The newly assembled engine sat on Pete's workbench, a miracle he couldn't quite comprehend. It was clean, the metal shining under the single fluorescent bulb of the garage, not a speck of the old grease or rust remaining. It didn't just look repaired; it looked brand new, like something ordered from a catalog.
Pete Woody stood before it, his arms crossed, a look of grudging respect on his face. He had come back into the garage, ready to start the long, unpleasant process of figuring out how to haul the dead lawnmower to the dump, only to find the old engine missing, and this engine sitting on his workbench. A perfectly assembled, seemingly functional engine.
"Chris, I gotta admit," Pete said, his voice holding some amount of disbelief. He reached out and wiped a bit of imaginary grease from the engine block with a clean rag. "I have no idea how you did this. That old engine was a paperweight. I heard something snap. It was junk."
Chris, who was leaning against the doorframe trying to look as casual as possible, just shrugged. "The main components were still good. Just needed a new magneto and a head gasket." He said the words as if he knew what they even meant. The System had been using those mechanical part terms when he was crafting them, even if he had no practical skill or knowledge.
Pete shook his head slowly, a small, incredulous smile playing on his lips. He had spent his entire life working with his hands, fixing things, understanding how they worked. What Chris had just done, in the span of a single afternoon, with no new parts and no loud power tools, was a quite simply a miracle that defied everything of mechanics Pete held dear. He was impressed. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn't just impressed; he was collaborating.
"Well, the only things we need now to see if it runs is a new spark plug and some gas," Pete said, his tone shifting. It wasn't a chore assignment. It was a team goal. "You run to the auto parts store and the gas station, and let's see if we can get this engine you restored running." He handed Chris a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. "Get the good one. The NGK plug, if they have it."
The errand was a quest, but it was a different kind. It was like a mission from a respected guild leader, not a nagging chore from a parent. Chris took the twenty, a feeling of unforced helpfulness washing over him.
The "Buckhannon Auto & Tractor Supply" was a bewildering crafting hall of mechanical parts. The air smelled of rubber, oil, and the faint scent of potpourri from a display of car air fresheners by the counter. Chris walked inside and was immediately confronted by a massive wall of spark plugs. There were hundreds of them, of all shapes and sizes, each in a small, colorful box, displayed on long metal hooks.
The old Chris would have been paralyzed by choice. He would have wandered the aisle for ten minutes, pretending to know what he was looking for, before finally, awkwardly, having to ask the grizzled man at the counter for help. He would have had to describe the lawnmower, guess at the year, and endure the man's quiet, professional judgment.
The new Chris, however, had a search function.
He stood at the end of the aisle and activated his [INSPECT] ability, targeting the entire display.
The world shimmered for a second as the System processed the vast amount of data. Then, a single box on the wall, about halfway down and three rows in, began to glow with a faint, pulsing blue light, a beacon visible only to him.
[Item: NGK Spark Plug (Model BKR5E-11)]
[Compatibility: Briggs & Stratton Engine (1995-2005 Models)]
[Status: Optimal]
He walked confidently down the aisle, plucked the box from its hook, and proceeded to the checkout counter. The entire process took less than thirty seconds. He felt a surge of pure power. This was better than any magic spell. This was a cheat mod for adult responsibilities.
He stopped at Sheetz on the way home, filling the red two-liter gas can with a satisfying glug-glug of regular unleaded. The errand, a task that would have once felt like a monumental chore, was completed with a supernatural efficiency that left him feeling calm, competent, and in control.
When he got back to the garage, he found Pete struggling with the "Fix Later" box. Someone, and he had a pretty good idea who, had taken it down from the high shelf and had not put it back.
Pete grunted, trying to lift the heavy box back onto the shelf. He hoisted the box back into its designated resting place. While Pete was occupied with rehanging the BMX bike that had also been mysteriously taken down and not put back, Chris saw his opportunity.
"I'm gonna organize these parts in the corner," he announced casually. In reality, he opened the [Item Creation] menu in his HUD. With the acquisition of the [Spark Plug] and the [2L Gasoline], the final objectives of the [Scavenger Hunt] quest were marked as complete. A new notification chimed in his mind, a beautiful, final confirmation.
[All materials for blueprint [Self-Propelled Lawnmower (Gasoline Model)] have been acquired.]
[Blueprint is now fully active and available for crafting.]
He looked at the crafting menu. The "Create" button, which had been a frustrating, taunting gray for so long, was now a bright, solid white, pulsing with a gentle, inviting light. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He took a deep, steadying breath. This was the moment of creation. The culmination of all his efforts, from the midnight pothole raids to the garage scavenging to this final, simple errand. With a surge of anticipation, he mentally pressed the "Create" button.
The world shimmered. The icons for all the scavenged, repaired, and purchased components in his inventory—the steel, the plastic, the engine on the workbench, the gas, the spark plug—vanished, consumed by the System. In a bright, silent shimmer of blue light that was visible only to him, a brand-new, perfectly assembled lawnmower materialized on the garage floor beside a stack of old tires.
It was a thing of beauty. It was a gleaming, vibrant red, the paint flawless. The blades were sharp, the black rubber handles were clean, and the engine was a pristine block of metal, ready to roar to life. It didn't look handcrafted; it looked factory-new.
A notification confirmed his success.
[Quest Completed! 150 XP Awarded!]
[+1 Crafting Skill]
He had done it. He had finally completed the long, arduous quest that had started this entire, insane chain of events. He had turned junk into a new item. He had turned a problem into a solution.
He took a moment to admire his handiwork, a feeling of deep pride swelling in his chest. Then, he put the final piece of his plan into motion.
"Hey Pete," he said, his voice a carefully calibrated instrument of casual nonchalance. "What do you think of this one?"
Pete, who was still struggling to get the hook of the bike pedal over the bracket on the ceiling, turned around, a sarcastic remark already on his lips. "What, did you find another piece of junk in the..."
The remark died in his throat.
Pete stared. His eyes went from the brand-new, gleaming lawnmower, to the empty workbench, and then back to the mower. He looked at Chris, his mouth hanging slightly agape. For the first time in their long, often-strained relationship, the look on Pete's face was not skepticism, or annoyance, or mild disapproval.
The look was awe.
"Chris..." Pete's voice was a quiet whisper, all the gruffness gone. "...where in the world did you get that?"
Chris just shrugged, a small, confident smile playing on his lips. He leaned against the workbench, the picture of a man who was completely unfazed by his own casual miracles.
"Found some spare parts."
The breakthrough in their relationship was a tangible, unspoken thing. It hung in the dusty air of the garage, as real and as solid as the new lawnmower between them. Pete didn't ask any more questions. He just walked over to the new machine, ran a hand over its smooth, red engine cover, and shook his head in silent, bewildered admiration.
The feeling that washed over Chris was more potent than any XP reward. It was a massive, permanent boost to his [Confidence] stat, a surge of self-worth that came not from a notification, but from the earned respect in his step-father's eyes.
He had done it. He had solved a complex, multi-stage, real-world problem. He had helped his family. He had contributed. And if he could do that, if he could turn a pile of junk into a functioning machine and earn the respect of a man like Pete, then perhaps the intimidating, world-altering [Civic Stabilization] quest was not so impossible after all.
He returned to his bedroom, the fear and paralysis that had gripped him for the last day completely gone. It was replaced by a new sense of purpose. He was no longer a player stuck at a crossroads. He was a player who had just completed a major quest line, and he was ready to choose his path.
He sat down in his gaming chair, the golden-bordered [WORLD QUEST] notification no longer a source of dread, but a challenge waiting to be accepted. He decisively opened the [CLASSES] menu.
The endless, overwhelming list appeared, but he no longer saw it as a minefield of bad choices. He scrolled past the hundreds of mundane and bizarre options with a new clarity. He wasn't looking for the most overpowered class anymore. He was looking for what felt right.
His eyes scanned the list. [Bureaucrat]? No, too much paperwork. [Urban Planner]? Too much math. [Politician]? Absolutely not.
He scrolled further, his mind now focused on the core of the problem. The [WORLD QUEST] wasn't about fighting. It was about fixing. It was about rebuilding. It was about taking a broken, corrupted system and making it better.
And then he saw it. It wasn't locked. It didn't have any prerequisites he didn't already meet. It was a class that felt less like a job and more like a purpose.
[Reality Architect]
[Description: A versatile class focused on the analysis, repair, and modification of reality. Grants access to advanced scripting, advanced item creation, and environmental manipulation abilities.]
He stared at the description. That was it. That was the one. It felt right. It felt like the class he had been training for, without even knowing it.
With a final, decisive act of will, a choice made not from fear, but from a newfound sense of purpose, he selected it.
A final, momentous notification appeared, the text glowing with a brilliant, world-altering light.
[Class Selected: [Reality Architect]. Your journey as a Reality Architect has begun.]
[USER's 7 Levels have been allocated to [Reality Architect].]
[New Skill Point Available for [Reality Architect] Class Tree.]