Jack reread the details of his new title, his eyes lingering on every word.
Innovating Pioneer (Epic)
Title description: Instead of following the footsteps of others, you brave new ground with fearless experimentation.
Title effects:
+10 fame
+3 intellect
75% chance of the system upgrading a minus grade to a full grade
All recipes you have discovered are now considered your signature recipes. Unique bonuses are granted when you craft them.
Current recipes: [Amphora], [Clay Smoke Bomb], [Mud Hut], [Ocarina], [Pot Hive].
Conditions to unlock [Innovating Pioneer]:
Be the first in the game to craft five original items. {Complete}
“Whoa!” Jack’s jaw dropped. The system hadn’t just upgraded his title—it had launched it into the stratosphere.
The fame boost from 3 to 10 alone was incredible, but the new bonus to intellect was great. And the increase from 50% to 75% chance to salvage bad grades? It would come in handy. Moreover, it came with a unique feature. “Unique bonuses. I wonder what they are,” he said with longing.
This was leagues ahead of [Pride of the Innovator], the title he’d earned after crafting his first clay ocarina. He didn’t realize that the system was still tracking his efforts. Seeing this new title, with all its recognition of his hard work and creativity, hit him harder than he expected.
He scrolled through the list of recipes he had discovered, pausing at each one. Every item carried a memory—mud-streaked hands, long crafting sessions, and endless tweaking until it was just right. To have his contributions officially recognized wasn’t just satisfying—it was validating.
Grinning, he fired off a message to the group chat, attaching the title details.
Amari: “I can’t believe it! Epic?! Oh my goodness! This is insane!”
Horace: “...”
Marie: “I hate you, Jack.”
Jack burst out laughing, especially at Marie’s reply. He could almost picture her pouting.
Amari: “The list of recipes… I don’t recognize the amphora. Does it have anything to do with the brewing profession?”
Horace: “… What’s an amphora?”
Marie: “Ancient pottery for storing wine and spirits. You uncultured swine.”
Horace: “Oink, oink.”
Once the excitement of his new title faded, Jack forced himself to refocus. A nagging problem remained. Despite the title’s perks, his last crafting attempt—a stoneware amphora—had earned a dismal grade. Somewhere along the line, he’d messed up. Now, he had to figure out where.
He grabbed the amphora and scrutinized its surface. For a pinch pot, it looked good—smooth, even walls, a flat base, and pleasing curves. The handles were sturdy, securely attached, and capable of supporting the pot’s weight. So far, so good.
His fingers moved almost automatically, smoothing the surface and checking for imperfections. “Did I pierce the wall while etching?” he muttered, even though he already knew the answer. Just in case, he inspected every etched line and filled the amphora with water. Not a drop leaked. It was fully waterproof.
The glaze? Uniform. The firing process? Perfect. No cracks. He rubbed his forehead in frustration. “What am I missing?” He turned the pot over and over, searching for flaws, but it looked fine.
With no other leads, Jack read through the recipe again—twice, just to be sure. He’d followed every step. He’d even gone the extra mile by etching and glazing the pot. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he mused.
Determined to test his theory, Jack started from scratch. This time, he followed the recipe exactly, skipping the extras. No etching, no glaze, just a straightforward amphora.
You’ve crafted a [Stoneware Amphora].
+200XP in [Pottery]
[Innovating Pioneer] kicks in.
Stoneware Amphora (Uncommon)
A vessel made of clay ideal for storing and aging spirits.
Crafting grade: C
[Innovating Pioneer] bonus: +5% aging success; +5% aging speed.
Durability: 14
“Yes!” Jack had a double reason to celebrate. For one, the [Innovating Pioneer] title’s bonuses were incredible! The bonus to aging success and speed would make aging mead successfully to the maximum tier much easier.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
For mead to get from tier 1 to 2 took 30 minutes with a 100% chance of success. But the time doubled with each tier, while the chance of success halved. By the time it reached tier 6, the aging time was sixteen hours, and the success rate was only 6.25%. That extra 5% chance from [Innovating Pioneer] nearly doubled the odds.
The second reason for the celebration was that Jack had zeroed in on the problem. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” The problem was related to the etching or glazing. To narrow it down, he made two more amphorae: one with etching only and another with glazing only.
The etched amphora scored a solid B.
Stoneware Amphora (Uncommon)
A vessel made of clay ideal for storing and aging spirits.
Crafting grade: B
B-grade bonus: +2% chance that spirit will age properly.
[Innovating Pioneer] bonus: +5% aging success; +5% aging speed.
Durability: 15
Artistry: 3
Jack’s heart soared. Finally, progress! That left glazing as the culprit. To confirm, he crafted a pot with no etching but added glaze. The result? Another D grade. Mystery solved.
“I wonder why,” he muttered, frowning at the glazed pot. The only other item he left unglazed was the clay smoke bombs, which was intentional—he wanted them to break, and the brittle shells made them more effective. But brittleness didn’t seem to be the issue here.
He pondered the problem, then turned to the in-game browser for help. He started looking for articles about aging mead and the containers used in it. An article caught his eye, and one line jumped out: “...wood allows a small amount of air to pass through, helping the spirit mature.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “That’s it!” The glaze must have sealed the amphora completely, preventing any air from reaching the contents. Spirits needed to breathe to age properly!
The solution was simple: skip the glazing. Less work, less time—exactly the kind of efficiency Jack loved. This is right in my wheelhouse, he thought with a grin.
His mind wandered to the possibilities as he began molding a new amphora. “If this works as well as I think, I’ll need more space to scale this up. But renting a cellar for aging… ugh. It’s going to cost a fortune.” He sighed, already imagining the in-game economy draining his funds.
Still, Jack couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. “Amphora assembly line, here we go!”
He reached for another lump of clay, already envisioning the next amphora in his growing collection. The fire crackled warmly nearby, casting flickering shadows across his workspace. For a brief moment, the rhythm of crafting and the satisfaction of progress made everything else fade away.
*
A voice pulled him out of his focused state. “Well, aren’t you industrious,” Marie said, stepping into the firelight with a smirk. “So those are the amphorae.”
Jack looked up and grinned, wiping his hands on a rag. “For mead. I figure a little aged mead might help when the big guys show up.”
Marie crouched beside one of the amphorae, her fingers brushing lightly over the smooth surface. “Not bad.” She straightened, brushing her hands together as if shaking off imaginary dust. “Well, keep at it. Gonna summon the wave now.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “We still have a couple of minutes until the next wave,” he pointed out, glancing at the system clock.
“I know,” Marie replied casually, the glint of mischief in her eyes unmistakable. “But if I keep fast-tracking the waves, even if just a little bit, we’re going to unlock another achievement.”
Jack tilted his head. “Which is?” he asked, grateful Marie was actually sharing her plan this time.
“I forget the name. Amari’s the team’s library,” she joked with a shrug. “But it’s at ten fast-tracked waves, and it gives a few more breach points. Neat, uh?” She climbed onto the carriage and pulled up her system window, her fingers moving deftly through the interface.
The 7th wave comes. Beware.
“Need any help?” Jack called from his spot near the fire.
“Nope! Just come clean up the battlefield when I’m done here,” Marie replied, her tone breezy despite the tension in the air.
“OK!” Jack said with a chuckle. As the first explosions rang out from the other side of the carriage, he returned to his work, whistling to himself while carefully firing his latest batch of amphorae.
As Jack casually worked, the steady rhythm of crafting was punctuated by the sharp cracks and booms of bombs exploding on the other side of the carriage. The contrast was almost surreal—chaos on one side, calm on the other. Every now and then, a particularly loud blast made the fire in his kiln flicker, but Jack hardly flinched. He glanced over at Marie, the team’s grenadier. Despite the constant noise, she seemed completely at ease, her movements fluid and deliberate.
“She makes it look so easy,” Jack muttered, shaking his head before returning to his work.
This time, it took Marie fifteen minutes to clear the wave. She jumped down from the carriage and strode over to the fire, where Jack already had a bowl of stew waiting. She grabbed it and began drinking it without even bothering to sit down.
“So? How was this wave?” Jack asked.
“They’re starting to come closer, but I can still deal with it easily.”
“By the way,” Jack said, glancing at the clock. “How do we do breaks and stuff? Not everyone has a fancy capsule.”
“If any one of us stays on the map, the clock keeps ticking. We’ll need to coordinate it so that we all leave at the same time. Talk to the others on the chat. I’m easy.”
Jack frowned. He hadn’t known that was how it worked in the Breach. That meant they were all tied to each other. If Jack wanted to come to the game on his own to get some crafting done while the others were offline, he couldn’t. The thought irritated him, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Marie finished the stew and handed the bowl back to Jack. “Here. I’m going back to the citadel. Need to keep barricading. See you in ninety minutes, give or take.”
As Marie left, Horace arrived and helped himself to a serving, and Jack left to go clean up the battlefield. As he touched every dead roach on the battlefield collecting the spoils, he pulled up the team chat to sort out their break schedule.
Jack: “Hey guys? When can we have a lunch break? After the next wave is cleared? Shall we make it one hour?”
Amari: “Let’s make it ninety minutes instead. I want to work out.”
Horace: “Agreed. Ninety minutes might be better for Jack, too. He’ll have enough time to use the bathroom.”
Jack: “Are you making fun of me for not owning a capsule, Horace? That’s prejudice against the poor.”
Horace: “Right. Because poor people have epic titles.”
Jack: “Touché.”
Horace: “Oink. Oink.”
In the meantime, Jack finished collecting the loot and he headed toward the hidden spring. Thank goodness he’d found that place—it had saved him from running out of materials mid-crafting. The trek was quick, and he gathered as much clay as the spring could offer.
With their break plans settled and an inventory full of clay, Jack returned to his work. Mold, dry, etch, fire. Mold, dry, etch, fire. The rhythm was soothing, almost meditative. Each amphora he crafted came together more easily than the last.
The fire crackled in the background, its warmth mingling with the earthy scent of drying clay. Jack’s hands moved instinctively, smoothing and shaping the material, his mind drifting. He thought about the amphorae lined up against the wall and their potential to make a real difference in future waves.
But his thoughts soon strayed to Rob. He pictured him at the construction site, sweating under the midday sun. He then thought about Rob’s situation in the game. Was Rob’s avatar holding up alright? Had IronIre found out about his betrayal?
And then, almost unbidden, his thoughts turned to Lydia. The familiar pang of hurt surfaced but felt duller this time, more distant. Was it because he had friends now—people who cared, who worked beside him in this strange, shared world? Or was it simply that he was too busy to dwell on the past?
His movements grew faster as he found a groove, and the line of finished amphorae against the wall steadily grew.
