Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 256-257 (Patreon)

Arwin’s eyes snapped open. He sucked in a breath, tasting ash and metal in the air. He was back in the Infernal Armory. A dull, throbbing presence had affixed itself to the back of his mind like a fishing line.

He could still feel the Wyrm scale on top of the anvil. Lingering memories of the shield in his vision lurked in his thoughts. The details were limited, but it was almost as if the weapon had already decided what it wanted to look like.

It was different from the guidance than the Mesh had given him in times before. There was no hint as to how he could make the shield, no glowing lights to tell him where to hit. It was more like the scale was a customer asking him for a commission.

Fortunately, there’s more than enough room in the request for me to put my own work in. Cursed weapons seem more like a partnership with the materials I’m working with than just making something entirely on my own. Interesting. I wonder how similar it is to what Lillia and I did. Will the Wyrm scale actually help me make the shield? Or did I already receive all the help I’m getting?

Suppose there’s only one way to find out.  

Arwin sat up. His clothes were covered in soot and dirt. There would be no saving them now, so he didn’t even bother trying to brush them clean. He just rose to his feet and braced his hands against the anvil as he studied the materials waiting before him. Brightsteel, Maristeel, and a single scale. That was it. He’d worked with this number of materials before, but he’d never worked with them like this.

“Let’s see what we can do,” Arwin said, interlocking his fingers and stretching his hands out. He cast his gaze around the armory in search of the red mist, but it was nowhere to be found. “Hey. You here?”

A curl of smoke rose up through the floor. It flitted past his feet and twisted into a pillar on the other side of the anvil before collapsing like a burst water balloon. Steps swept through the mist as it crawled across the floor.

“You called?” the Armory asked.

“We’ve got work to do,” Arwin said. “You ran off on me.”

“I do not have infinite energy. I cannot afford to maintain our connection when you are asleep.” A hint of irritation entered the invisible being’s voice. “Now that you are done napping, I am prepared to continue.”

Arwin snorted. He shook his arms out and nodded. “Then let’s get on with it. I’ve got an impatient customer, and I’m not feeling particularly lazy myself. I’ve got some work to do.”

A distant laugh echoed through the armory. Black tendrils twisted out of the walls and slithered across the ground. They followed the lines interlacing over the floor before reaching Arwin.

He grit his teeth in discomfort as the tendrils punched into his flesh. No matter how small the tendrils were, getting stabbed wasn’t particularly enjoyable. He also didn’t miss that the Infernal Armory was able to penetrate his skin even through [Indomitable Bulwark]. Granted, it didn’t actually do much damage, but it didn’t seem to be trying to hurt him either.

How much is this building actually capable of?

A rush of energy ran down the lines and into Arwin’s body. His thoughts slammed to a halt. The connection between himself and the Infernal Armory intensified as their power mixed. Energy lit the smithy’s veins with a muted, shadowy glow.  

“What are we waiting for?” the Armory asked, its voice echoing around Arwin. Smoke twisted past his arms and curled over the surface of the anvil. “I feel the item. It speaks with you.”

Arwin extended a hand. Verdant Inferno materialized in his grip and a purr rolled across his mind, followed by a flicker of irritation. The hammer was angry. It hadn’t gotten to be part of the fight against the Wyrm.

He had absolutely no idea how the hammer had managed to figure that out, but he did his best to send reassuring thoughts in its direction. It wasn’t like it had been his choice to avoid using it. Arwin would have been more than happy to have a little help — but that just wasn’t how the vision had worked.

In a way, it makes sense. Can’t really test someone when they’ve got all their abilities and skills and items to rely on. You’ve got to get down to the real parts of who they are.

Fire prickled against his hand. Another wave of annoyance rolled from Verdant Blaze. Arwin chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry. I promise I’ll use you as much as I possibly can, okay? I’m not cheating on you, I swear.” Arwin hesitated. Then he frowned. “Wait. Scratch that. We’re not in that kind of relationship. I’m with Lillia. I’m not cheating on you with another crafting weapon.”

“Would you stop arguing with your damn hammer?” the Armory asked, exasperated. “I am waiting!”

“Oh, stuff it,” Arwin said. “I’ll ask Lillia to make you some food soon.”

“Can I have—”

“No,” Arwin replied. He adjusted his grip on Verdant Inferno. Waves of amusement rolled off it and into his mind as [Soul Flame] poured out of his hands and raced into the hammer’s haft. Its head erupted in flame. “Now let’s get to work. Give me another work surface and some heat. I need to prepare some metal.”

“As you command,” the Infernal Armory replied, and the two of them got to work.

***

Verdant Inferno’s song was indistinguishable from Arwin’s. The clang of metal echoed through the smith. Firelight danced across the walls, flashing as the hammer rose and fell, striking like the marching feet of an army.

Arwin worked the metals, forming them into plates. The materials almost seemed eager to reach their promised form. Every strike melted them into place as if it had been three. Each adjustment worked out just right, and the Wyrm scale hummed along with Arwin in his mind.

He formed the internal portion of the shield from Brightsteel, sticking to the form that he’d received back in his vision. A roughly triangular shape that could cover just about half of his body, largely unadorned on the side that he would hold.

The shield’s face took shape from Maristeel, as did the horns at its top. The Wyrm Scale went right in its center, sandwiched between the two metals. It remained equally as unadorned for the time being, the design being left for last.

Intent and magic poured from Arwin with every strike he made. It bonded the metals together, drew from his desires and those of the scale, and was amplified by the Infernal Armory. Arwin worked like no human smith ever could have hoped to.

His arms didn’t grow tired. His intent was ironclad, held in place not only by his own mind but also by the smithy and the scale. His magical reserves drew from the Infernal Armory and refused to run out.

“Oil,” Arwin called.

A basin rose from the ground at his side, full of black liquid. He plunged the shield into it and flames roared across its surface. The basin sank back into the ground and Arwin pulled the quenched shield free, bringing it back to the anvil.

Strike by strike, more of the shield took form. Energy prickled at Arwin’s fingertips whenever they touched the smoothing metal. The connection between himself and the scale began to shift.

It wasn’t just a bond to a magical material anymore.

It was a bond to a burgeoning shield.

Sweat rolled down Arwin’s brow and flew from him with every strike. The temperature in the smithy had risen past sweltering and he could have sworn he smelled brimstone in the distance. He didn’t let himself consider it for long. He couldn’t let his attention stray from his work.

The base form of the shield was done, now. It looked exactly as it had in the vision — but Arwin was not satisfied. He refused to stop now. This was the minimum. Not the goal.

“Chisel,” Arwin called.

“You have not given me a suitable chisel. Anything I can make will shatter against the materials you work with.”

Arwin cursed under his breath, then dismissed Verdant Inferno. A flicker of disappointment passed from the hammer into him, but it understood that its job was done. It probably helped that he didn’t actually have another tool to replace it yet.

Fortunately, Arwin was perfectly fine working with his hands.

“Heat,” Arwin requested.

Bricks rippled to his side and a furnace lifted itself from the floor. Black veins ran up its sides and poured lava into its center, doubtlessly stolen from Wallace. Arwin grinned. [Soul Flame] encased his hands and he brought the shield to the furnace, heating it and using [Scourge] to empower a finger and carve designs into its face.

Arwin had never been trained as an artist. He’d had some practice on previous items, but this was the most ambitious design he’d ever tried for. It was fortunate he was far from working alone. What remained of the scale guided his hand and the Infernal Armory seemed to understand as well. Arwin felt his mind sharpen. His fingertip’s movement grew precise and controlled, acting exactly as he desired it to.

Line by line, a snarling maw of a Wyrm took form within the shield. Arwin shaped the Maristeel, forming the monster’s features in three dimensions to the absolute best of his abilities. This was an item made from one of the strongest opponents he and the Menagerie had faced since his arrival in Milten. The monster had been under Jessen’s control, but before it had fallen, it had commanded respect.

  He saw no reason as to why that would no longer hold true. Arwin’s coalition of workers pulled the Wyrm’s essence forth, drawing on every memory he had of the immense creature to do its visage justice.

The energy flowing to him started to peter out. He felt the black strands connecting him to the Infernal Armory slip out of his shoulders and slap to the ground, but still, he didn’t stop working.

A throbbing ache swallowed his muscles and a blanket of weariness threatened to swallow him. His arms burned and his magical reserves dwindled. Arwin could feel the strength leaving his body in real time, but he didn’t let himself slow. He’d worked through worse. His hand started to tremble. There was no sign of the red mist anymore. The Armory was completely out of strength.

Arwin wasn’t. Not yet.

His teeth gritted — he pressed on.

And then, finally, his hand dropped. His finger felt like it had gotten caught between two gears. Tremors of exhaustion shook his arm, but he was done.

A snap of static energy ripped through the room. Power rushed past Arwin, a vortex of churning magic and intent, and the Mesh roared forth from within to carve crimson letters into the air.

[The Wyrm’s Revenge: Cursed] has been forged. Forging a cursed item has granted you a significant amount of magical energy.

A weary grin split Arwin’s face. “Ah. There we go.”

Then he pitched back, landing in a pair of soft arms that shouldn’t have been there. Darkness rose up from below his vision and swallowed him whole, and he knew no more.

Chapter 257

Arwin’s eyes fluttered open to find even more darkness waiting for him. A soft, familiar material was pressed into his back. He grimaced, phantom pain working its way through his limbs before they realized that they no longer actually ached. A grunt slipped from his lips as he pushed himself upright in Lillia’s bed.

“That didn’t go as planned,” Arwin muttered, rubbing at his head. The majority of his exhaustion was gone and he could feel magical energy churning within him again. Some time had definitely passed since he’d finished his work. He could still remember putting the final touches onto the shield — falling — and then… nothing.

“You really need to stop doing this.” Lillia’s voice cut through the darkness, underlaid with a slight tone of irritation. “Are you okay, Arwin?”

“I’m fine,” Arwin said with an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. I pushed a little too far again. I was working on something a little different from my previous projects. I wanted to make sure it turned out as good as it possibly could. How did it—”

“I’ve got no idea. The shield’s stats are completely hidden from me. I’m not even sure if it’s magic. It just looks like a really fancy looking piece of metal.” The bed creaked as Lillia sat down beside him. “And before you ask, it’s only been a few hours. You woke up faster than normal.”

“Really?” Arwin blinked in surprise. “That really is fast. I should have been out for at least twice that with the amount of magical energy I feel.”

“I slipped you something to drink and imbued it with some magical energy. I figured you weren’t keen on being out for a few days straight.” Lillia prodded him in the stomach. “It’s unfair when I’ve got to sit around and watch you sleep instead of getting to do the same, you know. I’m going to get jealous if you keep this up.”

Arwin chuckled. “Maybe you should knock yourself out cooking more.”

“Brilliant suggestion,” Lillia said dryly.

She stood up and Arwin swung his legs out of bed. He found her arm as he rose and pulled her close, giving her a kiss the forehead and eliciting a small yelp of surprise from her.

“Thanks for the help. Was it you that caught me as well?” Arwin asked.

“Who else do you think would be stupid enough to try to catch a big oaf like you?”

“Oi. Don’t start taking slang from Wallace. The absolute last thing I need is for you to start speaking like a dwarf. I’m not sure I’d be able to live with myself,” Arwin said with a shake of his head.

Lillia snickered. She took him by the hand and led him from the room, out into the kitchen and the light. Her pan sat beside the stove and several ingredients were laid out on cutting boards, forgotten.

“I came to bring you some food about 30 minutes before you knocked yourself out,” Lillia said. “Your building let me in and told me not to interfere.”

“That’s… convenient,” Arwin said. “Also slightly creepy. The building, that is. Not you.”

“Thank you, Arwin. I definitely didn’t know which one you were referring to.” Lillia’s tail poked Arwin in the back. “And yes, it is slightly creepy.”

Arwin started to nod, then paused. His eyes narrowed and he turned to look at Lillia. “What were you doing for the 30 minutes before I collapsed?”

Lillia cleared her throat and stepped over to her counter, her tail flicking before hiding itself within her pants. She adjusted her shirt and picked up a knife, starting to chop away at a carrot. “I was just watching. That’s all.”

“For half an hour?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Lillia grumbled. Her knife thunked into the counter and she pointed her other hand at him. “Get out of here, already. I’m trying to work and I’m going to get distracted if you stick around much longer.”

“How distracted?” Arwin asked, a grin creeping across his face.

“Out!” Lillia’s cheeks reddened. She glared at him and Arwin and he wisely chose to escape the kitchen before she decided to cut something other than vegetables with her knife. He couldn’t help but notice that she still had the same old knife as before — it hadn’t been replaced.

Looks like my initial goal of making her a new kitchen knife is still safe. Good. I need to go take a look at that shield and make sure it’s safe. If it is, I can get to work on her gift soon. I don’t think it should be anywhere near as hard as making a shield.

“Good luck,” Arwin said, pausing at the edge of the doorway. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“You too,” Lillia said, turning her back to him. Her tail poked out of a pant leg of its own volition, wagging for a moment before she grabbed it and yanked it back into cover. Arwin fought to hide his laugh as he headed out.

He was momentarily surprised to find Ridley in the common room of the inn, standing at the base of the stairs with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a thoughtful frown on his face. The mason glanced over at Arwin and inclined his head.

“Pleasure seeing you again.”

“Ridley,” Arwin said, suddenly remembering that Lillia had been planning to seek the mason out so he could expand the inn. “How are things going? Good to see you too.”

“Better. You and your guild have been my only customers in recent days, but I can’t complain,” Ridley replied with a one-shouldered shrug. “Work is work, and I appreciate the opportunity. You’ve always got the most interesting projects. Is there a reason why, ah…”

Ridley nodded vaguely over Arwin’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh. She just really likes demons. It’s a theme.”

“I meant why she wanted me to keep the inn like this. I don’t care what she dresses like,” Ridely said. He gestured around them. “This building is a strong breeze from collapsing. Building upon it without breaking it down and starting again is a big risk as things are right now.”

Arwin coughed into a fist, but his embarrassment at missing the question quickly faded in face of Ridley’s words. If the inn collapsed… “Can you not do something about that?”

“I can. It’ll just take more time and money. I’ll have to put in some extra reinforcements and go over what’s been built to make sure nothing is about to fall over. Would be cheaper to just start over. Just saying.”

“That’s fine. Just do what Lillia asked you to,” Arwin said with a relieved sigh. He headed over to the door and paused to glance back at the mason. “And don’t break anything down that she doesn’t want you to. Price is not the paramount of our concerns.”

“So she said. I just wanted to make sure with her before I got anything started in true,” Ridley said as he stopped by the kitchen entrance. “Be seeing you, then.”

Arwin nodded in response, and the two stepped through their respective doorways to continue their work. The street was largely empty, though Arwin did spot Rodrick and Anna standing beside several adventurers at the end of the road.

Disappointment was scrawled over the adventurers’ features. Before Arwin could even consider if his presence was needed, the group turned and headed off. Rodrick waved to them as they left. That was probably a good sign.

I guess Lillia had to temporarily close the inn if Ridley is doing any work on the ground floor. Makes sense. Hopefully he can get it done quickly. I don’t know how long the Mesh is going to let her sit around without customers, but I’m sure the Menagerie eating at her table will be enough for a few days.

At least, he hoped it would be. The [Hungering Maw] had continued to need more and more as he grew stronger. Eating Lillia’s cooking every day had kept it sated, but there was no equivalent for her inn. She was going to have to keep expanding if she wanted to keep ahead of the Mesh’s limitations.

There was only one thing Arwin could truly do to help her — and that was make anything and everything he could to outfit the inn and make her job easier. He just had to fit that in with making normal items to sell, outfitting the rest of the guild, and dealing with anything else that cropped up along the way.

Arwin arrived at the entrance of the Infernal Armory. He reached out to push the door — and it swung open entirely on its own. His eye twitched and he stepped inside.

That really is creepy.

He slipped into the back room and both doors closed themselves behind him. Arwin ground to a stop. The breath caught in his chest and his eyes widened. Sitting in the center of the room, propped up on an armor stand, was a brilliant blue shield.

The maw of a snarling Wyrm seemed to have been frozen within the Maristeel. Teeth glistened in afternoon light shining in from a suspiciously well-positioned hole in the ceiling. Horns curled up, decorated with thin, hairline fractures that matched the monster’s appearance perfectly.

It was the closest cross between a sculpture and a shield that Arwin ever could have mentioned. He could have been convinced that the Wyrm itself had actually been trapped inside his smithy and was only moments away from biting down on him.

He approached the shield until he stood directly before it, then swallowed heavily. It was beautiful — but no stats appeared to identify it. The Mesh was silent.

“So that’s how this is going to be, huh?” Arwin asked, his voice little more than a reverent whisper. He lifted his hand. Caution stayed him for a moment, but he eventually reached out and lifted the shield from the rack.

It was as light as a feather. Arwin turned it over in his hands, then stared at the handles on its back. There was only one thing left to do.

He slipped his hand into the shield.

Energy thrummed. Ice prickled against his forearm and raced up his arm. Pain burned into his body and he let out an alarmed curse, trying to drop the shield. It didn’t budge. Frosty air gathered around his arm and his hairs started to stiffen. His fingers numbed at an alarming speed.

Still cursing and trying to shake the shield free, Arwin activated [Soul Flame], wreathing his arm in a sheet of burning fire. The frost faltered. For a moment, it held strong. Then it gave way to the heat. Warmth returned to Arwin’s hand and the pain faded, though his skin still stung.  

And, in the air before him, glistening red letters finally took form.

The Wyrm’s Revenge [Cursed]

[Wyrm Soul]: This item has been imbued with the emotions, desires, and power of a Wyrm who was denied its ascension. In death, its will has passed on to empower its maker.  

[Avenging Strike]: The Wyrm’s Revenge may be a shield, but it seeks death more than protection. Sending power into this item briefly intensifies the connection between it and its wielder. If a physical attack is blocked during this short duration, the Wyrm will strike out together with its wielder. However, if no attack is blocked within the span of activation, the Wyrm will strike its wielder instead.

“Well, now,” Arwin breathed, turning the shield over and extending a mental tendril to bind it with [Arsenal]. The shield lived up to its name. It was certainly cursed. Getting attacked when he missed a block was already a nasty side effect. But Arwin had seen how powerful the shield was when he did use it correctly.

A tradeoff, huh? So that’s what Cursed items really are. Educated gambling. The Band Three has two chances for a bad item and one for a good one. The Wyrm’s Revenge lets me get a really powerful attack off, but if I screw up, it hits me instead.

No power came without risk. The Mesh had made that abundantly clear. And, as Arwin looked down at the shield in his hands, a slow smile spread over his features.

“Yeah,” Arwin said, nodding to himself. “I think I can work with this. Cursed Smithing was absolutely the right choice. This is the advantage we needed.”

  The shield vanished as he dismissed it. Arwin cracked his neck. A swirl of red mist danced across the floor as the Infernal Armory activated around him.

“You sought me.” The Armory wasn’t asking a question. It was a statement.

“Yeah.” Arwin re-summoned his shield, getting used to the feeling of it appearing on his arm, then looked to the mist swirling before his feet. “I need to test this out. Care to help?”