The fiery hotness of the forge was the first thing that greeted Tunde as he stepped into the iron wolf that day, eyes roaming about as he spotted the little kid who had ripped him of lumens, looking everywhere but at him. Tunde ignored him, following calmly behind Elder Joran with the crumpled form of vengeance held in his hands, a silent but cold look on his face. No words were spoken as the same forgesmith showed them the way to the personal forge of the artificer. Elder Joran opened the doors, Tunde entering behind him as artificer Borus dropped the metal infused with Ethereon in his hands, turning to them.
“Seems like whatever you fought was terrible enough to sate vengeance’s taste for battle,” he said as a form of greeting.
Tunde bowed stiffly even as elder Joran gave a tight-lipped smile.
“You and I both know that if he had truly fought a tier 3 Corespawn, he’d be dead by now” he replied.
“Or rather, if my student had fought a tier 3 Corespawn with those sham of a tier 2 gauntlets you gave him” Joran continued as Borus frowned, metal arm glowing.
Tunde fought back the feeling of dread in his heart as elder Joran accused the artificer.
“And is that what you think, disciple Tunde?” Borus asked him as Tunde straightened.
Tunde glanced at the destroyed gauntlets and then back to the artificer.
“I think I should have been given a chance to prove myself with a weapon worthy of an artificer like you” he replied.
Borus gave no response, eyes boring into him like a drill as Tunde gathered his mental willpower, holding down the stare of the artificer. It felt like a boulder rolling down from a mountain and he was in its path, every instinct, warning him to turn, to flee, to get away from the imminent clash, and yet, Tunde felt his body and mind throw up a defiance that confused him. Borus laughed, a hearty one that dispelled the mood as Tunde glanced at Elder Joran in confusion, the elder maintaining his tight-lipped smile.
“The cub has gotten his first claws it seems,” he said.
“So, you do admit to it, that you gave my student a weak weapon?” Joran asked.
“there’s no such thing as a weak weapon adept Joran, only a weak wielder” Borus replied, hand stretched out to collect vengeance from Tunde.
He gracefully handed it back to the artificer who stared at it, eyes glowing close to the flames of his forge.
“It was not my intention to see you dead, young disciple” he murmured, throwing vengeance into the flames.
Tunde’s eyes flicked to the metal that had begun to melt so quickly.
“Rather, it was to test your mettle, or so I like to tell myself” He continued.
He turned to them; arms folded.
“Vengeance was a conduit, a channel for you to wield the rift Ethra that flows through your relic,” he said.
“It would be safe to assume you know what that weapon is then?” Joran asked as Tunde perked up.
Borus smiled softly, eyes like hammered steel, his iron-forged hand beckoning Tunde forward.
“Pick my offer carefully, young cub” he started.
“Before you lie two options, one,” he said, raising one metal finger.
“I tell you the tale of the true beasts, one long forgotten and only known by the higher echelons of the clans and cults, or two,” he said, adding another finger.
“I forge a true weapon, a soulbound one that would get stronger as you grow with it, and no, not a pair of gauntlets, I wondered who gave you melee fighters that idea that the best weapon for you all is something attached to your hands” he finished with a snort.
Tunde blinked, attempting to turn to Joran when Borus spoke.
“No, this is your decision, there is so far your adept can carry you to, young cub,” he said.
“Why do you call me that?” Tunde asked.
Borus smiled, eyes glinting.
“That pertains to option one, is that your choice?” he replied.
Tunde swallowed, staring into the eyes of the artificer, the truth about his body, or whatever that bone was as against a true soulbound weapon? One presented him with the true understanding of what he would become and the other gave him an immediate solution, or some sort against Thalas, he hoped.
“This weapon you would forge” Tunde started.
“Would it be of any use to me against Thalas?” he asked.
“I should think so, on my word as an artificer,” Borus said with all seriousness as Joran sucked in a breath.
It was an oath, and if Tunde was guessing right, as serious as an oath he would be getting from the artificer. He nodded.
“If I die in that fight, this tale won’t be of any use to me,” he said.
“And yet, the true knowledge of it could help you in that fight, limitedly I believe” Borus replied.
Tunde shook his head.
“No, not in the space of the few days I have left for the fight,” Tunde said.
Borus nodded a fraction, confirming Tunde’s fear, he sucked in a breath, exhaling calmly.
“Then I pick the weapon,” he said.
Borus nodded, turning from him.
“Then I require the tainted core of the tier 2 shadow panther you killed,” he said.
“How did you- “Tunde said, pausing as he turned to Joran who nodded at him.
“Tales of your exploits have reached me here; your name is now being uttered in the same circles as the high-ranking disciples of the clan” Borus replied.
Tunde produced the black and green core, bigger than the other Corespawn cores he had as Borus collected it from him.
“Also, this one swallowed a rift core, foolish if you ask me, seeing as it was tainted with undeath, filthy bastards” he rumbled.
“You want to forge a weapon with the taint of undeath for my disciple?” Joran asked.
Borus’s eyes flicked to elder Joran.
“Perhaps you doubt my profession, venerable elder?” he asked.
“No, but I would be foolish to believe your every word, after all, you promised us the tale of the true beasts as well as info concerning that relic” Joran replied.
Borus inclined his head slightly.
“Indeed, and yet, your disciple is about to gain a soulbound weapon that few other disciples even within the clan can boast of” he replied.
“that’s it,” Tunde said, drawing both their attention to himself.
“You gave me options between the true beast bone of my tempering, and a forged weapon, nothing about the relic,” he said.
He caught a glint of something in artificer Borus’s gaze, not sure if it was approval or mischief.
“Indeed, and I beg your forgiveness,” he said as he threw the core into the flames that burnt bright blue with its addition.
“That relic you wield is one of the eight true mythical weapons of Adamath,” Borus said.
It was like a chill permeated the room, Tunde shivering slightly as Joran frowned.
“What are you implying?” Joran asked, his voice terse.
Borus turned his attention to the adept, eyes alight.
“Interesting,” he said with a smile.
“Or I could be mistaken, but it is truly possibly, one of the strongest soulbound weapons I have ever come across” Borus continued.
Tunde glanced at the elder who seemed to shiver slightly, confused as to what was going on between him and the artificer.
"Either way, it reeks of the one affinity or concept, that fact had been debated since the earliest of records, that could either be a blessing or a curse in the hands of whoever wields it,” Borus said.
“Rift Ethra” Tunde said.
“Precisely, now, to say its true name is to awaken it,” Borus said chuckling.
“And believe me, no one in a thousand miles around here can handle the weapon if it does awaken, not unless you want one-half of the Bloodfire continent swallowed up in an incursion so deadly it would require the lofty paragons at least to get a handle of things” Borus explained.
Tunde wasn’t sure if he had been truly ready for what he was just told, staring at the band across his wrist with trepidation.
“of course, in its current state, it does nothing more than gorge itself on rift Ethra and any other Ethra it comes across” he continued, drawing Tunde’s attention.
“And the fact that you’re alive can only be attributed to the strength of the body you possess, think of it as a symbiotic relationship of some sort,” Borus said.
“Hence, leading to the tale about the true beasts,” Joran said.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Indeed, how about a deal?, you win that duel, with my weapon and your strength, and I tell you the tale of the beasts, or in this case, a single beast?” Borus offered.
“Do I have a choice?’ Tunde replied.
Borus chuckled lightly.
“No, I hold all the cards, but I hold it to my chest for the safety of life as we know it on Bloodfire, there are…. forces, who would come for that weapon the moment they remotely know what it is, and you are not strong enough to wield it, yet” Borus finished.
Tunde nodded stiffly, turning to Joran as he stepped backward.
“Now,” Borus said.
“If only I had the bone of the shadow panther you killed, just a piece, I- “he continued as Joran threw him a tainted bone reeking with shadow Ethra and undeath.
The artificer caught it, Tunde turning to elder Joran curiously, Joran shrugging.
“Just felt It might come in handy sometime” he replied.
Borus nodded, throwing it into the flames again as it burned hotter.
“I need three days to forge the weapon,” he said.
Tunde bowed to the artificer who turned away from them, effectively dismissing them, Tunde wasn’t sure if that sat right with elder Joran, but judging from the look of the elder, he guessed he couldn’t care as much. As they left the room, Borus called out to Tunde, elder Joran already walking towards the door of the forge itself, Tunde turned and the blue flames rose higher, burning itself into shapes.
Tunde stared from the flames to Borus, and then back to the flames before bowing again.
“I thank you for your services, venerable artificer,” he said as Borus snorted, the flames calming themselves back.
With a troubled mind, he met up with elder Joran as they both stepped into the light of the midday sun again, Tunde squinting.
“What was that about?” Joran asked.
“He showed me the core cracking within the flames, perhaps to remind me to work, seeing as he’s doing the same” Tunde replied.
Joran chuckled as the two began walking towards the exit of the smithing sector, Tunde’s mind replaying the words he had seen in the flames.
“Do not trust him”
***************************
Borus held the body of his apprentice forgesmith in his metal hand, neck snapped at a wrong angle, blood dripping from his ears. Whistling to himself, aware of his assembled smiths behind him who stood in complete silence, the iron wolf forge abruptly locked for the day, he tapped his hammer against his forge three times as the forge shuddered, blue runic inscriptions running across its surface, the flames parting as a circular disc floated out of its depths.
It glowed blue, another set of inscriptions writing themselves to life on its surface.
“Hammer,” Borus said.
The disc pulsed before shimmering to life, revealing an obtuse-looking facial figure, its features indistinguishable, like the disk had a soft permeable middle and a person had tried forcing their face through its semi-liquid surface.
“Well, this is an unexpected call,” the face said, the voice deep akin to Borus’s.
“The guild is after me” Borus replied.
“that’s to be expected, did you think your attempts to hide in plain sight, so close to their territory would work?” the voice said chuckling.
“I went halfway across the continent, you’d think they’d have the decency to send an adept or higher,” Borus said, raising his dead apprentice for the figure to see.
“And you thought to best course of action was to kill said spy, knowing they’d come to investigate?' the face said with a sigh of tiredness.
“Barring the project about to be initiated, I doubt neither the Heralds nor Talahan empire would be happy with the guild sniffing around” Borus replied.
“Besides, I killed him because he overheard my conversation about the true beasts” Borus added.
The face froze.
“Please tell me those lined at your back are all homunculi and not dead spies of the guild,” the face said.
“Indeed, although this homunculus was made by someone high up the guild,” Borus said, dangling the dead apprentice.
“Why in Mekrandor’s name, would you be talking about the beasts?” the face said.
“Swearing with the holy hegemon of machine’s name?, how far you’ve fallen” Borus replied with a chuckle.
“Answer the question Borus, you could put everything we’ve worked towards at risk,” the face said quietly.
“Because the rift wolf’s claw has been claimed” Borus replied, throwing the dead body into one-half of the flames where the shattered rift core of the tier 2 Corespawn lay.
Only the crackling of flames filled the air as the face froze.
“Are you certain of what you’re saying?” the face asked slowly.
Borus snorted, folding his hands together.
“Saw it with my own two eyes, claw and bone to be precise” he replied.
“that’s impossible, the body of the beast has long been lost to humanity, from the first age” the face rapidly said.
“And yet, a ranker from Crystalreach, judging by his skin tone, stood right before me, his body tempered with a bone of the wolf” Borus replied.
“The same ranker that held the weapon?, how have we not heard or seen the signs?” the face asked.
“Because, thankfully, the claw still slumbers, and no, he doesn’t belong to the seekers, that I know for certain,” Borus said.
“Then this isn’t some faction of the cult that survived the purge I see,” the face said.
“No, apparently, those idiotic weavers weren’t as thorough as they told the other cults, this should be interesting when it comes to light,” Borus said chuckling.
“You don’t intend on telling the others yet,” the face said.
“No, and keep it close to your chest, last thing I need is some over-enthusiastic artificer coming here to snatch my quarry, let him grow, and mature before plucking” Borus replied.
“The odds of what you speak of are unlikely, one ranker, wielding both the claw and the imbued bone of the wolf, do you understand what this means Borus?” the face said.
“I more than any other, things are falling in place, first the surge to rival all known surges, then the convergence, and now this? I was right it seems” Borus said with a frown.
“The dusk of the second age,” the face said.
“And the possible return of the first races, I do not like where this is going,” the face said.
“None of us do, and yet, it is something that beckons us” Borus replied.
“Speak for yourself, I’m fine with the age of cultivators and rankers, there’s a reason it’s called the age of myth, it’s a bygone era,” the face said.
“Either way, the revenants are snooping around, and this said ranker has seen action with them, it’s only a matter of time before those Heralds pick up on something amiss within their borders,” Borus said.
“I must say, I envy you, but the sooner you let that claw awaken, the earlier it’ll call to its brothers and sisters,” the face said.
“We cannot deal with that and the surge, no, not yet, trust me on this, there’s something about that child I can’t put my fingers on, he’ll be a perfect vessel for the claw, for now,” Borus argued.
“What are you going to do with the homunculi of the guild? Scrap metal? Be careful it doesn’t light up your location,” the face said.
“You speak to me as some forgehand, not even their pawn that seats at the right hand of the high lord of clan Verdan knows of my presence” Borus replied.
“Although I suspect that with the soulbound weapon I’m forging for said ranker, it’ll all but be obvious” he added.
“You really want to take that risk?” the face asked.
“Iphan was nothing but a rock when it came to my polished gem of skills, he’ll think twice before coming at me” Borus countered.
“Why craft a soulbound weapon when he already has one of the eight ultimate ones?” the face asked.
Borus grabbed the metal thigh bone of the homunculi in the flames, cracking it as it began to dissolve into liquid metal with a bubbling sound.
“Because I can, he can’t be trusted to wield the claw, not yet anyways” Borus replied.
“Keep me in the loop, I’ll be keeping my eyes out for any other of the eight, for the new age,” the face said as it vanished from the disc that descended back within the depths of the forge table that came back together.
“For the new age,” Borus murmured, picking up his hammer as he began forging.
The flames of his forge and the silent homunculi standing in an orderly fashion behind him kept him company.
***********************
Tunde and elder Joran had first stopped off at the golden pill pavilion, Tunde selling off every core he had with him to Baron Dale, the merchant lord handing him a gold-plated card.
“You can’t keep carrying around huge sums of lumens again,” the baron said.
“Congratulations student, you have close to a million lumens,” Joran said cheerfully.
Tunde had nodded and thrown the card into his void ring, much to the exasperation of the baron and the laughter of the elder. It would be much safer on his fingers, where no one could steal it off him, but with his ring near empty save for his elixirs and the books he had taken from the first rift, they had made their way out of the pavilion.
“Come, there’s a place I want to show you,” Elder Joran said.
Tunde nodded, going along with the elder as they made their way towards the inner districts of the city. The air smelled of fresh flowers, Tunde had heard it was the beginning of a new season, spring was upon them, the frigid cold but dry winter passing them by with nothing but cracked skin and lips. It was a time of festivities for the empire, but with the coming of the surge, the tension of imminent catastrophe up ahead had somewhat dimmed the mood.
“Why aren’t you bothered?” Tunde asked the elder, blurting out as they passed the residential areas of the lower districts.
He could see the tall wooden and brick forms of the houses on Petal Street, and if he strained his eyes more, he could pick out the banners that flapped next to the houses.
“Of what?” Joran asked lightly, catching a leaf that flew past him.
“Of the relic, of what the artificer said, of me” Tunde replied softly.
Nodding at the pair of men that bowed as they walked past him, elder Joran sighed, folding his hands behind him as he waved his hand at Tunde.
“Come along” he simply replied.
Walking in silence for a good while, Tunde keeping to himself, Joran spoke up again.
“Do you know how deadly the beast surge will be?” Joran asked abruptly.
“No, elder” Tunde replied.
“The last one happened more than two decades ago if I remember correctly, quite the terrible experience,” Joran said as they moved towards the shadier parts of the district.
Lights burned in red and green paper bags, hanging above them, figures lurking around, moving with hoods covering their frames. Tunde wondered what they were looking for here, not that he had been in the area before, but he guessed no self-respecting ranker would be in such a district. Ethra sight on, he glanced around, picking out the figures that watched them, keeping them in his line of sight.
“Entire cities, wiped off the map across Adamath, why even the empire itself went under siege, tiers six, seven, and even eight creatures rampaged across the landscape. It was so bad that the cult and empire had to join forces together, and even still, the death rate was staggering” he finished.
A figure jumped down from the rooftops, Tunde had been expecting it, he had watched the man trail them from the moment they stepped foot into the area. He could see the brightness of the main street behind them, wondering why an entire corridor had suddenly gone dark when the sunlight still shone above. Glancing upwards, he noticed a sort of barrier swirling with dark inky Ethra that blocked the sunlight.
Glancing down at the bulky man with what looked like semi-liquid Ethra around him.
“So my student, no matter how dangerous the smith made it out to be, life will go on, and so must we, do you understand?” elder Joran said, unperturbed by what was going on around him.
“Yes, elder Joran” Tunde replied.
Standing beside the elder, he glanced around, making sure he watched the other figures that seemed to melt out of the shadowed corners of the buildings around them.
“Oh, and welcome to tyrant’s haven Tunde, the one area allowed for all the lowlifes in Jade Peak City to call home,” Joran said, a soft smile on his face.
As one, the figures went to their knees, disciple and initiate rank, early tiers for that matter.
“We greet the elder,” the large man in front said.
“I see the lady of ink finally has this place under her control,” Joran said with a chuckle.
The man in front shifted uncomfortably.
“What are we doing here elder?” Tunde asked.
“We?, I was never here, was I?” Joran asked the man who shook his head.
“We see only disciple Tunde of house dark fist, student of the venerable elder” the man replied.
“Good, now Tunde” Joran said, dragging his attention back to him.
“Now that we’ve established that I am and was not here, you are here to work on your aura, remember that?” Joran asked.
“My aura?” Tunde asked dumbly.
“Yes, that pesky thing that flared up in the wastelands, gives me shivers just thinking about it,” Joran said with a fake shudder.
Tunde was sure the elder hadn’t been there when he fought Kurl, whatever was he describing? The thought lingered in his head, along with the warnings of the artificer.
“Either way, you’re here, on my recommendation to meet the ink lady, peak disciple, and tenth high-ranking disciple of the entire clan,” Joran said.
Tunde sighed, the elder had just thrown him into another fight, and he was the one being accused of always looking for a fight.
“Now these men wouldn’t simply let you waltz your way into her home, now would they?” Joran asked.
“No, venerable stranger, he must prove himself to us,” the man in their front said.
“Well, I tried my best, give my regards to her, oh, and be back by sunset, lady Ryka intends on hosting a celebratory feast for you, you don’t want to miss that do you?” elder Joran said, patting his shoulder as he whistled away, the circle opening up as he passed and closing up behind him.
“You made me promise not to use my Ethra” Tunde called out to elder Joran.
“that was in the districts, this isn’t the districts” Elder Joran replied.
Exhaling calmly, Tunde watched as they began producing weapons, blades, hatchets, knives, and even spiked chain balls.
“Are those necessary?” he asked calmly.
The man stood straight, features hidden under his wide reed hat, the rest in hoods.
“You must prove your strength to the lady of tyrant’s haven” he rumbled, a large butcher's cleaver in both his hands.
Tunde nodded, taking a stance as he imbued his body with his Ethra, feeling it flow through him, empowering him.
“Are you r- “the man said as Tunde was in front of the first of five, fist smashing across his face so quickly the disciple could barely react.
Twisting through the air, the body crashed into a house, Tunde cracking his neck, Ethra sight blazing a starry midnight color.
“Again, I ask, are you sure you want to do this?” he said.
The man in front chuckled, Tunde watching his Ethra flow out of him like mud, realizing it was mud as it took a humanoid shape next to him.
“Very well” he added.
They came at him all at once.