Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 233-234 (Patreon)

EDIT: Chapters had the wrong title.

Arwin’s breath caught in his chest, and the grin on Wallace’s lips grew even larger in response. That only made his shock grow even stronger still. Getting another Challenge was surprising, but the look on the dwarf’s face spoke volumes.

Wallace knew exactly what had happened. This wasn’t a coincidence. The Mesh hadn’t just happened to decide to give him a Challenge the moment the dwarf had finished speaking. The Mesh may have been the delivery tool but it had been Wallace that gave him the challenge.

“How?” Arwin asked, struggling not to look like a fish out of water. “That’s impossible. You can’t control the Mesh.”

The other smith doubled over in a fit of uproarious laughter. He slapped his knee and shook his head as he tried and failed to contain his mirth. Arwin couldn’t even muster the ability to be annoyed. All he could do was stare in shock as Wallace gathered himself.

“Of course I can’t control the Mesh. That doesn’t mean I can’t influence it. The world is all about push and pull. Give and take. The Mesh responds to the environment and seeks to create capable, motivated people. If all the circumstances are right and the stakes are there… why wouldn’t it activate?”

Arwin couldn’t argue with that logic, but it somehow only served to confuse him even further. He shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He’d only first heard of Challenges a short while ago, and not once as a Hero. The rest of the Menagerie hadn’t had much more information on them.

I’m not going to buy that it was this easy to make a Challenge. Someone else would have stumbled upon it before. The only way you can keep something of this scale secret is if it’s incredibly rare.

“No. There’s no way I’m just buying that. You’re skipping something.”

“Would you look at that? I knew you were learning,” Wallace said with a wry smile. “You’re right. I skipped a part. Two of them, actually. Other Challenges and the Mesh itself. The first is the answer, and the second is the reason. Care to take a guess?”

Arwin stared at Wallace, trying to figure out just how much the dwarf truly knew. It took him a few seconds to fully process everything he’d just said. Other Challenges — that part was simple enough to deduce. Wallace had a Challenge that somehow let him influence the Mesh enough to pose Challenges to other people.

It was the latter half of the claim that gave Arwin difficulty. After thinking for a few more seconds, the impatience won over and he just shook his head helplessly.

“I don’t know. You somehow got a Challenge that lets you give other people Challenges… but I can’t even begin to guess how or why the Mesh would allow for something like that.”

“Don’t blame you. I couldn’t figure it out either,” Wallace said with a snort. “You’re going to feel like a right idiot for not figuring it out, though. It’s the same reason that the Mesh does everything else. Challenge. Lowercase c.”

Arwin squinted at Wallace. Then he shook his head. “Still not following.”

“And that would be the smooth rock you call a brain rolling around in your skull. Get some wrinkles in there, boy. Squish it up a bit. The Mesh wants challenge. Little c. That’s the only thing it cares about. It only gives Challenges — the ones with the big c — to people who are trying hard enough to deserve them.”

“I think I can tell the difference between the little and big c words,” Arwin interrupted dryly.

“Right. Sure. So the Mesh wants people to challenge themselves. It gives out special tasks with some really nice rewards. But it couldn’t just stop there, could it? That would be too nice. And the older you get, the more you learn that the Mesh ain’t nice. So how do you make a Challenge in itself a challenge? Big c and little c, respectively.”

“Yes, I got that bit,” Arwin muttered, but his mind was more focused on decoding Wallace’s words than he was on his snark. He thought through everything he knew about Challenges. And then — finally — it clicked into place. Not from his own experiences, but from Olive.

The realization must have been as clear as day on his features, because Wallace smirked. “Figured it out, did you?”

“You can lose the Challenges. Not fail them, but lose them,” Arwin breathed. That was what happened to Olive. She hadn’t failed her Challenge. The Mesh would have told her if she had, even if she’d been unconscious. It had been stolen from her. He didn’t know if it had been taken by the monster in the dungeon or Olive’s old team. Arwin wasn’t even sure if monsters could get Challenges, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t. It just made too much sense for it all to be a coincidence. “I have no clue how, but there’s a way to take someone else’s Challenge, isn’t there?”

“Struck the ore vein.” Wallace gave Arwin an approving nod. “Well done. As to how, it depends. Every Challenge is different. There’s no universal answer, but I think you can see why people that get Challenges don’t go speaking about them. You get yourself killed.”

“What about the people that already finish their challenge, though?” Arwin asked. “They’d have no reason not to—”

“Other Challenge holders. I don’t know what kind of things you’ve seen, but these Challenges get big, lad. Real big. I’m talking kingdom level things. They’re one of the best and worst kept secrets in the world. You don’t talk about Challenges in the open. Either a friend tells you or you get one. That’s it.”

Arwin blew out a sigh and rocked back on his heels. This explained so much — and at the same time, it explained nothing at all.

If this is all true, then why did I never get so much as a tiny Challenge as the Hero? Did the Mesh hate me or something? It feels like I got another piece of a puzzle, but it doesn’t fit in the bloody hole I’m trying to stick it into.

 “That,” Arwin said, finally mustering his thoughts, “is quite annoying.”

“So it is. Don’t go telling anyone you don’t trust with your life, yeah? It might depend on it. The good news is you aren’t leaving this smithy with that Challenge. Either it’ll be done or you’ll be dead.” Wallace flashed Arwin a wide, toothy grin. “And I’m speaking honestly when I say I hope it’s the former. Just don’t harp on it too much or make any more of those damnable metal balls or I’m going to change to hoping for the latter.”

Arwin let out a snort of laughter. It wasn’t like there was much else he could do. There were so many things that Challenges could have been connected to that he couldn’t even begin to list them all off yet. For now, Arwin supposed that all he could do was focus on passing the one before him.

“I don’t suppose you can give me at least a little advice as to what it is that makes dwarven smithing different from normal smithing when it comes to the actual forging bit?” Arwin asked.

“A man smiths by hand. A dwarf smiths by heart,” Wallace replied without missing a beat. “Don’t get caught up in the semantics. You’re finding your own way. Search for what comes naturally to you and embrace it.”

“Huh. That’s… surprisingly useful advice, actually,” Arwin said slowly. “At least, I think it is. I’m not sure yet.”

“Are you implying I don’t normally give good advice?”

“Yes.”

The dwarf chuckled and headed back over to his corner of the smithy without another word. Arwin’s attention returned to the small piece of Mithril that Wallace had left him. The only things he had to work with for this item were it and a bunch of rough steel bars, the exact name of which Arwin didn’t even know.

Wallace hadn’t provided him with any monster parts or gemstones that he could use to try and focus and direct the magic that went into the item he was meant to craft. Arwin’s brow creased and he chewed on his lower lip.

The last thing he wanted to do was rush ahead and start forging something, only to waste the Mithril. Wallace seemed convinced that he’d be able to make something with it when he tried, but Arwin wasn’t content with just anything.

Finding his own way was easier said than done. Arwin had gone through several completely different styles of smithing at this point, ranging from just copying the Mesh all the way up to making whatever monstrosity he’d turned the Infernal Armory into.

Dwarven smithing was different, at least in part. Not because it was special or objectively better than the others, many of which were just flat out the wrong path forward, but because it didn’t seem to have rules for the actual forging part.

If he wanted to make something worthwhile, he’d have to do more than just follow the rules the Mesh had established or hope to stumble into something that worked. He’d have to make a style of smithing completely unique to himself.

Chapter 234

Making an entire smithing method from scratch proved to be ever so slightly problematic. Seconds turned to minutes as Arwin leaned against the anvil, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation.

He rolled an ingot of steel in his palm idly. Sweat had long since soaked his shirt and the smell of hot sulfur and metal had ingrained itself into his clothes like a second skin. Wallace had taken to banging away at something in the corner of the smithy — Arwin wasn’t sure if the dwarf was actually doing anything productive or if he was just bored and trying to pass the time.

Finding what comes naturally to me is easier said than done. There are a lot of different interpretations of natural. Is it the one that comes easiest?

That would have been just relying on the Mesh for everything. Nothing was easier than turning his own brain off and just swinging where and when the Mesh told him to. That was obviously the wrong path. He’d figured that out long before meeting Wallace.

Any path he took had to be one he forged himself. The Mesh’s guidance was nothing more than a tool. Arwin refused to let it become a crutch again.

Not the easiest path, then. But what else? The thing that feels the most comfortable? But how different could that even get? Wallace made it seem like Dwarven Smithing is really unique to everyone, but how unique can you get when you’re just swinging a hammer?

Arwin wasn’t typically a betting man. But, in this case, he was more than willing to bet that Wallace had more in mind than him just smacking metal with a hammer normally. There had to be something more to it.

Heaving out a huff of air, Arwin pushed himself upright and stood up. He brushed himself off and wiped his brow with the back of a sleeve as he studied the flat face of the anvil waiting for him.

There was one thing for certain. He wasn’t going to make any progress just sitting around and thinking. He’d never been one for that. Lillia was a better planner than he was. He was just good at doing.

But I can’t just plunge ahead completely blind. There’s a difference between looking for inspiration and being an impatient idiot. I need to take stock of everything I can do that’s even vaguely related to smithing. Maybe that’ll give me an idea.

He did have a fair number of tools to work with. Arwin dug through his head and gathered his thoughts on every single crafting related ability he had, no matter how useful or detrimental it initially felt.

1.      The Mesh can guide me while I work.

2.      I can smell the quality of magic in an item.

3.      I can hit things really hard.

4.      I can get hit really hard.

5.      I can pick up the general desires of metal.

6.      I can speak directly to magical materials through visions.

7.      I’m resistant to magical effects that affect my mind.

8.      I can eat magic.

9.      I can infuse items with parts from monsters and bring out their desires.

He certainly had a hefty list. Wallace had been pretty impressed with his ability to craft with organic materials — it was something unique to his class, but Arwin wasn’t convinced it was enough.

“I need to be more. I can’t just be one of my traits. Smithing is more than just a single element,” Arwin muttered to himself. There was no way his goals were fully encapsulated in just a single one of his abilities. If it was so easy to emulate dwarven smithing, then everyone would be walking around doing it.

Wallace had already made it more than clear that everything was about properly connecting to the materials he was working with. He infused his power into the lava around him. He listened to the song of the metal and harmonized his own song with it. Everything boiled down to coming to understand his materials as closely as he could. A thoughtful expression crossed over Ariwn’s face.

 But it’s more than just my materials, isn’t it? The lava doesn’t go into the metal. It’s a tool, but I need to be in complete harmony with it in order to feel the materials within correctly. I have to understand everything I work with as if it was my own body.

The words rung true in his head. Understanding had been the most instrumental part of his progress. He’d been able to do the least when he’d just done what the Mesh had said. Every step he took toward taking smithing into his own hands brought him closer to making better weapons and armor.

 Is it about establishing a perfect understanding between myself and the metal? Cutting everything else out so only we exist?

A small frown pulled across his lips. Some of the best work he’d ever made had been when he worked together with Lillia. She’d been an enormous help in providing power and intent to help ensure the item turned out the way they wanted it to.

That went against the theory that it had to just be him and his target. There was something more to it. He couldn’t just rely on Lillia every single time he crafted something, of course, but isolating himself wasn’t the path he wanted to take either.

Arwin ran his thumb over the rough steel ingot in his hand, feeling every single craggy groove within the metal. Murmured desires brushed across his ears as they always did. The metal had hopes and dreams — but they weren’t independent of the rest of the world. It wanted a purpose, not to be perfect in a void.

“You going to do anything?” Wallace called, his voice splitting through the air. “Or are you just going to stand there shitting your pants?”

“I’m thinking.” Arwin peeled his gaze away from the ingot to look at Wallace. “I’m not trying to jump into this like an idiot.”

Wallace let out a snort. “You are an idiot.”

Arwin sighed, but the dwarf spoke again before he could even figure out if he wanted to give that a response.

“Does a fish walk?” Wallace asked, tossing his dagger from hand to hand as he walked back across the forge to stand beside Arwin. “Does a monkey swim?”

“I’m pretty sure some monkeys can—”

“You’re missing the point,” Wallace snapped, prodding Arwin in the chest with a burly finger. “Do you know what makes a dwarven smith what they are, lad? Is it talent? Is it their great burly muscles and handsome faces full of black bushy beards?”

Arwin’s eyes narrowed. He was pretty sure Wallace was just describing himself.

“No?”

“No is correct!” Wallace poked Arwin again. “It is passion. We are the best smiths because we care the most. We do more than hammer metal, boy. We bring it to life. That is our purpose, and we love it. But do you know what happens to passion when you pick it apart with a fine comb? When you pause to wonder if you can instead of simply doing?”

“You avoid making a mistake?”

“You avoid becoming yourself,” Wallace corrected. “Mistakes are inevitable. Failure is the road leads to success. You’ll never get anywhere without screwing up.”

“I’d normally completely agree with you, but I don’t exactly have infinite time or chances here.” Arwin set the ingot down on the anvil and crossed his arms. “Or have you forgotten we’re going to have to fight if you don’t like what I make?”

“See, there’s your problem.” Wallace shook his head. “Let’s think this through, oaf. Between you and that lass of yours, who makes the better plans?”

“Lillia. No doubt about it.”

“Very good. That is because she is not a smith. She’s a schemer, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But when you’re in a fight — when do you perform best? When you’re trying to come up with some fancy plan?”

“I try to leave that to Lillia as of late. I’m better at just hitting things,” Arwin admitted. “I don’t think I’m that bad at plans, but—”

“Don’t want to hear it.” Wallace lifted a hand and shook his head. “I’m not satisfied with ‘not that bad’. Are you? Is that all you aspire to be?”

“No.” Arwin blew out a breath. “Of course not.”

“Right. So you know what gets you the best result in a fight. Fighting.” Wallace beat a hand against his chest. “Plans are important, but you aren’t the best at making them. That’s why we don’t fight alone. Everyone fulfills their role. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’ve had a similar discussion with them before,” Arwin admitted. “But what does this have to do with me not thinking about what I’m doing? Planning and making sure I don’t get myself killed because I jumped into something are two very different—”

“We agree that you find yourself best served doing what it is you are actually good at, and that following passion and instinct serves you better than thinking everything through for an hour under normal circumstances. Am I correct?”

“Well, yes. Under normal—”

“What makes you think that suddenly changes because you’ve only got one chance?” Wallace cut Arwin off once again and arched an eyebrow. “If you find the best results when you act on instinct in every other scenario, then why do you think it’ll suddenly change just because you’ve got less time? It’s the same damn scenario. Nothing is different.”

Arwin blinked. His mouth parted slightly, then closed. He couldn’t think of anything to refute the dwarf’s words.

“I — huh. I suppose you’re correct.”

Wallace smirked and clapped Arwin on the shoulder. It would have been a bit easier to take him completely seriously if he hadn’t had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach it.

“I generally am. Nothing wrong with planning. Nothing wrong with following passion — but there is something wrong with trying to make yourself something you aren’t. There’s a time for thinking. This ain’t it.”

With that, Wallace turned and headed back to his corner of the smithy. Arwin stood by the anvil, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched the dwarf leave. He looked back down to the bar of steel lying in wait.

No planning… I don’t know. When I fight on my own, I do end up performing the best when acting on instinct. But when Lillia is there to help plan things out and give us a real strategy, I’m even more effective.

Maybe coming up with a complete plan myself isn’t the right move, but I got incredible results when I worked together with her.

Arwin’s eyes widened as an idea rolled through his mind. That was it. The advantage he had that no other smith did. Working with Lillia — but not just her. If he could do it with Lillia, then he could do it with others. Other people… and other things.

“I can speak with materials,” Arwin muttered to himself as a light lit behind his eyes. “Not just the ones I’m smithing, but the ones I’m using.”

“What was that, boy?” Wallace asked.

A smile crawled across Arwin’s face and he turned back to the dwarf, picking up the Mithril and steel bars. He knew what he had to do.

I’m not meant to just use a forge. I have to become one with it. And if I’m going to do that… I know just the place.

“I know what to do, but I’m going to need a little help.”

“Oh?” Wallace tilted his head to the side. “I’m not crafting it for you. No help from other people. That defeats the point.”

“Not that kind of help.” Arwin chuckled and slipped the metal bars into his pockets. “I need you to come back with me to the Infernal Armory.”