Shyri and Kalem stepped into the grand entrance of Westhound’s castle, their breath was immediately taken away by the sheer opulence surrounding them. The interior was a striking contrast to the industrial, mechanical city outside. Gemstones of every color were embedded into the castle's walls, their facets catching the light of the many chandeliers and casting shimmering reflections throughout the vast halls. The gems glittered with a brilliance that made the stone walls seem alive with radiance, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that danced in the air.
"Wow..." Shyri whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the splendor around them.
Kalem, equally captivated, could only nod, the majesty of the castle leaving him momentarily speechless. The floor beneath them was polished marble, veined with streaks of silver that reflected the ambient light, making it seem as though they were walking on liquid metal. Ornate pillars lined the hall, each one adorned with carvings of ancient battles and intricate mechanical designs that paid homage to the kingdom’s industrious nature.
An elegant butler, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with silver embroidery, approached them with a polite bow. His movements were smooth and graceful, much like everything in the kingdom—precise and purposeful. "Welcome, esteemed guests," the butler said in a refined voice. "His Majesty, King Dreliel, awaits you in the royal chamber. Please follow me."
With a simple gesture, the butler led them deeper into the castle. As they walked, Shyri couldn’t help but glance at the glimmering gemstones embedded in the walls and the intricate tapestries that told the kingdom’s long, proud history. It was a display of wealth and craftsmanship, with every detail meticulously placed to awe and inspire.
The large double doors of the throne room were soon before them, carved from dark wood and reinforced with metal accents. The butler stepped forward, pushing them open with ease. Inside, the throne room was even more magnificent, if such a thing was possible. The walls sparkled with embedded diamonds and sapphires, and the ceiling rose impossibly high, adorned with murals of battles between giants and dragons.
At the far end of the room, sitting on an elevated platform, was the imposing figure of King Dreliel. The king of Westhound was no ordinary man—he was from the race of giants, his stature easily towering over anyone who stood before him. Clad in gleaming, intricately designed armor, his presence radiated power and authority. The armor itself was adorned with gemstones and masterfully forged, its surface reflecting the light in a way that made the king appear as if he were a living mountain of metal and stone.
Leaning casually against his massive throne was an enormous war hammer, unlike anything Shyri or Kalem had ever seen. The hammer was easily three times the size of a normal weapon, crafted from an impossibly tough gemstone that shimmered like the heart of a mountain. It was a weapon that could crush armies, its surface covered in runes that glowed faintly with ancient power.
Shyri and Kalem stood in awe as they approached the throne, the sheer presence of the king almost overwhelming. King Dreliel, with a face marked by wisdom and strength, looked down at them with piercing blue eyes. His voice rumbled like the grinding of mountains as he greeted them.
"Welcome, travelers," King Dreliel said, his voice deep and resonant. "I have heard of your deeds at the guard tower. Westhound owes you a great debt."
The butler stepped aside, bowing deeply before disappearing into the shadows, leaving Shyri and Kalem standing before the giant king. They bowed in respect, humbled by the grandeur of the castle and the towering figure of the king, knowing they stood before someone who wielded immense power not just in size, but in rule over the great city of Westhound.
The immense presence of King Dreliel weighed on Shyri and Kalem like the very mountains themselves. His gaze was sharp, and even as he sat on his throne, a powerful aura radiated from him, a testament to his strength and authority. It was as if the air itself bowed to him, thick with the gravity of his power. The gemstones embedded in the walls seemed to shimmer in response to his presence, reflecting the mountain king's force.
King Dreliel's eyes, blue and piercing like glaciers, studied Shyri and Kalem with a quiet intensity. His aura was so overwhelming that neither dared speak first. It felt as though the very earth beneath them had stilled, waiting for the giant king’s next move. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Dreliel lifted one massive hand, his fingers adorned with rings made from precious gems.
As his hand rose, an alert appeared on both Shyri’s and Kalem’s HUDs.
"You have received the King's Favor. This pass grants you special privileges within the Kingdom of Westhound."
Almost immediately, another alert followed:
"You have received a Royal Token. This token can be redeemed at the Royal Blacksmith for either a weapon or armor of your choice."
Shyri and Kalem exchanged glances. This was no small gesture; being favored by a king could open doors to countless opportunities.
With his hand still raised, King Dreliel spoke, his voice deep and commanding, shaking the very room like a quake.
"You have earned my notice, and for that, I bestow upon you these gifts," he said, his voice rich and authoritative. "But my kingdom requires more than valor at the gates. Deep beneath the mountains of Westhound lie gemstone golems, creatures born from the earth's core. They guard the very lifeblood of this kingdom, the stones that fuel our power."
As he spoke, another alert appeared on their HUDs:
"Quest Accepted: The King’s Offer. Descend into the lower levels of the mountain to defeat gemstone golems and collect their stones. Bring them back to the castle to continue fueling Westhound."
The quest was marked as Rare, the difficulty high, but the rewards, should they succeed, were great. This was not just a quest for power; it was a chance to prove themselves so they can raise their affiliation with Westhound.
King Dreliel’s eyes gleamed as he watched the two of them take on the quest. He leaned forward slightly, his massive form shifting the air.
"Return to me with the stones, and Westhound shall continue to thrive. Fail, and the fires of Fireguard will creep ever closer. Go now, and may the strength of the mountain guide your steps."
The weight of the king's words hung in the air as Shyri and Kalem bowed once more as they exited the throne room.
the massive doors of the throne room closed behind them, Shyri and Kalem felt a shift in the atmosphere. The weight of King Dreliel’s presence still hung over them, but there was a calm after leaving the throne room. Standing outside, the butler awaited them, his posture impeccable. Without a word, he extended his gloved hand toward them.
An alert flashed on their HUDs:
"You have received the King's Inhabitant Medal. This medal allows you to stay in the royal quarters of Westhound Castle for four nights only."
Shyri and Kalem exchanged glances smiling. The butler, ever composed, gave a small, courteous nod before straightening himself. With a slight motion of his hand, he signaled for them to follow.
He led them down a series of hallways, past statues of legendary warriors, walls adorned with glittering gemstones, and more NPCs and players bustling around than they had expected. The deeper they went, the more vibrant the castle became. It was like another world, alive with activity, filled with shops, restaurants, and adventurers alike, all moving with purpose and excitement.
They followed the butler through this bustling area, admiring the intricate details of the castle's architecture. It was as if the walls themselves pulsed with energy, infused by the very stones King Dreliel guarded. The atmosphere was alive with the hum of progress and industry, typical of Westhound’s machinelike efficiency.
Finally, the butler stopped at a broad doorway, leading out into the bustling town beyond the castle’s walls. He turned to face them, bowing deeply, and with a swift turn, he disappeared into the castle’s maze-like halls, his presence as quiet and dignified as before.
Shyri and Kalem stood there for a moment, watching him fade from sight. As they turned their attention back to the vibrant scene before them, they realized they needed to find the royal inn. Navigating through the streets, the city's energy was palpable—NPCs and players alike chatted, traded, and prepared for various quests.
Eventually, they found the inn, its entrance marked by an ornate golden crest of the kingdom. Inside, the warm glow of chandeliers lit up the spacious room. After speaking with the innkeeper and presenting their King's Inhabitant Medal, they were informed that a single room would only count as one night for both of them. They glanced at each other, realizing that if they shared the room, they could stay for eight nights instead of four.
With a smile, Kalem spoke first. "Well, looks like we just doubled our time here."
Shyri grinned. “Guess we’re roomies then."
They received the key to their room and ascended the staircase up to it, as Shyri and Kalem stepped into their room at the royal inn, they were immediately struck by its elegance. The walls were adorned with deep crimson tapestries trimmed in gold, while large windows allowed the warm light of the late afternoon sun to pour in, casting a soft glow across the room. The floor was polished marble, and a grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, each crystal glistening like starlight. Two plush armchairs were arranged near a small table by the window, offering a perfect view of the city of Westhound and the vast mountains beyond.
At the far end of the room was a grand bed, its frame made of carved mahogany, and layered with fine silks and velvet blankets. It looked as if it had been designed for royalty, and perhaps, given the context, it had been. Everything about the room exuded luxury and comfort, from the rich fabrics to the intricate designs on the furniture. Even the air smelled faintly of lavender and cedar, a calming blend that seemed to invite them to relax and recharge.
Shyri sank into one of the armchairs, letting out a small sigh of contentment as she kicked off her boots. Kalem joined her, taking the seat across from her.
“Shyri,” Kalem began, “I’m going to be offline for a little while. I’ve got some pretty big exams coming up, and I’ll need to focus on those. I won’t be back until Sunday, after our date.”
Shyri looked over at him, understanding but still a little disappointed. But she also knew how important these exams were for him.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he continued. “That doesn’t mean you should slow down, though. The quest from King Dreliel is huge, and it’ll give you a ton of experience. You should head into the mountains and kill as many gemstone golems as you can while I’m studying. The more you take down, the more gems you can collect, and when you turn them in, the payout will be huge for you.”
Shyri smiled. “You sure about that? I mean, I don’t want to get too far ahead of you.”
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Kalem chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You still have some levels before reaching me, im level thirtysix at the moment so Don’t worry about me.
She nodded, “Okay, I’ll grind through as many gemstone golems as I can and who knows by the time you're back I may be level forty with the collection boost after turning the quest back to the king.”
Kalem grinned. “That’s a bet then.”
They sat there for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet of the room.
“Good luck with your exams, Kalem,” she said softly, standing up and stretching. “I’ll be ready to crush those gemstone golems while you crush those tests.”
Kalem grinned as he rose from his chair. “Thanks. And I’ll be thinking about Saturday.”
As Kalem logged off, Shyri remained in the luxurious room at the royal inn, the quiet settling around her like a soft blanket. She knew she had a lot to prepare for in the coming days. With Kalem offline until Sunday, it would be up to her to grind and make sure she was battle-ready when he returned.
Shyri sat in her elegant room, she gazed at her outstretched hand, where shadowy flames flickered and danced with a life of their own. The dark energy coiled around her fingers, casting fleeting shadows across her face. She marveled at the potent magic she wielded.
With a nod, she pushed herself to her feet, looking at her gear. She had wielded her scythe, ShadowCaster, since almost the beginning of her journey, and although it was a powerful weapon, she wondered if it was time to evolve.
Shyri’s mind wandered to the royal blacksmith, whose skills were renowned throughout the kingdom. Perhaps it was time to seek out something that resonated more with her current abilities. The thought of acquiring a new weapon sparked her curiosity. Would it be a blade that would enhance her dark magic further, or perhaps an artifact that could augment her agility in battle?
She checked her inventory, her gaze fell upon her Puppeteer Dagger, its blade shimmering with a mesmerizing allure. This dagger was unique, its special effect allowing her to manipulate shadows and ensnare her enemies. The idea of wielding it more frequently excited her.
Shyri looked down at her body realizing she couldn’t ignore the familiarity and comfort of her ebony bodysuit and shadow warden’s cloak. These items had been with her right after the time skip and had provided her with a sense of identity as a dark elf should have. But she also knew that she needed to upgrade her gear to keep pace with the challenges that lay ahead.
“Should I replace my scythe or upgrade my gear?” she pondered aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
Shyri made her way out of the room, She resolved to consult with the royal blacksmith, seeking their guidance on how to harness her skills better. With each step, the flickering shadow flames in her hand grew brighter, her grin grew larger as she exited the inn.
Shyri wandered through the bustling streets of Westhound, her senses were overwhelmed by the vibrant atmosphere. The air was filled with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares and the chatter of townsfolk going about their day.
As she turned a corner, she was greeted by the sight of a massive forge, the rhythmic clang of metal ringing out like a battle drum. A towering dwarf stood before her, his broad shoulders and muscular arms glistening with sweat as he swung an enormous enchanted hammer down upon a glowing piece of metal. Each strike sent sparks flying, illuminating the area with bursts of light. The dwarf’s beard was long and braided, speckled with soot, and his face was etched with concentration as he shaped the glowing material with practiced precision.
Shyri felt a rush at the sight of the forge. She could feel the heat radiating from the forge, enveloping her in a warm embrace as she took a few cautious steps closer.
The dwarf paused for a moment, lifting his gaze to meet hers, a glint of curiosity sparking in his deep-set eyes. “What brings a lass like you to my forge?” he bellowed, his voice deep and rumbling, yet warm.
“I’m looking for the royal blacksmith,” Shyri replied, her voice steady. “I have some questions about weapons and gear.”
“Ah, you’ve found him! I’m Glorn Ironfist, the finest blacksmith in all of Westhound!” He beamed with pride, his chest puffing up as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Come on in, lass. I’ll show you what we can forge for a capable spellcaster like yourself.”
With that invitation, Shyri stepped into the forge. The walls were lined with racks of weapons, shields, and gleaming armor, each piece radiating a sense of craftsmanship that spoke of countless hours spent honing skills. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal and burning coals, invigorating her spirit as she prepared to discuss her options.
“Now, what are you looking for?” Glorn asked, motioning for her to approach the display of weapons. “A new weapon, some armor, or perhaps both? And let me know if you have any special requests!”
Shyri approached the workbench in Glorn's forge, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of her beloved weapons. She carefully placed her scythe, ShadowCaster, alongside her Puppeteer Dagger and the Dagger of the Void Walker. The clatter of metal against wood echoed in the forge, drawing Glorn's attention as he examined her weaponry with keen interest.
"These are fine weapons, lass," Glorn said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I can see you've put a lot of trust into them.”
Shyri nodded, a hint of pride swelling within her. "They’ve served me well, but I’m looking to enhance my capabilities. I also have a royal token to use for this."
At the mention of the royal token, Glorn’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ah! A royal token! That’s quite a privilege, lass. You’ve got the potential to craft something truly special.” He rubbed his hands together. “I have just the idea!”
Glorn stepped closer to her, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Have you ever heard of Growing Veins? It’s a unique category of weapon designed to adapt and grow with its user. Fusing your weapons together could create something magnificent, tailored just for you. These weapons are capable of evolving and taking on multiple weapon skills as you progress!”
Shyri’s eyes widened in wonder at the prospect. “Really? That sounds incredible!”
“Aye, it is! With your ShadowCaster and those two daggers, we could forge a new weapon that not only retains their unique properties but also adapts to your growing power. Just imagine—an elegant weapon that channels the essence of your magic while allowing you to wield it like never before!”
The idea danced in Shyri's mind, visions of a weapon that could evolve with her every achievement. “What would I need to do?” she asked, her heart racing at the thought of crafting a weapon that was uniquely hers.
“Just let me work my magic,” Glorn replied with a grin. “First, I’ll need to break down each of these weapons and draw upon their essence. Then, we’ll combine them into something new. This will take a bit of time, but trust me—it will be worth the wait.”
Shyri was ready for a transformation, both in her weaponry and in herself. “Let’s do it!” she exclaimed, her resolve firm.
Glorn clapped his hands together, his demeanor serious now. “Very well! I’ll get started right away. You won’t regret this, lass. Now, step back and let the forge work its wonders.”
Glorn stepped forward, his massive form towering over the anvil, and gently laid Shyri’s three weapons upon its surface. Each weapon seemed to hum with potential, and Glorn regarded them with a sense of reverence. He then grasped his enchanted hammer, its surface shimmering with a faint glow, signaling that it was ready to channel its magic.
“Now, lass,” Glorn began, his voice booming with authority yet laced with excitement. “This is where the real magic happens. I’ll be breaking down your weapons to extract their essences. It’s a delicate process, but don’t you worry! Each weapon has a spirit of its own, and I’ll ensure they come together harmoniously.”
With a swift motion, Glorn brought the hammer down onto the ShadowCaster, and a resounding thud echoed throughout the forge. A bright flash erupted, illuminating the room as the scythe began to shimmer and pulse. The essence of the weapon—a swirling shadowy flame—emerged from it, wrapping around Glorn’s hands as he carefully drew it forth.
“See that?” he said, pointing to the glowing mass. “That’s the heart of your scythe. Each weapon has its own essence, and I’ll need to do this for all three to ensure we capture their unique characteristics.”
He then moved on to the Puppeteer Dagger, striking it with the hammer in a rhythmic motion. Each hit sent sparks flying, and soon enough, the dagger released its essence—a vibrant, ethereal glow that danced in the air. Glorn’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he gently gathered the essence into a shimmering vial.
Lastly, he turned his attention to the Dagger of the Void Walker. As he struck it, the dagger exploded into a shower of glimmering shards, revealing a dark, swirling core within. Glorn expertly captured this essence too, adding it to the growing collection of magical energy.
“Now that we have all the essences,” Glorn said, carefully setting the vials aside, “it’s time to melt down the metals and combine them. This will create a new foundation for your weapon, one that can channel the powers of all three.”
He began to heat the forge, the flames roaring to life and illuminating the room with an orange glow. With practiced hands, Glorn tossed the metal remnants of the three weapons into the blazing furnace. The metal quickly melted, swirling together in a molten dance, as Glorn continued to stir and shape it.
Once the metals were thoroughly combined, he poured the liquid metal into a mold, allowing it to cool and solidify into a new form. As the metal took shape, he prepared to infuse it with the essences he had gathered.
“Now, here comes the fun part,” he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. “I’ll blend these essences into the new metal. This is what gives it life, makes it unique to you!”
With precision, Glorn opened each vial, releasing the ethereal essences into the molten metal. The room filled with a shimmering light as the energies intertwined, creating a breathtaking display of colors and magic. The essence settled into the metal, melding and fusing it into a new entity—something that held the shadow control of the ShadowCaster, the darkness of the Puppeteer Dagger, and the mystique of the Dagger of the Void Walker.
As the light began to dim, the newly formed weapon emerged from the mold, glistening and alive with potential. It was a sleek, elegantly curved blade, with shadowy veins of energy coursing through it, glinting in the light like starlight caught in obsidian.
“Behold!” Glorn exclaimed, pride evident in his voice. “Your new weapon! A true fusion of your past and your future. It is fit for you, Shyri!”
Shyri stepped forward, her breath caught in her throat as she beheld the weapon. She could feel its energy resonating with her own, as if it were calling to her.
Shyri reached for the newly forged sword, she could feel a magnetic pull, as if the blade itself was alive and eager to be wielded. The sword was reminiscent of a bastard sword, its design sleek and elegant, with a graceful curve that gave it an almost serpentine quality. The blade shimmered in shades of deep obsidian, with veins of shadowy energy coursing through it, glinting like stars in a night sky. The hilt was intricately crafted, adorned with dark gemstones that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, adding to the weapon's mystique.
As she grasped the hilt, Shyri felt an immediate connection; the sword thrummed gently in her hand, resonating with her dark magic. It was as though it recognized her, acknowledging the bond they now shared. The whispers of its essence filled her mind, guiding her thoughts, and she could sense that a powerful being was entwined within the blade—one that thrived on the energy of the dark arts she wielded.
In that moment of connection, inspiration struck her. “Trinity,” she declared aloud, the name flowing from her with certainty. It symbolized the union of her past.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Shyri practiced a few movements, testing the balance and grace of Trinity. The sword felt weightless in her hands, as if it were an extension of her own body. Each swing was fluid, the blade slicing through the air with an effortless precision, whispering of untold power.
She marveled at how seamlessly Trinity integrated her dark magic. With every movement, the sword seemed to amplify her abilities, its energy blending with hers to create a dance of shadow and light. Shyri couldn't help but smile hard.
As Shyri marveled at Trinity in her grasp, a soft chime echoed through her HUD, alerting her to a new notification. She blinked as the glowing message popped up before her eyes, displaying the full stats of her newly forged sword.
Weapon: Trinity (Growing Veins Class)Type: Baqua Dao
Damage: 400-550 (scales with user’s level)
Special Effects:
* Tri-Form Mastery: Can shift between sword, scythe, and dual-dagger forms at will, retaining weapon traits of each form.
* Puppeteer’s Control: Allows the wielder to manipulate enemies' movements for a short duration after landing a critical hit.
* Void Walker's Presence: Grants brief invisibility when not engaged in direct combat.
* Shadowcast Fury: Triggers a devastating combo finisher after chaining four attacks, adding 25% additional dark damage.
As Shyri took in the information, her heart raced. Trinity was more than she had hoped for— a weapon of immense potential that would grow alongside her, adapting to her playstyle and skills.
With the final notification fading from her view, Shyri suddenly noticed another alert. Her Royal Token vanished from her inventory with a brief flash of light. She turned just in time to see it appear in Glorn’s hand. He raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his rugged face.
"The token’s payment for the fusion," Glorn said, his voice gruff but pleased. "And might I say, I’ve outdone myself. That sword of yours is one of a kind, lass. It'll grow with you and evolve based on your skills."
Shyri gave a slight nod as she placed the sword into a black shadowy scabbard, feeling the living energy within it hum against her side. She was stronger—no, she was becoming unstoppable.
“Thank you,” she said to Glorn, her voice steady. “This weapon will serve me well.”
With a curt nod, Glorn leaned back, resting his glowing hammer against his shoulder.
Shyri stepped out of the forge, the cool mountain air filled her lungs. Her HUD lit up with a soft chime, drawing her attention to the new notification hovering in the corner of her vision:
Notification: Blacksmith's Gift Received
Curious, she glanced over her shoulder toward the forge, but Glorn was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the faint echo of metal ringing against metal reverberated from somewhere deep below the surface. He had already vanished into the depths of his underground workshop.
Shyri turned her gaze back toward the city streets, wondering what the gift could be. She quickly opened her inventory, searching for the new item. Her eyes widened in surprise as she pulled out a shimmering, elegant ticket emblazoned with ornate gold filigree.
Royal Seamstress TicketRedeemable for one custom outfit tailored to the user’s specifications.
Shyri blinked, momentarily stunned by the unexpected gift. A custom outfit? she thought. She had long worn her ebony body suit and Shadow Warden’s cloak, Perhaps it was time for a new look.
She scanned the bustling streets for signs or directions. Spotting a lavish building nearby with rich, flowing fabrics draped from the windows and a sign featuring a needle and thread etched in silver, Shyri knew she had found the place.