I woke up screaming in the chamber now filled with a dozen priests. Healing spells and abilities filled my vision with their notifications, which I dismissed immediately. My world was filled with agony; the shock of it preventing me from comprehending anything other than pain.
It took me a few moments to notice the smell of stew in the air. My eyes focused on the spoon held out in front of me; I opened my mouth and swallowed the broth someone had fed me.
This process repeated itself several times over the course of an hour. I had managed to bring my focus back and distance myself from some of the pain, but it was difficult now without the aid of dark energy the altar provided from my prayer.
Eventually my hunger ceased and the collar ended it’s torture. The combined shock of what recently happened to my mind and soul left me in a permanent daze. Priests left and the temple which had been closed because of me reopened and began to operate normally again.
I was stashed off in the kitchens being fed broth from the stew periodically. Night had set in and I needed to return to the mines before dawn. The collar had already begun compelling me in that direction.
Many of the priests interviewed me on my experience. I told them the truth until the story reached its end; I lied and said Shai’tan took all the classes from me as punishment for besieging his altar.
The lie was in the punishment. Shai’tan tricked the other gods, because my status page now showed four identical notifications.
Your Class has been reset; please select a new Class.
Your Class has been reset; please select a new Class.
Your Class has been reset; please select a new Class.
Your Class has been reset; please select a new Class.
The priests generally had two reactions to my story; sheer amazement at what had transpired or pure disappointment at Shai’tans betrayal.
My status page showed no Class listed. I needed to keep it that way until I was back in the depths of the mines where no one could see my changes. Though, that didn’t stop me from browsing my options.
Each notification came with a list of Classes to choose from. Every god had their own. Most of the lists before me contained Classes I had never heard of. Selecting a class brought up a brief description as a notification.
Electromancer, a Battle Class specializing in lightning magic. Select Electromancer?
Lightning magic was difficult for Wizards and other multi-elemental mage Classes. It was also very powerful in both its damage and speed. The -mancer type mages lacked utility other mages brought, but their specializations made for deadly power.
A support Class that could enhance my mana or spellcasting abilities mixed with multiple specialized mage Classes, would grant me massive offensive power. But, it would not get me out of this collar.
I had to focus on defeating the metal around my neck even if it meant losing a Class or two to do it. Two harmonious Classes would put me on par with the strongest warriors of the world. If not in levels or weapons.
Both fortunately and unfortunately every god had a list of Classes nearly a hundred long. I picked out and remembered some of the more interesting ones that I found, but it was still going to take days just to chose.
The first priest I met at the temple finally visited me in my gluttonous state.
“Young Lavistis, you’re feeling better I see,” the man said looking pointedly at my bowl of beef stew on the table.
“Please, call me Lavi. Every time someone has called me Lavistis, I had done something to make them angry. It was usually my mother,” I let out a chuckle at the memory my last statement brought me.
"Lavi then, I must admit I was hoping for a miracle in you. Thousands of priests joined with you in prayer; I was hoping for a sign from the gods that they rejected the slave collar around your neck. If your story is true, they not only didn't reject the cursed item but accepted it without complaint."
I tried to ease his disappointment with my understanding of the gods, "I hadn't thought of it like that. I don't think that would be fair to them. As a child I watched an ant colony in the woods near my home swarm up a nearby tree. They invaded the home of some flying insect nested above them.
“Even then, a mere child could have splashed a bucket of water on the tree and anthill to disrupt the brutal attack. How many ants would I have harmed. What about the ones left stranded in the nest they were invading? It was likely a territorial war of some form; I had no right to pick a side and would never have been able to have them make peace."
"So we are insects to them?"
I replied, "Oh they care more about us than we do insects, but we are in fact insects relative to them. Any one of the gods could crush any army this plane has ever mustered. I think as a collective they limit any action each of the others can take regarding this world. Even down to the power of Classes gifted to us."
Growing more certain of my conclusion with every word spoken, I silently forgave the gods who actually granted me a Class instead of ignoring me entirely.
"If this is true it could change the way the people regard the gods. Us priests would not find ourselves as protected from political dangers if nations did not fear the wrath of our gods."
We sat in silence for a few minutes allowing ourselves to think on the implications of my revelation. The priest, Mulner, brought up more casual topics and we talked for nearly an hour.
"My collar is compelling me quite forcefully now to return to the mines," the priest just nodded at my statement.
I focused my mind back into the void in an attempt to make my next words seem cold, "You don't have to rely on the gods to end slavery. A powerful noble has been enslaved by our empire.
“We will light a pyre to set the night afire,
War this way comes."
The effect was noticeable even to my ears, and something twisted my final words poetically. I knew my true meaning was understood by the priest when his eyes widened; I was not unaffected by my time spent with the gods.
Soft prayers followed me through the door.
When I entered the mines again my collar ended its siege on my mind. Two different men were standing guard inside. They were new and I had never bribed either of them yet, and I don't think the senior guardsmen mentioned me to them. Neither payed any attention to me or the Mythril ore other guards would have assumed I carried. Especially after my long trip in the depths of the mine. I didn't need to bribe any guards this time, for a stolen sack of uncooked rice was stashed in my bag.
Edward stood out in the group of slaves that were sleeping in our common chamber. He must've been near eight feet tall with thick brown hair that hang down his back tied in a pony tail.
I was tempted to scare him as he had me a few days ago but thought better of it and just spoke softly from a short distance, "Edward, you awake?"
My friend didn't answer just slowly began to stand up. When a giant stands slowly it takes a while, so I snacked on one of the sweet rolls I stole from the kitchen. Normally that would be dangerous, but no other slaves would rob me with Edward around. I didn't think about how Edward would react though.
"Thanks," he said.
His hand blurred, and the half eaten roll I was holding disappeared into the cavern that was his mouth.
"Uh-, you're welcome,"
He asked me, "Got anything else in that bag of salvation?"
"Not here," I replied and motioned for him to follow as I walked toward the mines.
I knew I could get away with my vanishing act to escape for a while, but Edward was neither immune to the poison nor free to disappear. He was a hostage or a prize; I really wasn't clear on his history. Edward only told me he was originally paraded about, but was sent here as punishment for some misdeed. The smile on his face when he told me even that much, made me want to drag the story out of him.
My friend didn't look ill but I had to find out, "How are you doing with the poison?"
"I'm doing fine; an assassin was among my trainers and helped me develop resistances to many poisons, so I'm probably immune."
Refusing to turn around and reveal the shock that must've shown on my face, I kept walking forward. Edwards footsteps were much slower than mine, but he kept pace just fine.
"Edward," I began. "Why have you befriended me?"
He followed me silently for a few moments before replying, "You're the youngest kid in this death trap. Imagine my surprise when I'd found out you were here nearly two years longer than anyone else. I was impressed kid; I think you'll become someone someday, and I want you on my side when that happens."
I pulled at the collar on my neck.
Resting a hand on my shoulder he said, "How long before you decide to remove that piece of scrap metal."
He might've had a literal thick skull, but it didn't translate metaphorically.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
"What makes you think I can?" I said.
His foreign accent came out strong with his mildly agitated reply, "The fact that you walked out of here looking like a skeleton, with that determination frozen on your face. I thought you went out to gain a Class or die, then you walk back in with a bloody smile on your face and no Class. I'd think you just crawled out of bed with a beautiful women, if I didn't know better. So, what is it; did you get laid or find a way to remove that collar?"
"I haven't found a way yet, but I think the gods gave me the knowledge to do so. It's a bit indirect and complicated."
"Gods," he said in an empathetic complaint.
A hidden observer appeared in front of us. I hadn't the slightest clue he was there and jumped backward raising my pick ready for a fight. Edward just waved to the masked figure before us.
"It's about time you found me. I'm about tired of this blasted collar on my neck," Edward complained to the newcomer.
"Unfortunately you're going to have to deal with that discomfort a little longer," the stranger replied. "We aren't yet in a position to extract you from the mines. Above us in the town there is a Paladin and other elite warriors questioning the priests on some strange phenomenon that originated in the temple here."
"Why show yourself in front of the boy then?" Edward asked.
"He's expendable."
I had never seen Edward truly angry before. By the end of the tongue lashing he gave the man, he was holding him one handed by the neck up against a wall.
Coughing the Assassin apologized to the giant, "I'm—sorry Lord—Edward."
I announced with false cheer, "Well now that's all cleared up, I think I'll be heading off on my vacation from this slave den."
One of my remaining sweet rolls came out of my bag and I tossed it to Edward. I owed him for all the crystals he'd given me. The debt still wasn't paid, but I had work to do and Classes to chose.
It was tempting to chose one right away, but there was an ancient spirit in the smithy Malcom found years ago. Hagen was an annoying ghost but could be helpful and gave good advice.
The time passed by quickly and so did the miles. I barely rested and reached my destination nearly a full day faster than ever before. A soft feather mattress awaited me in the closet size residence attached to the smithy.
A loud voice, strongly accented, woke me, "You're back lad! I don't see any Class listed on your status page; did ye gods screw ya over again?"
I tried telling the coming headache to go away, and when that failed I told the source to leave me alone. The transparent dwarf just laughed at me. Standing up despite the sudden pain was a bad idea, and I collapsed back onto the bed.
After a few minutes of the ghost pestering me, I managed to wake up and make some tea using a pot and some coal from the forge. My headache subsided slowly.
"It'll be okay lad, ye not be the only one without a Class. You're a mighty fine smith thanks to me," Hagen said consolingly.
I waved my hand dismissing his concern, "I've brought much better than a simple Class back here with me; I've come with a choice."
Remembering the sudden appearance of the Assassin, I chose my words carefully. The dead smith listened intently as I gave an altered version of my story.
"That's it," I said. "Death took me to the Dwarven god and tricked him into giving me a Class he knew he would reset later. I now have my choice of any Class your god can bestow."
The dwarf looked shocked, but it didn't take him more than a moment to shout, "Dark Smith! Ye fool what're ya waiting for; choose Dark Smith!"
I had expected to go over the list in great depth. Listening to his advice, stating my own opinions, and eventually choosing a good Class. The ghost shocked the hell out of me.
"Please Hagen, tell me why this Dark Smith and not one of the others. Most of them I've never even heard of. There are probably many you haven't either."
"Don't think ye'd do better than Dark Smith. Even if ya could I dun think it'd be able to turn that metal around your neck into so much scrap."
The dwarf spoke well for a man who had to relearn the common human tongue from an ancient version he'd previously known. Conversation broke down into a purely one sided debate. I tried to go over the list of Classes with me even reading many descriptions aloud, while he just repeated Dark Smith and called everything else trash.
"Listen, I know I'm more than bit bias when it comes to this choice for ya lad. But, The Dark Smith of Vengrade was a legend even in my time. Many of the classes ya've named thus far are truly strong; I've heard of them. Ye gods be stingy these days, so don't go thinking I've gone crazy now.
"Ya be freaking out that it's a mere crafting Class, but it's far more than just that. The Dark Smith from my time created powerful weapons to be sure, but it was his ability to bond with his own creations that made them far stronger than any relic you'd scrounge out of a Dragon den."
With that knowledge and his promise it could scrap the collar, my choice was made.
Class received, Dark Smith; a crafting Class that can augment forged weapons and armor.
Nothing in that description helped me feel, I didn't make a mistake. Of course I saw the description before selecting the Class, but I had to assume the brief description wasn't all there was to it.
I spent a few minutes going through the new choices my first Class gave me. The basic skill of a Dark Smith seemed to be the armor and weapon bond Hagen spoke of.
Class Trait: Equipment and armor you bear will be 50% more effective if forged by you.
A fifty-percent bonus to a weapons power and armors defense was far more than I had expected. The dwarven smith was right in choosing this Class. There was one ability listed that I needed to purchase immediately. Somehow I had more than enough Class Points for the skill.
400CP Sunder: Cost 50 mana; deconstructs any crafted item with a chance of obtaining ingredients used in creating the item.
With 2,452CP listed I purchased the ability. There was no reason to use it right away other than to test it. My caller needed to stay on lest Edward think I'm dead if the guards mention their loss.
Walking up to a wall filled with ancient weapons, I targeted a broken sword. It's level 70 requirement to wield made it useless for almost anyone in the current age.
"Sunder," I spoke aloud casting the spell at the rusted great sword.
"No!" I heard the ghost shout. But, it was too late; my spell went off much quicker than I expected and the relic sword shattered leaving behind a perfect ingot of black metal.
He yelled at me, "Do ye be fucking mad lad. That sword there was priceless." His face looked like the loss caused him physical pain.
"Okay, I"m sorry won't do it again," I told him. "But, that sword left an ingot of orichalcum and raised my smithing skill to 80. Also, it gave me another 50CP."
My attempts at pacifying the angry dwarf failed. He went on an angry tirade cursing me and my mother along with a few other relatives I'd never known. Only time and venting cooled the ghosts temper.
When he spoke again, it wasn't what I expected, "80 in ye smithing skill ya say. It's time then, take off ye clothes."
I barely managed a sound of protest before Hagen ordered slowly and pointedly, "Take—off—your—clothes."
My shirt came off reluctantly. I truly had no idea what the dwarf wanted, but it didn't sound like something I wanted to be doing. He stared at my shirtless form and pointed at my slacks. I took them off next and crossed my arms facing the ghost.
"Undergarments to," he said.
"No way!"
Laughter burst out from the back corner of the smithy. Fear raced through my veins until I realized who it was. Edward's Assassin laying on the ground laughing loudly.
"Haha, oh man, I can't, I can't wait until Edward hears of this."
I looked to the smith for help but saw no sympathy there only a smile.
"You knew, dammit you knew he was there didn't you!" I yelled at Hagen. He just nodded.
After a few moments of cursing over the Assassin's laughter we both settled down.
I said, "So, I assume you're not here to kill me."
"No, well maybe, but only if I thought you were going to inform someone of my existence. After a day had passed I just continued following out of curiosity. You'll not make it back before the Paladin leaves and we can safely escape."
The older smith addressed our stalker, "Now that ye've seen ya a show and curiosity been quenched leave us. I dun think my apprentice be willing to continue this ritual if ya plannin to stay and watch."
The Assassin let out a few more chuckles as he exited the smithy. Hagen left a few minutes later and checked nearby to see if the man had stuck around.
"Now I know ye be holding back on the story ya told me lad. I don't think ye be not trustin of me, so how did ye know of our stalker," he asked me.
"He is Edward's Assassin or his father's. Doesn't matter, I just assumed he would be following me so I was cautious about what I said."
Hagen laughed as he replied, "That's what I like about ya lad. What ye lack in skill ya make up for in brains and balls," he said while making a show of grabbing his crotch.
The grotesque gesture was made even more so by my current state of dress.
"Now lets spend some of those points ya be hoarding," he said, "And take off that damn cloth already, I ain't got all day," the master smith commanded and I ashamedly obeyed.
With his guiding knowledge we spent almost all of my points on upgrades and abilities. It turns out all of my previous smiting successes carried over to my Dark Smith Class. When I decided on another Class, it would not grant me as much power so immediately.
2,102CP
200CP Increase weapon damage I.
500CP Increase weapon damage II.
1,000CP Increase weapon damage III.
500CP Set weapon level to Scaling.
I correctly assumed that all of the abilities Hagen had me purchase meant his ritual was about forging a weapon. Unfortunately for Hagen my CP total came up short for all of the abilities I would need. He reluctantly picked through broken and rusted armor and weapons for me to Sunder. This felt like a complete hack for gaining CP. With a mere 50% success rate, we lost four pieces of armor and gained two more rare ingots. The items that were destroyed and failed to leave an ingredient granted no CP.
Hagen was Master Smith, both in skill and gifted Class. He had an ability to increase another smith to their next rank temporarily. Even as a ghost he retained many of his worldly abilities.
The story of the fallen city below, and the ghosts still trapped inside the ward, was a sad one. Hagen stayed behind to protect and help free them. It was something Malcom and I as slaves were unable to help with, but we were company for the lonely dwarf. He had used some ability of his own to separate his soul from his body, so he could retain some measure of power and ability to affect the real world even in death.
"Now that ye have most of ya weapon abilities unlocked, it's time to pick a metal. The metal's spirit be even more important than the kind of metal." the dwarf said.
I questioned him, "The spirit?"
"Yes, most metals contain a spirit. They melt and merge with the spirits of other metals when mixed or just melt and reform if it's forged alone."
I tried to seek out the spirit of an ingot I pulled from a shelf. Something about becoming an expert ranked smith allowed me to feel the metal. Almost an empathetic connection, it changed when the master smith used his rank-up ability on me. The spirit didn't possess thought or feeling like a mortal being. However, it did have a personality of sorts. The spirit had an imprint of its history from he heat from the forge that merged it's former separate selves into one and many memories of sitting snugly in the pressure of the ground.
The steel ingot in my hand wanted to return to that pressure—that comfort. It was angry at it's current state surrounded by air. I went through and felt the desires of many more ingots of various metals each having it's own perspective.
One chunk of Mythril, and another ingot of steel stood out. Both felt the same depression as the first having laid stagnant surrounded by air for millennia , but each of these were obtained from the ancient relics I sundered earlier. These two remembered being something more than what they were and craved to be so again.
Placing the two together their spirits harmonized; tendrils of essence lapping out tasting my skin. It was as if they had sensed I was a smith.
I asked the dwarf who was watching me, "Can Mythril and steel be combined? Stop looking at me like that, I'm naked and it's creeping me out."
Hagen laughed and pointed at the forge before replying, "Lad this forge be made by the Dungeon that once these tunnels were. With a forge like this I, a mere Master Smith, could best the Dark Smith himself.
"Mythril Steel takes heat to fully merge the two. A powerful mage or Pyromancer can heat a forge sure enough, but this forge need not even that."
He pointed to a stone dial to the left of the forge and told me to turn it until the arrow reached XI. The forge lit aflame with a bright white fire. The room began to heat, and I knew my body would not be able to take it for long.
"I have to open the door," I said and did just that.
It wasn't enough the room still heated, and standing near the forge was impossible.
The dwarf shook his head and complained, "Right, human smith almost forgot."
He did forget, but I refrained from pointing that out.
"Lad, tell me ye Dark Smith Class has the ability for heat resistance," he said.
"It does—"
Hagen spoke again before I could finish, "And ye tell me it's not going to cost me more then one or two more priceless artifacts."
150CP Heat Resistance: Reduces the effect of extreme heat.
By the time my dwarven friend picked out six more sacrifices, I felt the need to clean my ears out from his curses. My original 2,500 points took me two years to accumulate. I'd just gained more than 300 in an hour using Sunder on weapons that didn't even belong to me. Then I realized the fortune that was lost and began to regret the loss nearly as much as Hagen.
The pot of fireproof clay gave off waves of heat, as the metallic liquid inside began to cool. Before the liquid began to solidify I poured it into a large mold that only vaguely resembled the shape of a sword.
I waited until the white hot metal was solid enough to remove with tongs and began hammering it on the anvil. I shaped the Mythril Steel by stretching it then folding the metal over and over again. Blue and white sparks flew from every impact scorching me with their heat. My mind found the void once again and I brought the hammer, anvil, and metal blacking everything else out.
The original short sword lengthened into a thin blade that curved slightly along its length. The alloy held on to the heat well and only rarely needed to be placed back into the forge, and the metal was easy to work. Still, several hours had passed before I was done with my craft.
You have created a Named Weapon. Choose a name for this Mythril Steel sword?
A voice distracted me from the new notification "Well done lad! Is ye child a boy or girl?" The smith laughed at his own jest. "What was that blackness around ya; a trick of the Dark Smith?"
I hadn't thought of what the void would mean for my forged weapon.