As he pondered his options, Tyson quickly dismissed the Junk Golem core. Why spend hard-earned coins on something he could get just outside Fortress Lee? It wasn't a good use of his opportunity. Then his gaze landed back on the Shadow core. Intangibility was a compelling feature, but as he scanned the marketplace, bustling with magical trinkets and cores, he recognized its limitations. Any magical attack could harm a Shadow, rendering his intangibility useless outside of purely physical attacks.
His attention returned to the Beheaded core. Attribute bonuses were good but not rare. However, this core offered Fire Immunity, a Charisma boost, and additional Fire Damage. Three distinct benefits for a single enchantment were too good to pass up.
Just as he was about to announce his decision, a thought struck him. The Shadow core stuck out because he hadn't ever seen one for sale. A quick mental dive into his knowledge of magical creatures, and he remembered why. Shadows had the unsettling ability to turn those they killed into more Shadows. Self-propagating cores were illegal to sell in Fortress Lee. Explaining why he’d never seen one for sale before, it wasn’t because they were rare, it was because it was against the law.
With a stern expression, he pointed out the oversight to the merchant. "Are you aware that selling Shadow cores is against the law here?"
The merchant's eyes widened, a look of genuine surprise crossing her face. "Oh, you're right. A mistake on my part. How about I offer it to you at half price to compensate?"
Tyson scoffed at the offer. "Half price for an illegal item?"
Seeming to sense his lingering interest, she leaned in conspiratorially. "Seventy-five percent off, then?"
Now, that was tempting. "You have a deal," Tyson said, handing over the coins for both cores.
With both the Beheaded and Shadow cores safely wrapped and tucked into his bag, Tyson left the merchant's stand. It was a tricky path he was walking, but the potential advantages for his impending Corequest were too great to ignore. Of course, he'd have to keep the shadow core a secret, especially from his mother.
He stopped and picked up a pair of Leather Motorcycle Gloves from a vendor. They were trash loot that dropped in Washington Crossing’s lower level, but decent all-around gloves. With his bag a little heavier but his spirits lifted, Tyson headed back out into the market. As he rounded a corner, he spotted his friend Jasper haggling fervently over a flask of what looked like a potion.
"Jasper, you can't be serious. That stuff's a scam," Tyson called out as he approached.
Jasper turned, breaking into a grin upon seeing Tyson. "Ah, Tyson, the voice of reason. You're just in time to save me from buying 'The Elixir of Eternal Stamina.'"
They both burst out laughing as Jasper gave the merchant an exaggerated wink before stepping away.
"So, find anything interesting?" Jasper asked, his eyes twinkling.
Tyson hesitated for a moment before deciding he could trust Jasper. "Actually, I did. Got a Beheaded core and something else… a bit risky."
Jasper's eyebrows shot up, clearly intrigued. "Risky?"
Tyson leaned in and lowered his voice. "A Shadow core."
"Whoa, seriously?" Jasper exclaimed, dropping his voice to match Tyson's. "Aren't those illegal?"
"Very. Got it at a steep discount after pointing out the merchant's 'oversight,'" Tyson explained.
Jasper laughed. "Man, you've got some balls. If your mom finds out she'll never let you go on your Corequest."
"Don't jinx it! This cycle might be the one. What about you? Still settling for gimmicks like 'Eternal Stamina'?" Tyson teased.
Jasper chuckled, looking a bit sheepish. "You know me, gotta keep the ladies satisfied. If you had some, maybe you'd have been able to keep Aeris interested."
Tyson mine being stabbed. "Ouch! Damn dude, no mercy." Just then, Tyson recognized the time. "I've got to run. Mom wants me back this afternoon," Tyson said, feeling a bit anxious about hiding the Shadow core from her keen senses.
"Alright, man. Good luck with that core and, you know, not getting thrown in the brig," Jasper said, clapping him on the back.
Tyson smiled. "Thanks. Good luck with the Stamina potions!"
As he made his way back to his mother’s shop, Tyson couldn't shake off a feeling of anxiety. Armed with his new cores, he felt more prepared than ever for the challenges that awaited him in Man'hatta. But first, he would have to navigate the more immediate challenge of keeping his illicit acquisition a secret, and convincing his parents he was ready for his Corequest.
Tyson's steps faltered slightly as he entered his mother's shop, Nadria's Lair, a place pulsing with the esoteric energies from his mother’s experiments and lined with artifacts of varying degrees of power and mystery. He found Nadria, his mother, hunched over a complex array of beakers and vials, her eyes intensely focused.
"Ah, Tyson, back so soon?" she asked without looking up, her tone detached, almost disinterested. "What have you picked up?"
"A Beheaded core, some gloves," Tyson replied.
Nadria finally looked up, "Decent choice. Fire damage immunity, Fire damage, and a boost to Charisma. You're not trying to win back that fairy girl, are you?"
Tyson sighed, a mixture of frustration and resignation in his voice. "No, Mother. Aeris and I are just friends."
Nadria hummed dismissively, turning her attention back to her work. "Good, I never trusted her. She’s always flying away from her problems. Unreliable. And her attire is less than modest."
Tyson shook his head, choosing to ignore her comments about Aeris. "I'm thinking of using the healing elixir on the gloves."
"Healing, hm?" Nadria's voice carried a note of surprise if one could call it that. "A sound choice. Perhaps you are ready after all."
Tyson felt a surge of relief, tempered by the weight of the secret he carried. The Shadow core, still hidden in his bag, felt like a ticking time bomb. He needed to find a place for it, somewhere safe and away from his mother's keen senses.
"Is there anything else?" Nadria asked, her tone suggesting she was already half-focused on her work again.
"No, that's all," Tyson replied quickly, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the shop.
"Very well. Prepare your items for the enchantment. We'll start in a few minutes," Nadria stated, already turning back to her alchemical experiments.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Tyson moved to one of the vacant workspaces in his mother's shop. He slipped on a pair of heavy-duty work gloves, a precaution his mother insisted upon when he handled cores. The gloves, worn and stained from past use, felt reassuringly familiar on his hands.
He placed the pair of rugged, black motorcycle gloves he purchased earlier onto the workbench, their leather surface soon to be the recipient of magical enchantment. Next to the gloves, he set down the Beheaded core. The core itself was a mesmerizing sight—a crystalline structure, shimmering with an inner fire that seemed to dance and flicker. Its surface was a kaleidoscope of deep reds and oranges, like embers in a dying fire. Occasionally, a faint, ghostly visage appeared within its depths, a lingering echo of the Beheaded's tormented existence. Tyson's preparations continued methodically. He retrieved a sharp chisel and a sturdy hammer, tools that would aid in breaking down the formidable core. A heavy mortar and pestle were also procured, their surfaces scarred from previous use. Lastly, he secured a cloth mask and a pair of goggles over his face, protecting himself from any potential shards or dust.
With everything in place, Tyson focused his attention on the Beheaded core. Positioning the chisel at the core's center, he took a moment to steady his nerves. Then, with a swift, decisive motion, he struck the chisel with the hammer. The core cracked with the clang of shattered magic, splitting cleanly in half under the force of his blow.
The core's inner light flickered wildly as Tyson continued his work. He methodically placed the chisel on the newly exposed surfaces, each strike of the hammer breaking the core into smaller and smaller shards. The fragments that fell away carried with them tiny sparks of light. As the pieces became too small to split with the chisel and hammer, Tyson gathered them carefully, treating each shard with a reverence born of both practice and fear. If he breathed in a core shard or enough core powder, it could cause a forced partial bonding, stunting his potential for life.
He placed the collected pieces into the mortar, their combined light casting eerie shadows across the workbench and used the pestle to begin grinding rhythmically. The shards resisted at first, their crystalline structure stubborn against the pestle's pressure. But slowly, inevitably, they yielded, transforming into a fine, glowing powder that contained the essence of the Beheaded.
Tyson worked in silence, the only sounds in the room the scrape of the pestle against the mortar and the faint, almost inaudible whispers of the core's essence. As he finished, Tyson looked down at the fine powder before him, a key component of what was to come. The motorcycle gloves lay waiting, soon to be imbued with the core's essence in a fusion of the mundane and the magical.
For a moment, Tyson allowed himself to feel a sense of accomplishment at the finely grounded, glowing powder he had crafted from the Beheaded core. It was tangible proof of his burgeoning skills. His moment of reflection, however, was abruptly shattered. From what seemed like mere inches from his ear, a voice, chilling in its unnatural calmness, commented, "Good work."
Tyson's heart leaped into his throat. He nearly toppled from his chair, a jolt of adrenaline surging through him. It was his mother, Nadria. Thanks to her bond with an undead Blood Alchemist core, she possessed an eerie lilt to her voice, devoid of the warmth of life. Her lack of breathing, an unsettling trait of her undeath, often caused her to move and speak with an unnerving stealth. Her unexpected laugh, a rare sound that had more in common with the crackle of dry leaves than mirth, did little to ease Tyson's startled nerves.
For a moment, Tyson watched, both fascinated and repelled, as Nadria reached towards her cloak just above her hip. With a deft movement, she pulled back the fabric to reveal a small, metal cabinet seamlessly integrated into the flesh of her side. It was a startling sight, yet one Tyson had grown accustomed to over the years. Nadria's bond to the Blood Alchemist core allowed her a unique alchemical ability – to create potions directly from her blood.
Opening the cabinet, she extracted a small vial filled with a vibrant red elixir, the liquid seeming to pulsate with life. In a practiced motion, she replaced the vial with an empty one, the process as natural to her as breathing would be to others. She then closed the cabinet, the cloak falling back into place, hiding the unsettling union of flesh and metal.
Carefully, Nadria handed the vial of healing elixir to Tyson. He took the vial, feeling the weight of it in his hand, acutely aware of the power it contained. With a silent nod from Nadria, Tyson carefully began pouring the contents of the vial over the powdered Beheaded core. Instead of the powder turning into a paste, or the powder being dissolved into the elixir. However, the result defied his expectations. The elixir, instead of diluting the powder, was drawn into it, and absorbed completely. Yet, remarkably, the powder maintained its consistency, unchanged in appearance but now infused with the potent properties of the healing elixir.
Nadria’s instructions echoed through the silence of the workshop, “Continue,” she said tersely.
Tyson paused. He’d never progressed past this stage in the enchantment process before; his mother had always taken over. He shot her a glance, his eyes etched with confusion. Nadria returned his look, her gaze attempting something akin to reassurance within its icy depths. “The risk of bonding is negligible,” she stated. There was a flicker of stern encouragement in her otherwise unyielding demeanor. “I will not send you out unprepared. You will learn to complete an enchantment on your own.”
Obediently, Tyson listened as Nadria began to dictate the steps, her voice unfaltering, every word enunciated with clinical clarity. He followed each one with meticulous care, not daring to deviate from her precise instructions. “Visualize your desired outcome,” she instructed. “Your intent, your focus. These are the true essences of enchantment, far beyond the reach of any personal magic. Now, hold that vision steadfast, as you administer the powder to the gloves.”
Tyson closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath. When he opened them again, his gaze was intense, locked on the motorcycle gloves that lay inert on the bench. In his mind’s eye, he conjured the image of a flame, a small, controlled blaze that could nestle in one’s hand without scorching the skin. With this image blazing in his thoughts, he began to sprinkle the powder, his movements deliberate, a physical manifestation of his will.
The powder drifted down in a hushed cascade, each grain shimmering with the potent fusion of fire and healing. As the last of the powder left his fingers, Tyson maintained the intensity of his focus, willing the enchantment to take the form he envisioned.
Before his eyes, the motorcycle gloves began to transform. The leather darkened, growing rigid and sculpted as if bone were emerging from beneath. The outline of a skull appeared, etched into the back of each glove, surrounded by a soft, ethereal glow, the aura of flame he had pictured. It was a manifestation of the Beheaded core’s essence, bound now to the material of the gloves in a haunting symbol.
The enchanting complete, Tyson slowly withdrew his hands, a quiet awe replacing the concentration on his face. The gloves lay transformed, the skull and its ghostly flames a testament to his will and the enchantment’s success.
Nadria observed the outcome, her face betraying no sign of satisfaction or displeasure. Yet, in the economical nod she gave, there was a silent acknowledgment of Tyson's accomplishment. Her pupil, her son, had succeeded, and the enchantment was complete. The air in the workshop seemed to stand still after Tyson’s success. The only movement was the subtle rise and fall of the dust motes, caught in a stray beam of light. Nadria's nod had sealed the moment, her stoic face offering no praise, yet her approval was as clear as the crisp sound of a chime in the silence.
“That was adequately performed for a first attempt,” Nadria's voice broke the quiet, as unyielding as the stone walls of the shop. “Next time, focus more on the intent behind the item rather than the visual form. That is why the gloves took on an unintended shape. With greater skill, you might have altered them beyond recognition. However, be cautious,” she warned, her eyes briefly flicking to the altered gloves. “If the customer expects a specific outcome, deviations such as these can be... problematic.” She paused before off-handedly commenting, “I rather like the skull, it feels almost like a homage to me. But be wary of the impression it may give others.”
Tyson nodded, absorbing the critique. It was a lesson in the subtleties of enchantment, the delicate balance between will and outcome.
Nadria’s quiz came without a preamble, a test in the guise of casual conversation. “Absent my presence, what might you use as a solute for an enchantment?”
“Any creature's bodily fluids, or my blood,” Tyson responded without hesitation, his voice steady.
“And the limitations?” Her question was pointed, a sharpened edge waiting to see if he knew the finer details.
“If I use my blood, the enchantment becomes personal, bound to me. It would be of no use to others.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Using a creature’s fluids, they must be fresh from the corpse. They can... influence the enchantment.” He thought of the spider's venom. “For instance, spider venom could potentially add poison damage to the item.”
“And if the material is not fresh?” Her question was like the last lock in a series, waiting for the key of his answer.
“The enchantment might fail, possibly with explosive results,” Tyson said, remembering lessons laden with caution. “Or worse, it could create a cursed item.”
Nadria’s nod was sparse of movement, yet it conveyed a volume of acceptance. “Passable,” she assessed, her voice devoid of warmth or censure. “Now go. Prepare for dinner. We shall converse further.”
With a respectful bow of his head, he left the workshop, the weight of his new knowledge settling upon him, and his new item equipped in his hands…
Flaming Gloves of Healing
+2 Charisma
Fire Damage Immunity
Unarmed attacks deal an additional 1d6 Fire Damage and might catch the target on fire (DC: 15 vs. Dexterity).
Skill Unlocked!
Coresmithing (level 1) - This skill governs your ability to enchant an item with a single ability from a mana core. Skill level cannot exceed the governing attribute, Wisdom.