The evening air was filled with the rhythmic pace of wood being diligently chipped away, accompanied by the soft, melodic sounds of "Tik, Tik, Tik."
Seated at a desk, a man was wholly focused on crafting a handle, meticulously shaping an exceptionally resilient piece of wood.
It was more than mere woodworking; it was practically wood carving at this point, akin to the slow and patient process of sculpting statues from marble.
Each deliberate stroke gradually consumed the wood, shaping it toward the imaginary image he had in his head. The process was slow and tiring, but it was inching closer to completion.
The remnants of his labor manifested as fine, small strips of rolled-up sawdust-like wood, filling the top of the desk and creating a visible testament to the day's dedicated work.
This had become a daily chore, one that he hadn't anticipated would be so time-consuming.