Pa's strong hands helped me to my feet, though my legs still shook.

“Easy there, son. You don't look so good. Sit for a while.”

The workshop door burst open. Ma rushed in, her face pale and she even had a piece of steel in her hand, ready to clobber anyone.

“What happened? I heard—” She froze, taking in the blood on my face. “Ash!”

“I'm fine, Ma.” I wiped my nose again. “Really, it's...” I shook my head, steadying myself against the beaten-up anvil. “I don't even know what happened. The vice exploded, I picked up the hammer, and—”

A thunderous banging interrupted me, the front door rattling in its frame.

“Open up!” Benedict's voice carried through the thick wood. “Let me in at once, or I'll break this door down myself!”

Pa, Ma, and I exchanged worried glances. My heart rate picked up again and for a moment, I felt genuine worry.

Shit. Did he sense the binding?

“Helena.” Pa's voice was steady despite the tension in his shoulders. “Let him in.”

Ma hesitated, her eyes darting between us.

“It's alright,” Pa assured her. “Go on.”

As Ma's footsteps faded toward the front of the house, I grabbed Pa's sleeve.

“What do we tell him?” I whispered. “If he felt the energy surge, then—”

“I got an idea.”

Pa's face settled as he grabbed a cloth and dabbed at the cut on my cheek.

Ma's voice drifted from the entrance, and she was doing a masterful job of hiding the unease she was feeling.

“Master Benedict, what brings you here?”

“Is everyone alright?” Benedict's boots clomped across our floor. “I was just coming to see Ash when I heard an explosion.”

He appeared in the workshop doorway, his eyes wild, staff clutched tight in his hand. His gaze swept the room, lingering on the scattered tools, the dented vice, and the blood on my face, but the tension immediately fled his shoulders.

“I heard a boom and thought the hearth might have blown, and wanted to offer my services in putting out any possible fire.” He let out a breath. “Glad to see you are both alright.” His gaze flickered across my bloodied face. “Mostly, anyway. What exactly happened?”

“Well, I tried to—”

“Experimental work,” Pa said, interrupting me, his voice steady. “Testing a new method of infusing monster parts into weapons. Used my steelhusk hammer.” He sighed heavily. “The process only partially succeeded but then, well, you can see what it did to the smithy.”

“You don't say.” Benedict walked into the room, his black and silver robe swishing, and he tapped the anvil with his staff. “Fascinating. It is damaged.”

I followed his stare and saw a crack running through nearly the entire metal surface.

Shit.

“I'd love to see this hammer in action,” Benedict said. “If it's powerful enough to do this, it might work wonders on monsters.”

My heart skipped.

“I think it needs a bit more work first,” I said.

“Don't be shy, Ash.” Pa clapped me on the back. “Despite the partial success, I've gifted it to my son. He'll test it on any monsters the next time he's out scavenging. We will have some data then, Benedict.”

“Erh... yes. What Pa said. Monsters, testing, combat. All that good stuff. Will make sure to tell you how it went.”

What is he doing? I thought we were supposed to keep it a secret!

“Perfect!” Benedict said and straightened his robes. “I was on my way to invite you for a monster hunt as the lead scavenger. With Garrett out of action, and seeing how you handled yourself in the dungeon and on the walls, I think you'll be perfect.”

“Ah—” I said, swiping at my bloody chin, suddenly feeling drained. “Next time? I need to recover a bit from the crafting.” I chuckled. “The vice was damaged and a piece struck my head. Maybe you can postpone the run?”

I knew very well that such a man would never postpone anything, so I figured he'd leave me be.

“I see.” Benedict shrugged. “Well, as you wish. We leave in an hour if you change your mind.”

“Thank you for the invitation.”

As he left, something nagged at me. With Garrett, Finn, and Nina all out of action for at least a few days...

I rushed through our shop, grabbing the frame, and propelling myself out and after him.

“Benedict!”

He paused and turned, cocking his head to the side.

“Is Eryn going?”

“Yes, it just so happens that she is indeed going.” A smile spread across his face. “Why? Does that matter?”

I cleared my throat, face going serious.

“I—uhh, will come too. With several scavengers injured in the dungeon, I should step up. I just need to grab my gear.”

Benedict's laugh echoed off the walls and he gave me a wink.

“Good man. Meet you at the rift in an hour.”

With a swish of his robe, he turned and strutted away, his staff twirling and releasing crackling frost all around him. The way he walked told me a lot about him. He wanted to be admired, and people like that were dangerous.

I returned inside, dropping into a chair as Ma brought a wet cloth and fussed at my face.

Pa settled across from me, his arms crossed.

“Son, are you sure it is wise to join so shortly after what just happened?”

“You heard him. With Garrett out, this is my opportunity to grow. I need this.”

And I'm not letting Eryn go alone with a completely new party. What if she got hurt? I'd never forgive myself.

“But you are bleeding,” Pa said.

“I need to keep pushing forward. Besides, Edwin will be there.”

Pa sighed.

“Ouch.” I said, waving Ma’s cloth away. “Enough. I'm fine.” I turned to Pa. “Why'd you tell him about the hammer?”

“Sooner or later you'll have to test it. At least now there's a story about how you got it.” He shrugged. “Not a brilliant one, mind you, but a story nonetheless. And besides, experimental gear often draws elemental properties, so if that thing does anything out of the ordinary, you will be covered.”

“Then you finished the weapon?” Ma asked, eyes widening in excitement.

“I think so?”

I hope so.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Let's find out. Dear, lock up again and let's take a look.”

Back in the smithy, my hand trembled as it hovered over my spatial tattoo. The memory of that alien presence invading my mind, of fighting for control, it all made my stomach churn.

What would have happened if I hadn't put it away? Had I been too low level to attempt the binding?

“Or is it too soon?” Pa asked, second guessing himself. “Maybe you should avoid pushing yourself. Let it sit for a while?”

“No, Pa. I need to know. Even more so if I'm to keep myself and Eryn safe and all that.”

Ma chuckled, but said nothing. I felt a slight blush pass through my face, but then took a deep breath and accessed my storage. Inside were the remains of the Woodweaver, one mind gem, and my hammer.

A soul weapon.

I willed it to appear, and for a terrible moment, nothing happened.

My heart sank.

Had I messed it up? Broken twenty-five thousand gold, and messing up a slot at the same time?

Then the hammer materialized in my grip, filling me with indescribable unease and power at the same time.

I tensed, bracing to continue the mental battle from earlier, but... nothing. The weapon sat quietly in my hand, as ordinary as any other tool in the workshop.

Well, almost ordinary.

The natural purple-grey of the steelhusk metal now had streams of green and brown swirling through it that shifted in the morning light. The twin striking faces gleamed like polished mirrors, and the extra-long haft felt perfectly balanced. Even the leather grip had been transformed, now a deep black that absorbed light.

“That’s gorgeous,” Ma breathed.

“Something's wrong,” I said, trying to understand where the unease came from.

I turned the weapon slowly, studying how the patterns caught the light. Then I frowned.

“What is it?” Pa limped closer, peering at the hammer.

“It's... light. Way too light for a weapon of such size. Just the shaft alone should weigh more than it does, let alone the head.” I hefted it experimentally. “Like it's made of tin instead of steelhusk.”

“That makes no sense.” Pa reached out and placed a hand on the handle, and I tried letting go, but my fingers wouldn’t.

“Erh...”

“Ash?”

“Yes, Pa?”

“You plan on letting go?”

“I'm trying.”

I tried prying my fingers off the handle with my other hand, but they might as well have been forged out of iron for all the good it did me. I met Pa's gaze, feeling a surge of fear.

What if I can't put it down again?

As if he read my thoughts, Pa let go of the handle and stepped back, raising his arms.

“I promise not to take your hammer.”

I nodded, and placed it head first on the ground and tried to let go.

“I can't.”

Ma chuckled.

“This isn't funny, Ma.”

She covered her mouth.

“Just reminds me of when you were little is all.”

I ignored her, turning to Pa, a sense of claustrophobia settling over me, and I did my best to keep my tone calm.

“It doesn't want me to let go,” I said.

“Store it,” Pa said.

I swiped it back into my storage and, after a tense moment, sighed in relief as my hands were freed.

“Thank the gems that worked,” I said.

“Well. Now we've learned two things about soul weapons. Three, actually,” Pa said.

“Which is?”

“They are lighter than they should be, at least the hammer is. It seems to be bound to its owner, or wielder, which explains why so little is known about them. Can't sell, trade or even pass to your children what you can't let go of.” He turned to Ma. “I think we just bet the life of our only son that the only way to get someone's soul weapon is from their cold, dead hands.”

“And I need to keep a slot open to store it. Great,” I said.

“But if it's so light, how can this possibly hit hard enough to be an effective weapon?”

I took the hammer back out. Had I ruined Pa's masterwork hammer? Created some ornamental toy instead of a proper soul weapon? It was so light that even with its long haft I didn't need two hands. I gave it a few one-handed practice swings, swishing through the air.

“Will it have enough power to kill monsters?” Pa asked softly. “I think you should test it out.” I turned toward the anvil.

“Only one way to know, Pa. And I'm sorry if something happens.”

Settling into a proper stance, I held the hammer behind me before smashing it one-handed onto the anvil's face.

Steelhusk met steel with a thunderous crack that shook dust from the roof. Ma screamed as the anvil split cleanly in two, the halves toppling off the block in opposite directions. They hit the floor with heavy thuds, almost dropping on my feet.

We stared at the broken anvil, and then our eyes met.

I cleared my throat.

“Yeah, Pa, I think it'll slay just fine. And umm, I think I owe you an anvil.”

Pa let out a shocked laugh.

“Cracked steel...like it was nothing...and my cursed anvil!”

“Do you feel anything else from it?” Ma asked, stepping closer. “Any sense of strange power?”

I shook my head, studying the hammer with new eyes.

“No. Nothing like that. I thought—” I shrugged. “I don't know what I thought, but somehow I expected more than just hitting really hard?”

Pa chuckled.

“What, like a singing sword? Maybe some sparkles and lightning?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, Edwin has a flaming sword, so... yeah?” I nodded at the broken anvil. “Though I suppose hitting like a charging knight isn't exactly nothing.”

“Maybe that's what soul weapons are,” Pa said. “Overwhelming force when they strike.” He clicked his tongue and patted my shoulder. “Course, now you owe me an anvil. A really good one, mind you, so you better deliver.”

“Pay you back in monster carcasses?”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

I couldn't help but smile. This would definitely do some damage to monsters. If I managed to get in close enough. Despite having a longer reach than an ordinary smith's hammer, it was still pretty short.

Pa circled me as I tested different stances with the hammer.

“One or two hands?” he asked.

“One feels more natural.” I demonstrated with a few practice swings. “See? The light weight's perfect for it. Two hands give more control, but...” I switched grips. “It actually feels slower.”

“Aye. And that extra reach from the long haft means you can keep some distance while still having power.” Pa's expert eye assessed my form. “Though you'll need to adapt your footwork. Hammers fight different than axes.”

“True.” I swung again. “The balance is completely different.” I executed a horizontal swing. “Less momentum to recover from with this light weight, but I can't rely on the blade's edge to do the work.”

“You'll need precise strikes.” Pa tapped his chin. “Aim for joints and various weak points. Let that supernatural force do the damage instead of trying to cleave through.”

Ma watched from the doorway, worry creasing her brow.

“Maybe take your axe as backup?” she asked. “Just in case?”

I shook my head.

“No. Something tells me I need to commit to this weapon completely.” I gave the hammer another practice swing. “Like it needs… dedication? To reach its full potential.”

“Still,” Pa said, “The range is shorter than your axe. And hammer fighting takes different instincts. Might want something else, just while you're learning. Come.”

I followed as Pa limped into the shop and past the counter, over to the trophy wall. The one where Ma kept the pieces proving to customers just how good a smith Pa was.

No...

Pa reached up and lifted down the heater shield. It had taken Ma an entire day to paint the red tree of life on the forest green background, after Pa and I had spent nearly two days making the shield, with hours of hammering and shaping enough steelhusk to fully edge it.

“Pa, that's too much.”

I grinned as he held it out.

“Take it.” I slipped my left hand into the leather enarmes. “A soul weapon deserves proper protection.”

I hefted the shield, moving it through several positions, hammer moving around, preparing to strike, feeling the balance and quality of work.

“I'll make it worth it.”

Ma stepped forward and squeezed my shoulder.

“We know you will, dear. Just come back home safe. Remember that.”

I grinned.

With gear to match a level twenty adventurer, what could go wrong?

* * *

The eastern bridge creaked under my boots as I jogged across the gap between First Steel and the rift platform. The new shield bounced against my back with each step, a comfortable weight that somehow felt just right. Pa had taken the woodweaver's corpse to work on, freeing up my spatial storage for new loot.

Benedict stood by the rift, his black and silver robes catching in the green light. The frost wizard looked like a rift rotted noble even when preparing for a hunt, his staff gleaming. I hated the way he looked at everyone else, as if he was superior to every other adventurer, even more so than us scavengers.

“About time.” He turned and walked in, calling across his shoulder. “You're the last one.”

That means Eryn's waiting. I wonder what she'll think of my shield and hammer.

“Hey! Ash!” Walt's voice boomed from atop First Steel. I craned my neck to see the captain's massive red beard catching the breeze. “That's quite the shield. You become classed overnight or something?”

Heat crept up my neck as I grinned back.

“Just trying something new!” I shouted back.

Walt's belly laugh echoed across the platform.

“Happy scavenging. Try not to scuff your new gear on the monsters, eh?”

I gave him a quick wave, stepped through the rift, and immediately stumbled, falling flat on my chest, my sight blocked.

“Rusted ruin!” I cursed.

Darkness filled half my vision as I lay sprawled on the ground, heart pounding.

Am I going blind?

Then, silvery text appeared across the darkness, floating like smoke from the forge.

NAME: Ash Aldrich

LEVEL: 3 (1/4)

STRENGTH: 18

AGILITY: 11

VITALITY: 12

MIND: 11

TOTAL STATS: 52

What in the rusted hells?

I blinked hard and shook my head as several voices called out my name, but the text remained, hovering like a ghost.

This isn't possible.

Soul charts without a soul tablet was only available for the classed - everyone knew that. Even Karl knew that, and he was barely old enough to swing a practice sword.

Did I knock my head on a soul tablet? And where in the rift rusted ruin did I get another four strength from?

“Ash, you alright there?” Eryn's voice cut through my panic.

I pushed myself up, the shield sliding around on my back, but the soul chart stayed front and center in my vision.

“I—” My throat felt dry as sand.

If I told them about this, they'd know something was wrong. Benedict would ask questions — the kind Pa and I couldn't answer.

“He hurt his head earlier in the smithy. I wasn't even sure he'd come,” Benedict said, saving me for some odd reason. He wasn't the kind of person to help someone save face, but there we were.

“Yeah, what Benedict said. Just lost my balance for a moment and tripped.”

I cleared my throat, turning my head to catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye.

“Are you sure you should be going?” she asked with a hint of worry. “Let me see—ohh, that's a nice bump there.”

“I, uhh...couldn't let you go out by yourself. Also, you, umm... look so radiant. Can't have other men, umm, you know?”

Smooth.

Eryn laughed and slapped me on the arm.

“You're such a joker. As if I'd want any other man to hit on me.” She put her arm through mine. “Here, let me help make sure you stay on your feet.”

I forced a chuckle, letting her guide me towards the others, not really having to pretend to be unsteady as I couldn't see a damn thing on the ground.

Focus. If I'd bumped into someone, I'd have known. That leaves only one thing.

My tattoo suddenly itched, and then it flared up like a burning pain, as if calling out to me.

The hammer wanted out.