The First Draft

Liam woke up to the scent of parchment and ink.

For the first time in years, he wasn't in some run-down inn or the backstreets of Ardentia. Instead, he lay on a cot in a dimly lit room lined with bookshelves, scrolls, and ancient diagrams.

The Silver Veil Guildhall.

"I made it."

Rubbing his eyes, Liam sat up, his fingers instinctively brushing against the Brush of the Architect resting beside him. The events of the previous night came rushing back—his battle against the Chitin Tyrant, the confrontation with Captain Rainer, and Vance's offer.

And now, here he was.

A knock sounded at the door before it creaked open.

"Still alive?" Vance's voice was laced with amusement as he stepped inside, carrying a rolled-up scroll. His dark robes gave him an aura of mystery, but his smirk was annoyingly casual.

Liam stretched. "Barely."

Vance chuckled before tossing the scroll onto the table. "Good. Because your training starts now."

Liam frowned. "Already?"

"You don't have time to waste," Vance said, arms crossed. "You have raw potential, but without control? You're a walking disaster waiting to happen."

Liam sighed but stood up. "Alright. Where do we start?"

Vance grinned. "Follow me."

---

The Training Grounds

The Silver Veil's training arena was nothing like Liam expected.

Rather than an open courtyard, it was an underground chamber beneath the guildhall, vast and reinforced with runic barriers. Magic lamps floated overhead, illuminating sparring areas where adventurers practised combat techniques, spellcasting, and weapon training.

As Liam entered, several adventurers turned to stare at him.

"The new guy?" one whispered.

"Hear he took down an A-rank monster with some weird ability."

"A craftsman? What's he doing here?"

Liam clenched his fists. He was used to being looked down on, but this felt different. Now, their curiosity carried a tinge of fear.

Vance led him to an empty sparring zone, then gestured at the floor. "Alright, Architect. Show me what you can do."

Liam hesitated before gripping his Brush of the Architect.

Taking a deep breath, he focused.

He dipped the brush through the air, and inky tendrils materialized—twisting, shaping, forming…

A simple wall.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Vance studied it with a raised eyebrow. "Basic. But solid."

Liam exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. That took more effort than I expected.

"Now," Vance said, "what about combat?"

Liam tensed. "Combat?"

Vance smirked. "You took down a Chitin Tyrant, right? Let's see if that was luck or skill."

Before Liam could react, Vance raised a hand. A sigil burned in the air—and a barrage of shadowy spears shot toward him.

Liam's instincts screamed.

Move!

His hand shot up, his brush sweeping wildly. Ink burst forth, forming a jagged black shield—

BOOM!

The impact sent him skidding backwards, his shield cracking from the force. The shadow spears vanished upon contact, leaving him panting.

Vance lowered his hand, unimpressed. "Slow reaction. Weak structure. If that was a real fight, you'd be dead."

Liam gritted his teeth. "Gee, thanks."

Vance sighed. "You're too focused on making things look real. Strength comes from purpose, not form. Try again. But this time—don't think about what you're drawing. Just create."

Liam hesitated, then took a deep breath.

Don't think. Just create.

Vance raised his hand again—another barrage of shadow spears.

Liam's brush moved on its own.

This time, his ink didn't form a shield.

Instead, it rippled like a living thing—rising into the shape of a dark wolf. The construct lunged forward, devouring the spears before they could reach him.

The arena fell silent.

Even Vance's smirk faltered. "Well, well…"

The wolf construct turned its head, staring at Liam with glowing blue eyes before dissolving into ink.

Liam stared at his brush, heart pounding. Did I just… create that?

Vance clapped once. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Liam exhaled.

For the first time since awakening his class…

He finally felt like he was on the right path.