Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 302-303 (Patreon)

With their business done, Lillia took Monica out to get an order placed for a waitress uniform that would actually fit her. Raen headed back off to return to his guild and begin preparing for any meetings that the Menagerie would set up for them with the Montibeau family, and Arwin found himself once again left to his own devices.

It was a strange sensation to realize that there was absolutely nothing he had to do. He decided that he quite liked it. He had a lot of projects that he wanted to do but hadn’t had a chance to focus on properly before — a chance he’d finally earned.

He strode over to the Infernal Armory without a moment of hesitation. He’d had a fair bit of practice with Cursed Dwarven Smithing now, but not every item he made was going to be cursed.

My raw technique still has a lot of growing that can be done. I won’t let myself make the mistake of relying so much on the magic and the System that I’m crippling the potential strength of the equipment I can make.

He had some practice to do — and he knew just what to practice on.

Arwin had started making the Ivory Executioner Set a long time ago. The chestpiece he wore still wasn’t even technically part of the set, and it still needed boots to be completely finished.

It was about time to rectify that. He still had enough materials to work with from Rodrick and the others’ previous efforts to get him supplies — and he could recycle the chestpiece itself by pulling the magic out of it with Soul Flame and then breaking it down and separating out the parts with the use of lava.

The final set would be composed normal magical items, of course.  None of the other pieces in the set were Cursed, so it made no sense to start cursing them now. This was just going to be some old fashioned Dwarven Smithing… and Arwin welcomed it.

Let’s see how far I’ve come in these past few weeks.

***

Hein , brother to Kien of the Twin Blades, sat in the darkness of a cold room and stared at the slip of parchment clenched in his hands. The boarded-shut window doing little to prevent the howling wind outside from breaking into the small cabin in the mountains. A creak broke through the storm outside as he shifted his weight and the wooden chair beneath him – one that matched the shitty table across from him – voiced its protest.

Scrawling words had been printed across the paper, boasting of a deed that Hein  had absolutely no desire to look at any longer than he physically had to. He already knew what it said. Another monster slain, another helpless idiot saved.

It was the same thing. It always was.

A sea of similar trash littered the ground all around the floor of the cabin. No matter who Hein  asked, no matter how hard he tried, they always showed up. They were pinned to his door. Delivered in pretty envelopes, or stuffed through his windows.

Hein  grabbed at the old metal flask that hung from his side. Deep gouges covered what had once been an insignia upon its face, leaving it damaged and barren. He took a long swig from the acrid contents within and let out a belch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crumpling the paper in his hands into a ball.

A muttered curse joined the ball of paper as Hein  flicked it over his shoulder – but it never hit the ground. There was a soft crunch as somebody caught the trash out of the air behidn him.

Hein  leapt from his chair and spun, his hand going for a sword that hadn’t rested at his side for years. His back hit the rickety table and it threatened to pitch back before he caught it with his free hand, his eyes locked on the hooded figure standing across from him.

“Godspit,” Hein  cursed, letting out a sharp breath and pinching his crooked nose between two fingers. “What is your problem? Can’t you just knock?”

“The door was open.” The figure’s voice was male, but perfectly even and entirely undistinguishable. For that matter, everything about them was. Their build was the most perfectly average and uninteresting man in existence.

He’d never seen the hooded man’s face, but if he did, Hein  strongly suspected it would probably be equally as generic.

It gave him a strange sense of comradery. There was something nice about knowing that he wasn’t the least interesting person in the room for once in his life.

“It’s always open,” Hein  said. “The lock doesn’t work. What is it today, Mask?”

That wasn’t the man’s real name, of course. He’d been stopping by to visit for nearly a month now and had still yet to give Hein  a name to call him by – thus, Hein  had been forced to come up with one himself.

“I thought you might have wanted the newest papers,” Mask said, pulling a folded sheet of paper out from his pocket. “It seems Kien managed to save a border town from a large raid a few days ago. Quite the impressive man, your brother.”

Hein  fought to keep the displeasure from showing on his features. He was pretty sure it was a battle he didn’t win.

“I’ve told you how I feel about him,” Hein  snapped. “I don’t want the news, Mask. Don’t joke with me. Did you figure out who was sending the damn papers to my house? You promised you would.”

“I’m almost onto them,” Mask promised, placing a hand over his heart. “I know how it must feel, Hein . To be born into the promise of greatness, only for an upstart to steal it all from you. Competing with Kien must be like trying to shine a candle against the sun.”

“That’s really comforting,” Hein  said, ripping the paper from Mask’s hands and crumpling it up. He threw it to the ground at his feet. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here today? Or do you plan to just talk my ear off every few days for the rest of my life before I die?”

“It’s a tragedy,” Mask continued, almost as if he couldn't hear a word that Hein  had said, “But I care about you, Hein . I understand you. The hand you’ve been dealt in life is unfair, my friend. You should have been great.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. I’m just – fuck. I’m just me. It’s a miracle you even remember my name. Nobody else does. To them, I’m just Kien’s brother. You and him are the only ones that actually use my name.”

“That is because, today, your name is worth nothing.” Mask put a hand on Hein ’s shoulder. “But that doesn’t always have to be the case.”

The cloaked man reached into a pocket and pulled free a thin stiletto. Hein  flinched back, but Mask remained perfectly motionless. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. The hood covering his features left absolutely nothing there to see; its shadows were so intense that they must have been magical.

“What is that?” Hein  asked, bracing his hand against the table. “What are you talking about?”

“Your chance to be somebody was stolen from you, Hein ,” Mask said. He flipped the stiletto around to pinch it by the flat of the blade and held it out hilt-first. “And I am a person that likes to ensure that the wrongs in the world are righted. All I want to do is help.”

“Is this a magical weapon? That won’t do anything,” Hein  said through a snort of bitter laughter. “You don’t think I’ve tried that before? Godspit, Kien’s even given me magical weapons. The stuff from dungeons he’s cleared that he doesn’t want. It doesn’t matter. Anything I do is worthless compared to him.”

“Oh, Hein ,” Mask said, compassion seeping into his tone as he shook his head sadly. He reached out and took Hein  by the hand, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the stiletto. “You’ve been lied to your entire life, and those lies have made themselves the truth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think it was a coincidence that Kien accomplished something great every time you did?” Mask’s head tilted to the side. “Do you think that happened, over and over again, purely by accident? No man is so great. The magical weapons you have used before have done nothing to truly aid you because you have been given nothing but trash. What could you do when you are competing with Kien? His magic is too great. The heavens favored him, and he used that power to crush you instead of bringing you up.”

Hein ’s face furrowed in a frown. He looked down at the thin blade in his hand, then up to Mask. “Perhaps that’s true, but it does nothing to say it now. Life is unfair. That’s just how things are. Not everyone gets to win, and when Kien wins all the time, someone has to lose.”

“Someone does have to lose,” Mask agreed. “But why must it be you?”

“Ask the fucking gods.”

“I don’t see any gods here,” Mask said. “All I see is you, Hein . You – and Opportunity.”

“Opportunity?”

“The dagger,” Mask said, tapping Hein ’s hand. “That is her name, and it is her purpose, should you be willing to let her fulfill it. Aren’t you tired of being worthless? Of sitting in this cabin and waiting for life to change?”

“What, this thing is going to change that? What could I ever do?” Hein  let out a bitter laugh. “If I kill a dragon, then Kien will kill the Lord of Dragons.”

“Then don’t kill a dragon.” Mask’s words softened until they caressed Hein ’s ears like a gentle touch. “Kill Kien.”

Hein ’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Someone must lose,” Mask said. “You have great wisdom. Great potential – potential that was stolen by your brother. I am simply righting the scales, Hein . Your life is yours to life. Yours to take by the reigns, or yours to let rot away. You have the tools you need to be someone. All but one.”

With a flourish, Mask pulled a slip of paper free and held it out to Hein .

“What, another one of Kien’s accomplishments?” Hein  asked bitterly, taking the paper from Mask.

It was an invitation to the Proving Grounds. The most prestigous tournament for every Tier of adventurer and guild, held yearly by the Secret Eye. A tournament that Kien had won his bracket in, once before. Hein  started to let out an amused snort. Yet another thing that Kien would–

He froze. Kien’s name wasn’t on the paper.

His was.

“Opportunity can take what you need. The power to compete could be yours,” Mask said, a smile within his voice, “should you choose to take it.”

Chapter 303

Arwin wiped the sweat from his brow and looked over the armor strewn about all around him. Four complete sets, from boots to head, made from Brightsteel. A smile crossed over his face.

It had been a week since they’d killed Twelve, and these sets were the fruits of his labor. He’d taken the rare moment of silence to focus in on practicing his craft, pushing himself and the Infernal Armory to the limits of what they could accomplish without letting magic handle too much of the work for them.

He couldn’t have been more satisfied with the results of his work. The armor before him served more than one purpose. The first was as practice. Arwin wanted to make sure that, when he remade the chestpiece of the Ivory Executioner Set, it was the best it could possibly be, and that meant ensuring his skills were polished as much as they possibly could be. The same went for his boots.

The second purpose of the sets before him was to push the limits of what he could do without revealing his powers.

He dared to say that he’d succeeded. Externally, the sets just looked like normal, nonmagical pieces of equipment.

They were anything but. They’d been made with Dwarven Smithing, the materials within them purified beyond the level that any normal method could ever reach, and magical power was packed within the armor; woven into its very being and concealed from even the most prying eyes.

The magical effects were subtle. They made they armor stronger, harder to cut, and lighter to wear. Just enough to make his armor feel vastly superior to any competitor, but not enough to reveal that it was obviously magical.

He’d already had them tested out. Olive and Reya bore his latest versions when they went on excursions to the dungeons. Their old equipment had started to get a little dated. Both of them had reported that the equipment was a resounding success.

Even though Arwin had no plans of selling too many pieces to mass market, he had a number of people that were interested in purchasing from him and a little extra cash flow went a long way. These were the perfect product for that.

“This has been nice,” Arwin said.

Red mist twisted beside him as the invisible presence personifying the Infernal Armory shifted.

“They will earn us money so that we can continue to expand. These are necessary projects to ensure our continued improvement, but I desire more.”

“You always desire more,” Arwin said through a bark of laughter. He made his way over to the side of the room, where a stack of Ivorin and Brightsteel bars he’d already purified through Dwarven Smithing sat in wait. “Don’t you worry. You’ll be getting that more soon enough.”

“Will you be finishing the Ivory Executioner set?” A note of excitement entered the Armory’s tone.

Arwin nodded. “Yes, and things have been going well with Elias and Maeve as well. They seem to be getting on with Olive decently enough, though I haven’t seen any of them speaking much. They’ve just done a bunch of dungeons.”

“I do not care. Just make the armor.”

“Gods, you make for miserable conversation,” Arwin said with a roll of his eyes. He reached out and activated [Arsenal], summoning the Ivory Executioner Chestplate to his hand. “I’m planning to be back in time for dinner, so let’s get this done in a timely manner, shall we?”

“With pleasure,” the Infernal Armory responded. The black veins running through the ground pulsed with dull orange light as they activated, drawing lava in from Wallace’s workshop. The dwarf still wasn’t too happy about that, but Lillia had kept him placated with a supply of strong spirits.

Black strands slammed into Arwin’s back, connecting him to the building, and energy thrummed through him and the stone at his feet. A hearth rumbled up from the ground at his side. He placed his hand within it, drawing forth [Soul Flame].

The hearth sucked his energy in and the flames turned pitch black as the Infernal Armory poured its own energy in along with Arwin’s.

For a long moment, Arwin stood still. He held his trusty chestpiece before him. It had taken him through a number of battles. The equipment had served him well — but he wasn’t abandoning it. He was just upgrading it.

His features set and he set the piece within the crackling fire. It was only right to remake the chestpiece from the materials that had made the original one… just with a few extra upgrades and modifications.

“Let’s get to it,” Arwin said, and the forge hummed in response.

***

As was common, the song of metal on metal rang through the Infernal Armory. Verdant Inferno rose and fell in accordance to the song audible only to Arwin and the pieces of the chestpiece steadily taking shape beneath his hands. Coils of [Soul Flame] twisted around the head of the hammer as it swung.

Every single part of his being was completely focused. He had a far better idea of what he wanted this time around than he did the last time he’d made the armor, and he didn’t plan to let the Mesh control where the magic went.

The more focused he was on the materials that went into the armor and what he wanted out of them, the less variance there was and the stronger the effects would be.

He could smell the heat in the air, mixed with the growing scent of deep earth. Magic permeated the air and twisted into the metal with every strike, strengthened by both the blows and by Arwin’s intent.

Strike by strike, the armor came together. The Infernal Armory provided him everything he needed, streamlining every process so Arwin could focus entirely on his work and avoid having to split his attention.

He folded the green gemstones back into metal, quenched the pieces of the armor that were finished. His design this time around wasn’t exactly as it had been before. It was still meant to be a heavy piece that could absorb a high number of blows, but Arwin took elements from Lillia’s armor design to give himself a moving joint that would let him twist and move without trapping himself in a coffin of metal.

He left spiked gemstones jutting out from the pauldrons of the armor in neat lines and used [Scourge] to carve a flowing design across the front of the armor. The flowing waves in the metal were similar to what adorned Lillia’s equipment — not a direct copy, but close enough to make it clear that they were meant to stand side by side upon the battlefield.  

Arwin moved with practiced ease. This was far from the first chestpiece he’d made, and he knew this metal’s desires more than most other materials he worked with. His self-set time limit of a few hours drew closer.

He finished the final pieces of the work, quenching the metal and polishing it clean; adding the padding to the inside of the armor and pinning it in place.

And then he was done.

He held a glistening Ivorin chestpiece in the air before him. Flowing designs curved up its sides and twisted around the gemstones that jutted from its shoulders. Arwin had removed the purple gem in its center — it had been too intent on its own desires and didn’t fit with the rest of the design.

Arwin replaced it with another of the scorched green crystals, leaving only a small portion of it visible from outside the armor.

Magical energy tingled at his fingertips as the Mesh waited impatiently to be let in. He did a final check over his work, continuing to pour intent into the piece and solidifying his desires for the final result.

The Infernal Armory supplied the majority of the magical energy he needed. Fortunately, the chestpiece wasn’t so difficult to make that it could get near draining the both of them, and Arwin had more than enough magic left to work with.

His check found nothing wrong. There was nothing left to do. A satisfied expression passed over Arwin’s features and he nodded, finally releasing his mental hold on the item.

The tingling energy at his fingertips exploded forth as the Mesh surged. Golden energy swirled around the chestpiece as words traced through the air above it.

[Ivory Executioner Armor: Epic Quality] has been forged. Forging a magical item has granted you energy.

Ivory Executioner Armor: Epic Quality

[True Resonance]: The crystals buried within this armor sing with every attack it takes, absorbing a small amount of the strike’s energy and storing it throughout the armor. The resonance will reduce the strength of both physical and magical strikes that collide with this item. This effect will draw increasing amounts of magical energy while it is active.

[Shockwave]: After sufficient resonant energy has been gathered within this item, the wielder of this item can choose to release it offensively, sending a magical attack that seeks out weapons that were used to damage the armor. Any weapons that are struck by this magic are filled with a powerful vibration.

[Forged For One]: This item was forged specifically for Arwin Tyrr. Its abilities will not function for any other users. 

[Armor of the Executioner]: This is a set item of [5] pieces. When the entire set is worn, a concealed property will be unlocked.

A grin stretched across Arwin’s features. This was exactly what he’d been going for. The theme of the armor was far more focused now, and it had grown far stronger than what it had offered before. He didn’t know just how far its defensive capabilities would stretch, but the description implied it would only be limited by the magical energy he had.

His magical reserves would continue to grow as he got stronger, which meant the armor had incredible scaling potential.

But even as Arwin looked over his new chestpiece, more words from the mesh bubbled forth and twisted through the air before him.

Your Tier has raised by 1 rank.

New Skill Choice Available.

Arwin’s eyes widened, and a grin stretched over his lips. He’d finally reached Journeyman 3 — and if he recalled correctly, he had an Achievement that guaranteed one of his skills would be Cursed.

If cursed functions for skills anything like how it works for items, then it’ll be a skill that gives me a huge benefit at the cost of increased risk. That could be a very powerful skill indeed. I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

Let’s see what the Mesh is going to offer me this time around.