System: Build My Own Territory Chapter 2: Handsome Man

Humans distinguish themselves from beasts primarily through their skill in crafting and employing tools.

After collecting sticks and flints, Lynn headed back to the clearing and settled onto a mound of weeds.

He positioned a flint chunk on a fairly even stone, grasped a bigger one in his right hand, and hammered downward...

Lynn possessed only a fuzzy recollection of the steps to craft a Flint Knife from the info in his head.

The basic concept involved... striking a sharp-edged stone, selecting an appropriate branch, and fastening them with cord.

Details like the type of flint required, the dimensions of the fragments, polishing techniques, stick thickness and length, or rope-making methods escaped Lynn's knowledge.

No problem though... the Heavenly Artifacts held all the answers!

Lynn simply needed to persist in grinding away!

Bang!

"Hiss."

The impact jarred his right arm, leaving it numb and sore, prompting a sharp intake of breath from Lynn.

Sparks flew alongside the resounding clang.

[Production Experience +1]

Fine powder dusted the struck flint's surface.

Lynn hammered once more.

Bang! Bang!

[Production Experience +1]

Yet the flint refused to fracture.

Hmm... seek a flint piece riddled with internal fissures.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

[Production Experience +1]

Hmm... refine the flint shard into the desired form.

Each experience gain merged insights on crafting Stone Spear and Stone Knife directly into his thoughts.

From over a dozen shattered flint bits, Lynn chose two ideal blade shards and started shaping them per the mental guide.

This approach offered superior command over the blade's form and edge.

[Production Experience +1]

At first, Lynn's polishing actions felt clumsy, failing to glide smoothly across the flint shards.

Over time, proficiency grew in his motions.

A swishing noise arose as the flint edge dragged across the tough, level rock.

Through steady rubbing on fine sandstone, the shard in Lynn's grip morphed into a Stone Knife's silhouette.

Lynn now clutched two honed, gleaming flint edges.

One destined for the Stone Knife, the other for a Stone Spear.

He lifted one, testing its keen bite.

Sharp enough to plunge straight into a heart!

All that remained was binding cord to lash the flint edge to the wood.

Arm in motion, Lynn gathered several grass blades, cupped them in his palm, and twisted them between both hands.

[Production Experience +1]

[Production Experience +1]

[Production Experience +1]

…

Three or four elongated grass strands whirled nonstop in Lynn's palms, but failed to form rope.

Twisting warped the grass, sapping its resilience until it went slack.

Undeterred, Lynn snatched more grass blades and kept at it.

Insights on grass rope weaving surfaced steadily in his mind.

Grass rope twisting offered options: basic two-strand twist or robust three-strand for secure fastening.

Wild rice grass outshone regular grass for rope-making.

Weeds nearby brimmed with wild rice grass.

Right by the riverbank, such grass thrived in plenty.

An hour passed.

A meter-long rope of rice grass emerged in his grasp, three grass bundles firmly plaited.

[Simple Grass Rope]: Suitable for tying and braiding, with moderate durability.

Lynn tugged the rope's ends repeatedly with both hands; it merely creaked without unraveling or snapping.

"This sturdiness is perfectly suitable for binding."

He placed the grass rope down and pressed on with twisting.

Armed with weaving know-how and practice, the next rope took just thirty minutes.

Grass rope ready, Lynn seized a roughly dozen-centimeter stick and shaped it using the flint edge.

Sharp blade and finished rope in hand, suitable handles for knife and shafts for spear were next.

Guided by Stone Knife crafting memories, Lynn cut notches into the wood.

[Production Experience +1]

[Production Experience +1]

…

Lynn's hands darted fluidly from rope to stick to blade.

A notch carved at the Stone Knife's base accepted the handle, then rope lashed it firm.

Pity no sticky resin existed to reinforce the join.

Much like earlier, Lynn's efforts began rough but smoothed out, ultimately turning deft beyond reason.

A Flint Knife boasting a twenty-centimeter blade now rested in Lynn's hold.

[Simple Flint Knife]: Fits for slicing, hunting, defense, and beyond, with basic sharpness.

Lynn admired it briefly, then bound the second flint blade similarly.

Prior practice honed his binding to expert level.

[Simple Flint Spear]: Ideal for hunting, protection, probing, and more, with basic sharpness.

Spear in fist, Lynn swung it experimentally; over a meter in reach — ideal length, balanced weight, no fatigue from prolonged grip.

Work complete.

Flint Knife clutched tight in his right hand, Lynn strode purposefully toward the adjacent meadow.

Earth-scented gusts swept by, making grasses quiver like in fear.

Flint Knife aiding, Lynn cleared vegetation swifter and handier.

By hand alone before, two hours yielded mere ten square meters cleared.

Now, after another two hours, fifty to sixty square meters lay bare at his feet.

Flint Knife boosted his pace five times over.

Wasteland grasses towered knee-high; harmless by day, but nocturnal perils hid within.

Fifty to sixty square meters gave reaction room against threats.

Sky dimming, parched and sweat-soaked Lynn halted.

Marquis Duca's bastard he was, yet no true aristocrat.

Raised alongside his textile-worker mother from youth.

Only at fifteen, post her death, did identity dawn.

Childhood labor built endurance rivaling pampered nobles fattened on fine foods, rendering him taller, burlier.

At fifteen, 1.8 meters tall, brawny frame rippled with sinew.

Black cropped hair framed a chiseled visage, brows sharp as blades, eyes like stars... clad in hardy light-blue woolen robe and pants...

The epitome of rugged allure!

Even robust charmers weary and thirst.

Flint Knife belted, spear gripped long, Lynn advanced to the river.

Spear waving cleared his path ahead.

In this barren expanse, river proximity amplified hazards.

As Lynn foresaw, mere dozen meters on, an odd yet known noise assailed his ears.

Rustle rustle rustle!

Snake tail rasping through grass, sounding the alert.

Karedi Empire's mild coastal weather stirred snakes from winter slumber with spring's onset.

Lynn's eyes tracked the noise, scanning forward grass swiftly.

Seconds on, stare locked leftward ahead.

Amid shorter blades, gray-hued with bold markings, thick-bodied, unmistakable triangular skull.

Head reared, forked tongue darting, slit pupils oval and fixed on Lynn.

[Viper]: Deadly venomous, flesh packed with premium protein, fats, nutrients.

Lynn's heart involuntarily clenched.