After talking with Liam for the rest of the night, I snuck back home to my Dimensional Shard. It really was an incredibly useful tool—I could enter from almost anywhere and then exit at any location I had attuned to.
Kim’s Arcane Café had a homing beacon in the basement, making it a safe entry point in Schoolville. Fairhope had another beacon, which meant I could jump between these places almost instantly.
As soon as I was back inside the Shard, I let out a slow breath and settled into meditation.
I reached outward, letting my senses extend into the forest, feeling the pulse of the land around me. Schoolville was to the south, Fairhope to the northwest, and Haven’s Rest almost directly east of Schoolville. The deeper I focused, the clearer the land became in my mind—a map I could feel rather than see.
Raj probably had a good physical map, though. I made a mental note to check in with him soon. If I was going to help this region, I needed to know it inside and out.
Kim had been right—I would feel bad if people got hurt when I could have done something to prevent it. I sighed, rubbing my temples.
Deep down, I was a lazy person.
But I was also the kind of person who didn’t like leaving things half-finished.
The first thing I needed was a training area. If I was going to teach people in Schoolville, I needed a controlled environment where I could observe them, track their progress, and—hopefully—gain experience when they taught others.
I laughed out loud at the thought. Saving the world with a pyramid scheme.
Why not? If it worked, it worked. The more people who learned, the more knowledge would spread, and the stronger everyone would become.
I decided that Kim’s Café would be my first base of operations in Schoolville. I’d set up a training room beneath it, and Kim would be responsible for vetting people before I trained them.
Fairhope was different—I didn’t have the same trust issues there. I could continue open training, letting people freely learn as long as they had the right attitude and willingness to grow.
But if this was really going to work, I needed to think bigger.
Ideally, I should be setting up different chapters in major settlements, just like the Adventurer’s Guild.
The Guild’s quest system had been an interesting discovery. Once requests started being written down, the magic system automatically recognized them and turned them into structured quests. The system even tracked results, distributing rewards accordingly.
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More interestingly, some of the more organized members of the Guild had started gaining administrative skills. They weren’t warriors or fighters, but they had abilities that let them manage resources, track people, and enforce fair trades.
Could I gain some of those skills?
Could I apply the same system-based structure to a Druidic Training Network?
It was worth looking into.
For now, I had a loose plan. First, I would set up a training room in Schoolville beneath Kim’s Café, using it as a controlled space to teach and observe potential students. Kim would help vet those interested, ensuring that only the right people gained access to training.
Next, I needed to establish a trusted group in Fairhope—a core team of individuals who could act as the first generation of instructors. If they could train others, I wouldn’t have to oversee every lesson personally, allowing the knowledge to spread more efficiently.
Beyond that, I wanted to explore the idea of a formalized training guild. If I could structure quests and challenges the way the Adventurer’s Guild did, the system might recognize them, turning training into something more structured and rewarding. That would give students clear progression paths, ensuring they didn’t stagnate at lower levels.
Finally, I needed to figure out how to bond creatures to people. If I could refine the Druidic pet system, I could introduce companions to settlements, giving individuals loyal creatures that could help protect them. Not everyone was cut out to be a warrior, but a bonded creature could provide support, security, and even companionship—further increasing the survival rates of those in more vulnerable communities.
It was a lot to take on, but if I could make it work, it would change everything.
I would need tools to make this happen.
After solidifying my plan, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
The Dimensional Shard’s workshop had expanded significantly since I first discovered it. The walls were lined with neatly arranged shelves of herbs, enchanted wood, refined metal, and gemstone shards—all gathered by the ants, the bees, and my own efforts.
I started crafting the tools I would need, beginning with Training Stones—small enchanted stones designed to track progress and grant minor experience boosts for those who completed structured lessons. If I wanted people to stay motivated, having a tangible way to measure their growth would help.
Next were Druidic Pendants, simple attunement charms that would allow me to monitor trainees' development. These would also act as a subtle reinforcement of their connection to nature magic, helping them integrate Druidic energy into their skills more naturally.
Finally, I worked on Summoning Marks, a prototype for something much bigger. These sigils, if properly refined, could anchor bonded creatures to their human partners, making it possible for individuals to form lasting connections with magical companions. If I could get this right, I could start implementing the pet companion system, allowing others to experience a bond similar to the one I had with Thor and Loki.
Each tool was a step toward something greater, and as I worked, I knew I was laying the foundation for a system that could reshape how people fought, learned, and survived.
Hours passed in quiet focus, the only sounds being the soft hum of magic and the crackling of the forge as I reinforced the enchantments.
This was just the beginning.
But with the right foundation, I could change everything.