Glaciron Empire.
Winterhold, Central Cemetery.
At dusk, golden-orange sunlight bathed the black tombstones standing across the grassy fields, casting a solemn and dignified atmosphere laced with a faint sense of tragic grandeur.
This was the largest civilian cemetery in Winterhold, the final resting place for most of the deceased citizens of the Empire.
Today was the Empire's Festival of the Departed.
The place was bustling with residents, most of whom had come with their entire families, cheerfully bringing offerings to reunite with their departed elders and ancestors.
In this unique festive air, a young man suddenly noticed something unusual and asked in surprise:
"Can a blind person participate in the Festival of the Departed and pay respects to their ancestors?"
"Why not? As long as they have family buried here, of course a blind person can come—especially with family members to guide them. What's strange about that?"
"But what if the blind person came here alone, with no one accompanying them?"
"Are you kidding me? That's impossible. The Festival of the Departed draws huge crowds. How would a blind person even find the right spot?"
"But that blind guy is moving through the crowd effortlessly—and he's even avoiding all the gravestones!"
The people around the young man scoffed and followed his gaze.
A teenage boy was walking steadily and slowly through the crowd. What struck people as strange was that he had two completely opaque black glass lenses covering his eyes.
"Is he really blind? Or is this some kind of performance art?"
"I think so too. How could a blind person possibly see the way? Must be some attention-seeking act!"
"Performance art, my ass! Don't you guys recognize him? He's the most legendary student in the history of Houston Middle School!"
"Hiss~ You mean that top-tier school nearby? He's that impressive? No way."
"Impressive? I go to Houston Middle School. His so-called 'legendary' status is for being dead last—he awakened the lowest of the low in a lifestyle class!"
"Oh! Now I remember. You mean Furniture Maker John! But didn't he go blind after the Awakening Ceremony? How is he even seeing the path?"
"Who knows. Maybe he recovered a bit. But still, a trash-tier Furniture Maker? Whether he's blind or not, he's just society's discard pile!"
"That poor guy... coming here to visit graves all alone at night."
"…"
The murmurs of the crowd surged around the golden-haired boy like a flood.
Yet the boy paid no mind, quietly making his way through the cemetery.
The sunset lit up his snow-white cheeks. His facial features were flawless—like a sculpture carved by a master, radiating both elegance and noble charm.
Several young girls nearby blushed at the sight of him, captivated after just one glance.
But upon remembering that he had awakened the most garbage F-rank life class—Furniture Maker—they sighed in regret and dismissed any thought of approaching him.
In today's chaotic world, good looks couldn't put food on the table.
Under countless stares, John simply adjusted the sunglasses on his nose and casually walked up to two clean, well-kept tombstones.
He sat down lazily and, using the tools strapped to his back, began to clean the already spotless grave markers.
Unlike others who only came here during the Festival of the Departed, John came to clean the graves almost every month.
Though it was a cemetery, to him, it felt like home.
He gently touched the tombstones of his parents. The cold sensation under his fingertips reminded him this wasn't a dream—but the eerie reality.
Ten years ago, John and his parents had crossed over into this strange game-like world.
A world filled with bizarre classes and unimaginable dangers.
As ordinary people, they barely stood a chance. Fortunately, John's father had been an engineer in their previous world and managed to scrape by using his old-world knowledge—enough to raise John alongside his mother.
In order to give John a shot at survival, his parents worked themselves to the bone just to send him to the best local school—Houston Middle School.
But the toll was too much, and they both passed away from overwork.
John had once believed that, as a transmigrator, he'd shine brilliantly during his Awakening Ceremony and make his parents proud.
Well, he did shine—only to awaken the lowest possible class: Furniture Maker.
From that point on, he became the center of attention—but only as a joke.
Even so, thanks to the engineering skills his father passed down, John still managed to live fairly comfortably despite his trash-tier class.
But his parents' deaths left him truly alone, lost, unsure how long this life would last.
Would he ever escape this game-like world?
Were there others like him—transmigrators?
Or maybe even... players?
His thoughts drifted with the passing time.
Before he knew it, it was deep into the night.
Just as John was about to head home after a peaceful nap, a heavy thud startled him.
He turned his head and saw a curvy girl crash to the ground, shattering several gravestones. Her generous bust jiggled like water balloons from the impact.
Under the moonlight, her golden curls shimmered, her skin as pale as jade—far more stunning than any movie star.
John felt his heart skip a beat.
But just then, two burly men in black appeared like ghosts, dashing in to finish the girl off—only to suddenly notice John sitting nearby.
John stiffened, then began fumbling the air with his hands.
"Boss, looks like he's blind?"
The leader snorted coldly. "Blind or not, he's seen too much. Dead men tell no tales."
He gave a subtle signal to his partner. The man immediately raised his gleaming blade and charged toward John.
John gripped the small blacksmith hammer at his waist and said seriously,
"I may just be a lifestyle-class Furniture Maker—but I'm no pushover. Don't say I didn't warn you. When you regret this, it'll be too late!"
His tone sounded brave to him—but to the two assassins, it was pure bluffing. No mana pattern? A total joke.
"Don't worry, my blade's quick."
The black-clad man sneered and raised his sword—
Only to hear a splat.
It wasn't the sound of the hammer hitting something.
It was the sound of his own sphincter giving way.
A sudden explosive diarrhea hit him full force—pants ruined, watery mess and all.
He froze. What the hell? He hadn't eaten anything bad...
Humiliated, he glanced at his boss, then clenched hard and prepared to silence the blond boy who'd witnessed his disgrace.
Clang!
But the moment he moved, his gut churned again.
He dropped his sword, fell to his knees, clutching both stomach and butt, face red with effort.
"Get up! I told you to stop going to those clubs! Look at you, pathetic!"
The leader kicked him, urging him to attack.
But the poor guy looked like he was battling a thunderstorm in his gut. He couldn't even stand—just knelt there in shame and pain.
Frustrated, the boss raised his own blade and charged at John.
But as soon as he lifted his left foot, John lightly swung his hammer in the air toward him.
Boom.
A fart like thunder echoed out.
Veins bulged on the man's forehead as he soaked his pants just like his partner.
Now he too was on his knees, hands on belly and backside, face twisted with shame.
"I warned you," John said, shaking his head.
Then, casually flicking two pebbles at them.
Thud! Thud!
As soon as the stones hit, both men froze in place like puppets—completely immobile.
Whoosh!
The shadow beneath John began to twist and ripple, morphing into a demonic shape.
It opened its maw and swallowed the frozen assassins whole.
After a satisfied belch, the shadow returned to normal—and John felt a pure surge of elemental energy course through his body.
The blissful sensation from deep within made him moan slightly.
"Not bad. Eating humans really is more effective than animals. I didn't want to do this... but you forced me."
With that, he looked at the translucent panel in front of him.
[Shadow Cleaner – Concept-Level Skill]
Specialized in "harmlessly processing" any corpse. Let's be real—it's just a fancy way to eat people. Grants pure elemental feedback to the user.
[Absolute Diarrhea Hammer – Concept-Level Skill]
A mysterious hammer technique created by a constipated mage. This skill strikes without warning. No living being is immune. Hammer swings can further upgrade the skill.
[Who's the Wooden Dummy? – Concept-Level Skill]
Your hands have been specially modified. Anything struck by your thrown stones will become frozen in place like a wooden puppet.
After scanning the panel, John nodded in satisfaction—
Then turned to look at the breathtaking girl beside him.