On the seventh day after the quest’s beginning, Samara Khan summoned Nil to her workshop. It sat across near the forges just off the settlement’s central gardens. Several similar spaces littered the cave system. Plants alien to the outer desert biome filled it, growing under the light or magical sunlamps. Some grew food for the residents. Others served as grazing and living areas for the camels. The beasts provided milk and also acted as beasts of burden for when Samara needed to visit the cities across the dunes.
Nil passed the underground river, waving at the fishermen in charge of the settlement’s protein acquirement, and entered the soul-smithing workshop. Workstations lined the wall, and a giant octagonal table sat at its center. Nil didn’t know what to make of any of it. It was more alien to him than the equipment in Symbiotech’s labs. He could make educated guesses about them, but now, he knew nothing more than what Energy Instinct detected, a mixture of colors, temperatures, and odd textural sensations.
Andrew stood at a corner workstation working on a tiny sphere that thrummed with the same silver energy he fired from his shotgun. The object of his focus appeared damaged and warped. His efforts seemed focused on repairing it while restoring the fine inscriptions carved into it. Meanwhile, Alexander cultivated as he worked. In fact, the wispy energy’s movements were far more fluid and controlled than two days prior. Andrew’s ‘core’ still lacked definition and resembled an amorphous cloud, but Nil was confident it wouldn’t take long for the talented man to catch up.
The childhood friends hoped to go on group quests together. Andrew planned on providing equipment, long-ranged backup, and support to the team. He had plans of building himself a variety of weapons like handguns, shotguns, and even a rifle. The Schema hadn’t given him any abilities to assist with marksmanship, but they hoped his Finesse would make up for it. Andrew had also joked about building himself magical power armor or a mech. It was mostly in jest. Investigation, research, and invention were his priority.
Before Nil could get distracted by the mystical artisanal activities, Samara waved him over. She stood at the stone octagonal table, fingers dancing over several arcane symbols that the Schema failed to translate.
“It was a challenge,” she said. The lights rising from the table merged, forming a holographic image of a sphere not too different from what Alexander was working on. “It's a miracle the seed survived this long and didn’t collapse or turn on you before. I was expecting more warping from the Cursed Energy, permanent changes, or residue. But it looks like something stripped out the innards.”
“I can’t tell whether this is good or bad news,” Nil replied, studying the sphere closely. It looked like someone had taken a crowbar to it and forced a section of it open, leaving a jagged piece that jutted out of the top hemisphere.
“It's good news.” Samara ran her fingers over the runes, and the jagged piece softened and slowly wove itself over the opening. “I can fix the damage, and if the process is successful, a new consciousness will form within. It's likely the soul weapon won’t have any extraordinary or useful starting abilities. Still, because the shell is almost a decade old, it will grow rapidly and catch up to you soon.”
“Will the seed be able to support the chassis that I want?”
Samara nodded. As her fingers worked, more lights flowed up from the table and solidified around the sphere. It grew and pulsed, forming a pair of simple gauntlets. Nil wanted something that would cover his arms down to the elbows and give him the means to catch or block blows even while Expending. He had a few ideas for developing it further to use with Expend, but that would come in time—first, the restoration process needed to succeed.
“I don’t know yet about your energy blade or funnel ideas, but the basic chassis should be no trouble at all,” Samara answered. “I’ve been studying your fighting style and how you use your abilities. The chassis I have planned should do precisely what you desire.” She nodded at Andrew. “If that friend of yours turns out half as good as a soul's might he thinks he will be, he’ll have no trouble making the modifications you want and developing further as the soul weapon, and you grow.”
“Excellent.” Nil gleamed, his heart fluttering. “When do we start?”
“Now, if you want. I’ll ask you again, though. Are you sure this is what you want? I could fashion this into armor to protect against magic, perhaps even convert some of it into energy for you to use. Or perhaps some sort of launcher weapon to give you ranged options.”
“Could I get those as the soul weapon grows?”
“The latter should be possible, and given Andrew’s fascination with the idea, he’ll have no trouble developing something of the sort. I don’t know about armor, though. You might get some defensive capabilities, but things like magic absorption and conversion are limited to exclusively defensive soul tools.”
“I’d rather bet on my ability to develop a suitable sub-ability than dedicate the entire soul weapon to it. For now, I want something that will give me some protection while I’m Expending and more offence while Absorbing.”
“Fair enough,” Samara stated. She tapped the runes on her octagonal table, and the chassis shape somewhat solidified. The joints slotted into each other comfortably. The image came to life, and everything moved fluidly. A tap made the gauntlet’s fingers break into segments, which retracted into the knuckles. “You know your fighting style and needs better than me. I hope it starts off as more than an ordinary chassis and blends well with your power seed. Should we get started?”
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The soul smith didn’t wait for an answer. She waved to a cot surrounded by workstations. Runes covered the floor and the stone frame as well. Nil lay down in it and expected to be knocked out, but an electric feeling coursed through his body instead. Arcane tendrils wrapped around Nil’s arms and seeped through his skin. Nil struggled to get his head around how the soul weapon existed in both of his arms simultaneously. Samara’s magic appeared to move as one, but he felt it move in two places at once. The odd sensation toed the line between uncomfortable and soothing. An alien presence had entered his body, but it was more a comforting embrace than an uncomfortable probe.
The soul weapon’s seed thrummed. Even though it didn’t exist in the physical realm, Nil felt the flesh in his arms squirm. Samara’s magic softened the unformed seed before unraveling. The sphere blossomed like a tulip before Samara’s magic delicately patched the damage Symbiotech caused and manipulated the seed back to its original shape. It was a slow process, and she encouraged him to cultivate during the process. The energy circulating through the seed kept it nourished during the process. Occasionally, Samara told him to focus and increase the flow. Nil couldn’t tell whether it was because his control and consistency faltered or the soul weapon needed a little push to survive the patching.
A cascade of images flowed through Nil’s mind. It wasn’t the tiger swimming through the cavernous mangrove swamps but limbs. Instead, he also saw himself wearing a pair of bestial, clawed gauntlets and fighting a beast three times his size. A tiger as tall as Nil’s opponent towered behind him. It didn’t attack but watched Nil fight his opponent, eyes glowing with green and gold.
Rip And Tear.
The tiger disappeared, and a giant humanoid entity with a ram’s head and horns replaced it. The creature was wide and squat with no neck. It nodded at the giant furnace. Nil saw himself staring into the blinding white and yellow pouring from the one opening. The gauntlets he wore were significantly heavier. The Nil in the vision reached into the forge and withdrew a sphere brighter than the sun. It cooled rapidly, transitioning from white to blue to yellow. The gauntlets glowed orange, and sweat poured down their wielder’s face. Most curious of all, the sphere floated a couple of inches above the palms. Not making contact.
Forge Worlds.
In the following image, a similar creature accompanied Nil. It wasn’t as stoic, and its presence didn’t radiate encouragement—only rage. The pair faced no opponent. A vast wasteland of black rock, lava, and flames lay ahead. When the creature growled, the earth and sky trembled. Nil nodded and pounded the ground. The stones under his feet shattered, and fissures spread from the point of impact. He wore no gauntlets. Instead, thick chains covered in fiery veins covered them.
Or Break Them.
Nil saw himself in a gladiatorial arena next. Waves of monsters in all shapes and sizes charged at him. Some resembled the entities that had supported him in the previous visions. Others were so alien Nil didn’t know how to describe them. As he faced them, the gauntlets transformed. One moment, they were thick and stony as lightning danced around him.
A creature flanked Nil and chomped down on Nil’s right arm. The gauntlet broke into several banded sections, and spikes grew out of them. The bands spun, shredding the insides of the monster’s mouth.
Adapt.
The scene didn’t change, but the gauntlet and the aura of them changed again. The armoring appeared cylindrical and had a manacle-like appearance about them. When the Nil in the vision held the two gauntlets together, they seemed to merge, and a barrel extended from between the cupped fingers. A beam of energy fired from it and cut through all opponents. The Nil in the vision appeared deflated. He swayed on his feet for a moment before crumbling.
Exterminate.
Another tremor followed, but no visions accompanied it. When Nil opened his eyes, he found himself back in Samara’s workshop. Dust and stone chips rained from the ceiling. Samara stood locked above him, gritting her teeth as blood streamed down her temple. Meanwhile, her assistants raced around the room, looking and sounding panicked.
“What the hell is going on?” Nil demanded. He tried to sit up, but Samara’s magic seemed to have multiplied the effects of gravity on and around him.
“We’re under attack,” Andrew said through gritted teeth. Scratches covered his face and arms. Nil felt his childhood friend’s newly gained magic intertwined with Samara’s. The pair had weaved a thick lattice around his soul weapon seed. The sphere had a few scratches and blemishes, but the shape appeared near-perfect and had no holes. “The fuckers are coming up from under us.”
Nil tried to rise again but failed. The forces weighing him down faltered but still managed to keep him down. The outline of light, armored gauntlets shimmered around his forearms.”
“What’re you doing? You guys did it. The seed is fixed. So, let me at it.”
“It’s not your shift, Sunny-boi.” Andrew’s voice sounded strained. He trembled. The exertion seemed too much for his Mortal-Realm body.
“The chassis isn’t done forming, you dolt,” Samara grunted. “If you go out now, the soul weapon will decide its final form for you. Trust the guards and Zorah. They’re good at their jobs. We’re almost—”
Another tremor interrupted her. A melon-sized chunk broke off the ceiling and broke on Samara’s head. It knocked her down, and the weight pressing down on Nil disappeared. He jumped to his feet, and the headrush almost proved too much for him. Andrew caught him before he could fall. Meanwhile, Samara groaned as her assistants rushed to her aid.
“It doesn’t sound like this Zorah is doing a good job,” Nil said, still feeling weak.
“Neither you nor the seed are stable, Nil,” Andrew said. Helping Nil to the nearest door frame as more chunks of ceiling fell around them. “If you unleash your ability right now—”
“Well, you better come with me and ensure nothing goes wrong.” He peeled himself free of Andrew and exited the workshop.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
Despite the protests that followed, Andrew followed.