Soul of Blades: Chapter 48 - The Silent Spectre (Patreon)

Authors note: I have a backlog of about 20 chapters that need slight alterations before posting, as I'm pretty happy with them and they only need minor improvements, so I'm aiming to get them all out this week, hence the delay. There should be no more delays for at least the next 2 months, as those chapters are a lot of fun and send the story racing forward quite a bit.

The next few arcs begin with the next chapter, thanks for being patient guys. Enjoy.

Chapter 48: The Silent Spectre

John's uncle, the blacksmith, had spent just under an hour scouring over their treasure, much to the growing excitement of all present. 

Most items from before the system still function as they should, though their effects have changed, sometimes in unexpected ways. The blacksmith pointed out these items haven't lost much of their original strength despite the system's introduction. It seems none of them were considered powerful enough to be restricted.

Among the items had been several that had caused their brows to raise in mild surprise, then moderate surprise, then full blown shock. John's brows still hadn’t receded.

Many of the remaining items had been heirlooms of powerful groups Gren called ‘the great families’, some treasures belonging to bloodlines in this land and others. Most of the more powerful items were considered national treasures, and Alex wanted them all. The items ranged from a pair of gauntlets that grant the wearer godlike strength, which under the system translated to 1% boost with an additional +50 strength stat, to a shield that, upon a lethal unguarded blow, would create a massive explosion equal to the damage it defended, decimating nearby enemies while leaving those the wielder considered allies unscathed. Then there was a sword that resonated with the heartbeat of the world it lay in, growing stronger the longer it remained buried until it would become unbreakable. That sword could easily become broken if he entered higher worlds. 

I’m leaving with that blade no matter what, Alex eyed the weapon with poorly disguised avarice. And where's the quest reward for returning to civilisation, is it because of the stragglers? They need to hurry their asses up. Alex ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. It was starting to get pretty long, he'd have to cut it soon, or god forbid, tie it back. There was a couple that had insisted on staying behind in the field before the town, promising they would enter after a tribute of some kind. They were using their skills to build a statue. The rest of the survivors were desperate to return, but wished them well. Alex guessed the system would only consider the quest complete the moment the entirety of his group of survivors returned. Perhaps it would mean he would net even greater rewards. I understand, but it doesn't make it more bearable. He felt for them, he truly did, their experiences must have been mortifying. But he was itching to make his next move.

They had agreed to give free choice over a third of the magical items and split the rest equally, the gold, the armor, the equipment, and non-magical items were to be shared without argument. John had selected a myriad of items, favoring historical relics that would sell for hefty sums over gold or enchanted equipment. Alex and Mira opted to keep the remaining majority of the relics and items. Alex didn’t really care about the mundane items, the only value they held for him was in how useful they would be in helping him get back to earth. 

Much of that use lay in any knowledge they held, or the amount the remaining hoard would sell for.

The portion of the hoard they had managed to carry out of the hive had not only contained gold and currencies from various kingdoms, both historical and present, but equipment both magical and mundane that spanned the length of almost two centuries.

In short, the three of them had stumbled onto not just magical power, but untold wealth.

“So you’re saying we’re rich now.” Alex asked the question slowly, enunciating each word carefully. He figured that would be the case upon seeing the queens hoard, but he had to be sure. After all, there was no way to assess the economic state of the land from a glance. For all he knew it could have been a society that ceded a majority of its wealth to the state or monarchy through steep taxes. It wouldn’t hurt to check

“Well,” grenthar stroked his beard as he assessed the three. “Once the treasury gets its hands on this,” he swept his arms over the array of armour, weapons, and coins organized before him, “there won’t be many who can match your pockets, outside of royalty, people from the great families, or some of the better known adventurers.” Grenthar idly holds John's crown, flicking a crystal which flashes with deep green light. “So yes,” he gruffed, “neither of you will ever have to worry about where the next loaf of bread will fall from.” 

Alex could sense John practically vibrating with excitement 

Grenthar moved to the corner of the room and tore a rough envelope, which burst into flame at the action, crumbling into nothing between his fingers. “Some of the families might want a few of their heirlooms back, so you should get a hefty fee for a lot of these. I’d suggest selling them through the treasury before you find yourself waking up to swords for breakfast.” He stroked his long beard in thought, a dark cloud settling over his features.  “I hear one of their knights managed to hit his first milestone skill during the tutorial.” Grenthar grimaced, shuddering at the memory. “They say he's more of an assassin than a knight, though. Nasty stuff.”

Alex felt that he had chosen well. Very well. Alongside various blades with increased sharpness and durability enchantments, Alex had secured four items and placed them in his inventory, with no plans to take them out or even have them appraised. A pair of gloves, a cloak, an aged wooden stake, and a grimoire. He had no idea what they did, but they were filled with more mana than any other item he had seen, save for the blue crystal sword.

They were most likely the greatest of lost heirlooms, and as long as they were in his possession, they would remain lost. At least until he was certain he could defend himself against the supposed power of the great families.

Those items were nestled safely in his inventory, untouched.

His mind elsewhere, Alex pulled the remaining rewards and items from his inventory skill, pouring them into a desperate pile which included the Queen's bronze and golden swords. He'd stored those items the moment she’d passed. He already knew the bronze blade could elongate, increasing in its reach drastically. And he still distinctly recalled the sensation of evading the metal shards that erupted from its golden counterpart. 

“What about these items? What does your appraisal skill tell you?”

***

The blacksmith, Grenthar, had a somewhat rare appraisal skill. These skills could reach into the annals of the system and pull information on items the skill had completely appraised. According to grenthar and his nephew, John, at higher levels of mastery, and higher ranks of skill development, the skill could analyze internal mana to discern the details of almost anything; possibly even people. But Grenthat had not had the skill for long and such capabilities was a distant dream. His skill was currently only capable of assessing items of the same rank, and fortunately all of the items within their horde fell under his skills current capabilities.

Gren’s skill had revealed much to Alex in a very short period of time. 

Some things he had already known and were similar in description to what he had already experienced. The spatial satchel was confirmed to be a dimensional pouch, appearing unremarkable at first glance, yet capable of containing an expanse far beyond its physical confines. The armor he wore was imbued with a subtle forcefield, invisible yet bastille, an unseen guardian against all threats. His boots were expert works of enchantment, according to the blacksmith. The boots allowed his weight to lessen at will, granting him swiftness and agility that utilized his stats with the utmost proficiency. 

And the white sword, named ‘Weightless’, was an oxymoron made of metal; it grew heavier with the momentum of each swing, craving arcs assisted by gravity and momentum, imbued with both force and finesse. It was a sword made to be swung, preferably downward with the aid of gravity.

“But what about this one? What does your skill say?” Alex asked Gren, summoning the vessel of madness to land softly in his palm. “Or do ancient, possibly cursed artifacts fall outside your usual repertoire?"

“Nothing falls outside of my repertoire, visitor.” Gren gruffed in response, his focus sharpening as he took a step closer.

The blacksmith eyed the strange light pulsing from the box curiously, “that’s strange..” he muttered “it says it needs to process the item's mana… that’s never happened before…” he promptly, snatched the box from Alex’s open palm, ignoring any warnings to be careful. He opened the box, his fingers carefully navigating the clasp, revealing the gem inside. With precise movements, Gren lifted the gem, allowing the light to catch its facets to illuminate the subtle and almost imperceptible pulsations of color within. His expression shifted subtly at the sight of the gem that lay within. "Very strange indeed," he remarked, fingers deftly encircling the gem to lift it for closer inspection. His inspection was thorough, his eyes tracing the contours and facets of the gem as it lay seemingly dormant between his fingers. This continued for five minutes, with the older blacksmith muttering indecipherably under his breath in tones that filled the quiet as he turned the gem over, examining its every detail.

“Hah!” Gren finally exclaimed, a note of triumph in his voice as he looked up from the gem with eyes alight with vindication. "I told you I could do it."

Alex leaned in closer, eager to hear Gren's assessment of the mysterious artifact. "What did you find?" To Alex’s Outer Vision, the gem shifted with a light that seemed both contained and expansive.

"This," Gren declared, holding up a gleaming gemstone, "is a powerful item, very powerful." He continued, turning the gem over in his hand, ensuring Alex saw every aspect of it. “But ultimately useless. I’d suggest you sell this, too. Some fool amongst the families will find great use from it.”

Alex frowned in puzzlement. “Why?”

“It’s not just a vessel of madness, it’s a Shard of something called the Endless Library,” Gren’s voice rumbled, filled with curiosity and intrigu, his attention unwavering from the gem.

“What’s that?” John raised his head to interject, and Alex finally registered what the constant clinking and shuffling he could feel was. John was lying atop a pile of gold coins in apparent bliss.

Gren ignored his nephew to continue eyeing the gem before speaking to alex:” it grants skills, and more than one. It grants one new skill daily but will drive you mad and curropt the mind, however long that will take I don’t know.”

John, still lying on the pile of gold while perfectly spinning multiple coins between his fingers, raised his head again to speak up, “yeah but what’s that endless library thing?” 

“ I don't know, nephew. To be honest I’ve never heard of it.” Gren lifted the crystal, turning it over under the light of his forge, allowing the gem's facets to catch and scatter the illumination. 

Grenthar then regarded Alex. “but you should sell this. Yes, once consumed it grants you a single new skill every day, but the Skills do not accumulate. The new skill will always replace the old one and you will have no choice over which skill is granted the next day, not to mention they would be granted without proficiency.  The only way to keep a skill beyond a day is to master it completely, which is impossible.”

Grenthar placed the dark crystal in its box and closed it, causing a strong light to surge and pulse between the gaps “not to mention each use of an unmastered skill from this ‘library’ will drive the user closer to madness. Like I said, it’s useless. Just leave it with the rich fools.”

John dropped the coins to lazily spin an ornate scythe dug from the pile. “but we are rich fools now,”

“speak for yourself.” Alex interjected, deadpan, before returning to assess the now quite valuable skill crystal. "But yes, I'll keep that in mind," Alex responded, nodding toward Gren, his gaze still lingering on the gemstone before him. "I don't think I'll be using this anytime soon."

Just as Alex finished speaking, a voice sounded above his head, right behind and beside him and well within his range. It was practically on top of him. The voice appeared as if summoned from thin air, gruff and hoarse, not only matching the blacksmith’s voice in ruggedness, but exceeding it in vigor too. 

“Hey Gren.” it said.

Alex jumped in surprise, spinning to swing his wrist at speed. He lashed out reflexively, momentarily forgetting his enhanced nature and the need to hold back, his movements boosted by 200 stats. The air burst in disruption in the wake of his swing. Alex’s swing appeared as a blur to all present.

The visitor expertly ducked beneath Alexs responsive blow, causing it to only graze his cheek to cause slight bruising. The man- and Alex could see now that it was a man, clean shaven yet somehow rugged in appearance- looked just as shocked at Alex, but his shock seemed to stem from the bruise he’d acquired, his eyebrows raising in surprise at the first injury he'd gained since the advent of the system. 

Belatedly, Alex also noticed that the door to the Smithy was ajar,  opened by the tall yet unassuming man that had enterdd the smithy. Alex could sense an entire portion of the building in great detail, and even things happening immediately outside of its walls, but both him and Mira had not felt the mans presence until he was right behind them. Both stared at the man in utter shock and disbelief. If Alex wasn't seeing him with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe a person was there. Not a sound was made, no heartbeat, no breathing, not even the rustling of his clothes. The man left no chemical trace, and made no impact on the ground beneath their feet, not a shockwave, nor the slightest of tremors. There wasn't even the shifting of displaced air. How the hell is he doing that!? 

Alex stepped back to regard the full visage of The large newcomer.

Alex glanced up, his eyes tracing the towering figure before him. The man, a giant among the ordinary, bore the stature of those seen on professional basketball courts yet carried the build of ancient Norse warriors—broad-shouldered, solid, a force of nature, but expanded in scale. Exponentially. Unlike the stretched silhouettes common to such heights, he presented a robustness, as if his very essence had been forged in the halls of Valhalla, magnified in every dimension. He stood there, bending his knees ever so slightly so the top of his head only just brushed against the ceiling. He seemed a figure pulled from legends, yet the warmth that emanated from him bridged the gap between myth and man. To Alex, meeting him for the first time, this warmth kindled a sense of familiarity, as if their paths were meant to cross. And how the hell did I not notice him enter the room? Alex was flabbergasted.

“Wow, nice treasure.” The visitor spoke with a casual air, his eyes sweeping over the room as if looking at a collection of sticks rather than piles of relics and legendary items. “I'm looking for a guy… Alrick- no that's not it. Alvick? I have a message for him.” he repeated, his head swiveling to Alex as if drawn by the force of his words. “Ah, yes. That was it. Which one of you is Alex? The baron and some others are looking for you in town.” 

“Umm… would you happen to know why?” Alex asked, stepping forward with caution.

“Something about a dungeon reaching  critical point.” the man shrugged with sheer disinterest. 

“Oh that blasted incursion dungeon, " John groaned atop his pile of gold. “Honestly, I wouldn't go if I were you, Alex. Everyone that goes there dies. Even the best of them.” John twirled his ornate and clearly magical scythe to a stop, as if emphasizing the finality of his point. “Just ignore the summons, if the Baron heads there they might stand a chance.”

The messenger quirked a brow “Huh. you’re smarter than you look, kid.”

John dropped his ornate scythe and sat up, a look of warm familiarity radiating from his form. 

“Oh, hey Fred.”