purpose.

Having settled on this plan, Wade spent some time organizing his spoils. He neatly folded the mage’s robe and placed it in a corner. The ring and gemstones went into a pouch together, while the boots – which he had no use for – were removed and placed beside the robe.

Mia perched on Wade’s skull, watching him bustle about. Today’s activities had been strenuous enough to leave him feeling tired.

Before sleeping, Wade inspected his round-headed mace and small round shield – his only weapons and protective gear that needed proper maintenance. With the cave now tidy, Wade lay down on the burial shroud. Everything was arranged in perfect order.

The little ghost floated onto Wade’s palm. As he lay down, she too grew still. “Goodnight,” Wade tapped the little ghost’s forehead lightly.

The newly transplanted moss emitted an eerie glow, mysterious and silent. The neatly arranged thorn branches formed spiked walls, while the matching robe and boots rested together. The cave was starting to look… almost like a home. Well, a caveman’s home at least.

“More improvements tomorrow,” thought Wade as sleepiness overcame him. Mia didn’t disturb him – perhaps because she’d absorbed new magical energy, the little ghost showed no signs of sleepiness, remaining full of vitality. Yet she didn’t bounce around on Wade’s bones either, instead curling up sideways in his palm, clutching one of his fingers.

The howling winds outside seemed to unsettle her. Occasional dull thunder rumbled – today’s storm was fiercer than previous days. Sensing danger, all creatures except crying infants instinctively grow quiet, holding their breath. The little ghost appeared frightened, so Wade playfully poked her with his finger before rolling onto his side and cupping his hands together.

This formed an enclosed shell, leaving only a small gap between his left thumb and forefinger. The little ghost curled up inside his palms, peering out faintly. “Sleep,” Wade conveyed through thought. The little one obediently closed her eyes, and Wade entered dormancy.

…

Wade’s consciousness arrived in his dream, where the twenty-sided die hovered before him, its heart-carved face continuing to stain red. Checking the progress, he resumed sparring with Sven’s phantom, honing his skills.

Practical combat experience most easily yields effective sword techniques, and skills for killing must be refined through actual battle. Without a swordmaster to correct his movements or teach fundamentals, Wade learned through repeated deaths. This left deeper impressions than merely striking wooden dummies.

After three dream-days of combat, Wade had significantly improved his swordsmanship. Sven’s sword strikes carried tremendous weight, forcing Wade to develop techniques for redirecting force. Sven was a seasoned warrior – not just relying on brute strength, but deliberately leaving openings to lure Wade into attacks.

Gradually, Wade learned to distinguish feints from genuine threats. He began grasping combat rhythm as clanging metal echoed endlessly through the burning church. Slash, chop, deflect, parry, thrust – simple movements combined into countless possibilities. Among these, Wade continuously sought combinations that suited him.

Another night of training passed before he awoke in the cave. Mia still slept – she must have fallen asleep later than Wade. Placing her on the soft robe, he rose and hunched over to inspect the thorn branches. Good – nothing had loosened. These two “walls” effectively bore the weight; though winds still raged outside, their effect was barely felt inside.

Next he checked the scales and pits – both had collected small amounts of water. Carefully lifting the scales, he poured the relatively cleaner water onto the moss within the thorn fence. The water seemed to please them – Wade noticed their glow brightening slightly, their magical currents flowing faster. Hopefully these luminous mosses could adapt to the cave environment.

Nodding in satisfaction after completing his morning checks, Wade crawled to the cave entrance. Pushing the stone aside slightly, he peered out through the gap – yellow sand still filled the skies, making venturing outside impossible. Resealing the “door,” he picked up some thorn branches and his round-headed mace, hammering a particularly brittle branch into small segments.

He patiently waited for Mia to awaken. By the time the little ghost floated up from the robe, Wade had completed preparations. Calling her over, he inserted the small wooden sticks into the water-filled pits. Having planned this water collection yesterday, he now attempted an experiment. Taking a branch, he drew the shape of a knife in the dirt – his three-dimensional sketch apparently conveyed the idea clearly to Mia through their mental connection.

As one of the northern folk, hunting knives and bows were commonplace in daily life – Mia naturally recognized the knife drawing. Floating to the pit’s edge, the little ghost extended her tiny hands, releasing her magic. Wade remained silent – such moments required intense concentration, like painting when unwanted chatter would disrupt creative flow.

Tendrils of cold air rose from the pit as the muddy water froze into shape around the small wooden stick. Wade grasped the stick and pulled out a brand new ice blade. Success! Mia’s control surpassed his expectations – she perfectly understood the knife’s form and replicated it through freezing. No polishing needed – this was already an extremely sharp dagger.

Gleaming coldly along its razor-thin edge, Wade eagerly tested it on the robe. Starting from the collar, he smoothly sliced downward along the fabric’s weave, producing clean cuts. He also tried using the ice blade to trim small thorns from branches – slightly laborious but successful. After consideration, he drew a serrated pattern and moved to another pit.

Mia again released her magic, freezing a small ice saw. Like a carpenter, Wade used it to saw through the troublesome branches – successfully dividing the stubborn wood. Now he had proper tools. He had entered… well, the Ice Tool Era.