“What, you think it is the Stone Caldera’s quarry?” Conni asked.

Luke followed Tristan’s gaze, “Forsaken gods, Tristan, I hope you’re just paranoid.”

He set Fluffy down before he coated himself in lightning. The next moment he flashed away. Tristan was not sure that the lightning made him faster, but it did make him easy to follow. It was technically still early morning, but the light in the east had gotten so bright that he could not tell the difference between morning and evening by the daylight. It was also midwinter on the top of a mountain making the seventy-degree weather unseasonably warm.

Conni was still handing out plates, but the soldiers were no longer wandering off to sit and eat. Instead, they were listening in on their conversation, and feeding Fluffy. Part of Tristan wanted privacy, this felt like sensitive information. However, it was pure speculation until Luke returned in ten or so minutes.

“What is he doing?” Conni asked once he realized that Luke was heading for the lake a dozen miles away instead of the City walls.

“Do you remember when I did some experiments on the elemental, the weak earth one that Siren caught,” Tristan asked.

Conni nodded, “You went crazy and tried to kill me.”

Tristan had explained the vision to Conni in the past. However, as the foreman was not the one having the experience, it was reasonable that he would forget a small detail like the fortress being cut in half. Tristan was sure that he would have focused on the clash of gods and saints over the destruction of a shelter.

“That’s not good,” Conni said.

All the people who had heard Tristan were eyeing the Lake uncertainly. They were probably picturing the conflict restarting, but this time needing to face two different armies. If they could not kill the Lord of the Underworld, then there was no way for a bunch of craftsmen and farmers to win a fight like that.

Tristan turned to the only person he knew who might have an answer. Vulcan had been able to speak for short bursts, he was hoping that the heavy usage of the soul tool would have diluted his corrupted essence enough for a response. He did not send a thought in the form of words. He used an image imbued with feelings that completely encapsulated his current situation.

There was a sharp pain, almost like a sheet of metal being torn like paper. However, he got a response. It was a picture as well, one filled with fear. Simply put, the message was run, there is no hope. Flee before the sovereign arrives.

Tristan tried to interpret the message. Was Vulcan trying to get him to avoid the Lord of the Underworld? Previously he had been dismissive of the elemental. It was not weak, but it was incapable of growth. Tristan would eventually be able to handle it, even if it took a decade or two of breaking his kern to reach tier seven and get a second force.

He was pulled out of his musings by Luke blurring back. Tristan knew that air and light kerns were quite fast, but seeing just how fast was awe-inspiring. Luke covered the twelve miles in five minutes, and when he skidded to a stop, his heels dug furrows into the dirt.

“What did you find?” Tristan asked while Luke worked to catch his breath.

“There’s a whole damned legion down there,” Luke huffed.

“Shouldn’t you take that to the commander?” Conni gestured toward the center of the camp.

Luke proffered his now empty dish back to Conni, “No, well maybe. The elemental lord is doing something with air to make the metal buoyant. I think he is trying to make the metal structure float.”

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“Metal doesn’t float,” Tristan said. It was an issue that those with metal and stone kerns possessed. They were too dense to float, making them disproportionately more difficult to swim than other kerns.

Luke shook his head, “I don’t think this is the time to argue about how ignorant you are about buoyancy. Conni is right, I need to go let Siren know.”

For a moment he considered following, but he was unsure what he would add to the conversation. He was also tempted to head over to the Lake and take a look for himself. However, if Luke had not considered it a fight worth taking, Tristan knew he would be able to do very little. Sighing he turned back to the cauldron and continued stirring.

Conni continued serving the soldiers food, though at a more rushed pace. He was trying to get everyone fed before they needed to fight again. Every time he passed out a bowl he recommended that the recipient should take a nap. Tristan had been pushing off sleep, higher tiers did not need to sleep less, but the side effects from avoiding it built up more slowly.

Grace returned two hours later. She grabbed more ingredients and started dumping them into the cauldron followed by some water created by a tier three warrior. After building up the fire below the food, she took over from Tristan.

“Thank you for letting me rest, you should try to get some as well,” Grace smiled.

Tristan shrugged, “That is probably wise, but I don’t think I could sleep. Not with more than one army sitting just a few miles away. I will take some food if you’re offering.”

He made a metal bowl using a little architect alloy, not wanting to feel obligated to return any silverware. Grace inspected the bowl with a little jealousy, “You know this is unfair, I would never have to clean dishes again.”

Conni laughed, “I’m the one who does the dishes.”

“You’re the one who thinks he does the dishes, you mean,” Grace rebutted.

Tristan smiled at the couple. He took the bowl and started walking away. Not having anything better to do he went to where he left he left his bag, intending to read the three alchemy books again. He paused when he opened the bag, books were not the only thing he had in there. Slowly he removed the silver skull.

It looked human, except for the sharpened canines. The lower jaw was absent, so he could not tell if it was duplicated on the bottom ones. He had picked up the skull for one reason and that reason had not changed. There was a way to turn flesh, or at least living material, into metal, and he wanted that. Hadrid had claimed that the soul in any creature would stop it from being tampered with, but this was proof to the contrary.

For the first time in a while, he had time to kill and needed a distraction. With a liberal application of his willpower, he drew in his metal sense until it was completely focused on the bone. The structure was different than anything he had ever seen, but also similar to what Vulcan had described when he was getting his heart primed for healing by Hadrid.

With his metal sense, he could feel repeating sections that were vaguely the same shape. They were interlocking and individually had little grip, but together they formed a dense metal. Were these the cells that Vulcan had mentioned? If so, he was looking at metal cell walls. Vulcan had only mentioned to stay away from the mitochondria. Looking at his hand he wondered why he couldn’t give himself metal skin.

He opened up ‘Biological Tampering’ and ‘Collecting and Transferring Essence.’ According to Biological Tampering, the skull was a result of an infusion of a force. However, even this book claimed that any enhancements to animals had to be done at or before birth. Tristan knew there was another way, but he was not aware that it could be done with a skull.

Vulcan had mentioned that alchemists would cut off body parts, and then reattach them after augmentation. Normally that would not be a valid process, as one could not just put an arm back on. Tristan had access to the healing force, so it was not impossible to do. He would need to practice reattaching limbs on others first. More than likely he would need to place nerves and important arteries next to the severed ends and he would need to identify those before he was willing to mutilate himself.

Maybe he could visit the hospital. The doctors would be unlikely to allow Tristan to touch their patients, especially after sending eleven of the Caldera’s best there. Also, doctors would be unlikely to let him test reattaching dead flesh back onto their patients. It was not as if he would lack opportunities to heal his own injuries in the upcoming fight.

He was trying to understand how alchemists retrieved forces from essence reservoirs and added them to living creatures. Hadrid had made it seem easy, but he also had advanced equipment. Reaching to his belt, he rested his palm on the adamance reservoir attached to his knife. An adamant body would be perfect, nearly unbreakable skin and bones with a layer of healing to add protection. Tristan would never have to worry about anyone again.

Due to his fantasies about becoming all-powerful, Tristan missed the person walking up. At least until she bonked him on the head with a wooden pole.

“Huh,” Tristan looked up and met the prismatic eyes of Jenna, one of Siren’s elite.

“C’mon the boss wants to see you,” She did not bother to check if he was following.