After Surviving the Apocalypse, I Built a City in Another World

A/N: Fair warning, the chaps since a few days ago and some Chapters a few days from now might lack a bit of editing! My laptop broke and it’s wacky to edit in my phone xD I miss a lot more things. Just comment if you have fixes! I’ll do my best to edit them when I get my laptop back (though all paragraphs edited will lose the comments T_T)

...

___

He’s gonna die, he’s gonna die, he’s totally gonna die—

Ba-dump, ba-dump

Ba-dump!

”Still not getting dressed?” the foreboding low voice sounded again, causing extra chills to his soul.

”A-Ah, yes!” He squealed, hurriedly taking a random shirt from his space.

It was upside down, though. Will it offend the Lord’s eyes?

Fortunately, after a long minute of silence, it seemed like he was going to survive the place, for now, because he was still breathing.

Ba-dump, ba-dump

He wondered if, after they found out how useless his inheritance was, would they be determined not to renew? Just to cut losses again?

Anyone who awakened an occupation would always move to towns, and then when their levels become sufficient and if the opportunity arises, perhaps they’d move to Cities to broaden their horizons and elevate their status.

So, despite professionals being very important to territories, the competition was fierce in towns and above, especially when there were not many towns and cities in the first place, at least compared to villages. There could be only one town in a hundred villages (or more), and a similar ratio existed from towns to cities.

Most towns could not afford to hire every professional that came their way, and they’d have to choose the better ones among the pool, since the hiring fee was the same per level regardless of their actual skill and inheritance.

If they were paying the same amount, Lords would naturally choose those with proper inheritances, right?

Hence, in his profile, he only mentioned Class E Weaponsmith. This was fine. As long as he wasn’t lying, he could write anything (or omit anything) from the Chancery applications.

”What is your inheritance?” A woman’s voice said and it was the Lord’s wife. He gaped at her beauty before gathering himself.

The Lord was definitely the overbearing macho type and he was afraid he would send icepicks to his eyes if he continued to stare.

Granted, seeing a man treasure a woman so much was very rare. And in the end, he really ended up staring. Not at the beauty, but at the couple’s interactions.

This calmed him down somewhat. Perhaps the lady’s softness would calm down the Lord.

”Milady—”

”She’s the Lord.”

Gasp

He almost kneeled down for his continuous impertinence.

”Just answer the question,” the man said and he hurriedly answered as he was asked.

”I...it’s not very special.”

The beautiful Lord spoke. ”Every ability can be useful. They just need to be interpreted somehow.”

...

A few days later, Ruken found himself often in the Research Center. He was assigned to the weapons factory, but a good portion of his time, he was asked to give to the Research Center.

One of the traditions in Alterra, whenever there was an unusual ability or inheritance coming up, was that it had to be studied.

Of course, it wasn’t to the point that they’d disregard the person’s privacy and personal space (though sometimes, depending on how passionate the researcher, they definitely walked a thin line).

Anyway, they would soon find out more about his ability, its limitations, and the current known uses. Rather than used in weapon upgrades, it seemed to have other, more fitting functions.

The reason why it was counted as a weaponsmith inheritance rather than as an aether tool inheritance was because it did not have the warming effect via array, but rather through special wavelength or vibration.

Most weaponsmiths would reinforce the material by infusing aether into it, and Ruken’s happened to react similarly, but also not exactly the same. The material wasn’t reinforced, but it did have some heating qualities.

It was like the atoms, instead of bonding, became loose instead.

Ruken applied whenever he held his weapon. It would only work when it was in his wavelength though, which was why it had been classified as useless all this time.

That said, as they were now, Ruken’s weapons really were useless in battle even in his own hand, but left it to obsessed Alterrans to figure something out.

The people who found out were none other than Lin and Olso.

That was a story for later, however.

At this time, Lin and Oslo were still in the middle of their portable gun research and were undergoing a well-deserved break.

They hadn’t really stopped working even during the Cold wave. The trapped indoor situation actually made it ideal for endless experimentations.

Anyway, now, Linlin was wearing a pretty sundress and she was followed by several of her little goblin friends, also in summer attire.

Oslo was right behind them, as the sponsor who bought his time with them by buying the attires for everyone.

”Thank you for buying so many things,” Lin said. She could afford this, but she wouldn’t reject people’s goodwill, especially when her friends benefited as well.

Oslo grinned. ”Anything for the kids.”

Some orphaned goblin babies (from Guia Village back then) even called them mama and papa.

By this time, although Lin didn’t have the best impression of Oslo, his commitment to the research did soften up her view of him. And now, with his closeness to the goblins, this was softening up even more.

One had to remember that Oslo was a noble aborigine. They were generally not as open-minded as Terrans.

Even the ’decent’ aborigines like many of the mercenaries and the visiting nobles, looked down on goblins.

It was not to the point of cruelty, but they were looked at as a different level, like the servants they did not put into mind. Sometimes, the free-spirited Alterran goblins might pass by a visiting noble or accidentally enter their path, and that noble would be visibly offended.

Fortunately, the rules in Alterra were strict, and after many precedents, no one dared to openly show racism anymore.

In contrast, there was no hint of distance between Oslo and the little green ones. This indicated that he was truly a good person with a level head and fair heart, even if he was a bit annoying sometimes.

”So who wants some cotton candy?” Oslo asked, grinning at the little goblins who immediately sparkled at the mention. Not every goblin was a child, but they were all children at heart when it came to sweets.

And so began one of the first big excursions after the cold wave, led by the two, looking like parents for dozens of children.