Luke’s shoulder was burning, and as time went on it just got more intense. The pain ripping through the muscles was bad enough that he couldn’t think of anything else. With each breath out, Luke grunted like a wounded animal. I will not break.

[+1 Endurance Cultivated.]

As soon as he felt the notification, Luke let go of the chain he was holding and dropped from the ceiling. He landed gracefully on his feet. It had been a couple of days since the fight with the ghouls and he had pushed himself non-stop. He had continued to clear the surrounding district at a measured pace and had flooded the market with his loot.

With his efforts, he had thirty items listed for sale, which was the maximum that his burgeoning storage space could currently hold. The space wasn’t just a black void anymore, and had taken the shape of his garden shed. He couldn’t walk around the space physically, but he could look in on it with his mind’s eye.

Outside of his soulspace, Luke had a few [Undeath] items stored in the warehouse next door to the forge. The necrotic merchandise didn’t sell particularly well, and Rurik forbade keeping them inside his forge. He was loath to get rid of loot, so he was hoarding them.

For the most part, Luke funnelled his credits back into cultivation resources. The [Primordial Leaf] had shown the difference between rarities, and good quality stuff was expensive.

As he stuffed himself full of aether, Luke had noticed that earning attributes was becoming progressively more difficult. To cultivate [Endurance], he had been doing deadman’s hangs for most of the last hour; one-handed. You can’t argue with results, Luke thought, as he called up his screens.

Luke Evans - Level 8 Human

Attributes

Will: 20

Empathy: 11

Wisdom: 12

Intellect: 13

Agility: 14

Strength: 24

Endurance: 21

Recovery: 16

Free points: 1

Concepts (Maximum Reached for Mortal Tier):

Forerunner (Bronze, 32%): +2 all attributes. +10% experience gained.

Murderhobo (Gold, 90%): +5 Will, +3 Strength, -1 Empathy. +40% loot.

Warhammer (Gold, 8%): +5 Strength, augments hammers.

Undead (Copper, 1%): +1 Endurance, 15% necrotic resistance

Bulwark (Gold 14%): +5 Endurance, augments armour.

Through hard work and focus, Luke had ground out a point in [Agility], a couple in [Strength], and this last point marked his second point in [Endurance]. On top of that, he had killed enough undead with his hammer to grind his [Warhammer] to gold, for an additional two strength.

After discussion with Rurik about the Saurian method of cultivation, Luke had figured out that [Will] and [Empathy] determined his internal and external aether control, respectively. He still didn’t really understand what that meant.

Luke remembered how resisting the [Tyranny] domain of the ghoul captain had provided a catalyst to cultivate [Will]. As a result, he realised he could use his soul surgery sessions to do the same. Soul surgery required a great deal of internal control.

All that agony netted him two points in [Will], and the last point he had gained was the free point from reaching level eight. He was keeping it in reserve. A short-term surge in power, speed or regeneration in an emergency was worth a sub-optimal attribute spread as far as he was concerned.

Unfortunately, Luke still hadn’t entirely removed the [Undeath] concept from his soul. His purchase of the [Primordial Leaf] had drained his credit balance until the next day. As a result, he ate shambler meat that night, rather than going hungry. Luke had removed most of his [Undeath] concept, but a couple of stubborn threads remained.

An unexpected benefit of Luke’s friendly fire encounter was that Rurik had thrown himself into making Luke a set of armour. When the dwarf sobered up, he had been distraught. In his own words, he had almost killed his only friend in centuries. The burns had healed pretty well, so Luke didn’t hold a grudge, but he wasn’t going to say no to a master-crafted set of armour. He didn’t have many friends either.

Now that he was paying attention, Luke noticed a few odd quirks in the forgemaster’s behaviour. Rurik had a tendency to talk to the metal as he was working.

This wasn’t just a few errant thoughts spoken aloud.

The forgemaster had long rambling conversations with chunks of glowing metal. What was more, he often became irrationally angry at the smallest imperfections in his own work. When this happened the entire forge would heat up as the dwarf smouldered.

During these outbursts, Luke went exploring and continued to clear the city of necrotic influence. With his boosted attributes Luke found less and less challenge in the local monsters, and became bolder in the fights he took on. He avoided Draugsvär patrols when he saw them, but had killed an isolated ghoul earlier in the day.

Easy fights were known to give less aetheric transfer, or ‘experience’, and after beating the ghoul, Luke felt like he was on the verge of a level up. On top of this, he felt ready to manifest his [Warhammer] ability, he just needed the right catalyst. Not wanting to stagnate, he had planned to make an expedition to the deep city.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Manifested abilities varied from person to person and evolved with them. For Luke, he felt the key to the [Warhammer] was all about momentum. If he could form the ability with his hammer, then he was confident he could do the same for his [Bulwark]. In a way, [Bulwark] was the polar opposite of [Warhammer], being about stopping momentum.

As Luke stretched out his tortured muscles he went over to check if Rurik was finally finished with his armour. As far as Luke could tell, the forgemaster had finished hours ago, and was just fussing over details, but when he suggested so Rurik had brushed him off as ridiculous.

Rurik was detailing a symbol just over the left breastplate, in the shape of an elaborate flame drawn in a Celtic style. The entire piece was a work of art with intricately carved runes all over the metal. These symbols whispered their domains to the aether, but the elegant design obscured the details.

Instead of telling an observer exactly what they were doing, the runes obscured their secrets with a story of Lundheim that was. It was a story of the Eldrinsvär, a hard-working race of crafters, brought low by a foul betrayal. The plate spoke of the promise of revenge. So captivated by the runes was Luke, that he didn’t notice that the forgemaster had stopped chiselling.

“I take it you like it then, son?” The dwarf asked in that tone of voice people use when asking a rhetorical question.

Luke turned his gaze to Rurik, meeting the smug gaze, “Hell yeah! It looks like a suit of power armour,” he replied. As far as Luke was concerned, the forgemaster had every right to be a little arrogant.

[Eldrinsvär Royal Plate - Epic (Initiate) - Plate armour imbued with Fire, and other enhancements.]

It was the first epic item Luke had seen. Almost everything he had seen in the marketplace ranged from basic to uncommon. He had only seen a handful of rare items.

“It is some of my finest work, I packed as much of my aether into it as I could,” Rurik said, and a quick glance at the dwarf made it apparent that he was drained. “Try not to lose it, eh son? Also… try not to die. It’s been a while since I had someone interesting to talk to. The last world we anchored in was full of giant bugs that ate everything, even the shadow titans,” Rurik said.

Luke suppressed a shudder. He hated bugs. “That sounds… unpleasant.”

“Certainly was, son. At least it was over quickly. The bugs didn’t leave any aether after their first delve, so the dreamspace couldn’t replenish itself. I only died once before the connection broke,” Rurik said.

“That’s horrific,” Luke said. He was curious about what it was like to die, but didn’t want to upset Rurik by asking.

“It’s hardly the worst world we’ve visited. The omniverse is a brutal place. Most new worlds we visit I get killed dozens of times.” Rurik explained.

“Damn… I’m sorry.” Luke said.

“You did nothing wrong, son, why are you apologising?” Rurik said. The dwarf sounded genuinely confused.

“It’s a human thing, I guess,” Luke said. It was no wonder the man was a little unstable at times. Centuries of isolation, interspersed by being killed repeatedly would drive anyone crazy. Luke checked the quest he received.

[Quest: Kill the Forge Master. Reward - Choice of Rare Item, 10’000 credits, 1 Golden Ticket, 1 Free Attribute Point.]

Those rewards would be a significant windfall, but only humans had a training system, and the quests that came with it. Yet, even without the quest, Rurik’s aether was a sought after resource for [Fire] cultivators. He was a living embodiment of the concept. As long as the dungeon kept him alive, Rurik was essentially a renewable resource.

To his shame, for the briefest of moments Luke had a dark thought; I do need a gold ticket.

It was an intrusive thought, and he clamped down hard on it. Rurik had spent literally every minute of the past two days making him a kick-ass piece of armour.

The dwarf said that the armour was his way of apologising, but without him Luke would be dead. Even the poorly aimed fireball had probably saved Luke’s life by taking out one of his assailants. Luke realised the forgemaster was staring at him curiously and broke from his introspection.

“Nevermind, I just mean that I’m sorry you went through that, and thank you. This is the best gift I’ve ever been given,” Luke said, and he was only slightly exaggerating; it was the second-best.

Growing up with a sickly brother, Luke had always played second fiddle. It wasn’t as if his parents starved him or anything, but with Nathan in hospital half the time, he had always been an afterthought.

This only got worse when his mother started drinking.

As a result, the best present he ever received was the one Nathan gave him on his eighteenth birthday. The scrawny little nerd had built him a fancy new computer from second hand parts, so that they could keep in touch playing games together.

A somewhat awkward silence fell between the two men in the forge. Rurik broke the silence by handing Luke a sleek gauntlet. Talking about the armour loosened the forgemaster’s tongue, and he helped Luke put it on. Rurik spoke about the design, and how to take care of it, but was tightlipped about certain runes.

With Luke’s enhanced brawn, he hadn’t been expecting the armour to feel heavy, but it surprised him how light it felt when worn. This was part of what made the cultivated aeldrin metal so sought after.

The armour’s helm had a familiar Y shaped gap for a visor with a key difference.

When Luke put the helmet on, a thin layer of red energy appeared to cover the visor. It was condensed aether, and gave off a strong [Fire] aura, but didn’t burn him. Not only would it protect his eyes and face, but it had a filter that could give him heat vision. Luke tried not to squeal like an excited child as Rurik explained.

When Luke saw himself in the polished shield that Rurik used as a mirror he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. The darkened aeldrin steel smouldered like burning coal, and molten red aether flowed through the runes like a flowing river of magma. With the glowing red visor Luke looked like a total badass. I wouldn’t want to fight me. Luke thought.

The whole thing fit snugly, and Luke didn’t even remember giving the forgemaster his measurements. As he spun his hammer around, he found the gauntlets had very little effect on his manual dexterity; it wasn’t much worse than wearing winter gloves.

There was something Luke had been on the fence about, but feeling the armour thrum with power he decided. Sinking into a meditative state Luke let the world slip away until all he could sense was his own soul. It was still a tangled mess, but he had become familiar with its rough shape.

With determination he found the last worm of necrotic essence and gripped it by the tail. Gently, Luke pinched it off. Having been through the process quite a few times he bore the pain without flinching.

[Concept Removed: Undeath - Copper Rank. -1 Endurance.]

Luke opened his eyes. “Rurik, can you teach me [Fire]?”

Rurik smiled, and led Luke to sit in front of the furnace. The forgemaster made a small gesture with his hand, and the orange flames grew hotter and brighter. They cycled through the colours, from yellow, to blue, and then violet and beyond.

Luke could tell the [Fire] was getting hotter as it became more pure and packed full of aether. If it wasn’t for Rurik acting as a heat sink he was confident that he would burn to a crisp, and the stones of the forge itself would melt.

The forgemaster gently guided Luke into a meditative state, and gradually he began to see things in the flames. He saw a vision of a distant past, where primitive humans first learned to cook with fire. He could almost taste the meat roasting over the open fire. The crackle of animal fat gradually gave way to the roar of a funeral pyre, to the flaming arrows raining from the sky, and to the pumping of pistons as the first combustion engine roared to life.

Without [Fire], humanity would be stuck in the stone age.

[Fire] was creation.

[Fire] was destruction.

[Fire] was the tool that birthed civilization.

[Fire] was the weapon that consumed all it touched.

[Concept Gained: Fire - Copper rank. +1 Empathy. Like moths drawn to a flame.]

Time to burn this place down.