15 - That's it?

Gridlock sat back and sighed so hard that his chest heaved.

"What did you think when you crafted that bag?" Gridlock asked.

"To store items. Why?"

"Exactly!"

"What do you mean, 'exactly'?" Dexter squinted his eyes.

Gridlock facepalmed so hard it looked like there was a mosquito stuck on his nose.

"Because! That! Is! The! Purpose! You! Want! It! To! Be! You fucking idiot!" he shouted, emphasizing each word.

Gridlock sighed, trying to lower his suddenly rising blood pressure.

"You're a crafter… a crafter who makes different kinds of equipment. What was the purpose when you created your wife's staff? For healing, right? Did it blast a fireball at you? No, right?"

"First of all, my humble master… she's not my wife. And all staves have their own different purposes depending on type. Of course, how can you cast Heal using a Fire Staff? That's basically idiotic… Also, it happened before—casting Fireball instead of Heal. I can't trust that woman. Who knows when I'll get burned alive?"

Then, Gridlock cast a Fireball toward Dexter using a Holy Staff.

Dexter tried to dodge it—until he saw a hexagonal shield block the spell.

"How the hell?!" Dexter said, jaw dropped.

"Because… you only need your mana to transform your imagination into something and use the medium to cast it. I thought you knew this basic stuff. Well, having a specific type of equipment helps too, since it enhances your imagination and lets you cast more freely."

"Think of it like this… What's the base form of a sword? What's its purpose? Is it to slash or to stab? You could even smash with it if you made it big enough… but it's still a sword. You get what I mean?"

"Then there's a staff. At first, it was just a wand—a tool to cast spells. But what spell? What element? So crafters branched it out from its base form, creating different kinds of staves…"

"Why? Because of gold… We crafters sell for profit. We craft weapons for war, armor for war—we craft all equipment for war. And if there were only one type of wand, every soldier would use the same one. Then what would happen? Think about it…"

"Fuck this explanation… Use your mind, idiot. I'll explain how I swap equipment without opening the bag."

Gridlock leans on the table and gets face-to-face with Dexter.

"The secret is…" Gridlock stared into Dexter's eyes.

"The secret is…" Dexter copied, stared back at him.

"I crafted it the way I wanted it to be."

Dexter looked at him confused.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it." said Gridlock while smirking.

"What the fuck…? That's a secret so deep you wouldn't even tell Stella?" Dexter said.

"Tell me, you idiot—did you even think about that when making a bag? You've got two heads, but you're using your dick." Gridlock retorted.

"Why bring my dick into this?!" Dexter shouted.

Gridlock sighed once again.

"Don't be like other crafters. All they care about when making a bag is storing items—the higher the Tier, the more they can store… Pathetic."

'Thinking about it… that logic makes sense. I could make a sword that splits flames or even craft a bow that slashes… How awesome would that be?'

'But then… what's the purpose of my Destiny now?'

'/Destiny.'

Once again, a board-like mastery interface appeared before him, filled with equipment to use and craft, materials to refine, potions to make—even instructions for gardening and animal care.

'Tsk… Too many revisions to my plan. Damn this tutorial—it's making me think harder than playing strategy games.'

"Thank you, Master, for sharing your wisdom with this humble apprentice."

Dexter spoke these words sincerely in his heart, bringing a smile to Gridlock's face as he understood exactly what Dexter was thinking.

…

The next day, Dexter didn't train against Gridlock. Instead, he devoted himself to crafting his ideal bag and weapons—tools to defeat Gridlock in their next duel.

Dexter laughed madly as he worked, his frenzied expression unsettling Stella.

"Wh-what are you making, Dex? A-are you alright? Are you hungry? D-do you want me to cook fish for you?" she asked, trembling.

But Dexter, lost in a crafting trance, ignored her entirely.

"At last… my masterpiece!"

He held it aloft, presenting it to Stella with pride.

"What… is that?"

Dexter grinned.

"It's a gun."

[!!!]

[Destiny Updated: Added "Gun" to Equipment.]

'Holy shit! That's what I'm talking about!'

"What's a gun...?" Stella asked, tilting her head.

"It's a weapon you'll never want to use—hell, even I don't want to use it. But this... this is how it should look." He grabbed the magazine he'd crafted.

"Just load bullets here, slide it in, and voilà! A god-killing weapon."

"Whoa! Can I see it work?"

"Not yet. No bullets, and I don't even know how to make them. But I'll improvise—mana as ammunition should work."

Weeks of perfecting his ultimate weapon...

Only for Gridlock to defeat him with a single reflect.

"Nice try, kid. Didn't know you could make something I invented back when I was cleaning trash in the Warring Kingdoms. That's called an Energy Laser—instant death if you can't cast Invulnerability in time, while adding Reflect simultaneously."

Dexter spent weeks, then months, crafting increasingly wild weapons to defeat Gridlock. Yet every time he created something new, Gridlock would counter it effortlessly—whether by being faster at switching items or simply neutralizing Dexter's equipment with ease.

'Truly worthy of being called the Deity of All Equipment...' Dexter thought bitterly.

...

Three years had passed since Dexter first arrived in the starting area—time slipped away before he even noticed.

The changes were undeniable. His once-athletic built had filled out with corded muscle, his height stretching from 5'10" to 6'2". Stella wasn't immune to the transformation; more than once, she caught herself staring when he trained shirtless, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

Both he and Stella had become well-known figures on the island, with even bandits hiding when they saw the pair roaming for materials.

Even some 'Players' had formed a fan club dedicated to Stella, charmed by her NPC-like behavior when she wandered alone.

'Three years... A whole fucking three years... Just to craft and practice wielding different equipment and switching it like my own limbs. And still... my level's stuck at 2. But what can I do? I need solid foundations... At least I've got Gridlock as my master.'

Thanks to Stella—who'd learned proper cooking from Dexter—she'd become an excellent housemaid. She'd settled into her daily routine: roaming the village, resurrecting Dexter, or... eliminating bandits.

Yes, bandits.

That incident with the fox-killing bandit had awakened something in her. She'd nearly wiped them all out single-handedly, her tanky healing combat style making her unstoppable. Thankfully, Dexter had prepared for this—her robe came with pain nullification.

His only instruction?

"Just watch your health and cast Heal when it drops below three-fourths."