(NEW NOVEL) Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 1-5 (Patreon)

It's time, everyone! Welcome to my new novel. I did a bit of an incident this month and wrote nearly 100k words of a new series launching on RR pretty soon - as you can tell my posting schedule has not and will not be affected by it, so enjoy!

This is a CONFIRMED novel, meaning it is no longer listed as example chapters and will be having daily uploads for quite some time! I'll be leaving a big chunk of it in the $15 tier until the book officially launches, but chapters will be consistently coming out in the $10 tier from here on out.

Novel Synopsis:

Ever since Arwin had been summoned as a child, all he had known was war.  And now, to kill the demon queen, he was going to kill himself.

But, as he went to deal the final blow to his mortal enemy, the Hero of Mankind was betrayed by his own guild.

Caught in a magical explosion thought to end him, Arwin awoke a month later to find that his [Hero] class had changed to [The Living Forge], a unique blacksmith class empowered by consuming magical items. He may have been stripped of his abilities, magic, and riches, but he still bore the passive [Titles] of his former class.

With his new lease on life, he was determined to bring down the guild that betrayed him and surpass the powers he had wielded as the Hero.

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If you read the previous upload, it went up to CHAPTER 3. Skip to the beginning of Chapter 4 for new content - or just start from the beginning if you need a refresher!

Chapters 1-5:

Chapter 1

Ever since Arwin had been summoned as a child, all he had known was war. He had killed enemies. He had killed friends. And now, to kill the demon queen, he was going to kill himself.

Corpses covered the ruined battlefield around Arwin, strewn about like the discarded toys of an unruly child. Thousands had stood strong that morning, and across from him was the only one that still remained.

The demon queen. Her armor smoldered with embers that had once been roaring flames, and the dark, leathery wings sprouting from her back were shredded to bloody ribbons.

“Champion of Lian,” the demon queen said, coming to a stop ten paces away from Arwin. Her voice lacked the thunderous presence that it normally carried. There was no need for it. Nobody was left from their armies to hear them, and so she spoke in a normal, weary tone that matched exactly how he felt. She raised her sword and pointed it at Arwin’s throat. “Today–”

“Is there a point?” Arwin asked, cutting her off. “I have energy for one last blow, not a conversation.”

A small, wry smile tugged at the corner of the demon queen’s lips. “As do I. Good riddance.”

Arwin readied his sword. His armor creaked around him, the enchantments covering it sputtering with effort to keep themselves active. The only thing that even kept his body standing were the considerable number of Titles and Achievements that he had built on the graves of friends and enemies alike. But today, as Arwin’s exhausted arms raised his sword one last time, he knew that it would end. The fifteen-year nightmare would finally be over.

They charged. In truth, it was more of a sad stumble. They both reached each other at the same time, driving their blades for each other’s hearts. Neither tried to block or dodge, lacking the energy to do any more than what they’d already mustered.

Arwin’s blade pierced through the demon’s armor, driving straight through her heart. In the same instant, her sword shattered the cracked surface of his breastplate and ran through his.

Blood poured down Arwin’s chest, dripping to the ground at his feet. Dizziness gripped his mind as the world spun around him. If he had the energy, he would have laughed.

In the end, they’d both died.

At least the war was over. His job was done.

Darkness started to swallow his vision, taking life with it. It was peace. It was the release that he had sought, a way to finally rest –

Rude light flashed before his eyes.

The conditions for [Sunset] to activate have been met. [Sunset] has been consumed.

Arwin’s breastplate shimmered. His weary eyes just barely managed to pick up a small black gemstone glittering at its center, burning with magical power. If he’d had the energy, he would have been surprised. The demon queen didn’t seem to recognize it either.

Huh. This wasn’t supposed to be there. What is it?

And then, with a tiny pop akin to a cork from a bottle of wine, the gemstone cracked.

The world collapsed.

A massive wall of force slammed into Arwin, driving the breath from his lungs and scorching his body. His armor and magical equipment vaporized as it tried and failed to resist the massive outpouring of energy, and then the true force of the explosion hit him with nothing left to obstruct it. He didn’t even get a chance to scream.

His consciousness sputtered and blinked out like a candle in a hurricane, and then there was only blissful nothingness.

***

But, like all things, the peace ended.

Arwin’s eyes fluttered. Then they snapped open. He drew in a desperate, ragged breath as his heart slammed desperately in his chest, suddenly remembering that it had to beat. His throat was impossibly dry and his lips cracked.

He was alive. Far above, the warm sun shone down on him from a cloudless sky.

Warm, wet dirt pressed against his back. The smell of moss and mildew surrounded Arwin, but the fact that he could breathe anything was a miracle. Coughing and gritting his teeth, he pushed himself into a seated position.

The ground released its grip on Arwin’s back with a wet squelch, but something was wrong. His body felt… strange.

Empty.

He groaned, blinking as he tried to figure out what had happened. He looked down – and, just like that, he found a problem. Arwin had changed. The enormous, magic-empowered muscles that had once covered him were nowhere to be seen. In their place were the normal, lean muscles of a workman. He’d shrunk significantly in height, going from seven feet tall to just over six.

It was a vaguely familiar body – one that he’d had before he’d advanced his Paladin class to Master Tier. All the magic he’d once possessed was gone, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He didn’t need it anymore. The demon queen was vanquished. His power was a small price to sacrifice for peace.

There was a thick, ropey scar right beside his heart, where he had been run through. Arwin instinctively reached for his sword, but his hand found nothing. The only thing he could find were the tattered scraps of his pants. Not even his shirt remained. A dull, gnawing pain clenched his stomach, but it was surprisingly bearable and not at all like a stab wound.

“What happened?” Arwin choked on his own words. He doubled over in a coughing fit for several seconds before managing to regain control of himself.

What was that black gemstone? I oversaw the forging of my armor with my own eyes, but the gemstone was clearly embedded within it. It was clearly some sort of magical bomb. Perhaps it was a failsafe to destroy the Demon Queen even if I died? But… why wouldn’t the Guild have told me about it? That gem didn’t feel like any form of magic we possess either. Is it possible I was betrayed and someone in the guild was working with the Demons? That wouldn’t make sense, though. The explosion should have killed both me and the Demon Queen. I still don’t know howI survived. And what is Sunset? That was not a title I had.

There were far too many questions and far too few answers. One thing Arwin knew for certain was that he would find no solutions whilst laying on the ground. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. He was somewhere in a large, marshy field. Crops surrounded him, so there was probably civilization fairly close. There were no answers in the wilderness, but the nearest city could tell him what happened.

Scanning the horizon, Arwin spotted a small gray plume in the far distance. It might have been a cloud, but he was fairly certain it was smoke from a chimney. At least, that’s what he hoped it was.

Arwin almost called on the Mesh, just to see if any of his former magic remained. But, before he could, he stopped himself. With magic came responsibility. He would be the Champion once more if anything remained. Sending one last glance down at his body, Arwin shook his head and trudged in the direction of the plume.

Hours later, a city came into view. It wasn’t one he recognized, but the stone walls stood proud, manned by several guards at the gate. They wore plain but effective chainmail armor. Even without his magic, Arwin could sense faint power emanating off them. A sigh of relief slipped from Arwin’s lips. If a city still stood, the Horde had fallen.

I won.

The guards watched Arwin with wary expressions as he approached. The dry mud caked to his body and the exhaustion on his face likely didn’t do him any favors.

“We don’t welcome beggars in Milten,” the lead guard said, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Arwin almost laughed. “My name is Arwin. I know I look different, but I’m no beggar.”

“A beggar with a name is still a beggar,” the guard said, his eyes narrow.

I suppose I can’t blame them for not recognizing me. I don’t look like what I once did. There’s no point bothering to convince them. It may actually be better that people don’t recognize me. Maybe I can finally rest and take advantage of the peace.

“I just want to bathe and hear the news,” Arwin said wearily. “I can assure you I can pay for any services I need. I will not trouble any of your citizens.”

The guards exchanged a glance. With a shake of his head, the lead guard stepped to the side. “I shouldn’t do this, but fine. You seem honest enough, but get to an inn and wash off immediately. If I catch you begging on our streets, you’ll get a boot up your ass.”

“Understood.” Arwin strode past the guards, not wanting to try his luck. He didn’t actually have any coin on him, but as long as someone was willing to offer him a bath, he’d happily wash dishes in a kitchen for as long as it took.

Despite the sun hanging straight above, the city of Milten was surprisingly quiet. There were only a few other people on the roads, and none of them gave Arwin so much as a second glance.

Stone buildings with just enough variety to avoid being an eyesore lined the streets in neat rows. After several minutes of walking, Arwin finally spotted the subject of his search. An inn, identified mostly by the cauldron burnt into a wooden sign hanging above its door, sat near the center of town.

Smoke curled from the three-story building’s chimney, and warm firelight flickered within its window from a fireplace. A newspaper had been wedged into the window, and Arwin paused for a moment to read it.

The Horde grows in power. The Kingdom of Lian calls for all capable adventurers to take to arm in its defense. Great rewards will be given to those who bring proof of their victories in battle back to the Adventurer’s Guild. We must strike before the Horde can mount an offense. It is time the Kingdom goes on the offense.

For any adventurers over Journeyman Tier, the Champion of Lian is in need of a party. Auditions are being held in the capital for the privilege of adventuring alongside him.

To lay down one’s life for the kingdom is the greatest service one can do, and you will be remembered for all eternity.

Please note: The fallen Champion’s body was recovered, but the funeral has been canceled due to weather conditions. Tickets will not be refunded.

At the bottom of the words was an image of a heavily muscled man holding a glowing sword aloft, a courageous expression on his handsome features. It was signed by the Champion of Lian – but the man on the paper wasn’t Arwin, and the signature wasn’t his either.

He stared in disbelief.

How could they have recovered a body when I’m right here? Why would they lie about that? It would have been easy to say a failsafe destroyed both of us, if that was what it was. But, if they aren’t mentioning it… damn them to hell. The Adventurer’s Guild betrayed me. That’s why there was a trap in my own armor. They never planned for me to survive this war.

Arwin grabbed the paper and pulled it away from the window, ripping the edges in the process. He shoved the door open and entered the inn, making a beeline for the thin innkeeper behind the bar.

“Gods, man. What happened to you?” the innkeeper asked with a grimace. “You reek.”

Arwin slammed the paper down. “What is this?”

Something about his voice must have given the innkeeper pause, because he swallowed and looked down at the paper.

“It came in the news a week ago. What about it?”

“Everything! The demon queen is dead! How is the Horde back?”

The innkeeper blinked, then let out a laugh. “Ah. You went on a solo adventuring trip after the war ended, didn’t you?”

So it did end?

“I – yes,” Arwin said, deciding it would be easier to go with the man’s assumptions than correct them. “I left right after the demon queen was struck down.”

A smile crossed the innkeeper’s face and he nodded. “I understand that. What a party it was. I swear the entire kingdom celebrated for a week straight.”

“So what happened? Why is there a missive about another war?”

The smile fell away and the innkeeper shook his head. “Sorry you’ve got to find it out like this, lad. After the celebrations, a new demon queen was discovered about a month later, gathering the remnants of the Horde. It’s been about two weeks since then. Luckily for all of us, the Kingdom actually had another Champion in training. We’ll all be safe, don’t you worry.”

Arwin’s ears rang. He leaned against the counter, staining it with mud, but he barely even noticed.

“So the war ended, but then it started again?”

“It’s more like it paused.” The innkeeper rubbed the back of his head, then let out a heavy sigh. “Just when it looked like everything would let up. I suppose it’s not like we aren’t used to it, though. You’ve got the build of a warrior, so you should be happy too. There’s a lot of opportunities for adventurers–”

Arwin grabbed the paper from the counter and spun, striding out of the inn as his mind roiled. A throbbing pain built in his stomach, eating at his insides like a lump of molten coal.

He’d won the war – or, at least, his war. Sure, the peace had lasted all of a month. He had no idea where a new demon queen or Champion had come from, but the relief he felt was so intense that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His duty was finished. There was a new Champion for a new war, and he was no longer required. He, along with the men and women that had fought alongside him, could rest. But still, the gemstone lingered in Arwin’s mind.

The guild – or someone in it – tried to kill me. They’re the only ones that ever had access to my armor other than me. They made the damn thing. Why, I don’t know, but I can’t let them find out I still live. Every single aspect of my armor should have been checked over by dozens of people, which means all of them had to have been involved somehow. Hell, the head of the guild literally handed me the armor on the day I set out for what should have been my final battle. I don’t know how deep this runs, but I can’t take any risks.

My very existence proves their lies, and they’ll definitely kill again to keep me silent. When I was at the peak of my power, perhaps I could have handled them. But now… I’ll need to lay low until I can regain my strength.

There was no more delaying it. He had to see how much had changed. Arwin finally reached out to the Mesh. The sentient magic that permeated the entire world, rewarding those who sought to advance their strength and sought challenge, had been one of the only constants in his life.

And, as it always had, the Mesh responded. Glowing golden letters, visible to only him, traced through the air before him.

Name: Arwin Tyrr

Class: Living Forge (Unique) (Tier: Apprentice 1)

Skills:

[Awaken] (Passive) – All items forged by your hand have the potential to Awaken. In addition, they have the potential to take on a trait, determined by [Unknown]. The potential for the trait to be detrimental scales with your Tier. It is currently [80%]

Titles:

[Scourge] – You have faced an entire army in combat and emerged victorious. The strength of your physical blows can be intensified by up to a factor of one hundred at the cost of Magical Energy.

[Indomitable Bulwark] – You have withstood a blow that would have leveled a city. Damage from all attacks is reduced significantly.

[The Hungering Maw] – An enormous burst of energy has permanently infused you with magic, but not without cost. You must consume magical objects or items to survive. Consuming an item temporarily grants you some of its properties.

Achievements:

[Broken Bearer of Last Light] – Awarded for meeting the conditions of [Sunset]. You survived an explosion that could have leveled a city. Effects: Class Changed to Living Forge. All other Achievements and competing Titles have been consumed. This Achievement will be consumed upon advancing your tier.

Arwin’s hand dropped. His class and skills was gone, replaced by what seemed to be some form of craftsman class. His Tier was back to Apprentice. The vast majority of his Titles and Achievements – gone as well. On top of that, he’d gained a new Title that forced him to consume magical items in order to survive.

And yet… the Class was almost exactly what he had once hoped for. A chance to create rather than to destroy. Even though he hadn’t actually chosen Living Forge, it was as if the Mesh had known what he desired.

Actually, that’s likely exactly what happened. The Mesh gives rewards that let you upgrade your class or skills whenever you get Achievements or Titles. This was my reward.

I’m finally free. And, so long as the guild doesn’t find out I survived, I can tear them down from the inside out.

For the first time in his twenty-five years of life, he felt unburdened. For everyone else, the war was still going. It bore the promise of power and riches, and the draw was too great to resist for many adventurers.

But, for him, the war was over. He’d done his part, and they’d turned on him. As to why, he didn’t know. At the moment, he didn’t particularly care. Arwin started to laugh. It was on that day, covered in mud and crouched in a dark alley cackling like a madman, that the true Champion of Lian died. The man that rose in his place was simply Arwin. There was only the man who would forge his revenge one hammer blow at a time.

Arwin didn’t get to enjoy his newfound freedom for long, though. Even as his laughter echoed out, the burning pain in his stomach intensified. His face creased in pain and he doubled over, drawing in a ragged breath.

Through squinted eyes, he could just barely make out the glowing words of the Mesh taking form before his eyes.

[The Maw within you hungers for power. If you do not consume a magical item within 1 hour, your body will collapse.]

Arwin stared at the glowing words with dread. He shoved his hands into his pockets, but he already knew what he would find. They were empty. Arwin didn’t have a single thing of worth to his name.

In fact, the only thing he did have of worth was his name – and if he used it anywhere, the guild would come for him. He grit his teeth, waving the words away and turning away from the inn to stumble into a dark alleyway nearby.

I might be in trouble.

Chapter 2

The pain in Arwin’s stomach intensified with every passing second. He wasn’t even sure what he was searching for. It wasn’t like he could just break into a shop and steal a magical item, nor was he going to find one lying around on the ground.

I suppose I could break in somewhere, but then I’d be a wanted man. No. I need a smithy. This class should let me forge something. If I can just find a smithy somewhere, I’ll be fine.

That was easier said than done. The agony was so intense that Arwin could have sworn that his stomach was actually eating itself. He’d been stabbed, cut, and ripped up by magic more times than he could count – none of it came close to this.

His body begged him to lie down and curl into a ball. To give into the pain in hopes that it would end sooner. Arwin’s mind rebelled. He ground his teeth and pressed on, leaning on a wall for support as he staggered through the dark alleyways.

As Arwin turned an alleyway, muted voices reached his ears. He forced his eyes up, squinting. Standing just feet away from him in a corner of the alley well within the shadows was a bald man in dark clothes.

He had his dagger to the neck of a short, hooded woman with dull red hair and a scarred face. They were arguing about something, but Arwin’s ears barely even registered the words. He mustered his energy and took a step toward them.

“You,” Arwin growled, his pained words coming out coarse. “Smithy. The nearest one. Where is it?”

“We’re doing something here,” the bald man said. “Don’t get any ideas. Get lost before you get run through as well.”

I don’t have time for these damn games.

“Answer the question,” Arwin spat. His stomach spasmed and his hand bit into the wall in attempt to support himself. “Now.”

“You trying to be a hero?” the bald man shoved the woman back, pointing his dagger at Arwin and taking a step forward, a cocky smirk on his face. Inwardly, Arwin twitched. The man’s stance was all wrong.

His feet were unbalanced, and he gripped the dagger between two fingers like it was a fork rather than a weapon. If he was meant to be intimidating, it wasn’t working.

“That dagger magic?” Arwin asked.

“Think you’re funny, do ya?” the bald man bared his teeth. “I’ll gut you like a fish, big man. I don’t see a sword on you. Muscles won’t stop you from bleeding out.”

Arwin stopped listening to his words after he realized that the man wasn’t answering his question. If he wouldn’t say if the dagger was magical or not, then Arwin would have to find out himself.

He shoved the pain down, just like he’d done in countless battles before, and moved. The bald man’s eyes widened and he thrust the dagger for Arwin’s stomach. It was such a pathetic blow that Arwin almost laughed.

He drew on the Mesh. He might have lost his original class, but some of his titles had remained. With just a small injection of magic into [Scourge], Arwin felt power flood him.

His hand came down on the other man’s wrist, and bones shattered like dry sticks. Arwin’s fingers wrapped around the man’s crushed wrist and his other fist slammed into the man’s stomach.

The man crumpled with a pained scream, dangling by one arm from Arwin’s grip. Disgust washed through Arwin and he released [Scourge], driving an open palm into his would-be murderer’s skull.

Just like that, the screaming stopped. The man fell limp, unconscious but not dead. Shaking his head, Arwin grabbed the dagger from the man’s limp fingers. All that his fingers found was plain metal. It didn’t have the telltale tingle of magic within it.

“Worthless,” Arwin growled. He knelt beside the man and rifled through his pockets. They were, just like his, empty. Arwin’s eye twitched.

Just my luck to get robbed by the cheapest thief to ever live.

His eyes flicked over to the girl at the back of the alley, who was staring at him in a mixture of horror and awe.

“You,” Arwin growled, straightening back up. The gnawing in his stomach was back and stronger than ever, but he couldn’t afford to give it heed. He didn’t remember how long he had left.

Forty-five minutes? Thirty? More than that, I think. I hope.

“Yes?” the girl squeaked.

“Smithy. Where is it?”

“I – I’ll show you,” she stammered. “Please don’t kill me.”

Arwin didn’t bother replying. He just jerked his head in acknowledgement. The girl swallowed heavily, then edged along the walls toward a connecting alleyway.

“It’s this way,” she said hesitantly.

“Lead. Quickly, now.”

She hurried to comply, and the two of them headed deeper into the city. Arwin was relieved to find that the girl took his words to heart. She was practically scampering away from him, but it was all he could do to maintain his fast walk.

Anything more felt like it would rip him apart from the inside out. The girl kept throwing glances over her shoulder at him as if she expected Arwin to suddenly decide to change his mind and rip her head off.

They walked for roughly ten minutes. At least, Arwin was pretty sure it had been that long. Time felt like it was blurring together. What mattered was that he was still alive when the girl came to a stop in front of a dark, run-down street.

Grey cobblestone was stained black and dull moss grew in the cracks between it. The buildings were crooked and crumbling, with some of them having completely given way to ruin. The faint scent of rubbish and mildew permeated the air, but with such intensity that Arwin knew for a fact it was never going to leave his clothes.

“T-this building,” the girl said, pointing at a crumbling stone storefront. What had once been a window was now just a hole, the grey brick around it badly cracked. Weeds had tried to take root around the building, but they’d all withered and died.

The chimney poking out of the top of the building had largely fallen apart and was just a pile of bricks that vaguely resembled a rectangle.

Arwin didn’t even bother saying anything. If it had a forge, he didn’t care what it was. He staggered across the street and nearly tripped on the jagged, ill-kept steps leading inside. There were the remains of a rotting wooden door baring his way, but Arwin quite literally walked straight through it.

Fragments of dust and rancid wood flew up around him as the door crunched, but Arwin didn’t care. His eyes scanned the dust-covered interior of the building, instantly landing on the back, just beyond a counter.

An open door led into another room where the tip of an anvil stuck out into view. Arwin increased his speed, pushing through the remains of the building. He stepped into the room at the back.

What greeted him was far from inspiring. Piles of scrap metal were piled in the corners, and not a single part of it looked like it had been touched in years. And yet, tools still hung from the forge’s walls. An anvil sat in its center, beside a pair of rotted buckets that had fallen in on themselves.

Beyond them was the forge, cobbled brick leading up to the crumbled chimney that he’d seen from above. There was still dry wood within it, blackened from being partially burnt. It wasn’t much to work with, but it was all Arwin had, and he’d be damned if he went out with out giving his all.

Arwin had never forged something himself, but he’d closely overseen the manufacturing of his armor. A memory of the black gemstone flitted through his mind and a bitter smile pulled at Arwin’s lips.

I suppose I oversaw the forging of most of my armor, not all of it.

Either way, the first step he could recall was fire. And, to get fire, Arwin needed –

There.

Sitting near the hearth was a black brick. A piece of flint. It was mostly used up, but all he needed was a spark. Arwin heaved himself over to it, grabbing the piece of flint, and struck it with the dagger that he’d taken from the thief.

It scraped against the flint, sending up a tiny cloud of dust and doing nothing more. Undeterred, Arwin struck it again.

And again.

The fourth time, his efforts were rewarded. A tiny spark leapt as he struck the flint, landing on one of the dry, burnt pieces of wood. Perhaps fortune smiled on Arwin, or perhaps the gods were smiling on him. Regardless of the reason, the spark took.

Arwin fanned the flames as they grew, flitting across the dry wood and quickly filling the hearth. He grabbed the handles of the bellows, squeezing them desperately and pumping air into the flame.

In minutes, a fire started to roar. Arwin’s stomach reminded him that he didn’t have minutes to work with. At any point, his time would run out and he would die.

I’m not even guaranteed to make a magical item. I hardly know what I’m doing, but I have no choice but to try.

Arwin staggered over to the pile of metal and grabbed a piece, barely pausing for long enough to check how good it looked. They were all garbage, and he didn’t need to make a work of art.

He practically threw it into the fire, then immediately remembered that he had to take it back out. Cursing under his breath and pumping the bellows to keep the flame going, Arwin scanned the room once more. There was a poker already resting in the hearth, but it wasn’t exactly what he needed.

His eyes landed on a pair of crusty tongs lying on the ground in a pile of rotted wood. Beside it, leaning against the anvil, was an old hammer. The wood making up its handle didn’t look particularly reliable, but it was better than nothing.

Arwin turned his attention back to the piece of metal. It was only barely starting to heat, but he didn’t have any way to make it hot faster. All he could do was continue pumping the bellows, gritting his teeth as the pain continued to scale.

It was another five precious minutes later when the metal finally seemed hot enough to work with. Arwin released the bellows, lurching forward and grabbing the tongs with fumbling fingers.

He stuffed them into the hearth, sending out a shower of sparks as he grabbed the slightly reddened piece of metal and slammed it onto the anvil. Snagging the hammer with his other hand, Arwin brought it down on the piece of metal.

It struck with a resounding clang, and Arwin immediately found a problem. The hearth hadn’t been anywhere near hot enough, and the metal had only slightly bent at his strike. The amount of time it would take to let the hearth heat properly was too great, though.

Arwin raised his arm and called on [Scourge]. His hand fell, power infused into his muscles, and he struck the metal again. This time, it gave beneath the blow and bent. Arwin suppressed a pained grin and raised the hammer once more.

If he didn’t have time, he’d just have to cut a few corners. Over and over, Arwin’s hammer fell on the strip of metal.

He flattened it out, using the tongs to hold it in place as he pounded away. Arwin stuck it back into the hearth as it cooled, then pulled it back out as soon as it felt ready to work with. He had absolutely no idea how to forge just about anything, but a bracelet seemed easy enough. It was just a circle, after all.

He hammered at the metal again, starting to put a curve into the metal. With every blow, he felt the molten coal inside his stomach start to burn hotter. Time was nearly up.

But nearly wasn’t the same thing as completely, and so he kept at it. The strip of metal started to curve, and the two pieces finally came around to touch each other. It was, without a doubt, the ugliest bracelet that Arwin had ever seen.

And yet, a bracelet it still was.

Even though it still glowed with faint heat, Arwin felt the Mesh rise up within him.

[Metal Bracelet: Garbage Quality] has been forged.

Achievement: [The First Step] has been earned.

[The First Step] – Awarded for forging your first item. Effects: Your first item has been granted magic. May it serve you well. This achievement has been consumed upon creation of your first item.

The Mesh traced words through the air as Arwin inspected his newly made bracelet.

Metal Bracelet: Garbage Quality

[Running Hot]: This item was forged hastily, imbuing it with the panic of a dying candle. While wearing it, you may use a small amount of your magical energy to imbue your attacks with the Fire element.

Arwin could have cried in relief. He grabbed the Bracelet, the heat still singing his skin, and brought the bracelet to his mouth. It was a monumentally stupid idea to try to bite down on a piece of hot metal, but he had no idea how else he was meant to eat something.

As his mouth opened and his teeth touched the bracelet, a surge of energy raced down his body and into his stomach. The metal groaned within his mouth. And then, with a loud crack, it shattered.

Relief flooded through Arwin as the pain started to abate. He chewed, unaware and uncaring of how he was eating straight metal as if it were bread, and then swallowed. The pain continued to recede, but Arwin wasn’t taking any chances.

He took another bite from the bracelet, grinding the metal between his teeth. As Arwin went to take another bite, he heard a foot fall behind him. He turned, still chewing on metal, as five cloaked men stepped into the shop, their weapons drawn.

“What do you want?” Arwin asked, taking another bite from his bracelet. The taste was starting to grow on him. It almost felt a little bit spicy, but that might have been his tongue burning. “I’m busy.”

“This is the guy that roughed Blin up?” one of the men asked, glancing at the largest with an uncomfortable frown. “Boss, I–”

“Shut up,” the large man snapped. “You don’t fiddle with the Brothers Six and just waltz off. He only got a dagger, idiots.”

“Brothers Six? What are you, a circus troupe?” Arwin asked. He finished off the last of his bracelet, then let out a slow sigh. The last traces of pain had finally vanished.

[Metal Bracelet: Garbage Quality] has been consumed. Trait temporarily added: Running Hot.

Heat coiled in Arwin’s fists, and a cold smile split his lips. He could think properly again. “Get out, you corny shits. I value my solitude.”

“I’m the one who calls the shots here,” the large man said, pointing his sword at Arwin. Magic crackled down the blade, igniting it with hissing yellow lightning. “And you’re paying in blood for what you did.”

Of course he’s got magic. This is going to be a little more annoying than I was hoping for.

“Idiots.” Arwin grabbed the poker from the hearth and pulled it free, its tip glowing red-hot. “Come on, then. I can’t say I enjoy moving much after a meal, but I’ll make an exception if it shuts you up.”

Chapter 3

The first man charged. Arwin made care to avoid getting a good look at his face. In his later years of fighting against the monster horde, he’d taken to avoiding staring into someone’s eyes as they died.

At first, he’d always seen monsters as nothing more than mindless killers that sought blood because it was their nature.

That wasn’t true. It was said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and Arwin had seen everything in the eyes of those he had cut down. He had seen desperation – he had seen fruitless hope – and, inevitably, he had seen death.

It was much easier to kill without looking at the eyes. Arwin leaned back, letting the thief’s dagger flash past his face, and brought his fist up. He fed a small amount of magical power into his hand, and heat surged around it as his knuckles connected with the man’s chin.

There was a loud crack as the thief’s head snapped back. Fire flared around Arwin, scorching the man badly. He let out a terrified scream, but Arwin didn’t leave him to suffer long. His fist crashed back down, taking the man in the head and putting him to eternal sleep.

“I already gave one of you a second chance,” Arwin said as the man crumpled at his feet. He turned to the others, who were staring in disbelief at the speed that their ally had been killed. “If you take one step closer, you will meet the same fate.”

Arwin didn’t expect his words to work. Nobody had ever taken him up on them before. But, to his surprise, one of the three remaining men turned on his heel and fled. The largest of them called out a curse, but the man didn’t heed it.

“He is wiser than you,” Arwin said, pointing his hot poker at them like a sword. “Last chance.”

“Murderer!” the boss screamed, charging at Arwin. Lightning crackled around his body and leapt from his sword, arcing toward Arwin.

Arwin lunged to the side, narrowly avoiding the magic. It slammed into the ground where he’d been standing with a loud crack, shattering the stone and sending up a wisp of smoke. The other two men sprinted toward Arwin as well, aiming to surround him.

He didn’t plan to give them a chance. Arwin lunged, driving his hot poker for the large man’s back. To Arwin’s surprise, the thief was decent with his blade. He knocked Arwin’s attack to the side, then swung for his head.

Arwin ducked the blow, then twisted out of the way as one of the other men tried to stab at him. He went to dodge an attack from the third man, but for some reason, it never came. Arwin didn’t question his luck and lunged again, this time drawing on [Scourge].

The large thief made to block Arwin’s attack again, but this time, his sword rang off the hot poker like he was a child batting at a bear. His eyes only had an instant to widen before Arwin’s makeshift weapon ran him through between the eyes.

Arwin ripped the poker free and spun, raising it defensively just in time to block a desperate blow. For an instant, he locked eyes with a terrified thief. Then Arwin’s poker struck again, and another corpse fell to the floor.

Damn it. One more memory to add to the pile.

He turned in search of the final man, then blinked. The man was right in front of him – his throat slit. Behind him stood the girl with red hair, a dagger clutched in her hands.

She quickly dropped the blade and raised her hands into the air. “I – I was just trying to help. Please don’t kill me.”

Arwin glanced back down at the dead men, then let his poker lower. “I didn’t need help.”

“I could tell,” the girl said. She swallowed. “But even a master swordsman can slip on a rock.”

A small grin tugged at the corner of Arwin’s lips. “You aren’t wrong, and I’m no master swordsman. I’m only twenty-five. Why did you help?”

“Because you helped me. That’s how it works.”

Arwin nearly laughed, but he caught himself at the last second. If that was actually how the world worked, then it would have been a far better place. If that was how the world worked, the guild wouldn’t have betrayed him after he’d given his life for them.

A flicker of anger passed through Arwin’s eyes, but he wrestled himself under control. The guild’s time would come.

“An old sentiment that I do not believe many mirror. What is your name?”

“Reya.”

“I am Arwin.” He wasn’t worried about sharing his real name – almost nobody in this world actually knew him as anything other than the Champion. His name was one of the few things that he hadn’t lost when he was summoned from earth.

Reya gave him a small nod, her shoulders relaxing. Arwin wasn’t surprised – generally, people didn’t kill people that they gave their names to. Then again, there were some that always asked for the name of a worthy opponent. He wasn’t going to remind her of those, though.

Kneeling beside the large thief, Arwin took the sword from his hands. To his disappointment, the sword was as plain as plain could be. There was nothing magical about it. He set it to the side and went through the rest of the men’s pockets, gathering their weapons and belongings.

His efforts were not well rewarded. Aside from a small pile of daggers and two swords, all he managed to get his hands on was a meagre nine gold. When Arwin looked back up, he found Reya still standing in place.

“Why are you still here?” Arwin asked. “We’re even.”

Reya shifted uncomfortably as Arwin’s gaze bore into her eyes. She looked away from him, suddenly finding a pile of rotting wood fascinating. “You just killed the rest of my guild.”

“Those idiots were your guild? You weren’t even in the name.”

“Yes, I’m aware. There aren’t a lot of options. They seemed fine enough when they joined, but…” Reya trailed off, then shrugged. “I was wrong. I tried to leave, and you saw how that turned out in the alleyway. I’m not great at frontal confrontations. The Mesh hasn’t graced me with a Class yet, so I’m not too strong either. I didn’t have a good way to fight back when they were watching me.”

“Sounds like you should learn how to use a sword.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer Reya had been expecting. She winced, then gave him a small shrug. “I guess. I’m not very strong, and I don’t really love fighting. I’m much better at nicking things.”

“And you are telling me this because…?”

“Well, you’re moving in, right?” Reya glanced around the crumbling smithy, then cleared her throat. “I was… uh, hoping you might be recruiting.”

Arwin blinked in confusion. “Recruiting? For what?”

“I don’t know. Something. A gang?”

A snort slipped out of Arwin’s nose. He grabbed the dead men’s bodies and dragged them over to the corner, stacking them until he could figure out what to do with the bodies. “I’m not starting a gang.”

“Oh.” Reya twiddled her thumbs, but she still made no signs of leaving. Arwin glanced down at his hands. They were wet with blood. Letting out a sigh, he turned to face her. “You shouldn’t ally with people you fear.”

And I don’t want to deal with anyone right now. I just want to be left alone.

“It’s better than getting stabbed in the back while I’m sleeping.”

“There are a bunch of empty houses on this street. Go take one of those.”

“I might run into one of the other gangs,” Reya said, wincing at the glare in Awin’s eyes. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. I just thought it could be mutually beneficial.”

“Mutually beneficial? How so?”

She turned, latching onto the small branch that Arwin had unwittingly extended. “What do you need? I can do it for you. I’m not the best at fighting, but I’m great at stealing things. People tell me things too. I can get information, or I could find other gangs for you to take over. You really wiped those guys up, so I bet–”

“Stop,” Arwin said, raising a hand to stave off the flood of words. He didn’t relish the idea of stealing from anyone or going around murdering all the criminals hiding in the slums of the city, but information – that was something he needed more than anything else. “You said you could get information?”

“If it’s about anything or anyone in Milten, I’ll get it. I swear. Give me a test to let me join your gang. I’ll pass it.”

“I’m not starting a gang,” Arwin snapped.

I’m not a criminal. I do not kill needlessly – and I definitely don’t want to play politics with a bunch of idiots.

“But I thought–”

“I am willing to trade,” Arwin said, cutting Reya off. “And if you can bring me useful information, then I will not object to your presence so long as you remain silent when you do not need to speak. Is that acceptable?”

Reya opened her mouth, then closed it again. She very pointedly crept over to her dagger and, after a quick glance at Arwin to make sure he didn’t object, picked it up and returned it to a sheathe at her side.

She then, moving with the speed of a crippled sloth, inched her way over to the wall and sat down against it. The whole process took nearly a minute, and Arwin couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than watch.

Is she screwing with me?

“You don’t have to be that quiet,” Arwin said. “I’m not going to kill you if you sneeze. Just… don’t bother me.”

Reya let out an explosive breath. “Oh, thank the Mesh. I was going to suffocate from trying to breath quietly.”

Arwin shook his head and turned back to the pile of scrap on the ground. He’d figure out what to do with Reya – and the bodies – later. Right now, the most pressing matter was still his magical affliction.

He could still feel the energy from the bracelet burning within him, but there was no way to tell how long it would last. At any moment, the Mesh could warn him that his energy was going to consume him again, and he wouldn’t have another guaranteed magical item to fall back on.

Up until now, I’ve been running off luck. I need to take things into my own hands.

And, if he wanted to do that, it meant he was going to need to get to work. All Arwin had to work with was a run-down smithy, some shitty weapons, a pittance of gold, and metal that was little better than garbage. His lips pulled back in what might have been one of the first genuine smiles he’d had in years.

It was time to forge.

Chapter 4

Fire roared in Arwin’s hearth. He’d heated the hearth for the last twenty minutes, burning the wood within it to a crisp and bringing the piece of metal within it to a cherry-red. There wasn’t much wood left to burn in the first place – he was pretty sure his hearth would be out of fuel within the hour, but Arwin was determined to get everything he could out of it before his time ran out.

The brick of metal that he’d selected from the pile was far from perfect. Even he could see the imperfections running through it, but it wasn’t like there was a manual he could reference.

Practice makes perfect.

Arwin grabbed the brick with his tongs, moving it over to the anvil and grabbing the hammer. He was a little drained from the fight, but there was still more than enough energy left in his body to power [Scourge] for a short while.

The sound of ringing metal filled the old smithy as Arwin beat away at the brick, doing his best to shape it to his desires. Unfortunately, his best wasn’t quite, well, the best. It was definitely taking on some semblance of a dagger, but that was about where it ended.

What should have been a straight blade was jagged and chipped, and the handle was more of a blobby tube. He hadn’t even bothered trying to make a hilt – that was beyond him at the moment.

He’d been at it for about an hour. The hearth was dying down to embers, and his reserves of magical energy had almost completely been drained. For the last half of the hour, he’d just been beating away at the dagger with his normal strength.

With no more fire to reheat the weapon, Arwin was forced to lower the hammer and study his creation. He was pretty sure he was meant to quench it to ensure the steel cooled properly or something along those lines, but he doubted the dagger could actually get worse.

It’s hideous.

And, worse, when Arwin studied it, the Mesh gave him nothing. The weapon wasn’t magical. It was just a dagger. But, in spite of all that, he couldn’t keep a grin from his face. He’d made something.

Instead of taking life, he’d created something, purely because he wanted to. And, as far as daggers went, he was pretty sure this one wouldn’t be killing anyone anytime soon. A satisfied chuckle slipped from his lips as he walked in a circle around the anvil.

Reya watched him with a mildly confused expression on her face, but she didn’t say anything. A few minutes passed before Arwin touched the dagger with the back of his hand, making sure it was cool enough to hold before picking it up.

“It’s… nice,” Reya said hesitantly.

“It is a good start,” Arwin agreed. “And, speaking of starts, I think you should get one as well.”

She scrambled to her feet, straightening out her shirt and giving him a sharp salute. “Yes, sir.”

Arwin stared at her. “What are you doing?”

“Saluting.”

“Don’t.”

Reya let her hand drop. “Okay. I thought we might be mercenaries since we weren’t a gang.”

“That’s not how – ah, never mind. I want you to get information of everyone that lives on this street. Do you think you could do that safely?”

Reya gave Arwin a sharp nod. “Yeah, sure. I already know some of it, so I don’t think it should be too hard. I can figure it out by tomorrow.”

That fast?

Arwin didn’t bother questioning her. He just shrugged. “I’ll be here. Probably.”

With one final nod, Reya turned and jogged out the door. Once she left, Arwin turned back to the bodies that were starting to stink up his shop and scrunched his nose in distaste.

I’m not used to having to dispose of the kills I leave behind. I wonder if there’s a ditch somewhere I can toss them into. I definitely don’t want to go around dragging a corpse behind me in broad daylight, though. Good way to piss off a guard. But first… they’ve got some clothes. Waste not, want not.

***

There was indeed a ditch. It was down the street and behind a crumbling stone building one firm breeze away from collapse. While it wasn’t as deep as Arwin had hoped, it was still more than enough to toss a few naked bodies into. Their clothes now rested in a corner of his smithy, with one set having replaced the rags that Arwin had been wearing.

He shoved some dirt over the top of the corpses, moving just enough to cover them before heading back to the forge. Arwin couldn’t be bothered giving them a proper burial – it would have taken too long, and there were other things he wanted to do.

Criminals, the Guild’s adventurers, monsters; is there really any difference? Nobody gave my friends proper burials when they died. It’s just life – and I don’t anything more to do with the guild, the monsters, or any of that. Not yet, at least. Not until I’m ready to make them pay for what they did.

Arwin paused by a wooden building on his way back to the smithy. He glanced around, but the street was completely empty. He poked his head inside, but it was just as desolate as the street.

“Well, it’s not like anyone is living here,” Arwin mused. He didn’t even want to risk going too far inside, so he gathered as much fallen wood as he could carry, then piled it into his arms and lugged everything back to his smithy.

The pathetic excuse for a dagger that he had forged wasn’t enough. It was a start, but Arwin had never been a fan of mediocrity. As soon as he got back, he added some of the wood into the hearth and brushed the splinters out of his shirt and arms.

I still need oil to quench the stuff I forge, but that can come later. Right now, I just need to work on my technique.

Arwin struck the flint with his shoddy dagger and a spark leapt onto the dry wood. It caught quickly, and he turned his attention to the bellows, pumping air into the flame. He couldn’t help but notice the cracks running along the leather that made up the back of his bellows.

It probably wouldn’t be too long before they broke, but that was another problem for later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was practice. Sweat beaded at Arwin’s brow as he worked the forge.

Minutes stretched on. The ringing of his hammer filled the forge, bearing with it a strange but welcome sense of peace. All but smithing faded, leaving Arwin in a trance as he worked.

As his hammer rose and fell, he could start to see another dagger take shape before him. Every blow he made felt more intentional – and more effective. He alternated between using [Scourge] and just striking the metal purely on instinct, immersing himself completely in the process.

In and out of the flames the block of metal went, taking more and more shape with every pass. At some point, Arwin finished. He barely even registered it. The new dagger was better than the first, but it still wasn’t what he wanted.

Not even stopping for a rest, Arwin grabbed another piece of scrap metal and threw it into the hearth.

The cycle continued. Hours ground by, and daggers piled at Arwin’s feet. He replaced the wood in the forge as it burned away, chewing through his pile of liberated fuel without even realizing it. The bellows groaned and creaked with every movement, but still Arwin ground on.

His entire upper body was soaked with sweat, but there was something primal about the whole process. A grin pulled across his face, growing wider with every strike until he was nearly laughing with joy.

Forging felt incredible. He was exerting his will on a mere block of metal, and that block was transforming into the item that he envisioned within his mind. And, with every ringing strike, Arwin could tell he understood the material he was working with just a little better.

It was brittle and of poor quality, but just as Arwin desired to form it into something more than trash, the metal had similar longing. He wouldn’t claim that the metal lived, but he would have sworn on his life that it desired.

Just like everything else, the metal sought a purpose. It was more than trash, but it had been left to rot for who knew how long. Arwin was not just an amateur smith. He was potential. And, once he started to understand the longing of the metal, the world shifted.

Parts of the metal glowed. At first, Arwin thought it to be residual heat from the forge, but he quickly realized that it was a different light. This one was a faint, warm yellow as opposed to the cherry-read of the hearth.

Every time Arwin’s hammer struck, the changes to the dagger became even more noticeable. The metal was telling him what it wanted to be. It was guiding his hand.

And, as Arwin raised his hammer to deliver another blow, he paused. The glow had vanished. He had no idea how long he’d been working on the blade, but the fire in the forge had dwindled to dull embers.

A dagger sat on the anvil before him, and it actually looked like a dagger. It was plain, but it was a dagger. Before Arwin could so much as smile, he felt something stir within him as the Mesh burst forth.

[Dagger: Poor Quality] has been forged. Forging a magical item has granted you energy.

Your Tier has raised by 1 rank.

[Broken Bearer of Last Light] has been consumed.

Arwin’s laughter echoed through the forge. The Mesh had recognized his efforts. He’d created another magical item, and this time entirely without the Mesh just handing it to him. Arwin picked the dagger up and inspected it.

Dagger: Poor Quality

[Awoken]: This item has taken on life of its own. With every death it causes, it will grow slightly more powerful. Upon reaching [Unknown] threshold, it will be able to bond with its wielder.

“Fascinating,” Arwin breathed, holding the dagger out before him and watching the ember light reflect off its blade. He’d seen many weapons in his years of work. He’d wielded artifacts that could topple cities and tossed them aside when even more powerful ones came along – but not once had he ever seen one that lived, much less had the potential to change. It wasn’t much now, but with enough time, it could become quite an interesting weapon.

Not bad at all. Maybe I can sell this for a bit of gold and get a few improvements to the smithy. I’ll have to find out how fast it grows. If it’s fast, it might be incredibly expensive. I have no need for a dagger, but this has immense potential.

Arwin set the dagger back down, then turned his eyes back to the forge. His eyes flicked over to the remainder of his dwindling wood pile. There was still more scrap, there was still more wood, and the night was still young.

But first, I have more power to work with. When was the last time I was excited about growing stronger? I can’t remember, but I can’t wait to see what skills I can unlock.

The Mesh bloomed before Arwin, golden letters scrawling through the air before his eyes.

Name: Arwin Tyrr

Class: Living Forge (Unique) (Tier: Apprentice 2)

New Skill Choice Available.

Arwin reached out to see what new skills he could earn. As soon as his finger touched the golden lettering, it dissipated into dozens of little motes of light that formed into new words.

You may select one of the following skills.

[Hammering Blows] (Passive) – Your efforts in the smithy have granted you increased strength and efficiency. All hammer strikes will be stronger and faster, scaling based off your Tier.

[Soul Flame] – Passion burns within you with such intensity that it can heat metal. You may draw out your Soul Flame, empowering the fire of your forge, but be wary – any magical damage done to the Soul Flame will transfer onto your soul.

[Avenging Strike] – War is no stranger to you, and your hammer crushes bones and metal alike. Spend a portion of magical energy to empower your next hammer strike. It will strike living beings harder than non-living ones, scaling based off your Tier.

Chapter 5

Arwin dismissed [Avenging Strike] immediately. He was already good enough at killing things, and while he suspected [Avenging Strike] and [Scourge] would likely stack on top of each other, he really had no desire to take another combat skill.

Both of the other two Skills were interesting, though. [Hammering Blows] would make smithing considerably faster. It didn’t sound very impressive, but over time, it was likely to save him thousands of hours.

[Soul Flame] was a little less clear with exactly what it did. Having an endless source of fire was definitely useful, but the skill had used the word empowering, implying it did more than just replace normal flame.

If that was the case, Arwin was willing to sacrifice efficiency for potential. He could always get stronger and faster with time. And, if [Soul Flame] gave him a higher chance to imbue his weapons with magic, then it was a shoe-in.

Arwin selected the middle skill, and the other two shimmered and faded away. Energy trickled through his body, and he felt a faint heat form within his chest. As soon as he turned his attention to it, the heat intensified.

Holding a hand out, Arwin drew the warmth through his arm and into his palm. A dull yellow spark formed in the air between Arwin’s fingers, swirling into an orb of flame. It crackled patiently, waiting for him to do something.

Even though the fire was warm, it didn’t feel hot. Arwin reached out, holding the back of his other hand against the flame. It wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it just felt like he was holding a loaf of freshly baked bread.

He touched the fire. To his delight, it didn’t burn him. Arwin walked over to the pile of wood and picked up a small piece, holding it to the fire. The wood crackled, starting to smoke. He pulled it away before it could properly catch fire – there wasn’t enough of it to waste.

“So it can’t burn me, but it’s definitely real fire,” Arwin said. He closed his fist around the flame and it vanished, darting back into the center of his body. “That’s useful already. I suppose it’ll remain to be seen exactly what it can do, but there’s only one way to find out.”

Fire coiled from Arwin’s palm, catching onto the wood in the hearth and igniting with a whoomph. Golden-yellow light washed over him, bringing with it a comforting warmth. The wood crackled merrily, though it didn’t smell quite as great as he’d hoped.

“I suppose that’s what I get for working with rotten wood,” Arwin grumbled. He held a hand out toward the fire, testing its heat. To his delight, it wasn’t too hot. In fact, it felt identical to the normal ball of [Soul Flame].

In what was probably the nightmare of any parent with an overly curious child, he stuck his hand right into the flame. And, to his delight, it didn’t burn in the slightest. The flame was nothing more than a comforting caress.

Arwin grabbed a piece of scrap metal and stuck it into the flame, turning his attention to the bellows to heart the hearth to even greater degrees. He continued until the flames roared furiously and the metal within them had turned a cherry-red.

Once he was confident the heat was high enough, Arwin held his hand out, leaning back to make sure his clothes didn’t catch. While his body might have been safe, he only had a few pairs of clothes and he wasn’t eager to accidentally set any of them on fire.

The heat was just as comfortable as it had been before. Arwin brought his hand closer to the piece of metal, but he couldn’t feel any real discomfort from being near it. Using a single pinky, he tapped it.

Nothing.

Arwin grinned. He wrapped his hand around the bar. It was hot, but not unbearably so. A chuckle slipped from his lips.

“That’s a fun little trick. Now… let’s see. What would this bar like to be?”

***

Arwin was still working the forge when Reya returned. He barely even noticed her enter, and didn’t spot her until he reached for the small sword in the furnace with his bare hands.

“Careful!” Reya yelled.

Arwin froze, spinning to look back at her. She flinched at his gaze.

“What?” Arwin asked.

“You – you were going to reach into the fire with your bare hand,” Reya said. “I was worried you’d burn yourself.”

Arwin blinked, then chuckled. He held a hand out, pulling the burning fire from the hearth and into his palm. The hearth went dark instantly. He’d been working with his Soul Flame for the past few hours, but he loved his choice already. Any flame that he made was completely safe to work with.

He looked down at the crooked sword on the anvil before him and grimaced. Despite his best efforts, he’d been unable to re-create his experience with the dagger. He’d certainly gotten close – at times, he could have sworn that the metal was speaking to him.

But, at some point, he’d lost its voice. Something had gone wrong, and he was left with a sharp piece of scrap. It was still leaps and bounds better than some of the work he’d done earlier, though.

Oh well. Practice is practice. Can’t get good at something without failing in the process.

Arwin blinked, realizing that he’d been ignoring Reya. He turned back to her. Her eyes were transfixed on the dagger that he’d made some time ago. “Did you need something?”

“Oh, sorry. I got distracted,” Reya said, yanking her eyes away from the dagger. “You… uh… have an interesting dagger. It might be a good idea not to leave that lying around, sir.”

Shit. Even though it’s pretty useless right now, this is probably a pretty decent weapon even in its current, untested state.

“It’s just a test,” Arwin said, picking the dagger up and holding it out so it caught the dim light of the moon shining down through the cracks in the smithy. “Turned out decently enough, I’d say.”

“You made that?” Reya stared at Arwin, then swallowed and shook her head. “I – never mind. Sir, I’ve got the information you asked me to get.”

Arwin had completely forgotten that he’d asked Reya to get anything for him. He lowered the dagger, then cleared his throat and gestured for her to continue. “Ah. Right. Out with it, then. What did you find?”

“There aren’t too many people that really live in this area that make themselves known. There are a fair number of small-time thieves, murderers, and the lot,” Reya said, confidence starting to seep into her tone as she spoke. “The main people that controlled this area were the Brothers Six. I guess they’re the Brothers One-and-a-half now, though.”

“One and a half?”

“One fled and you crushed the other one’s wrist back in the alley before smacking his brains in.”

“I didn’t hit him that hard.”

Reya stared at Arwin. “Right. Brothers Two, then.”

Arwin sighed. “Those jokers were the ones controlling this area?”

“Not all of it, but a good part of it,” Reya confirmed. She tilted her head to the side, digging through her thoughts before speaking again. “Aside from them, there was another gang called Snake Bite. It’s just two people, but they mostly keep to themselves. They live at the south of the road, in the remains of the two-story inn.”

Arwin nodded. “Okay. Anyone else?”

“Aside from the random people passing through and squatting in the houses? Not really. It’s hard to tell which of the ones passing through are ones that are actually going to stick around. I asked everyone, but most people just ignored me.”

Arwin started to nod again, then paused. “Wait. You just… asked them?”

“Yeah. I just wandered through all the houses and asked what they were doing and how long they’d be there. Almost everyone ignored me. I knew Snake Bite because they had a small feud with the Brothers, but that’s obviously no longer a problem.”

Well, nobody can say that she isn’t efficient. She’s certainly bold as well. If she’s worried about fighting, shouldn’t she be at least a little more apprehensive about strolling up and starting chats with known criminals?

“Were any of the passersby interesting?”

“Hard to say. One of them was so drunk that he couldn’t understand a single word that came out of my mouth. I’m pretty sure the one that got him drunk was a lady that claimed she was starting a tavern, but I’m also pretty sure she was drunk too.”

Arwin snorted. “I’d agree with your assessment there. Nobody is starting a tavern where there’s literally no one around to sell to that isn’t going to just try to rob you. Who else?”

“Just a few thieves and cutthroats. I let them know to stay away from the smithy if they knew what was good for them.”

Arwin tilted his head to the side. Threats didn’t usually go well if you didn’t have the strength to back them up, and Reya had yet to give him any reason to believe that she did. “I see. And how did that go?”

“Not great, until I told them to go look in the ditch where you tossed the Brothers.”

“You found that? I thought I buried them well enough.”

Reya stared at Arwin, a grin starting to cross her face but fading quickly when she realized he wasn’t joking. She cleared her throat, then nodded. “Uh… yeah. Really well buried. The, uh, wind kind of just… unveiled them. It isn’t your fault, though. It happens all the time.”

“You don’t have to butter me up,” Arwin said, rolling his eyes. “They clearly weren’t buried quite enough. No matter. It sounds like that turned out to be useful. Is there anything else I should know?”

Reya’s stomach grumbled. Loudly. Her cheeks reddened and she hurriedly shook her head. “No. Nothing at all. That’s it.”

Arwin let a small smile cross his features. Even though he’d only known her for a short while, the girl was starting to grow on him. She reminded him of Blake. An image of his former friend’s glassy, dead eyes staring up at Arwin flashed through his mind.

The smile that had been forming cracked like a dropped pane of glass. He couldn’t remember what the man – little more than a boy when he’d died – even looked like anymore. Blake had been one of the earliest people he’d made friends with in this world, and he’d been one of the earliest to die.

Arwin shook his head and took the dagger, tossing it to Reya. Her eyes widened and she snagged it by the handle before it could hit the ground.

“What’s this?”

“If you’re going to go around threatening people, you should have something that lets you back it up,” Arwin said. The dagger had an interesting effect, but he wasn’t about to go around stabbing people to see how well it worked. Besides, its make was still a little shoddy. It was a far cry from the beautiful weaponry and armor that he envisioned himself making in the future. “I’d suggest finding a way to conceal it, though. I’d be embarrassed if people thought I was going around selling sub-par equipment.”

Reya stared at the dagger in disbelief. “And… I can have it?”

“Just make sure to put it to use on people that actually deserve it,” Arwin said with a wave of his hand. “And tell me how fast it grows, if you would.”

Reya’s hand snapped up to her head in a salute. “Yes, sir!”

“Stop calling me sir,” Arwin grumbled. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Commander?”

“Just call me Arwin,” Arwin said, massaging his forehead. “And let’s go back to Rule 1.”

“Rule 1?”

“Don’t bother me,” Arwin said, turning back to his forge. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bag of coins he’d collected, tossing it to Reya. “Go see if you can get dinner. Eat, then bring me back whatever is left. I’ll be here.”

Reya swallowed, nearly giving him another salute before she stopped herself and settled for a nod. She darted out of the crumbling smithy and Arwin turned back to his forge, his fingers twitching in excitement.

There was still much to do, and he wasn’t even slightly tired.