by Dakota Krout
Joe glanced at the letter, but seeing Havoc’s interested leer, decided to open it later. This made Havoc’s mood worse, but he kept his cool as they walked, taking some time to go over the changes in Joe’s status. “You’ll be happy to hear that all outstanding debts are paid. Taking back that fort was almost laughably easy, and since the raid had been authorized in your name, you got all the credit.”
This made Joe remember that he would have received all the blame if he had failed, but Havoc powered onward. “That’s most of what we had to talk about. You’re all caught up. Adding an abyssal god to the mix changed this up as well, and paid off a chunk of my outstanding debts that had been made in your name as well. That’s why you likely got a reduced increase if you gained reputation. Oh, double check: you should have gained fifteen thousand experience as well for your double share of the raid.”
“That’s why I lost five thousand reputation with the Elves but only gained roughly three thousand with the council? You preemptively spent it?” Joe made another connection. “Hold on, how much was that worth?”
“Reputation is worth whatever you can spend it on,” Havoc replied evasively, quickly motioning at a massive forge they were walking toward. “Look, over there! That’s where we’re going right now. I have a set of gear on backorder at the enchanter’s right now, but you need to go in person to get a weapon made.”
“Why? Wait, no; stop trying-”
“Clothes can be worn by anyone, but the weapon used is an expression of the wielder,” Havoc interjected loudly, drowning out Joe’s arguments. “You need to go in there and leave a good impression on McPoundy. Just let him know you’re there because I sent you.”
“You’re not coming in?” Joe quizzed with great surprise. “Why didn’t you just send me here, then?”
“I’m only coming in if I have to come in.” Havoc’s words were a threat, and made the hair on Joe’s arms stand on end, as though the world had just become static-charged. “Go on. Don’t you dare accept the tripe he offers you.”
Joe looked at Havoc, then the forge, and walked inside with a long-suffering sigh. He had wanted Havoc to help him, right? The building was exactly as he had expected it to be: loud, hot, and full of Dwarves that clearly loved forging. A smile appeared on his face. “This is what I always expected joining the Dwarves to be like..”
“Good day, human.” A voice to the side called Joe’s attention, and Joe turned to find a mustachioed Dwarf smiling professionally at him. “I fully understand that the call of this workshop is a siren song to those that wish to improve themselves and better what they can create. I am so sorry to need to be the one to inform you that only the most talented of Dwarves get to study under Grandmaster. While your interest is appreciated, if you want a closer look at what we can do, you need to go around and into the shop.”
“Hello! So sorry for intruding, but I’m actually supposed to be here. I’m Candidate Joe.” Joe nodded to her in a friendly manner, but only got a grunt in reply as she turned away and started hammering a red-hot ingot. “I need to find… a Mr. McPoundy? I have a-”
Exquisite Shell: 1,823/2,346.
“Stupid Bro!” A hammer bounced off Joe’s head, and he whirled around, prepared to fight. Someone had just tried to assassinate him! He came face-to-face with a bearded Dwarf with wild eyes. “How dare you talk about the Grandmaster with such an irreverent tone! Did you walk in here hoping to prove yourself by making an enemy out of every true Dwarf-”
Joe punched the Dwarf in the face, hitting him with a Dark Lightning Strike at the same time. His enhanced strength stat, combined with the forced rigidness from the electricity coursing through him, sent the Dwarf flying back to land heavily against a standing anvil. Though Joe didn’t want to do it, he needed to stoop to this Dwarf’s level to prove his point. “How dare I? You sound like an Elf! How arrogant can you be, bro?”
“Enough.” A tired voice carried through the room as the red-faced Dwarf stood and prepared to bull-rush Joe. “He’s here for a quest, and Major General Havoc—his mentor—is standing outside just waiting for a reason to bust in here through the restraining order.”
“Restraining…?” Joe looked back at the door. Havoc was looming in the doorway, straining against a force that was blowing him back, no matter how hard he tried to push in. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was shifting like someone caught in the wind during a freefall. Straining against the boundary, Havoc’s hands grasped either side of the doorframe. Seeing that the fight had ended, Havoc snarled and took a step back, pulling out a cigar and looking away as if what happened inside didn’t matter to him. The deep indents in the metal doorway said differently. Joe turned back to face the huge Dwarf that was speaking to him.
“I’m Grandmaster Iron McPoundy; hurry into my private forge. I’m working on a project, but you can’t wait out here.” McPoundy glared at Havoc and made a rude hand gesture. “That brat would find some excuse to come in and take some kind of petty revenge for the restraining order I got placed on him after his last visit!”
Joe walked through the small doorway that hung in the middle of the open space, and the wall sealed itself behind him. To the rest of the people in the forge, the doorway vanished entirely. Joe looked back and was surprised to see the general workshop as if he were looking through a window. “Is this a pocket dimension?”
“That it is.” The Dwarf started swinging a hammer instantly, the force of each blow creating a shockwave of pressure and sparks. Joe’s shield started deteriorating right away, and his eyes widened when he noted that the Dwarf showed no signs of stopping. “Impress me by surviving while I fix this enchanted sword.”
“What’s—*clang*—wrong—*clang*—with it?—*clang*.” Joe shouted his words in between hammer blows, and to his credit, McPoundy gave him a concise answer.
“I already enchanted it, but I fumbled a few of the formulae, so I’m just trying to pound some kinks out.” McPoundy was living up to his name, and Joe was about to ask more questions, when the sword spoke.
“I like feet.”
*Clang*.
McPoundy only hit the sword faster. “Quiet, you!”
“Harder.”
*Clang*.
“Ugh.” McPoundy sighed in relief as the words stopped coming out of the sword. “Any enchanted item is at least a little alive, and they only get more so as they increase in rarity and age. Sometimes forging the enchantment out and starting again is the only way to remove the impurities.”
You are receiving tutelage from a Grandmaster! Ritualistic Smithing and Enchanting (general) will increase at a high rate!
Joe’s focus narrowed, his entire self immersed in watching the process as McPoundy worked. He activated Essence Cycle and observed as the Dwarf worked seamlessly with flame, liquid metal, and mana. Joe snapped out of his work-induced haze only when he ran out of mana and his Essence Cycle turned off. He healed himself, turned off other passives, let his mana refill, fixed his shell and jumped right back into Essence Cycle.
Eventually, McPoundy smiled at the sword, crushed a Core in his hand, and sprinkled the dust along the new lines of enchantment formulae he had carved into it. Joe saw the skill get activated and gained some small insight into how the dust was formed and used. McPoundy sighed happily and held up his sword. “There. Finished.”
Skill increase: Ritualistic Forging (Beginner 0 -> Beginner VI)
Skill increase: Enchanting (general) (Novice IV -> Beginner 0). Congratulations on reaching the Beginner ranks! All Novice enchantments are 20% easier to create! All Beginner enchantments are 10% easier to create. There is a 5% chance of creating Apprentice-ranked enchantments.
Joe looked at the sword in astonishment. It had a glowing title, as McPoundy hadn’t bothered to hide any of the information.
Sword of Hamstringing. (Pseudo-Artifact) This sword no longer likes feet; instead, it only likes chopping them off! 50% chance to cleanly cut off a foot when attempting to do so. Created by Grandmaster Iron Mc
Poundy.
“Still, a failure.” McPoundy sighed and threw the sword toward a garbage chute. Joe screeched and jumped to intercept it, slamming into the blade, which went right through his re-weakened shell and cut into him before clattering to the floor. McPoundy turned on the human with death in his eyes, “Lad, you must be utterly brain damaged. Put that in the trash right this instant!”
“Grandmaster… McPoundy.” Joe healed himself and straightened up, pulling the sword upright until he was standing with it point-down against the stone floor. “I knew I had heard your name before. Please give me a chance to explain.”
“Make a case for why I should help you any further than the minimum that Havoc blackmailed me into doing. Tell me why I should bother, now that you are planning on stealing and showing off a sword that I want disposed of. You have one sentence, or you’re going out.”
Joe collected his thoughts into a single, succinct statement. “I destroyed the Shield of Hate.”
“That’s…” McPoundy, who was already reaching for Joe’s neck, paused, stopped, and took a step back. “How do you know about that? How did you… I made that back when I was a mere Master, and I’ve told no one about that… item. You destroyed it? I couldn’t break it back then. How did you? Prove it.”
Joe gazed down at the sword in his hand, and a smile swept across his face. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sword finished vanishing into aspects and remnants, and Joe stared at his updated listing with flushed cheeks. He was panting from the heat and mana deprivation, but he was excited. This was the first time he had gained Artifact-ranked aspects!
Aspects gathered
Trash: 10,314
Damaged: 9,902
Common: 7,421
Uncommon: 5,222
Rare: 1,834
Special: 100 (Zombified). 100 (Anima).
Unique: 554
Artifact: 55
Legendary: 0
Mythical: 0
“It wasn’t a true Artifact, but it had aspects of it,” Joe muttered excitedly. His eyes flashed over the numbers, and his intelligence and wisdom tried to work together to intuit a pattern. No matter how he considered it, it seemed that each item produced different amounts in each aspect.
“What are you whispering about? Numbers of some kind? Were you weighing it or trying to balance the blade? You think an Artifact—or in this case, Pseudo-Artifact—happens by chance alone?” McPoundy snorted even as he secretly admired the ability to erase failures so easily. “Is it surprising that my creations are both works of art and also mathematically perfect in all ways?”
Skill gained: Smithing Lore (Beginner II). Your insight and tutelage under a Grandmaster have allowed you to develop a deeper understanding of smithing. There are depths to every craft that are difficult to dive into, but as this skill progresses, you will not just be hitting metal with a hammer; you will be forging. Bonus for reaching the Beginner rank: There is a 100% chance to automatically create a template for the next item you observe being made. (One-time use). You must have the permission of the smith you are watching in order to copy their craft.
That blew Joe away. All the other lore skills had given him passive bonuses to creating things, but this was the first time a lore skill had given him something active. Before Joe could say anything, McPoundy continued. “After seeing this, I suppose I believe you about the shield. I’ll tell you now, if that shield somehow resurfaces, you’ll have made an enemy for life. As a reward for your help and silence… I’ll work with you to make a weapon you can use. Something just for you. I’ll even let you stand at my side and keep gaining skill levels as I do the work. Yes, I can see you absorbing everything I say or do; you must have some small skill in smithing?”
“I’m a Beginner level five in Ritualistic Forging,” Joe admitted freely. “While I like the ability to forge, I preferred having a limited skillset that I could level faster.”
The Grandmaster winced at Joe’s explanation, but not for the reasons Joe was expecting. “That’s… I can barely remember the time when a smith under the Expert rank has been allowed to learn from me directly. We need to get you out of here before someone learns about this, gets jealous, and starts a clan war. I’m unsuitable as a master for you, but I can show you a few things as we get your gear together. Here is what your options were going to be…”
The Dwarf motioned Joe over to a table that had somehow been… elsewhere… until he wanted it, then had the human inspect the three items that were waiting.
Scythe of Rituals (Unique). This weapon was designed for a Ritualist that has focused on the path of hunting single opponents, and uses a specific ritual to weaken or destroy his enemies. There is space for ritual circles up to the Student rank on the blade, as well as a socket in the handle for Cores to power them. Damage: 2.31x slashing damage, where x = Strength.
Barbed Chain of Taglocks (Unique). This chain was designed for a Ritualist that has focused on applying multiple rituals to groups of enemies. Each barb can contain a ritual circle up to the Beginner rank and includes a wearable bandolier of socket containers for Cores. Damage: 1.83x piercing damage, where x = Dexterity.
Spyglass of Ritual Projection (Unique). This spyglass was designed for a Ritualist that refuses to close on his opponent. It can project an active single-target ritual up to the Journeyman ranks, and includes a ‘decorative’ handle that can hold Cores to power the ritual. Can be used up to Perception/50 (rounded down) times per day.
“These are all…” Joe was shocked by the Unique weapons in front of him. He almost didn’t know what to say.
“Edgy?” McPoundy cut Joe off with a laugh before the human could make the mistake of complimenting how amazing they all were. “I know, I know. I made them intentionally insulting and gave them arbitrary limits. Practically trash, all of them. You can blame Havoc for forcing the issue, but it turns out, I actually like ya. So… what can we make for you? What would suit you properly and help you grow over time? What is a fitting weapon that you could use, a weapon that has the capability to grow your skill into the Sage ranks?”
Joe tried to shake the image of himself swinging a scythe around in a battlefield out of his head, ignoring the idea of binding a powerful enemy with a chain that sapped all their stats. Apparently these weapons were ‘laughable’, and he didn’t even know why. “I… suppose I don’t know. I’ve been a spellcaster my entire time in Eternium, and I have always acquired weapons only for whatever convenience they offered. What would you suggest?”
McPoundy thought for a long moment. “I suggest taking some time to think about it. Don’t take something that has a limited use; I can’t imagine you will have many chances to ask a Grandmaster to make you a custom weapon.”
“What did you mean about having the capability to grow into the Sage ranks?” Joe forced himself to ask the question, though it made him feel foolish when the smith had mentioned it so casually.
“Hmm? Oh… well.” The Dwarf grumbled softly as he tried to put his thoughts in order. “Right… again, I am used to working with powerful and skilled people. People that have a base of knowledge from experiencing life and working with people as they, too, learn. Listen, everything can theoretically reach the Sage ranks. But levels increase with use, practice, and especially innovative usage. Why do you think there are legends of a person slashing at the air and killing another person hundreds of feet away? A dimensional slash, if you will?”
Joe shrugged at the question. “I… assume that they would be at least a Grandmaster?”
“No matter how well you can swing a sword…” McPoundy put a hand on Joe’s shoulder, “it would never cut someone outside of the blade’s reach. Someone who can do something like that has fused their skills and spells in unique ways, and has made something that is their own. The path beyond mastery is almost never a single skill. In fact, single-skill Sagehood is the rarest of all paths to succeed upon. It could even be considered the mo
st potent, since there is only a single aspect to study and perfect. The detriment… It will never be the most versatile. Put some thought into this choice. I will make something uniquely yours, and even refuse to make it for another, so that you have the best chance at reaching the summit of your chosen path.”
With that, Joe was shown out of the forge with stars in his eyes and his head spinning with ideas. “Why couldn’t he have been chosen as my mentor?”
“So sorry you couldn’t get a good mentor.” Havoc strode next to him, a glower indicating that he had taken offense. “Already told you, kid. It’s because someone wants you to fail, and they want it bad.”
“I still like you, Havoc. He was just so charis-” Joe reached out to pat the Dwarf’s shoulder, but a razor-tipped spike extended from the Dwarf’s shoulder as his hand neared it. Joe jerked his appendage back, barely able to stop himself from touching the poison-leaking spike. As his hand moved away, the spike also sank back into Havoc’s clothing. “What was that?”
Havoc smirked. “You think I’m stupid enough to let a Ritual user touch me? You’ll also find that any hair or bodily material that comes off me is instantly incinerated. Now, why do you like my little brother so much?”
“Brother? Wait, are you serious?”
The Dwarf waved behind them, “Yeah, McPoundy. My brother. What’s the big deal? He hits metal, and his blades cut real nice. Ooh. So what?”
“He took some time to teach me directly.” Joe struggled to express his thoughts in a cohesive manner. “Havoc, he’s a Grandmaster, and he’s going to teach me while making me a custom weapon.”
Havoc took a pull on his cigar, then waved it around as they walked. “So? I’m a Grandmaster thrice over, and you haven’t asked me to teach you jack.”
