Light of the Fearless [Rare]

This is one big ole honkin’ sword. Made more for looks than functionality, it’s plated in mythril. That’s shiny elf super metal, in case you didn’t know. Incredible stuff. As a decoration, though? Much less impressive. Still, the steel underneath is solid. It’s a serviceable weapon for crowd control and open battlefields. A bit large for you, though. Why’d you pick this again?

Essence Cost: 42

Condition: 800/800

Stats:

— None

Abilities:

— Light of the Fearless [Foundation - 0]: Caution! Object may be hot! Imbues the blade with white fire. Also might be the name of a sweet, sweet album, but don’t quote me on that.

I blinked. White fire? Hell yeah! Finally, an ability that would be directly useful in combat. With a cool name, no less, even if it was a bit ironic. I was anything but fearless. Maybe this was Cosmo’s way of nudging me along.

Despite every shred of my inner child begging me to activate [Light of the Fearless], I didn’t dare until Aerion and I were alone. The temptation was killing me.

But as much as I wanted to dart away and test out my badass new sword, we weren’t done here. Now, it was Aerion’s turn.

“Which sort of weapon would you prefer?” our chaperone asked.

“Shortsword,” Aerion replied, almost before the words were out of his mouth, but then she glanced at me, unsure.

“Pick whatever you like,” I said with a smile. If she wanted something [Epic], that was her decision to make. We’d discussed this beforehand—it would be a long while before I could Initialize something of that tier—even when I ranked up, I’d only have a 33% chance, so we’d have to wait until I ranked up twice to have decent odds. Still, she’d earned this reward just as much as I had, and so it was her decision.

“Show me weapons of similar quality as what Greg has,” she said after thinking for a moment.

I barely suppressed a grin. That was the more reasonable decision. While I’d maxed out my Essence Initializing [Light of the Fearless], we were about to head into a Cataclysm Dungeon. If I hadn’t ranked up to Divergence by the time we were out, I’d eat my hat. Assuming I wore a hat, of course. Which I didn’t. Not really my style.

Aerion asked for several different examples, hefting each before taking several practice swings. Regardless of what Philip said, her form looked perfect to my eyes. There was an elegance in the way she moved, which worked perfectly with her small frame and the shortsword she wielded.

Even the guards seemed to watch her form intently.

“Well?” I asked, after she’d tried several. We only had a few minutes left. “Which do you like?”

“Honestly? They are all quite spectacular. Easily the finest weapons I’ve ever wielded.”

I could swear our chaperone puffed up a bit at that.

“It’s more down to the individual weighting and feel.”

“My suggestion? Go for something that can take a beating,” I said. “Your Blessing isn’t exactly easy on your weapons…”

“Good point,” Aerion said with a nod. “Then I’ll go with this one,” she said, pointing to a thicker straight shortsword that was a bit smaller than my arming sword, and when Aerion wielded it, I could’ve sworn it looked like it was the lightest. I guessed that was because of its slightly larger pommel than the rest of the swords, which made it more agile.

I had to admit, those sessions with Rogar were already starting to pay off. I wouldn’t have known nearly as much about the importance of weighting before. Incidentally, it was why my greatsword was actually not much more difficult to wield than a longsword. I’d always thought big swords needed huge muscles, and while that helped, they were surprisingly light and nimble for their size.

The defining feature of Aerion’s blade though, had to be the gorgeous pattern weld in its steel, with a darker steel mixed in with a much brighter one. It actually reminded me a lot of a Japanese wakizashi blade, except it had a proper crossguard and a handguard that wrapped around the fist like most sabers.

“Aurora,” our chaperone said with a nod. “A fine choice. Bequeathed to the City of Basecrest by the family of a renowned noble warrior who died in the line of duty, protecting the city from the previous Cataclysm.”

Aerion stared at the blade in awe, while I frowned. “Wait,” I said. “You never said what the history of my sword was.”

The man scratched his head. “I am ashamed to admit we do not quite know. It is an ancient blade that has been in our armory for centuries. The earliest recording of it is an inventory report from five hundred years ago, mentioning only its name and general description. A not uncommon occurrence for such old blades, I’m afraid.”

Huh. I looked at my blade. “Could’ve fooled me. If you’d said it was newly forged, I’d have believed you.”

The man smiled. “We take exceedingly good care of our weapons and armor here, I assure you,” he said. “Now, since your business here is concluded, allow me to escort you out.”

That was fine by me. I couldn’t wait to get to Rogar’s.

----------------------------------------

“Do it again,” Aerion said, staring at my new blade.

I smirked, and was about to oblige when a ball of fire screamed by our heads. We ducked out of instinct, even though it had to be at least a hundred feet above us. We watched in horror as the flaming meteor crashed into the city a quarter mile away. We felt the impact before we heard it, with tremors ripping through the ground beneath our feet.

Despite the guards urging everyone to stay indoors due to the meteor threat, I couldn’t contain my excitement and we’d snuck away to an open field near the castle where I could test out my new weapon. That excitement was somewhat mellowed, however, by the crisis that loomed over our heads.

“They’re becoming worse,” Aerion muttered, clutching the pommel of [Aurora] on her waist.

“Wonder how much more of this we’ll have to endure before the dungeon arrives,” I said, grinding my teeth. “People are dying and there’s nothing anyone can do.”

“Nothing, other than train,” Aerion said quietly.

I nodded and activated [Light of the Fearless], which was the name of the blade and the ability both.

It was like I’d just dipped the blade in oil and set it on fire. Except the fire that erupted from the greatsword wasn’t yellow, or even blue. It was the purest white I’d ever seen. It was like looking at the sun. In some ways, it resembled the [Lightbringer] ability my iron arming sword had had, back in the Trial… If the light output had been turned up to 11.

It wasn’t just light, though. It put out an ample amount of heat, too.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“If it’s this strong at F - 0, I can’t even imagine what it’ll be like once it hits Emergence or higher,” I said, admiring the flame effect.

“Its only limitation now seems to be the duration you can keep it active,” Aerion commented, right as the flame winked out.

“Yeah… That’s definitely an issue.”

It only lasted a couple of seconds before winking out, and it took nearly a minute before I could reactivate it.

“At least it makes the blade hot,” I said, eyeing the humid air steam off its surface. “That’s bound to come in handy.”

“And you intend to strengthen it even further,” Aerion said. She hadn’t yet come around to my plan. To be honest, I wasn’t sure about it, either.

“That’s what I’m about to find out,” I said, handing my poleax to her. “Mind hauling this back to the inn for me? It’s a bit hard carrying around both of these at the same time.”

Not to mention, I’d received all sorts of looks—like I was going to war. Luckily, with the chaos the city was experiencing, I wasn’t the only one walking around armored and heavily armed.

Aerion nodded and took the weapon with both hands, which was comically oversized for her. Incidentally, while her shortsword came with a gorgeous leather sheathe, my greatsword was bare. “I’ll be expecting a full demonstration when you’re done,” she said.

“Sure,” I said. “If it works.”

----------------------------------------

“You’d best turn yourself in, Grug,” Rogar snarled, looking fearful. His eyes darted between the sword, my soul crystal, and me, and he was currently in the middle of backing slowly away, hoping I wouldn’t notice.

“I didn’t steal this, Rogar,” I said. “Trust me.”

“Uh huh. And Dominion isn’t a god. Take yer stuff and begone! I want nothing to do with a criminal.”

I sighed. To be honest, I’d expected something like this, so I’d come prepared. I retrieved the heavy medallion from my pocket and extended it to Rogar.

“What’s this?” Rogar asked, eyeing the badge with suspicion, making no move to take it.

“Why don’t you take a closer look?” I said. “I promise it won’t bite.”

“It’s a coin, of some sort,” Rogar said, still eyeing it warily. “Why would it bite? You say the strangest things, sometimes.”

I rolled my eyes. The master smith finally took it, and after a moment of inspection, his eyes bulged.

“W-where did you get this!?”

“Baron Sinclair gave it to me. For assisting the city of Basecrest in their time of need.” I swiped the medallion back from Rogar, whose eyes had gone as wide as saucers.

“W-Who are ya?” he said, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Not a thief,” I said. “Now, can we get to why I’m here?”

“It’s not to work?” Rogar asked, still reeling from the revelation that I wasn’t a nobody.

“Not today. Actually, I was hoping you could do me a favor. I’d like you to reforge this greatsword. And I’d like you to incorporate this soul crystal. I understand you said you’ve made a few of these in the past?”

“Reforge the… Are you out of your mind?” Rogar cried in shock.

“Why? Is that impossible? I thought—”

“You’d reforge a mythril weapon?”

“Oh,” I said, relaxing. “That. It’s just mythril coated. For looks.”

“Even then. You've any idea how difficult mythril is to forge? You need elf magic for that! Does it look like I've got a grandmaster's forge here? Huh?”

That was... more than a little disappointing, but I wasn't ready to give up yet.

“What can you do with it? Can you forge it at all?”

“Well, sure, but the mythril won't do you any good, other than looking pretty. It's not working with mythril that's hard. It's making it tough that's the problem. It'd be little more than a decoration. At least, until you got it remade again by an elf master smith.”

I breathed a little easier. “That's fine. The strength of this blade will be in its magic, anyway.”

“Oh… Well, then in that case... May I?” Rogar asked politely. It seemed all it took was offering him a salivating smithing prospect for him to respect me. Who would’ve known?

“By all means,” I said, handing him the blade.

He inspected the blade, looking over every minute detail, before taking a few swings.

“It’s not a bad blade. Quite well made, in fact. Not mythril, though. Too heavy. Aye, I reckon we could reforge this. Pound it down and remake it. In fact... Might be useless for the strength and sharpness of the blade, but that mythril will allow us to forge it back without fear of making it brittle. Hm. Show me that soul crystal of yours.”

I handed it over. “It’s Emergence Grade. From an Obsidian Dragon.”

“From the Trial!?” Rogar shouted, making me step back. “Where’d you get your grubby hands on something like this?”

“Let’s just say I have my skills. Just as you have yours. It’s supposed to imbue a power called ‘Obsidian Dragonfire’.”

Rogar scratched his beard. “I see. But you do realize that we’ll have to completely unmake this sword to do this, yes?”

I winced. “That’s where I was hoping we could do this a bit differently. I don’t want to destroy the whole blade. I can’t, rather.”

I’d lose the Initialization, and who knew if I’d successfully re-Initialize the thing? I wasn’t going to risk taking that chance. Not until I’d had a chance to confirm whether Initializing something once meant I’d always succeed reinitializing it.

“Can you do that?”

Rogar frowned and crossed his arms. “I suppose if we cut the blade in half and fold the powder in the middle… Might be possible. Never done anything like that before, though. You’re paying for this, yeah?”

“I’d like to work with you on this one. To learn. But yeah, I’ll pay, so long as it’s reasonable for this sort of work.”

“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get started,” he said. He took my soul crystal, picked up a hammer, and put the crystal on an anvil.

“Wait,” I said, panicking. “What are you doing?”

Rogar stopped, his hammer held high. “Well, smashing it, of course.”

“You’re going to smash my soul crystal…”

“It’s how it’s done. Got to mash it into a fine powder, then sprinkle the flakes evenly into the blade. You understand?”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Relax, Grug. I get it. You don’t want to see your expensive bauble destroyed. Go ‘n sell it, then. Better money than a fancy blade, if ya ask me.”

“No,” I said, calming down. “No, that’s fine. Go ahead.”

I tried not to wince when the soul crystal made horrible cracking sounds and shattered like glass. It didn’t have a condition in my inventory, but its title changed from [Soul Crystal] to [Soul Crystal shards], which in turn changed to [Soul Crystal Powder] when Rogar brought the shards onto his mortar & pestle and pounded them down even further.

By the time he was done, it was nothing more than a pile of black powder. Like ash, almost.

Covering it with a cloth, he went over to the blade and removed the pommel, handle, and crossguard, leaving the blade bare.

I was worried it would lose condition upon being dismantled, but to my relief, nothing changed. Its condition remained the same, too.

From there, we were in familiar territory. I worked the bellows until the blade had heated enough to forge, while Rogar replaced the coals as needed. The thing was way too long to get the whole blade white-hot, so we worked one bit at a time. This time, its condition did deteriorate, though it had so much of it, we weren’t even close to bringing it to zero.

With each cycle, the blade became more and more deformed as we folded it in half.

The next time we heated it, both the folded-over tip and the base of the blade got hot.

“Now for the hard part,” Rogar said, bringing over the mortar bowl that contained the crushed soul crystal powder.

He took a small pinch and applied it to the red-hot base of the blade.

Then it was my turn to hammer. I took a swing, pounding the folded-over tip into the base, forge-welding them together. The goal was to sandwich the powder in between the layers of steel, to produce a long, flat ingot that we’d then reshape into a proper blade profile. Similar to what I did with the recycling.

It’d be a long, arduous task, but I was ready. The sweat and the effort meant nothing when I considered what I’d end up with.

What I was not ready for, however, were the array of greens, blues, reds, and other colors that appeared.

I recognized it immediately. It was the same sort of color overlay my HUD provided for bosses in the Trial.

Except instead of highlighting a person, it covered the blade, with different areas appearing in different splotches of color.

A dialog box popped up. A box that simultaneously made me grin like a boy and curse at Cosmo for never having told me about it.

Soulweaving Interface: Active