Unique Skill: The Potential of Wooden Puppet Summoning (Puppet Master)
Rock is a D-rank adventurer with a disappointing skill: Puppetmaster. All it does is bring a single wooden doll to life. Mocked by everyone, he spends his days alone, gathering herbs just to get by. But when he helps a middle-aged herbalist named Baldo in a tavern, things start to change, little by little.
Thanks to Baldo, Rock now has a steady income and his coordination with his wooden doll is getting better every day. Then, an elven earth mage named Lilia invites him on a three-month survey
Unique Skill: The Potential of Wooden Puppet Summoning (Puppet Master) - Thank you, that alone is enough.
On the way back from the labyrinth, Rock looked again and again at the marks of the poison arrows embedded in the wooden puppet's arm. The surface of the wood was corroded, on the verge of crumbling away. Leon's wooden puppet was the same. Battered and worn, yet still following without collapsing—the two wooden puppets.
The streets of the royal capital, Granselta, were dyed in the colors of sunset. Beyond the Selta River, the white tower of the royal castle cast its shadow. From the marketplace came the voices of merchants calling out to the day's last customers.
"Senpai."
Leon readjusted his grip, hugging his wooden puppet tightly. His greenish-brown eyes stared intently at Rock.
"When we get back to the guild... what kind of faces do you think everyone will make?"
Rock shrugged.
"Who knows. Well, things will work out somehow."
The Adventurers' Association Caldina's royal capital headquarters—its large stone building came into view across the street. The signboard above the entrance bore the emblem of Caldina, a crossed sword and staff.
Pushing open the door, the inside was a little more crowded than usual. It was the evening hour for mission reports. Numerous adventurers were receiving their rewards or browsing for their next quests.
"...Huh?"
Just as Rock was about to head to the counter—a man standing near the bulletin board stopped dead in his tracks.
He was a scout in his forties, with a lean build. Countless small knives and trap-disarming picks hung from his waist. His eyes were riveted to the marks of the poison arrows stuck in Rock's wooden puppet.
"Hey, those wounds."
The scout took a step closer. The adventurers around them turned to see what was going on.
"Those are poison arrows from the labyrinth's lower levels. Did you go on a trap-disarming mission?"
Rock stopped walking. Behind him, he could hear Leon audibly gulp.
"Yeah, something like that."
The scout looked back and forth between Rock's face and the wooden puppet. Then, his gaze shifted to the spot on the bulletin board where records of completed missions were posted.
"No way..."
The scout's voice echoed through the hall.
"You two went through those lower levels!? The labyrinth that put three scouts with Trap Detection skills in the hospital!!"
A stir.
A crowd began to form in front of the bulletin board.
"Hey, isn't that the puppet user everyone's been talking about?"
"I heard he got blacklisted after the skeleton subjugation."
"With those beat-up wooden puppets... did he really disarm the traps?"
Whispered voices spread like ripples.
Rock said nothing. He didn't make any flashy declarations. He simply gripped the mission slip tightly and began walking toward the counter.
The crowd naturally parted to make way.
Among them—was a familiar face.
Mash. A C-rank adventurer who carried a greatsword on his back. The man who had mocked Rock and Leon in the plaza a few days ago.
Mash stood with his arms crossed, staring intently at the mission completion record posted on the bulletin board. Beside him were his two usual companions.
"Mash, big bro... this..."
"Shut up."
Mash cut off his companion's words. He didn't open his mouth again. He just moved his gaze as if tracing the letters on the bulletin board.
"With just wooden puppets... through those lower levels, huh."
That murmur reached Rock's ears.
(Yeah, that's right.)
A small voice spoke deep in his chest.
(With just wooden puppets, we did it.)
Rock averted his gaze from Mash. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. The tension in the labyrinth. The cold sweat in the moments dodging poison arrows. The terror when Leon's wooden puppet almost fell into a pitfall.
It was all over now.
Beyond the counter sat Ganetta Horn. Fifty-two years old, with short hair mixed with red and white. Her sharp golden-brown eyes stared intently at Rock.
"Reporting mission completion."
Rock held out the mission slip.
Ganetta took it. She checked the mission details written in fine print and the fragment of sealing stone that proved its completion.
Then—she looked up and saw Rock's wooden puppet.
"Three poison arrows. Abrasions from a pitfall. Stone dust from a ceiling collapse—even for a veteran scout, I've never seen one in this condition before."
She said that, and then—her eyes suddenly stopped on Leon's wooden puppet.
"...Hey, wait a minute."
Where Ganetta was pointing—a single poison arrow was still stuck in the shoulder of Leon's wooden puppet. Green poison liquid was slowly seeping out.
"Huh...?"
Leon frantically looked at his wooden puppet.
"You haven't even pulled this out yet. Pull it out and then come back."
Rock almost burst out laughing despite himself.
"Leon, you..."
"I-I'm sorry!! I thought I pulled it out on the way, why is it—"
Leon turned bright red to his ears and tried to pull the poison arrow from the wooden puppet. But the arrow, stuck due to corrosion, wouldn't come out easily, and only the sound of wood scraping roughly could be heard.
Giggles leaked from the crowd.
"Those guys really went all the way to the middle levels, huh."
"The fact that a poison arrow is still stuck means... they broke through even while getting caught in traps."
The voices around them gradually began to change.
Ganetta pressed the stamp of mission acceptance—bearing the emblem of Caldina—onto the mission slip.
A light *thump* sound.
Then, she placed the reward gold coins on the counter.
"Well done."
That voice was so small that the other adventurers couldn't hear it.
But—that single phrase was enough.
The center of Rock's chest grew gently warm. It was a quiet heat, like a warmth slowly spreading through his palm.
Rock accepted the gold coins. They were heavy. Fifty silver coins' worth—about three months of income.
"Leon, half for you."
"Huh... but, senpai, you disarmed almost all the traps."
"Your wooden puppet held down the ceiling trap. If it weren't for that, I'd be dead."
Rock rolled the gold coins in his palm and had them exchanged for silver coins at the counter. He slid half of them in front of Leon.
Leon received the silver coins in both hands and stared at them intently.
"It's the first time... I've ever received mission pay."
"You'll keep receiving it from now on."
---
That night.
Rock visited a small workshop in the lower town of the royal capital, alone.
A wooden tag reading "Galdo Workshop" hung on the door. It was a modest building, but smoke rose constantly from the chimney, and the sound of metal being hammered could be heard from within.
*Creeeak...*
Opening the door, a stifling smell of oil, metal, and wood hit him.
Galdo was doing fine work at his workbench. With large, rugged hands, he was shaving delicate metal parts. He didn't look up even when Rock entered.
Silently, Rock placed the wooden puppet beside the workbench.
The marks where poison arrows had struck. Looseness in the joints. A surface roughened by stone dust.
"Thank you for reinforcing it."
Rock bowed his head deeply.
Galdo said nothing.
Silence filled the workshop.
The sound of the furnace fire crackling and popping. The faint sound of water for cooling metal swaying slightly.
After a while—Galdo silently pointed to the edge of the workbench.
There, a single new piece of Iron Oak wood was placed.
Rock reached out for it.
It was freshly cut wood. The surface was still rough-hewn, and touching it felt slightly damp. A green, pungent smell stung his nose. The scent of raw wood, characteristic of hardwoods similar to oak.
(New wood...)
Was it for repairing the wooden puppet? Or did it mean he should make a new one?
As Rock picked up the wood and stared at it intently—he noticed it.
Near the base of the wood.
Unfamiliar, intricate patterns were carved into it.
Lines, curves, and dots. Were they letters, decoration, or magical symbols? They were clearly different from the patterns made by natural wood grain. Something carved by human hands—or perhaps, by something not human.
"Galdo-san, what is this...?"
When Rock asked, Galdo stopped his hands for just a moment.
But—he immediately returned to his work.
"...Use it."
Saying only that, Galdo began shaving the metal parts again. The furnace fire crackled, scattering small sparks. The smell of iron grew stronger.
Rock couldn't ask any further.
"...Thank you very much."
Rock hugged the wood and left the workshop.
The night wind was cold against his flushed cheeks.
(That pattern—what is it?)
In a corner of his mind, the question swirled around and around. But no answer came.
---
The next morning.
In front of the cheap inn "Weathercock," Rock was repairing his wooden puppet.
He disassembled the broken joints and replaced them with new parts. The areas corroded by poison arrows were shaved off and filled with putty. He also cut out a little of the Iron Oak wood Galdo had given him and used it for reinforcement.
The morning air was still chilly. On the street, a baker was opening shop, and a peddler selling fish was raising his voice. The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with the scent of water blowing from the river. The sight of Rock sitting in front of the inn, working, had completely blended into the daily life of this town.
"Senpai!!"
Suddenly, a voice rang out—and Leon came running.
He stood in front of Rock, breathing heavily over his shoulders.
"Haa... haa..."
"What's up, so early in the morning?"
When Rock looked up, Leon took one deep breath.
Then—he looked straight at Rock.
"Please!!"
He bowed his head so deeply it seemed like it would make a sound.
"Please—take me as your apprentice!!"
People walking along the morning street turned to see what was happening. The baker's wife stopped in her tracks, holding her basket. The fishmonger forgot to call out, his mouth hanging open.
Rock looked dumbfounded for a moment—but soon, he scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed.
"No, I mean, apprentice... I'm still D-rank myself, you know."
"Even so!!"
Leon raised his head.
His eyes were serious.
"I want to follow you, senpai. I want to learn more about your way of fighting. In the labyrinth yesterday—for the first time, I thought: this is the kind of adventurer I want to be."
Rock, while filling the marks of the poison arrows, made a thoughtful gesture for a moment.
(An apprentice, huh.)
He remembered the days when he was alone in Rustela. Unrecognized by anyone, mocked as a disappointing skill—and still, he had walked alongside his wooden puppets.
Now, it was different.
Leon was beside him.
"...Can't be helped."
Rock held out the wood and the small knife in his hands to Leon.
"Then first, help me repair the wooden puppet's arm. Here—shave it at this angle."
"Yes!!"
Leon's eyes sparkled as he took the small knife.
And then—
*Scrape, scrape, scrape.*
"...Huh? Somehow it's not shaving as well as I thought..."
Leon began shaving the wood, but his angle was—clearly wrong. He was forcing the knife against the grain. The surface of the wood just ended up ragged.
"The other way!! The other way!! Look at the grain, the grain!!"
"Huh!? Which way!?"
"Not that direction, this way!!"
As the two of them were making a racket in front of the inn—
"You two are noisy from the morning."
The baker's wife walked past with a wry smile.
Beyond her—on the other side of the street, he noticed Ganetta Horn walking.
She stopped for just a moment and looked at the figures of Rock and Leon.
The two of them, side by side, repairing the wooden puppet.
Ganetta's mouth—softened just a little.
"...Good grief, what a noisy apprentice."
Without saying anything, she walked away down the street. The morning sun illuminated her back.
---
Night.
Rock was sitting at a corner table in the tavern "Red Fox."
On a rough wooden table, wild boar stewed in dark beer, and hard bread. When he poked the meat with his fork, it fell apart tenderly. This famous stew was a taste that rivaled
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