Eik opened his eyes to a tiny, hairy paw jammed into his open mouth. Grumbling, he spit it out, jolting his cat awake. Mis looked at him accusatorially through cracked eyelids. The covers tempted him to stay for five more minutes but he had an appointment today.

Drowsy and wearing only his pajama pants he made his way down to the kitchen, where Mis was already waiting for him to pour some breakfast into her bowl. He stared at her uncomprehendingly, then up at his bedroom, then back at her, her tail swishing back and forth with impatience.

“Wh—, but weren’t you just…?” He shrugged and poured out some of yesterday’s leftovers for her, the soft clinking of the bowl getting her little paws tapping. He poured some for himself as well and ate while watching a man and a woman work on the hole in his wall.

He’d commissioned the repair job for a considerable sum, leaving his savings close to drained. Although he had some money left from running his business, as well as the reward money for their day trip into the new forest where they killed the awakened bison and discovered the lake, living was an expensive affair nonetheless.

The woman walked past the still gaping hole, carrying a huge stack of solid wood planks. At a workbench set up in Eik’s garden the man was hammering in nails at a rate of two per second, each of them taking only one hit to bury the whole length in the wood.

It had also been so before the Final Awakening, as the event of all humans awakening had come to be called, but recently the general utilization of Awakened abilities outside of combat-related matters had become so prevalent that it was difficult to recognize the way some industries worked.

As an example, construction was approaching the efficiency of Earth before the global collapse with every builder having some sort of super power that assisted them in their work.

Harry’s grandmother, with her high-level Steady Hands skill, was another example of someone who entered this new phase of reality without ever fighting. Everybody had their place in the new world, not just the fighters and adventurers. People still needed food, clothes, homes, gear, and other tertiary services.

He poured some hot water into his favorite mug and watched a dark green hue wash through the liquid as the dried leaves released their flavor. With a sniff, he ruled out a couple of initial guesses about the toxic substance brewed into the tea. It was no secret that none of the plants he had in storage posed any threat to him anymore at this point. His Resistance: Toxin skill more or less nullified anything they could throw at him.

Nonetheless, the exercise itself was something that he felt benefitted his ability to act in tense and dangerous situations. He downed the concoction in one big mouthful, shivers running over his skin and muscles roiling like waves within his body as the Noxious Invigoration came alive.

The effect was far weaker that it had been when the insane cult leader had forced that toxin substance down his throat. He had tried a number of different toxic plants in the days since their return from the rescue mission for the Nidafjeld Alliance and none of them had yielded anywhere near the strength of that time, leading him to conclude that the potency of the power granted by Noxious Invigoration was closely linked to the potency of the poison that kicked it into action.

He finished his breakfast—a plate of pan fried trout, hearty garden potatoes, also fried well on the pan, and a generous glob of butter—and tossed the plate into the sink, vowing solemnly to deal with that headache tonight. He threw on a light coat, stepped into his boots, and headed out, offering his builders some homemade chocolate chip cookies on his way out. They accepted.

Eik’s appointment today was with Andrew Brooks, the C-ranker who had taken charge of Mission Central during the second monster wave. Apparently, the reward he had promised Eik for his role in ensuring the safety and survival of many Awakened as they fought for their shared home of Forest was finally ready.

With the help of Heath, Sonja, and Michael, as well as a few other volunteers, he had made enough of the lifesaving healing spheres to supply all of the fighters deployed from Mission Central.

He walked through his neighborhood, greeting those he knew and nodding to those he didn’t. It was a comfortable change of pace from the way his personal time had immediately been rudely claimed by any chap with any authority in Forest from the second he walked back through the fracture. An entire damned army had been camped out in the city square to wait for them to return from the Nidafjeld Alliance.

With their involvement in the rescue mission, Heath, Sonja, and Michael had involuntarily taken some of the heat from Eik, but he was still considered the main link to the other side—by both Earth and the Nidafjeld Alliance. Suddenly he had become the most important person in Forest. The man with the big connections. The man who knew what the hell was going on with the world.

Or rather, Forest’s leadership thought he knew what the hell was going on just because he had been abducted by the crazy lady with the bubblegum hair and sent on a semi suicidal mission to a hellish jungle on a different planet to tumble with a cannibalistic, multiversal moon cult.

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Well, he didn’t. He was treading water above the Mariana Trench.

And rather than being satisfied with his generous surrender of personal time to explain what little he knew to any idiot who asked, Forest’s leadership had, without asking for Eik’s input, of course, decided that a proper, official debrief was in order.

Travis Lockwood had told him that the debrief would be scheduled as soon as possible. When Eik had expressed an unwillingness to participate, the man had simply shrugged his shoulders and wearily asked Eik how he thought he felt every day sitting in his office to do mind-numbing paperwork.

Eik hadn’t known how to counter that one, so now he was stuck looking forward the debrief that would exhibit him as something he most certainly was not—a man with all the answers.

He felt his heart rate climb as the stressful thoughts flooded his mind and made a brief stop at Jason’s Delectable Desserts to get a soft bun stuffed to the brim with chocolate infused whipped cream.

Eik stopped by Olivia’s house on the way, the healers having deemed it acceptable for her to be cared for by her mother at home instead of at one of Forest’s facilities. The blue pill gifted by the Nidafjeld Alliance had done wonders for the prognoses for the comatose patients.

Olivia’s mother, too, was lively and smiling now, starkly contrasted to her previous demeanor. Unlike before, her daughter’s revitalization now only felt like a matter of time, not luck. Eik, however, still felt the pressure. He left again as quickly as he could.

The noises of Artisan Street reached him long before the sight. The intense smell had invaded his nose even earlier. Plumes of thick smoke rose skyward from almost all buildings in the area, the black, almost oily color setting it apart from the residential area. Most of the craftsmen in Artisan Street had also seen striking improvements in the speed and quality of their work ever since they all Awakened.

In truth, the place was more than just a single street and when Eik turned down Smiths’ Alley, he was overwhelmed by the unceasing metallic clangor of hammers striking anvils. Until now, he had never had a need to come here, general stores and grocers carrying most of what he needed, even for his former business.

An intimidatingly large man stood waiting in the shade of the pent roof outside one of the blacksmiths’ store, looking down the street, waving Eik closer when he turned the corner. Andrew Brooks wore a bandana on his head and a loose cotton shirt over a pair of long but flowy trousers. He was sweating and his hands were covered in soot.

“Been working hard, chief?” Eik asked as he followed the musclebound man into the front room of the blacksmith. The neat and tidy store carried any type of weapon one might desire, each coming in a multitude of variations and styles, displayed either in polished glass cases for the smaller types, like gauntlets, knives, and short swords, or along the wall and in the window for the longer ones, like spears, bows, and staves. Armor made from decorated, segmented plates and thick, heavy leathers fitted with solid iron studs hung on hangers or on crude wooden display models against the back wall.

“I got here a bit early and thought I’d give a hand with the hammering,” he said over his shoulder, patting his bicep and wiping his stained fingers on the pristine wooden counter as he passed by. “I can do that much at least.”

“You little shit!” Eik startled at the loud voice, a rugged smith’s glove covered in ash spinning out through the workshop door to slap Andrew across the face leaving dust stuck comically to his sweaty skin. “I’ve told you a million times not to wipe your greasy sausage fingers on my nice counter! Don’t you see that it’s walnut?”

A stout older man came tramping out from the smithy, sporting an impressive full beard weaved through several robust, engraved steel rings that reached down far enough to flap against his round belly as he moved. He was still wearing the sibling of the mitt he had thrown.

“Eik,” Andrew said flatly, gesturing toward the much smaller man. “Meet my father, Ben. Sometimes he can worry about some weird stuff, but he’s very kind.”

“No,” Eik said and stepped forward to offer the smith a sturdy handshake. “I think I know exactly how he feels.”

“You’re the kid my son wanted to give a weapon to? The name’s Ben, but my friends call be Benjamin.”

Andrew rolled his eyes as if the name switch was a joke his father had told a million times before. Eik tried to keep a straight face.

“Eik,” Eik said. “I’ve heard great things about your store. I didn’t know you guys were related. Thanks for having me.”

Andrew’s father slapped the back of Eik’s hand that he was still holding in an iron grip, guffawing loudly. “Don’t try to feed me that bullshit, son. I can tell that you don’t have a clue who I am, but you’re not wrong. I am indeed one of the best in Forest.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “My dad’s a bit of a braggart, but this one is actually true. If he tries to tell you that he used to be the local champion pie maker, or that he can make a snake fall into a trance just by stroking its tail, then you’re free to call him out on his crap, though.”

“How about you make yourself useful instead of wasting all of your words on that stupid yapping?” Benjamin said and shoved a brown smith’s apron into his son’s arms. “Eik, boy, Andrew told me about your ability, but I want to make sure myself before I can hand over Viper Fang to you in good conscience.”

Dumbstruck by the bickering father and son duo, Eik let himself be pushed further into the building while the name of his new weapon echoed inside his brain, butterflies of excitement fluttering around wildly in his stomach.

The smithy was blazing, the oppressive stench of the furnace and white-hot, malleable metals wafting thickly in the room. Eik was tempted to cover his nose and mouth with a sleeve but when Benjamin and Andrew made no move to, he decided against it. Probably not very smart.

A couple of other smiths worked without looking up as Eik walked in, sparks flying when they struck their glowing projects. They had allotted a work space for each quadrant of the room, and Benjamin led them to one of the far corners. Above the furnace and anvil was a large air intake through which smoke could exit the building. Judging by the stench, it wasn’t terribly effective, though. The lack of powered suction in such a small space was evident.

“I heard you helped a lot of people during the monster wave, so I’m happy that I can help give back to you,” Ben said as he pulled a box with a clasped lid out from a row of shelves pushed up against the wall.

Eik stepped closer to look. “Everybody did what they could, and that just happened to be what I was able to do. But I appreciate this kind gesture nonetheless.” He nodded to both father and son.

Ben opened the lid and lifted out a long object draped with a light, white cloth.

He held it out to Andrew who yanked the cloth away theatrically.