Episode 37. Altar Repair (1)
“I am Kiera, Elder of the Green Forest.”
Following Lena’s lead, Aren stood before the elven elder.
The elder, her face lined with countless wrinkles, looked him over with a gaze both ancient and curious.
Her eyes carried a depth that could pull you in — the weight of centuries.
“Aren.”
“Alfredo, his butler.”
“I’ve heard about you from Lena. You must’ve been startled upon arrival, weren’t you?”
“Ah…”
Kiera was referring to the massive, sun-like blaze that had erupted earlier.
Thankfully, the elves had contained it before it spread through the village.
“I’m fine,” Aren said. “Does that kind of thing happen often?”
“Now and then, but we’ve handled it well so far. It’s not a major issue.”
“I see.”
The elder’s gaze wandered around the room.
“Where’s Lena?”
“She said she needed to check the site where the fire broke out.”
Kiera nodded, but still didn’t seem at ease.
She stepped outside, peered around for a moment, and only then sighed in relief.
Then she reached into her robes — and pulled out a pipe.
“Is that…?”
“Can’t you tell? It’s tobacco.”
“…”
“What, never seen an elf smoke before?”
With practiced grace, she conjured a small flame with her fingertips and lit the pipe.
The movements were smooth — clearly not her first time.
‘I’ve heard of a smoking tiger… but a smoking elf?’
She took a long drag, then exhaled with satisfaction.
“Ahh, that’s the stuff. Couldn’t smoke lately with Lena hovering around. Finally, I can breathe again.”
The elder chuckled, clearly enjoying herself.
Noticing Arlen’s bewildered look, she smirked and pulled out a second pipe.
“Want one?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Your loss. It’s good stuff.”
She tucked it back into her robes, then cleared her throat.
“Anyway… about the altar. Do you think you can repair it?”
“I’ll need to inspect it first to know for sure.”
“Hmm~ not a bad answer.”
Kiera liked that reply.
Every outsider before had puffed their chest out, bragging about how easily they could fix it — only to back out later with excuses.
Arlen’s caution, however, felt genuine.
[Kiera’s favorability has slightly increased.]
“Good. If you truly repair the altar, I’ll swear upon my name — this debt will never be forgotten.”
“You can count on me.”
Just then, the door opened.
“Elder!”
Lena returned.
The moment she stepped in, Kiera panicked — swiftly snuffing the pipe and shoving it out of sight like a guilty cat.
Arlen nearly burst out laughing but held it in.
“I’m back! The fire’s—wait, what’s that smell?”
Her nose twitched sharply. Her eyes narrowed.
“Elder.”
“Didn’t smoke.”
“I didn’t even ask.”
“…”
“You did smoke again, didn’t you!? Honestly, where did you hide it this time!?”
“N-no! It’s medicine! Medicinal herbs!”
“There’s no such medicine that smells like that! It’s tobacco!”
Lena moved swiftly, hands flashing as she searched the elder — and pulled out several hidden pipes.
“Please! That was my last one!”
“Last or not, I told you to quit! You almost burned the house down last time, remember? Think of your health!”
“I’ve lived long enough! Why should I bother staying healthy? I’d rather die than quit!”
“Well, I want you to live a lot longer! Anyway—these are confiscated!”
Without another word, Lena stormed out with all the pipes in hand.
Kiera slumped forward, defeated.
“…Please, take care of it.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am.”
Later
Outside, Aren and Alfredo followed an elf named Rebe toward the altar site.
The ground was still warm from the residual flames.
“The surroundings are charred, but the altar’s intact.”
“Yeah. The area burned, but the altar didn’t?”
It was odd.
For a fire that strong, the altar should have been scorched — yet it was merely damaged, not burned.
Rebe snorted.
“Hmph. This altar was made differently. Don’t try to understand it with an outsider’s logic.”
Her tone carried clear disdain.
“Can you really repair it?”
“Hmm… I’ll have to check closely first. But judging from what I see… it’s possible.”
Arlen crouched to inspect it.
[Damaged Ritual Altar]
Grade: E
Description: A ritual altar used for special ceremonies. Severely damaged by an accident, rendering it unusable.
Only a skilled craftsman might be able to repair it.
Durability: 0 / ???
Options: None.[Special Repair skill required: Level 10]
[Skill not acquired.]
He needed a Level 10 Special Repair skill.
But Aren ignored the system prompt.
He didn’t plan to rely on skills.
‘The joints are splitting.’
He pressed against the altar’s side.
A dull thunk echoed — not the sound of healthy wood.
‘Definitely in bad shape.’
Sliding his hand underneath, he examined the carved sections.
“It’s not welded but fitted… a tenon joint. But they reversed the load direction. No wonder it twisted.”
He scratched the wood — damp powder crumbled off.
“Started rotting from moisture. The base collapsed, and the upper part’s warped. Needs a full rebuild.”
He sighed.
‘It’s like a bent car frame — polishing the surface won’t fix it.’
This wasn’t a repair job. It was a reconstruction.
Rebe, watching, crossed her arms and frowned.
“Hmph.”
She’d seen plenty of outsiders before. All talked big, then gave up when they saw the condition.
‘Another one pretending he can fix it.’
She fully expected Aren to quit next.
“So? Can you fix it or not?”
“Hmm… at this level…”
Aren’s Heightened Observation allowed him to assess precisely.
It’d be tough, but not impossible.
“I think I can fix it.”
“What?”
“It’s in bad shape, sure. Some parts need to be remade. But it’s doable.”
“If you’re lying, you’d better be ready to pay for it.”
“No need to lie. I can do it.”
He said it calmly, confidently.
Rebe scoffed.
“We’ll see.”
She turned away.
“He doesn’t seem to believe you,” Alfredo murmured.
“Yeah. I noticed.”
But Aren didn’t care.
He’d seen this countless times in his father’s workshop — customers who doubted until they saw results.
“It’s fine.”
He smiled faintly.
“You just have to show them. With skill.”
“A craftsman speaks through his work.”
Just like his father used to.
Hidden behind a nearby tree, Rebe’s ears twitched.
‘…What did he just say?’
Unlike the other outsiders, he wasn’t bluffing or boasting.
He was diagnosing — understanding.
“A tenon joint instead of welding… reversed load direction…”
Rebe froze.
‘He noticed that? The flaw in the original design?’
No outsider had ever caught that.
Only someone who truly understood the altar’s construction could.
Her hard expression softened slightly.
‘The elder wasn’t wrong to trust him… Maybe this time, it’ll be different.’
Meanwhile, Lena sighed, tossing away the confiscated pipes.
“Honestly… where does the elder even get these things?”
Then her ears perked up.
“Rebe?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s that outsider?”
“That arrogant one? Said he was buying tools and starting work.”
“Already?”
Most outsiders stalled, made excuses.
But Arlen had gone straight to work.
“Do you really think he can fix it? Everyone else failed.”
“He’s skilled, I’ll give him that. Still… don’t get your hopes up.”
“Maybe… he’ll succeed.”
Rebe chuckled softly.
“If he does, I’ll give him one of our family treasures. Not that it’ll happen.”
“…”
“Anyway, I need to help clean up the fire site. Call me if he needs anything. And—don’t expect much.”
“Okay…”
Rebe left, and Lena was alone.
Her long ears twitched.
‘They say outsiders use strange powers to fix things… Well, just a peek won’t hurt, right?’
She approached the altar—
and froze.
“What… what is that?”
Her eyes went wide.
Her breath caught in her throat.
