The barely lit coals of the campfire smoldered gently, their warmth a faint memory of the night before. We sat in a circle, munching on salt biscuits and jerky, the taste a stark contrast to the dampness in the air. Banter flowed freely as each of us recounted our individual skirmishes and the epic showdown with the orc warlord. The gray overcast sky loomed above, casting a somber mood over our gathering. Every so often, a distant crack of thunder would punctuate our stories, a reminder of the storm that might be on its way.

Ike rose, having finished his modest meal faster than the rest of us. He scanned the horizon, his eyes narrowing at the thickening clouds. “I don't like the look of those skies,” he began, his voice tinged with concern. “But I'm even less fond of the idea of charging up those hills and stumbling into another ambush. We've had two close calls already, and I'm starting to think they weren't mere chance encounters. We need to sort through this loot, see if we can gear up better for the next fight.”

Kevinar, having also finished his meal, stood beside Ike. I glanced down at the remnants of my own food, realizing that I'd need to stock up more the next time we hit a market. “Are you sure about waiting here?” Kevinar questioned, his signature goggles resting against his chest. “That thunder didn't sound too friendly.”

Ike shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant hills. “It's a tough call. But this spot is more defensible than up there. And who knows how many more orcs are lurking, waiting for us? We should take stock, maybe find a way to bolster our defenses before we move.”

I surveyed the area, noting the organized piles of loot from our recent victory. As well as a complete and by now usual absence of Schustak. “Maybe I could try to upgrade some of our gear or fuse new weapons if we have the materials?” I suggested, pointing to the loot.

Ike's initial scowl of irritation softened into contemplation as he considered the piles. “That icearigama might fuse well with the orc warlord’s club.”

I cocked my head, confused. Fusing was one of the few things this world had that wasn’t present in Lords of Chaos, and it was still such a mystery to me. “How would that work? They aren’t even the same kind of weapon!”

Kevinar nodded thoughtfully. “There is a risk, but fusing totally different weapon types can also create a completely new weapon. But there's also a risk of ruining a perfectly good weapon.”

I summoned the icearigama from my inventory, admiring the frosty motes that danced around it. “What if I tried my Upgrade ability?”

Kevinar raised an eyebrow, turning to Ike. “It's not a bad idea. He's guaranteed a slightly better weapon.”

“But it's the wrong weapon type,” Kevinar countered. “There's a chance it'll gain attributes that don't suit its design.”

I pointed to the loot piles, my claw indicating the stone axes. “What about those? I could fuse the club with Jon's lance and then use those axes to upgrade my Freezing Kusarigama?”

Brandosyeus approached, his eyes scanning the weapon in my hand. “May I?” he asked. I handed it to him, and he examined it from various angles before returning it. “My Knowledge Assessment suggests that this weapon could gain a Shield Break Modifier of 1% for each stone ax used in the upgrade process.”

Ike did some quick calculations. “12 axes would give a 12% modifier, but it'll cost 120 stamina points.”

“And 1200 gold,” Kevinar added with a smirk.

I nodded, then hesitated. “I only have 60 stamina points,” I admitted, seeing their surprised expressions. “Is that bad?”

The distant thunder rumbled again, closer this time, but still far off.

“Not necessarily,” Ike replied with a chuckle. “Just thought you'd have more, being a big guy and all. Alright, four upgrades and a fuse it is. But we'll need to rest here for eight hours, even if the storm hits. Use the time to train, everyone. Who knows, you might actually get good at something!”

Laughter echoed around the campfire. I noticed Jon produce his own bag of coins, pulling out some of the hide armor that had been placed at the bottom of the pile.

“New armor?” I asked.

“Nah. I’m hoping to make a sweater. Or a blanket. Things are looking like they might get chilly soon.”

My large ice-chiseled mouth dropped open and he barked a laugh. I joined him, feeling warm thoughts steam through the innate cold of my body. I would run the upgrades first, I decided, placing the icearigama and 3 of the axes before me. Rolling my clawed hands over them, I thought the command Upgrade, and they glowed as they lifted up into the air, slamming together to become one.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Then all at once, the weapon data flashed before me:

Freezing Kusarigama, Damage 4 to 36 (+10)(x2), Weight 7, Speed Fast, Specials: Freeze (10%), Shield Break (3%), Attunement Level 1

Which in turn was followed by a new announcement that absolutely dominated my vision entirely:

ATTUNEMENT UNLOCKED – LEVEL 1 ACHIEVED

“Everything okay, Ryan?” he asked, concern evident in his voice as I stumbled backwards, flailing and almost tripping over my own legs.

I nodded, blinking the shock from my eyes. “I just unlocked my first attunement to my icearigama and wow did the weapon want me to know it!” I exclaimed.

Jon's face broke into a wide grin. “Congratulations! And, yeah, they’ll do that to you. So, what power did you get?”

I stared down at the weapon. It gleamed with a newfound power, the edges of the ax heads sharper and, somehow, even more perfect. Reaching into it I looked into the weapon to find its first unlocked power.

Vorpal (5%)

I spoke the words as I read them, and the whole camp went silent, staring.

“Vorpal? As it cutting through anything?” Kevinar asked, his usual smirk growing to an outright smile. “And you can still wield it, despite the level restrictions?”

I remembered the words of Jeldorain before, about how those didn’t apply to us, and I just shrugged. “Yep. Guess I got lucky.”

“Lucky?!” Ike yelled, incredulous. “You just got a weapon that on every hit has a 5% chance of outright killing its non-boss type, non-undead type target.”

Inside of me, I could feel Jeldorain smile, his lips curving up and over jagged ethereal fangs to lick the surface of his frosted lips. Yes. This will do nicely. I will feel good to end the lives of so many, so quickly.

Thoughts of the orcish mob we’d just fought flitted through my mind, and I found myself agreeing. He chuckled, following me through the frantic visions of battle, watching the fight play on repeat.

Why are my fuses and upgrades so special? I asked the infernal. His great blue eyes peered into my brown ones, rolling on to examine my human soul from my bald head to my bald feet. He snorted and shook his great head.

Infernals have an extra ability that the other races don’t have. We have luck. The luck greatly affects all of the rolls of the prime material plane and beyond, through the stars and the elements, tipping the numbers ever in our favor.

His eyes flared, icy-cold flame shooting from the circumference of his eyes.

Luck! he bellowed, the righteous anger of his being driving piles of icy waste to pelt through my body. Infernals are lucky! I am lucky!

We were back in the icy hell of his home world, the torment of millions screaming into the gusting wind. I saw him, Jeldorain, standing atop the peak of a perilous peak, bellowing fury into the snow-laden sky. No one will control me! he cried. Around him, swirls of many colors were coalescing. One from every color of the rainbow. All of the colors in between. They wrapped him, webbed him, and chained him, pulling him up and out of his dimension like an angler yanking a trout from a river.

And as he rose, I saw the silent, sleeping and see-through silhouette of myself. It was above Jeldorain now, and unlike what I’d thought must have happened, I watched him be dragged, struggling hard, into the spirit of my body. I saw and felt my soul ooze into his every pore while otherworldly powers spread me over Jeldorain’s spirit, hardening me into a prison.

I gasped, falling to the ground. Around me, the rest of the party were already at my side. All excepting Schustak, of course.

“He’s here. I seen his eyes move,” Ike chirped excitedly. “That infernal giving you trouble?” he asked. The others watched me closely, and I noticed that the rest of them had their weapons out, a measure well described as ‘Just-in-case’.

“No,” I shook my head. “No. He showed me something about his past, and I guess I got lost in it.” My gaze wandered over them, imagining how any one of them would have reacted to themselves being kidnapped from their plane of existence and then being forced into spiritual possession. As far as I could tell, Jeldorain was actually taking things fairly well, all things considered.

I stood, all eyes following me, and I took the warlord’s club and Jon’s lance, laying there in front of me along with the money for its fuse. Weaving them together with the command, I let the magic of my work distract us all.

Crafted – Behold!

Infused with the spiritual residue of the ancient warlord’s victims and the precision of a knight's lance, this weapon is a monument to the power of the free people and those who fight them.

Warlord's Lancer. Epic. Revered by the elite guards of the Goblin Empire, this weapon combines the brute force of a club with the piercing might of a lance. Not only can it deliver devastating blows, but it also has the potential to impale foes, immobilizing them or carrying them away from the battlefield. Wielding this weapon in multiple battles will attune the user to its unique essence, unlocking hidden capabilities.

Warlord's Lancer, Damage 5 to 40 (+12)(x2), Weight 8, Speed Medium, Specials: Impale (8%) Attunement unknown.

Jon took the lance with great reverence, and everyone examined it excitedly. The shaft of the lancer was made of a dark, almost black wood, polished to a high sheen. It was about six feet in length, sturdy and straight, with intricate silver inlays that depicted scenes of tremendous battles. These inlays not only served as decoration but also provided an added grip for the wielder.

At one end of the shaft was the club component, a bulbous, heavy mass made from the densest part of the warlord’s tree trunk. It was studded with sharp, jagged pieces of obsidian and quartz, giving it a brutal, raw appearance.

The other end of the shaft tapered into the lance component. Made of a gleaming, polished silver metal, the lance was about two feet long and ended in a razor-sharp point. The metal was etched with runes that glowed faintly with an ectoplasmic green, hinting at the weapon's magical properties.

With my stamina spent, my body exhausted and the rest of the party oohing and aahing over my most recent creation, I lay down in my sleeping spot and hoped that, in the next 8 hours, nothing wouldn’t happen while I dreamed of another world.