Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 435-438 (Patreon)

I don't know what happened, but patreon deleted a bunch of chapters. If you are up to date, YOU HAVE ALREADY READ THESE CHAPTERS. I just wanted to make sure they were available for people catching up / who haven't read them yet.

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The Menagerie took a few minutes to compose themselves after the events of the fight. A portal to the entrance of the dungeon had already appeared at the back of the room, but there was no reason for them to rush leaving.  

“What kind of class did you get?” Olive asked. “I’m really curious. I mean, I’ve got a few ideas as to what it might be, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

It was a moment before Thane responded to her. He’d spent the last few minutes staring at the air before him in mute awe, presumably reading the information about his newly acquired class. Arwin didn’t blame him. 

Actually managing to wrangle a class out of an Expert Ranked Dungeon was straight up ludicrous. That went doubly so when Thane had walked into the dungeon fully expecting to die. He was probably having some of the biggest whiplash of his life.

“It’s… not something I’ve read about before,” Thane muttered. “I’ve read up on all the adventurer classes I could. There are way more than anyone could ever research, but I thought I kind of had a pretty good idea on what the general types were. But this doesn’t fit at all. It doesn’t even seem like a class.”

“What is it?” Arwin asked, his own interest piqued. 

“Combat Archivist,” Thane replied, still reading over the words before him. “It came with one passive skill. One that lets me learn more about a magical item or monster’s properties the more time I spent studying them. It… doesn’t really seem like something meant for combat.”

Arwin’s head tilted to the side. “Are you kidding? Did you not see how effective you were in a fight? Let me tell you something right now. It doesn’t matter how hard you can hit something. Do you know what determines how a fight goes, Thane?”

The boy shook his head. “No.”

“Information,” Arwin said. “The person that knows more controls the fight. Sheer power means absolutely nothing if you don’t something to direct it. That is a very promising class. And combat is in the name. I’d wager that you’re going to get some pretty useful abilities pretty soon.”

“I — yeah. You’re right.” Thane swallowed, a mixture of nervousness and excitement playing across his features. “I can’t believe it. I actually have a class. An adventuring one. I’m just not sure my family will see it that way.”

Arwin’s lips thinned. “That’s not going to fly.”

Thane’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“This,” Arwin replied, poking Thane in the chest. “The person coming out of this dungeon cannot be the same one that went in, Thane. You have power now. Power that most people will never have — and power that they will try to control. You must not allow that to happen. Never forget this. Even if you’re nothing but the sword that someone else wields, it is still your blade that bears the blood.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Arwin means you’re responsible for yourself now. You aren’t a kid anymore,” Anna said gently. “The moment you got a class, that part of your life ended. Your family cannot use you. Because, if you let them, something tells me that your power will be turned to something you don’t like much at all. And you’ll have to live with that, Thane. Nothing will change it.”

Thane looked from Arwin to Anna nervously. Olive nodded alongside them.

“They’re right. Learn from our mistakes,” Olive said. “Every single one of us has things we regret. And I think foremost among them was not taking control of our own lives sooner. You’ve got a chance to make something huge of yourself. Don’t waste it by being your parents’ or brother’s tool.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? I’m not in line for the throne. This is my job,” Thane said, his words uncertain. “My job is to help them.”

“Do they pay you?” Arwin let out a snort. “Your job is to live, Thane. That’s it. Nobody can tell you how. Not them. Not us. Just make sure whatever choices you make are your own. And, if you feel the need, come find us again. The Menagerie will welcome someone with your abilities.”

Thane’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “You’d recruit me? But I’m only an Apprentice 1!”

“For now,” Arwin replied with a chuckle. “There are things far more valuable than the power you currently have. But I’m not recruiting you now. You can decide what you want yourself. But, if I were you, I’d hide the extent of what your class can do from your parents. And hey, if you swing by, I’ll introduce you to a few people that might have some good insights for your class.”

Something tells me both Art and Rodrick would be more than interested in getting to know more about Thane’s class. They could probably all learn from each other.

Thane didn’t respond to Arwin’s offer. That was good. It meant he was actually thinking things through. Nobody was going to turn on a dime and abandon their family after spending their whole life thinking it was their job to serve them.

But the seeds had been planted. Thane was inquisitive and intelligent enough to water them. In time, whether it was a few days or weeks or months, the scales would fall off his eyes and he’d know exactly what worth a family that would throw him away for just a little fame truly had.

Something told Arwin that things would be on the shorter side of that spectrum.

 He clapped Thane on the shoulder, then turned back to the pink lake in the center of the room and jerked his chin toward it. “Let’s get a move on. No reason to sit around in here forever. People might think we got killed. Olive, care to help me out? There’s some treasure at the bottom of that lake that I don’t plan to leave without. And Anna—”

“I’ll gather up all the monster bits we gathered during the run,” Anna said with a nod. “You’ll have to help me and Olive carry them, though. There are a lot. Especially if you plan to bring the boss with you.”

“I’ll cut the important bits off after I’m done here,” Arwin said with a nod. He and Olive made their way over to the edge of the lake, where Arwin activated [Dragon’s Greed] once more. A strand of energy connected to his navel, pulling down at an angle into the depths of the pink liquid.

Olive crouched near the edge of the lake and gingerly poked it with the tip of a wooden finger. She pulled her hand back quickly and squinted at it, waiting to see if it had sustained any damage. The swordswoman shook her head a moment later. 

“All good. Looks like it only really got the webs… though I wouldn’t stick my arm in here for long.”

“It won’t take long,” Arwin replied. He pointed in the direction that his magic indicated. “There’s something right in that direction. Bottom of the lake. A way’s down. Can you—”

 Olive grinned. Wood creaked as her cursed arm elongated, reaching deep into the lake like a striking eagle breaking through the surface of the water. Pink liquid rippled around the arm as Olive stuck the tip of her tongue out of her mouth in concentration. 

“I don’t — Op! There it is.”

She pulled her arm back, moving slowly to avoid splattering the corrosive liquid everywhere. When it broke free of the surface of the water, a rusted old circlet was clutched in her grip. What looked to have once been gemstones studded it. They were long since covered by a deep crimson-brown patina. Spikes and misshapen bulges of rust covered the circlet. 

It looked, for lack of a better word, like a piece of trash.

Arwin and Olive both gave it a critical look.

“I think I missed,” Olive said.

Arwin shook his head. [Dragon’s Greed] was still active, and it was pointing right at her. “No. That was it. Apparently.”

“It’s not even magical.”

“I think the rust is so thick that it’s concealed,” Arwin said with a chuckle. “Interesting. Well, we’ll see later. No point messing with it here. Let’s get a move on, shall we?”

Olive shook the last droplets of her arm, which almost appeared hydrophobic. Everything sloughed off its sleek black surface and left it completely spotless. Then the two of them headed over to carve up the dead boss monster and get on their way.

About thirty minutes later, the group was on the move once more. All four of them walked with monster bits and the spoils of their war piled into their arms and stuffed into their bags.

They then strode right into the awaiting portal, which deposited them at the very start of the cave, in the same spot they’d arrived in just a short while ago. 

The portal that Thane’s guard had created still twisted at the far end of the room in wait. It was joined by the same guard that they’d seen before, but his bored nonchalance was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes were huge in disbelief. The man stood before the pitch-black obelisk, staring at the new name carved in golden letters at its very peak. 

The Menagerie

Arwin shifted the pile of monster parts to one arm, letting the others take the lead as they strode into the waiting portal that would take them back to Milten.

He clapped the stunned guard on the shoulder. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Arwin said with a grin. “Send the Blacktongue Family Ifrit’s regards — and let them know their son has his class.”

Then he strode through the portal and left the baffled man standing there without so much as a chance to respond.

After all, there was nothing he could say.

The Expert Rank Dungeon had been cleared.

Chapter 436

Arwin emerged into the inn room a few moments after the others. Thane’s guard still stood by the bed, leaning against the wall with his staff tucked under an arm. 

The guard seemed slightly surprised to see them back. Or, perhaps, he was more surprised to see that Thane had survived the trip. Arwin wasn’t much a fan of that. It meant the guard had known full well what was happening and had been entirely satisfied to allow for it.

Scum prosper when good men sit back and do nothing. Anyone who would be okay with sending a young man to their death, regardless of it’s part of their job description or not, is not someone worthy of respect.

“You’re back,” the guard said, his eyes lingering on the massive piles of loot they had in their arms.

“So we are,” Arwin said. He jerked his chin toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get a move on. I don’t want to be carrying this around all day.”

They all started to move toward the door. The guard stepped forward, raising a hand. “Hold on. Thane, you need to—”

“He’s helping us carry our loot,” Arwin said. “Tag along if you want… but he’s coming with us. I can assure you that Milten is most certainly less dangerous than an Expert Tier Dungeon.”

The man blinked. Then he grunted. “Very well. He’ll be your responsibility until you bring him back. But… does this mean you succeeded?”

“You sound surprised.” Arwin leveled a flat gaze at the other man. “Does that mean you thought we would fail?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. The four of them strode out of the room, leaving the guard behind them. 

Anna gave Arwin an approving nod as they left the inn and made for the Menagerie’s Street in the light of the rising moon. The healer might not have been one to waste words, but she definitely wasn’t much a fan of the Blacktongue family. None of the Menagerie were. 

Somewhat predictably, the trip back was uneventful. Arwin hadn’t been lying. Milten was many things, but with the Iron Hounds gone and the Ardent Guild losing a trade war to the Dawnseekers, it wasn’t anywhere near as an Expert Ranked Dungeon. 

And if anyone was trying to go after Thane’s life because of some feud with the Blacktongue Family, they’re not going to be stupid enough to try it when he’s traveling with us. The Proving Grounds made way too much of a name for our guild. It would be much easier to go after Thane when he’s only got a single guard watching over him.

They made it back to the Devil’s Den, where Arwin separated the rarer organic materials they’d brought back out for Lillia. He didn’t know how useful they’d be. Arwin couldn’t think of anything he’d actually want to eat from the dungeon — but Lillia was the chef, not him. 

He then led everyone back to the Infernal Armory, where they deposited everything else they’d gathered. It was too late into the night to bring Thane around speaking to the rest of the Menagerie. So, despite his disappointment at missing a chance to pry more people with questions, they headed back to the inn to drop him off.

Arwin was actually pretty sure that Lillia had still been awake. But, the less of the Menagerie Thane got a chance to speak with, the more likely it would be that he set out to seek them again himself. 

That might have been slightly underhanded. But he had no problem using slightly underhanded tactics when it came to pulling a kid out of the thumb of a family that only wanted to use him to further themselves. That wasn’t what a family was meant to be. 

They bid Thane farewell before returning back to the Devil’s Den to retire for the night. The guard didn’t seem too surprised. He had no way to know just how extensively they’d completed the Blacktongue’s request… but something told Arwin he’d hear about it soon enough.

He doubted the noble family would be too thrilled to find that their dungeon had been fully cleared.

That thought kept a grin on his lips all the way back to the Devil’s Den. He was quite looking forward to filling Lillia in.

***

The next morning came quickly. Perhaps that was because there really wasn’t much left of the night — and there had been even less remaining after Arwin finished telling Lillia about everything that had gone down in the dungeon. 

But with the morning came opportunity. 

Ridley had already arrived by the time Arwin set out on his way to the Infernal Armory. The mason was midway through an inspection of the closest building to the Devil’s Den. He was too absorbed to even notice Arwin as he passed, but that was just fine. There was no reason to delay him. 

The Devil’s Den had been growing at an incredible rate in recent days. Getting another large expansion in would be an enormous boon for her and would help manage the huge crowds that had been gathering on their street in recent days. 

And speaking of the people gathering…

Arwin discreetly glanced around for any signs of the smith that had supposedly been showing up every day to try and challenge him. It was still early, he saw no sign of them. At this point it was almost impressive that he hadn’t run into them.

Seriously. If someone wants to challenge me so bad that they show up every day, haven’t they considered popping up slightly earlier once? Not that I’m complaining. I have no interest in challenging every random person that shows up trying to make a name for themselves. I’d be concerned that this person might have some ulterior motive if they weren’t right under Rodrick’s nose. 

He wouldn’t let them pull anything off right on the Menagerie’s doorstep.

Arwin strode into the Infernal Armory and entered the back room. The door closed behind him as he approached the waiting maw in the center of the room. He couldn’t help but notice that not a single trace of any of the materials they’d brought in the night before remained.

The armory had, predictably, eaten everything.

“You’d better have left enough of that for me to work with,” Arwin said crossly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”

“I am not a fool.” Red mist twisted to life behind Arwin and flowed past him as the invisible form contained within its flowing currents shifted across the room. “I have maintained all of the important components you brought. The only parts I consumed were the unimportant ones. But there was more. Anna bore magical items. Will you give me those as well?”

“We can’t use finished magical items to create things. Can we?”

“Not as far as I am aware. I just want to eat them.”

Arwin suppressed a laugh. “No. You can’t have those. They could be useful. I’ll have a look at them when we’re done for the day to see what it is we pulled out of the dungeon. That crown in particular was interesting — but I want to strike while the iron is hot and your armor is still on my mind.”

“The iron is cold,” the armory said. Even though it didn’t have a face, Arwin could just tell that it had turned to look in the direction of the anvil. “You have been asleep.”

“It was a metaphor,” Arwin grumbled. “I meant I’ve got ideas and feedback from the test run we did in the dungeon. I’d imagine you do as well. Let’s get started on the next set while it’s still fresh. Koyu and Wallace will show up soon enough and can pitch in themselves, but we were the only ones actually there.”

“The connection was unstable,” the Armory said immediately.

“Yeah.” Arwin nodded. “That much was apparent. The idea of using a bunch of scrap also meant it was really hard to communicate. It was too busy. I’d imagine that contributed significantly to everything blowing up.”

“Yes. That is very likely. But the discord between the elements also seemed to delay the collapse of the armor once it started. There were too many individual pieces to fracture and all blow up at once. It turned out being somewhat beneficial.”

“Beneficial if we’re building it with the purpose of failing,” Arwin said. “Worked out, but I think we should try to make sure the armor doesn’t detonate when it gets damaged. Getting damaged is kind of the whole motif of a piece of armor.”

“The core effects functioned, albeit poorly,” the Armory observed. It shifted to move past Arwin. “I believe that means we are on the proper path. I do not believe it will be possible to create the a mechanism that allows for my presence to manifest itself without having a very large amount of energy stored within it. And a large amount of energy will react very disruptively if damaged.”

“Layered armor, then,” Arwin said. “Parts on the outside that can take damage, with an internal skeleton that needs to be more protected. Maybe a kill-switch as well.”

The Infernal Armory let out a thoughtful hum. “Layered. Yes. That seems apt. Each layer composed of a single element to avoid interference, but the different layers being of different elements to ensure a balanced whole.”

Arwin nodded. “We could try to store the majority of the power in a core to limit the parts of the armor liable to explode on impact.”

“And connect the core to the innermost layer, having it act as a second mind for the armor beyond my own,” the Infernal Armory said, excitement building in its words. “I could greatly increase my processing speed in combat. Three minds in one would be practically incomprehensible for your opponents. But for that to work properly, the skeleton would have to be more than support. More information would need to be transmitted throughout the armor at increased speeds. It would have to be—”

“A central command system,” Arwin finished. “Something that runs throughout the armor. Like veins. It shouldn’t be made of metal. It should be malleable.”

“Yes. Something able to absorb the shock of blows that pass through the exterior components of the armor,” the Infernal Armory mused. 

“Where can we find a material like that?” Arwin asked, his brow furrowed. “I’ve never heard of something that fits those requirements.”

“Perhaps the answer is already at our door.”

Arwin looked over to the twisting pillar of mist. “You have an idea?”

“No. I was being literal. Rodrick is on my doorstep, and it seems he is carrying a list of potential clients for us to deal with. Some of them may have offered up something we can use.”

“Oh,” Arwin said, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “That works too. Let him in, then. You should have done it already. I’ve got nothing to hide from Rodrick. Let’s see what he’s got for us, shall we?”

Chapter 437

Arwin had expected Rodrick’s list to be full of absolutely ridiculous requests. After all the attention they’d garnered during the Proving Grounds, he’d figured that a bunch of people with far more money than sense would have come knocking with unrealistic expectations. 

Armor that could block the blows of giants without so much as a scratch. A sword that could carve through the soul of its enemy. That manner of magical item — or, worse, ones that he was actually capable of creating but had absolutely no desire to make. 

He definitely could have made a sword that drank the blood out of whoever he stabbed. It would have been a vile weapon and probably rather difficult, but it just wasn’t something he had any interest in learning to create. His current equipment already had slightly psychopathic tendencies. Arwin had no dreams of bringing even more evil gear into this world.

 But to his stark surprise, the requests that Rodrick had gathered couldn’t have possibly been farther from what he’d been expecting. The vast majority of them were plain and direct enough that they may as well have come from an adventurer standing outside the door.

A sword that held its edge and looked perfectly clean and beautiful regardless of what it had been used to do — or how much dust had collected upon its surface while it sat on a mantle place. A breastplate whose front had been embossed with a beautiful shining sun silhouetting an eagle, except the sun was actually shining. The most ridiculous request was of a shield with a rather scandalous engraving of a man and a woman both struck by a stark lack of clothes. 

Those were the manner of requests that Rodrick had actually brought him… and there were a lot of them. The list was nearly five pages long. 

But the rewards were anything but unimpressive. Arwin had never heard of half the materials he saw on the page before him. Perhaps that wasn’t saying much. He hadn’t heard of pretty much most metals and crafting materials back when he’d been the Hero. That didn’t mean everything was rare. But these certainly sounded rare. 

“What is this?” Arwin asked as he finally looked up from the page, his brow furrowed in confusion. The two of them stood in the main room of the Infernal Armory, still sheltered from the crowd outside. “Why am I getting requests for stuff like this? It’s hardly even armor.”

Rodrick let out a chuckle. “Well, Reya and I took the liberty of filtering a few things out. What we’ve got here is, of the people that contacted us, pretty much the cross-section of the richest and least competent people. In summary… collectors. People who want to own a piece you’ve made, but ones who would never actually use it in a fight.”

“What the hell is the point of that?” Arwin scratched the back of his neck. “They just want to show it off?”

Rodrick nodded. “You’ve gotten yourself into a very good spot, Arwin. Nobody yaps like some idiot noble who got a shiny new piece of art. He’ll spread tales of it far and wide, making shit up like his life depends on it. And the other nobles will then all decide they want the same fancy thing. They’ll show up on your doorstep and make an even bigger commission. And the best part? None of them will ever swing the damn things. You won’t have to worry about someone getting hurt.”

Arwin blinked. “That’s genius.”

“I know.” There wasn’t a hint of shame in Rodrick’s voice as he accepted the complement. 

Though… it feels a little demeaning. Only creating equipment for people that will never use it. I don’t mind abusing our new fame for just long enough to get access to more rare materials, but I don’t want to make stuff for useless people while adventurers who are fighting for their lives never get a chance to arm themselves. 

Red smoke twisted irritably behind Arwin to rise over his shoulder and peer down at the list before them.

“These items are worthless,” the Armory said. “Who cares about this trash? We can make so much more than art. Everything we make is art. Why stop there? Where are the requests for a blade that can sunder the very earth? That is what I wish to create!”

“I don’t disagree with you. But can we even create that?” Arwin asked.

“No,” the Armory replied. “But we will never be able to if we don’t try.”

“What was that?” Rodrick asked, glancing up from the paper.

It seemed the Armory had hidden its words and presence from him. He didn’t even glance in the direction of the smoke rising over Arwin. 

“Just talking to my building,” Arwin said with a shake of his head. “We’re a bit displeased that we aren’t making equipment that would actually be used. I do have to say I’d prefer the idea of making something for someone that needed it. Unfortunately, that has a low cross section with people that both deserve the equipment and can actually afford it.”

“Hm. I see where you’re both coming from,” Rodrick said, chewing his lower lip. “There’s something deeply demoralizing about turning yourself into a show horse, isn’t there? I do have some requests from considerably less wealthy clients. They’ve been vetted and should be worth arming. They just don’t have access to anything particularly interesting. Perhaps a mix of them with the noble requests would be most apt?”

Arwin nodded. “That seems good, actually. A balance that I can more than accept. We need the access to those rarer materials until we get our own supply lines moving, but there’s no reason to lock ourselves into only doing fancier commissions.”

The smoke shifted back. “I approve. Wrap your business here and then return to the inner room. We should already have the materials to create some of the objects on this list. I will only stomach three before I feel myself drawn to create something worthy of my time.”

Then it was gone, and Arwin and Rodrick stood alone.

“Thanks for the hard work,” Arwin said. He knew just how much time Rodrick had spent picking through the list to make sure they didn’t accidentally work with anyone they didn’t want to be supporting. “I appreciate it. The Infernal Armory does too, even if it won’t admit that.”

Rodrick just chuckled. “No problem. It’s been a good way to give my brain a break from its normal duties while staying active. Madiv can act as a go-between once the items are finished to keep you from dealing with the insufferable idiots. Just because they’re reasonable doesn’t mean they’re the kind you want to waste time dealing with.”

Arwin grinned and clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Just what I love to hear. I’ll get to it, then. This list is great. And definitely keep an eye out for some people that we’d like to ally ourselves with in the future but may not be able to afford our services, would you? Don’t forget our goals are a whole lot larger than making money.”

Rodrick gave him a firm nod. “Oh, I won’t. Don’t you worry. I’ve never once forgotten that.”

With that, the two of them turned and strode back to their respective tasks. 

They both had a lot of work to do.

***

The day slipped by. Arwin didn’t waste any time in getting to work on the commissions that promised the most interesting materials as a reward. If he’d been working on his own, it probably would have taken him quite some time to determine what to start with and get it made. 

But with Wallace and Koyu showing up a short while later to resume their work on the Infernal Armory’s special project, the three of them were able to rapidly streamline the process. All Arwin had to do was promise Wallace a small portion of the materials they earned. Koyu didn’t even need to be bribed — the Lich was more than aware that the armor for the Infernal Armory would eventually serve as the blueprints for his own new body.

This was no longer a one man operation. Wallace and Koyu backing Arwin up, continuing to provide suggestions on Soulmancy and smithing, accelerated the process immensely. 

By the time evening fell, five of the commissions had been completed. Not a single one of them was of any particular interest to them. They were all largely cosmetic. Pieces better meant for the mantle place than battle. But every single one of them was beautiful. 

The materials within them were satisfied. Arwin hadn’t just been banging projects out. He was growing better and better. Gone was the smith that had been flying by the seat of his pants. With the odd mishmash of abilities he employed as well as tutelage from a dwarf and a Lich, Arwin wasn’t really sure he could be considered a smith at all.

But as the three of them looked upon the day’s work, Wallace clapped Arwin on the shoulder. 

“Well done, boy,” Wallace said, voice gruff. “This is some quality work. Made it through the damndest mix of techniques I’ve ever seen. Don’t fully get how. You’d make a few eyes pop out of skulls back in the Council as they tried to figure out what your technique was. But this is good. Real good. Clean. Purposeful. No wasted magic.”

“A far cry from just a short while ago,” Koyu agreed with a nod. “I cannot speak to smithing quality, but I do not sense any discord from the souls within these weapons. They are keen. You have done them well, which is something I would not have thought possible through the use of Soulmancy.”

 “Couldn’t have come this far without a whole lot of help,” Arwin said. “Not that I would have ever guessed you’d be my teachers.”

“You have a problem with me? Don’t break into my house next time,” Wallace grumbled. 

Arwin chuckled. The day’s efforts had netted him a level up, pushing him to Adept 3, but there hadn’t been another advancement in his skills yet. It was impossible to tell when the Mesh would give a new skill or improvement, but he was fairly certain the next major boost would probably be around Adept 5. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. But if the two of you have energy left, I’m not quite done. The Infernal Armory and I have had some thoughts on the armor, and—”

“Right!” Wallace exclaimed. “You haven’t gone into detail about how it performed! Spill!”

Arwin grinned. “With pleasure. We’ve actually got an idea—”

“Which may be best postponed to tomorrow,” the Infernal Armory said abruptly. Red mist twisted to being beside Arwin. “That idiot smith that has been camping outside this past week is about to damage my walls.”

“What?” Arwin’s eyes narrowed in anger. He turned on his heel and strode for the door without wasting another word. 

Perhaps he’d let things simmer a little too long. He didn’t care who the smith was or what they wanted from him. 

Nobody damaged his street. 

Chapter 438

There was an axe hurtling straight toward Arwin’s face.

That was rather surprising, as he’d only just swung the Infernal Armory’s door open and stepped out into the street approximately half a second ago.

He didn’t have any time to process why someone had flung an axe at him. The huge weapon was already only feet away from his nose and, given its path blurring through the air, didn’t seem to have any plans of stopping until it was embedded in his skull.

There was no time to dodge. His hands blurred as old instincts took over. Arwin clapped his hands together before himself, [Scourge] pumping through his veins. A resounding clang echoed through the street. 

Arwin found himself staring at the edge of the axe blade. It was only about an inch away from his face, stopped dead in its track just instants before it had split him open like a ripe watermelon. 

Did the Infernal Armory just bait me to step outside just in time to nearly get my head splattered? It would have known something like this never would have caught me off guard. Was that meant to be some kind of prank? Or was it actually just mad that its door was about to get slightly scratched up? 

Was I just used as a human shield?

“Oh, shit!” someone called in a gruff voice. “Sorry about that, big man! I’ve never seen that door open! I didn’t think you’d actually come out!”

Despite their words, whoever was speaking didn’t sound all that distraught about having nearly killed him. 

Arwin lowered the axe. A second glance at it revealed that it wasn’t actually an entire axe in his hands. What he held was just the metal head of the weapon.  

His eyes refocused over the crowd flooding the street before the Devil’s Den. Murmurs rolled through it as people shifted away from him, subconsciously paving a path right back to where the large weapon had originated from. 

It only took him an instant to locate where the voice had come from. 

A short, gruff person clad in an assortment of heavy leathers and stained silver armor stood beside a wooden cart. Their face was covered by a helm that left only their eyes exposed, though their voice marked them as likely female.  

An assortment of tools hung from the woman’s waist and the cart was stuffed full of more weapons and armor than Arwin had ever seen in one place. It practically looked like a metal porcupine. Anyone walking too close to it was liable to accidentally cut themselves open.

The woman had the wooden body of what looked to have once been a weapon in one hand and stood before a small, portable anvil. That in itself was a misnomer. Anvils really weren’t generally portable — but this one hadn’t been on the street the previous night.

Arwin got the feeling he knew where the axe head had come from.

“Shit,” someone from the crowd muttered. “Is that Ifrit?”

“No way,” someone else beside them said with a scoff. “He never comes out. The dude doesn’t know what the light of day feels like.”

Ouch.

“Mind tossing that back to me?” the short woman asked, squinting at Arwin and waving her hammer in his direction. “Didn’t mean to throw it your way.”

“You nearly took my head off,” Arwin said flatly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“A demonstration.” The woman shook the stick that had once been an axe. “Proof of the quality of my work. And you are getting in the way of my pitch.”

“Me?” Arwin asked incredulously as he stepped out onto the street. “What in the world does nearly killing someone have to do with proving that your work is any good? And I’d like to point out that your axe is no longer in one piece. That doesn’t seem very quality to me.”

  “The quality is that the metal is still right as rain, despite taking a full strength blow from my hammer,” the woman replied. She set the wooden stick down and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “There isn’t so much as a scratch on it. Good luck finding a weapon that can get hit that hard and not even get a chip in its surface.”

A flicker of anger sparked in Arwin’s chest. This was the smith that had been showing up every day to challenge him. He really didn’t care about that — but if anyone else had been standing in that doorway, they could have been seriously injured. 

Energy pulsed through his veins. His fingers tightened around the metal in his grip. Arwin strode over to the woman, ignoring the full attention of the crowd as it followed him over to her. Then he held the axe head out, dropping it on her anvil with a resounding clang. 

The head of the axe was so badly warped that it may as well have been a piece of scrap. It might have held up whatever the woman had done to it, but it certainly hadn’t been strong enough to withstand [Scourge]. 

“Is that so?” Arwin asked dispassionately. “It looks rather low-quality to me.”

The smith glanced at the remains of her axe. Then she looked back up to Arwin. She didn’t look disappointed in the slightest at the loss of her creation. 

“You’re Ifrit, then.”

“And you would be the smith that’s been causing a ruckus on my street these last few days,” Arwin replied. “I have no issue with people trying to hawk their wares. I do have one with those who disturb the peace.”

The woman flicked her visor up, granting Arwin a look at her features. They were weathered by the sun and covered with small, pockmark scars. She was definitely up there in the years, but her hair was still a deep black without any hints of graying. 

Something is off about her. Her features, her build… I don’t think she’s human. She’s a good bit taller than Wallace, but I think she’s a dwarf.  

What the hell is a dwarf doing on my street? Is she a Dwarven Smith? If she is… she has to have better things to be doing right now. A real Dwarven Smith wouldn’t need to do shit like this to make a name for herself. What the hell is her angle? I’m missing something here. 

“Your street?” the woman asked. She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. This is the city’s—”

“No. I own it.”

The smith blinked. “You bought the whole street?”

“Yes. It is still subject to Milten laws, but I own this street. All of it,” Arwin said flatly. “And I am quite confident that Milten does not permit idiots to go flinging axe heads at people’s skulls, regardless of if you are attempting to demonstrate the effectiveness of your subpar gear or not.”

“Those are fighting words,” the smith said, a spark in her eyes. She extended her hands outward like a gladiator. “You want to put some worth behind them? It’s easy for you to say my work is trash, but I don’t see you proving that yours is any better.”

“People would not be applying to hire me if my work wasn’t better than yours,” Arwin said dispassionately. He didn’t have the patience for this in the slightest. There were far better things he could be doing with his time.

The only reason he was still talking with the woman was because he wanted to figure out exactly what her actual goal was. Perhaps this was just a dwarf who happened to be a smith. It could have been a coincidence she was here…

But Arwin didn’t believe in coincidences. Not anymore. Dwarves were too secretive for him to buy that one had just randomly showed up on his doorstep after not properly interacting with one for years as a hero.  

There’s definitely something going on here.

“You can say what you want, but all I see is someone hiding from an honest challenge,” the woman said with a one-shouldered shrug. “Look around you, Ifrit. All these people are going to see you rejecting my challenge. Don’t you think—”

“Let’s cut the shit,” Arwin said flatly. “You’re not here to challenge my smithing abilities. It only takes one look at the shit in your cart to make it clear that you don’t have the ability to justify me wasting any time on you. Either tell me what it is you really want or get off my street.”

The woman stared at him for a moment. Then she smirked and reached into her toolkit. “You think that’s my best work? Those are just toys. Take a look at this and tell me with a straight face that it isn’t worthy of challenging you.”

She pulled a small hammer free. Almost instantly, Arwin’s skin prickled. The weapon was magical. He could smell it from where he stood. But he didn’t care about the enchantment. He cared about the fact that it looked exactly the same as Wallace’s equipment.

This wasn’t just some random dwarf. She was definitely a Dwarven Smith. She probably wasn’t just any old smith either. Wallace had made it clear just how rare his equipment was. Someone with gear like this had absolutely no reason to be challenging him to some stupid smithing battle. 

“You recognize this?” the smith asked, her eyes sharpening. “Seen it before, perhaps? Because your gear has been looking awful nice for a random backwater smith, Ifrit. Almost… inspired.”

“It’s a hammer,” Arwin said flatly. He kept any emotion from entering his voice. But, even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t let much on, even the flicker of hesitation was enough to reveal more than he’d wanted. 

“Oh, but it’s not just any hammer, is it?” the dwarf’s voice lowered to a sharp hiss. “This here is a Dwarven Smith’s tool, boy. And you’re no Dwarf. So why do you recognize it? Could it be that you’ve seen it before? Someone breaking our laws and teaching you more than they should, hmm?”

And just like that, Arwin finally realized what the smith’s goal was. 

She wasn’t here to challenge him at all. 

The dwarf was here to figure out who had taught him.