And nothing happened…. I mean it fit, and kind of clicked into place, but nothing else happened. Then I had to stop from smacking myself in the head when I realised the obvious. I changed the ring back into a hammer and it flashed, the seal began to glow, and the hammer that appeared was not the hammer that I had just been holding. It had changed, and it was incredible. It looked like it could have been made from silver, and inlaid with gold. The weight felt off but as I concentrated on it, the weight shifted from the handle to the head of the hammer. I gave it a few practice swings in the air and brought it down on the cooling scrap metal I had left on the anvil.

  There was a blinding flash of light and I found myself standing in the doorway of a decrepit workshop. I looked around to see a dull environment: through a hole in the roof I saw overcast. Off in the distance I saw nothing but dry fields and some scattered straw growing. I looked behind me and discovered a simple archway that seemed to display a still image of the makeshift anvil I had previously been standing at. After testing to see if I could in fact return to my point of origin, I started getting settled into my little portable workshop. It didn’t take me long to discover that it was safe to store my materials within the pocket dimension. I found a small supply of materials and tools within, and when I returned after looting them, I found they had not magically reappeared or anything. Each time I left the dimension, I would have to strike the anvil with the hammer again to reopen the portal. It seemed time would not pass inside when the portal was closed (I tested this with a lit candle). Additionally, any people outside could not enter the portal. I asked Darkrose to observe, and she said that the anvil started emitting light but I never seemed to go anywhere. That confirmed another thing, because I had spent several minutes inside the workshop; Time would pass much faster with me inside. It took awhile to get used to, but once I started taking naps inside my workshop, shit got fucking bad ass. Need some hinges? *Grabs a chunk of metal. Smacks anvil. A pile of leafs, knuckles, and pins scatter to the ground (just the components for a hinge).* Tired of carrying all these goddamn books from place to place? Throw them on the anvil. You get the idea.

  Working with the kobolds got frustrating pretty quickly so I had Darkrose teach me to speak some uncommon. In return, I taught her how to enchant gear with magical abilities. She wanted to finish the sheath she had given me by adding an enchantment. I told her about the mana draining enchant I was planning to add, and she was even able to improve upon the original idea for the enchant. Luckily, I was able to bring her into my magical workshop by holding her hand when I struck the anvil. This allowed us to perform “miracles” in the eyes of many. Unfortunately, the ring only worked for me, so if I exited the archway, Darkrose would also be ejected from the pocket-dimension.

  Darkrose was able to use the sheath to enhance the life draining enchantment already in my sword. She was also able to add a mana draining enchantment as long as I hit my enemies with the blade still in the sheath. We spent the next few weeks establishing our abode. We were amazed that the quality of water in the town improved and the quantity of wildlife in the area increased after that.

  Me and Darkrose were able to produce and trade many goods (with the help of the kobolds), so we focused our wealth into developing our home. I eventually handed control of the kobold workshop over to Darkrose so I could travel on my own and make a real name for myself.

  I left town travelling north-westward to find my destiny. About a day and a half into my journey for the capital city of Denisea, I was attacked by two bigoted, half-elf-hating bandits. I only had 1500g on me and the racist fucks wanted it all. They were also going after my armour, my sword, and the magical family heirlooms my parents had given me which contained even more valuables; What option did I have but to fight. I drew my katana and charged straight at them. they seemed quite surprised: I guess they never expected such a young person to fight, especially outnumbered. Maybe they thought I was just a spoiled noble, or it could have been my speed with the help of my enchants, but I caught them both off guard. I struck the first of them with two quick slashes across the torso and ran my sword through the other one’s chest. I pushed the dying man off of my katana with a swift kick, and flicked their blood from my blade. Then I finally sheathed my deadly weapon as they fell bleeding or dead to the ground. I guess I should have known better. Dressed in custom half-elf armour, brandishing obvious vintage jewellery, I needed to be less conspicuous. Just as I was considering this fact, my pendant changed. Instead of an immaculate white cape, I now wore a shabby looking brown hooded cloak. Pretty cool.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I reached Denisea and got a job working under a blacksmith. He quickly let me start working the forge on my own, and the first time I opened a portal to my workshop on a proper anvil I was shocked to find it did not grant me access to the same shabby workshop. Well, it was the same workshop since all my possessions were still there, but it was in much better condition. The sky even seemed clearer with a cool breeze and the surrounding fields were green. Spending time there was much more comfortable, perhaps too comfortable.

  Crafting was enjoyable but I could not get the encounter with the bandits out of my mind. I started working as a mercenary hunting all kinds of monsters, protecting people, and exploring dungeons. I tried to avoid spilling blood unnecessarily, so I would beat many of my enemies into submission using my sheathed sword and activating my weapon’s mana, stamina, and health draining enchantments. I suspected that sparing the lives of innocents would empower my amulet, based on that time I spared Dipshit’s life. With all of my jobs I made so much gold that I started to send some back to my family. Less than a year later I was well known as a blacksmith and as a mercenary in Denisea.

  Finally, Darkrose came to visit me in the capital, and she brought Dash with her. Dash had grown to about the size of an adult raven, or maybe a vulture (about the same size that his whelpling siblings had been). Darkrose commented on how old I looked and I suddenly noticed she hadn’t grown or changed at all. She was wearing new armour and brandishing a massive combat scythe. I hadn’t realised that with the amount of time I had been spending in my workshop, I was finally starting to look older than her again. That was when I figured I should try to stop sleeping exclusively in my workshop, I was probably already halfway to twenty-one, even though it was still a few weeks before my actual 20th birthday.

  Darkrose explained how she wanted to track down her other missing artefacts, so she left my parents in charge of the kobolds. She told me that they had applied for a crafter's guild licence, and how the town was already getting more visitors.

  We started to gather intel on the whereabouts of Darkrose's missing items. In the meantime, we took scattered jobs and continued to improve our equipment and enchanting skills. It wasn’t long before we heard talk of a fallen star and a powerful warlock in the north-eastern tundra. I had my doubts, but Darkrose strongly believed that she could sense the presence of her essence. She told me about the few memories that she did have, but mostly she described the feeling that she was forgetting something important, and that she needed to recover the rest of her power. I guess I trusted her instincts, and after witnessing the first time she re-acquired past memories I couldn’t really argue.