Chapter 13: Hammer, Anvil, and Fire
TRISTAN
Tristan had been in the forge for longer than he cared to admit. Long enough that he actually wasn't sure what day it was any more. It had been... a while since his mother had stopped bothering him to come out for meals. He now realized his father must have put an end to that, which was probably why there was usually a plate or two of food and a tankard of water on the table by the door instead.
His father understood what was going on. Tristan was walking his Path, and that required space, time, and an endless supply of metal.
He had had so many ideas after that day at the training ground. The fight against Aaric, especially followed by the talk with Flor, had filled him with endless inspiration. Tristan had nearly run the whole way back to the forge. And he’d been at it ever since.
More than anything, though, what he'd learned was that some of his ideas were simply too big for his current skill set. His foundation might be solid, but even that wasn’t enough to create experience where there was none. He needed more practice, more levels, and more lessons.
His hammer held a constant rhythm as he worked the beautiful steel billet. Day by day and week by week, it was becoming more and more the sword he knew it would be. He would not rush it. Crafting this sword would define his Path, and it needed to be his best work so far.
The dungeon and his sword-crafting marathon had taught him much about his Path, and he’d made some decisions on where it would go. Eventually he’d need to talk to his father about it, but not without the finished sword.
His workbench was littered with the remains of other projects. Some he’d even dare to call successful.
A pile of [Simple Ring] variants filled a boot-sized woven basket. He was no jeweler, so basic quality, with one minor affix each, was definitely the limits of his abilities for now. He had eventually worked them enough to give them the [Sturdy] property, granting a bit of maximum health. It was nice, but he'd been trying to boost armor, which he thought would work better with his shield’s Rejuvenation. Despite probably a day of testing, he could only ever push the rings to +1 armor, or he failed outright. There just didn’t seem to be any other defensive alternatives.
Still, the [Sturdy] property was good, and even if it wasn’t armor, it was always nice to push his health higher. He’d equipped two of the rings immediately and was excited to see that the effects stacked. That was the best he could do with his ring slots for now.
He'd thought about going a different direction next and working on offensive bonuses. He began attempting to add some sort of sharpness, which he thought might boost his damage output, but that had straight up failed. All he had to show for it were numerous cuts on his fingers and a pile of metal bands that might be better served as caltrops. He’d set them aside to keep, just in case he could use them later. They might find a use as a trap or a projectile some day.
Hanging off the sides of the bench on a series of rods were his attempts at necklaces and pendants. There were almost as many successes as failures there, though even the ‘best’ of the lot weren’t truly satisfying.
His first batch of [Simple Necklace] attempts had ended up exactly like his first rings, just with max health bonuses. But then he’d had a breakthrough and got the coveted [Reinforced] property, granting bonus armor.
So Tristan continued the grind.
He'd found that a [Simple Pendant] at least gave him a bit more flexibility in the affixes he could imbue. They weren’t limited to just health or armor, but could instead give weak resistance to a specific damage type depending on how he worked it. He'd made two that had slightly blunted damage from piercing attacks, but they hadn't helped at all against slashing or bludgeoning damage. There were lots of possibilities he could explore there: different elements, different resistances, even combinations of them. But that would all be for later. At his current level, anything more would require specializing, and he already knew what he wanted to specialize in. Besides, armor as a stat was easier to craft, more reliable, and worked decently enough against everything anyway.
Then he’d hit level 5 and gained [Craft Weapon]. The rest was a total blur of excitement and experimentation. He’d immediately pivoted to making swords.
[Craft Weapon] an active ability allowing a user to shape and incorporate metal into weapons of varying power and styles, all serving the same general purpose: to inflict maximum damage with minimal effort.
There were currently five completed-but-inferior-quality swords jumbled in a basket behind him. Tristan hadn’t even bothered to safely place them, just tossing each once it was finished.
It was fascinating to see how much his Core had shaped his work on those blades. How it took less metal to make them larger and longer. What surprised him most was just how little material he could use and still end up with a properly sized shortsword. He enjoyed seeing how much excess material was left over, because he knew it would only fuel his future experiments. And as he finished his sixth sword, he knew he’d gotten this one right.
I might even put a proper crossguard on this one. It’ll definitely be better than the rusted repair job from the dungeon.
He smiled confidently as he held the sword up, and that smile only grew as he saw the rarity had upgraded to Common.
The air sang out with the addictive dinging sound as the golden ring of energy surrounded and embraced him, bathing the forge in its glow. For the second time in this crafting marathon, Tristan leveled up.
Congratulations! You have reached LEVEL 6!
Skill Earned:
[Craft Armor] An active ability allowing a user to turn metal and other crafting supplies into protective gear of varying styles and functions.
For the briefest moment he wondered if it was time to switch to a different crafting goal. But he had so much left to learn, and his ongoing project needed--no, demanded--more from him. It wasn’t long before he fell back into the familiar rhythm of hammer, anvil, and fire.
- - - - -
SOPHIE
Even with Poof snuggled into her lap as the absolute definition of fluffy adorableness, Sophie couldn’t get comfortable. She had grown to hate The Agora. It wasn’t the drunken crowds that bothered her, even if they were usually rude. That was to be expected in such a well-known tavern. As was the suffocating layers of musk, dried blood, and seasoned meats so thick she could practically taste them on the air. No, what Sophie hated most was that every single adventurer she tried to party with had refused her.
At first she’d thought it might be because of her family. She wouldn’t put it past her parents to somehow extend their influence and prevent her from ever finding a party. It always seemed as if they wanted to keep her locked away in their ivory tower like a perfect little princess, they even had the gall to say she was the one who needed to see sense!
The world was too exciting for Sophie to just settle like that without testing herself first. She had her own plans for her life that most certainly did not include stagnating at level 3... Even if that was precisely what had been happening for months.
Sophie stroked her softest astral again and pulled her tightly and briefly against her cheek.
Weeks ago she’d stopped giving her real name and blackened her hair in an effort to reduce their involvement. Yet even when she’d begun lying about almost everything, it still hadn’t gotten her a party. The one compromise Sophie would never make was to lie about her astrals, because they were her real family. They were her greatest strengths and the focus of her entire Path. She’d known from the first time she’d ever summoned Mister Biggs that they were critical to her life both on and off her Path. That was why she’d already taken both of her Secondary Classes immediately: summoner and summoner.
She had lost count of how many times she’d been told that her focus was “foolish” and “too limited” in the early tiers where astralists were already known to be at their weakest. But Sophie knew better. Her astrals were the best parts of her, and life in general, and would lead her to her greatest successes. In time people would see just how wrong they had been to dismiss her chosen Path without even a consideration.
Her astrals were very much her best friends and true family. Their love was not conditional or limited and therefore was all she really needed.
Other than more experience.
She automatically replaced the large blue bow Poof had thrown off again. By now it was practically habit to find and position it to maximum adorableness. The bow was their only point of contention because the large puffball didn’t seem to understand just how perfectly it matched her blue eyes. Sophie encouraged Poof to always look her best even if it meant thinking the same way as her mother. She couldn’t help but recognize that Poof’s cuteness made Sophie more approachable. Poof was simply too cute a conversation starter to not utilize.
Sophie would take every advantage she could get to combat how out of place her youth looked in The Agora. Awakening at 13 hadn’t been as glamorous as she’d expected, and it had been a rough year since. It had practically become a daily occurrence for her to be underestimated due to her age if she wasn’t just dismissed out of hand. She had earned her Awakening just like everybody else, and her astrals were proof of that. That she had more than one--at level 3!--should have spoken volumes.
It just seemed to be spoken in a language no one else understood.
Sophie perked up as a haggard-looking trio trudged in. When the woman directed the men to a table before making her way toward the bar alone, Sophie decided to approach her. None of them had a shield or any other gear that suggested tanking was even a consideration. All three of them had thick bags under their eyes that hinted at near-exhaustion. She also spotted actual scars from what were clearly freshly-healed wounds. Those were the types of injuries that were so bad they left marks on your soul.
They must have been through something truly awful. They’re definitely worth a shot. If they’re really only a party of three, it looks like they need a tank.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
She watched the leader a little longer, intentionally holding back until she saw the woman receive her drinks from the bar. When she only picked up three pints, it confirmed to Sophie that they weren’t expecting others to join them later.
She figured that if she started across the room now that she might end up just behind the woman. But just as the woman was halfway to her party’s table and Sophie might have drawn even with her, a very drunken patron with an enormous greatsword was pushed over backward by another brute at his table. He toppled into Sophie, who had absolutely no way of avoiding him and instead was shoved directly into the woman’s way.
The woman barely had time to react, but she was still able to twist just enough that Sophie didn’t end up with a pint of beer down her front.
Not a great start, Sophie thought as she glanced up at the woman.
Sophie had learned across her countless attempts that most people in The Agora didn’t respond to pleasantries or kindness. Even the least experienced of adventurers here seemed to have thicker hides. As much as she wanted to fit in, she still avoided the bar’s typical greeting of Watch where you’re going and barely restrained her near-automatic apology.
As if on cue, Poof gave an adorable, frowning “Meep!”
Sophie took the excuse to focus her attention on the little one, practically cooing, “It’s alright, Poof.”
“Excuse me?!” the woman began, but quickly her tone softened, probably after recognizing how young Sophie was. “Look, I’m sorry. You just--I didn't see you. Sorry again.”
Sophie didn’t let the woman’s quick temper bother her and was glad for the change of tone. “At least you didn’t spill anything, which I have to admit means you must have some pretty great reflexes. But maybe be more careful. There are some legitimately crazy people in the Agora. Not everyone is as understanding and cute as we are.”
The woman nodded a touch uncertainly and squinted her eyes. “We? Does your, uh, furry ball talk?”
Sophie heard Poof’s meeps beginning to rise in pitch and knew it was not a good sign. “Does she need to?”
“Oh... No? Sorry, I guess, to both of you. I’m just... It’s... been a rough couple days.”
Sophie openly examined the woman. Her long and tangled hair was unevenly cut on one side, undoubtedly from a battle. The basic rapier she wore at her hip had a splash of blood on the grip.
“Looks like it,” Sophie said before pointing at the pints. “I can’t help but notice you’ve only got three drinks. If you wouldn’t mind some more company then maybe we could help each other out.”
As smoothly as could be afforded, Sophie began trying to attach herself to the woman and her party. The woman turned out to be a level 6 duelist named Isabel. Her two remaining party members were both level 5: a mage trying to specialize in force magic named Miguel, and a scout who pronounced his name “Eh-man-well” quite clearly, holding Sophie’s eyes the whole time as he said it. Clearly he cared that it was spoken correctly, and Sophie earned herself an appreciative nod when she repeated it back to him accurately the first time.
She kept it as casual as she could manage, quickly dubbing the group “the Ells,” due to their similar names. While Isabel smiled at that remark, Emanuel outright laughed and offered to pay her for licensing fees if their future members also followed the trend. Sophie took that small in and tried to nudge the conversation toward the group’s exploits. It wasn’t ever hard to get adventurers to talk about themselves or their accomplishments, but given this group’s current makeup, it was clear they’d experienced some big losses. Sophie knew better than to push too hard on a sore subject. She just wanted to learn their capabilities. If she also happened to learn what had gone wrong on their last run, then that would be even better.
Apparently they had had a tank, but no healer. They’d still thought they could push through a challenging dungeon because of their high damage output. It might have even worked, but the slowing curse the first miniboss placed on the tank persisted even after the boss’s defeat.
“But rather than turn back...” Isabel faded off, letting the rest of their dungeon run sort of hang in the air with a wave of her hand.
But Miguel wasn’t content to leave it there. “The rogue pushed forward, straight into a roaming patrol. Blighted idiot. It’s really... bah. Got what he deserved. Just sucks for the rest of us." Miguel took two gulps of his drink while his scowl increasingly deepened. It was easy to tell that neither of the others really wanted to talk about it much. Then the tale ended as Miguel knocked over his empty pint. As he stood and wobbled his way to the bar for a refill, the mood lightened slightly.
“Did you... know them well?” Sophie took the chance to ask with him gone.
“Not really,” Isabel admitted, taking a drink herself. “Was just our second run with them. But you know how it is. It’s hard finding reliable party members.”
Sophie appreciated the woman’s calm, and she quickly jumped at the opening Isabel had presented. “Does that mean you are looking for more group members? With my astr--"
Isabel interrupted her with a raised hand and a considering eye. “We would need reliability, as I said. I don’t even know your level or Class yet.”
“I’m an astralist,” Sophie said, lifting Poof slightly.
Emanuel finally spoke up, asking the question he’d obviously been wondering about for a while given how long his eyes had lingered on Poof. “So that’s what the fluffball is! An astral! I thought they were usually more... fearsome. She’s just adorable.”
“Right?” Sophie agreed. “This is Poof. She’s my newest and a really awesome battle mage. I just point her at a group of monsters and--"
“I’m sorry,” Isabel interrupted again. “‘Newest’? As in, you have multiple astrals?”
“And did she call that furball a mage?” Miguel said, returning but already sporting a foamy beer mustache. “I’m a mage. How does it--? Spells require--It doesn’t even have hands!”
“It’s an astral, it doesn’t need hands,” Emanuel groaned at his teammate, rubbing his forehead.
“It’s just a furry ball,” Miguel fired back. “Can it even speak?”
Poof’s blue eyes narrowed as she twisted in Sophie’s lap to face Miguel and gave him a very angry, “Meep!”
Sophie tilted her head at the mage’s apparent misunderstandings. “Poof is a mage. I’ve been working with her on her spellwork, and she’s already learned how to explode a [Mana Bolt], which I know is pretty rare at this tier. I haven’t managed to help her aspect it yet, but we’re hoping--"
“It uses an unaspected [Mana Bolt],” Miguel said, shaking his head. “How is it going to fight anything remotely strong with something so basic? I’m only level 5, but I’ve already learned [Force Bolt], and three other aspects besides. You’re not a mage if you can’t harness multiple elements, and she hasn’t even got one yet!” His pint sloshed drunkenly above the table. “We’re supposed to shape the elemental nature of the world with our willpower alone!”
The last two words clearly echoed in his head with more pride than Sophie thought they deserved.
“If only it were fueled by ego instead of mana...” Emanuel said quietly.
Sophie tried not to laugh by instead recentering the bow that Poof had somehow managed to discard again. “Well, I do have other astrals since you already have a mage. They’re quite capable of filling the other important roles. I have one in particular, Mister Biggs--”
“Mister Biggs?” Isabel asked, face unreadable.
Sophie hoped she had misheard the dismissiveness in the woman’s reply. “Yes. He’s kind of a big bear guy, and he’s a solid tank. He’s actually got a lot of armor despite being covered in fur, so he doesn’t need much healing. He’s also got this lion-esque roar that’s actually an area taunt, which I’m sure you’re aware is super rare at this level. He can basically keep any monster’s attention throughout an entire encounter. I’d totally love to show him to you, but given his size I don’t think even the people of The Agora would appreciate his sudden appearance..."
She realized, perhaps too late, that she’d been rambling.
All three of the others were just staring at her. Miguel had frozen with his drink midway to his mouth. Then he set it down and exchanged a look with Isabel. Sophie didn’t miss that even Emanuel had essentially done the same.
Isabel cleared her throat, but Sophie started first. “Look, I know that an astralist isn’t anyone’s ideal party member early on, but we can be stellar at later levels. If you just help me a little now, I’ll owe you a debt that you could collect when I hit that sweet spot later. It could be a great investment for your party.” She was careful not to call it an Oath without prompting.
Isabel sighed and returned to the one question Sophie had really hoped to avoid answering: “What level are you now?”
“Three.”
The duelist’s face took on a sad smile. “That is a long term investment.” She shook her head.
Sophie’s voice grew quieter, and she tried to relieve her stress by petting Poof in earnest again. “It would certainly be shorter with a good group.” If she could keep them focused on the future then maybe they would gloss over her low level.
Her slow progress was only because she had just gotten over the fear of seeing her family getting hurt. She wanted to make sure that she knew enough to guarantee they wouldn’t be unnecessarily hurt when they fought monsters. Mister Biggs truly was a great tank, but he did almost no damage himself. Meanwhile Poof was the exact opposite and able to kill a bunch of things quickly but didn’t have much staying power. Sophie was still holding out hope that she would never see her little scout Sneakers take a hit; he was built purely for stealth and speed.
“How old are you?” the older woman asked with a tone suggesting it was even more important than her level.
“Fourteen.”
“Isa,” Emanuel said with a groan.
Isabel stared down into her pint. She began to lift it, but then didn’t. Instead, she spoke directly into it, not looking at Sophie at all. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t see a way for us to carry someone right now who has no guarantee to hold her own--"
“Can I try at least?” Sophie pleaded, but she wasn’t really expecting much back from them at this point. The rejection was already burning in her ears and through her confidence, but she would hate herself if she didn’t at least do her due diligence.
“--Let alone lay claim to something as ambitious as a full astralist Path,” Isabel continued without slowing. “That ‘investment’ won’t be returned until mid tier 3, if at all. That could be years, girl.”
Sophie considered a million ways to convey that she knew more about this topic than any other because this was her Path, but she knew that being overbearing wouldn't help her cause. “That’s because all the guides teach the Single-Astral Focus. Just because my Path is different doesn’t mean it will be worse.”
Miguel scoffed with slurring words. “Great, another freaking first-tier that thinks her untested Path can stand beside the advice of tier-4 astralists.”
“Well there’s only one way to test it,” Sophie said, catching his eyes in hopes that he wouldn’t just brush her off.
Sophie heard the chair sliding out from the table on her other side. “Good luck finding a party, kid,” Isabel said.
Sophie couldn’t stop herself from frowning, but at least the tears stayed back as she looked up at the duelist. “It’s Sophie.”
Miguel and Emanuel also rose from their seats. Miguel dropped his now-emptied pint on the table with an unforgiving thud.
“Well, it was still nice meeting you, little Sophie,” Emanuel said, handing his pint to Miguel. “I hope you survive long enough to grow strong and prove your Path.”
Sophie wanted to thank him but also knew it would be wasted energy. It always ends like this, she thought, hugging Poof tighter to herself. Her limited social energy was better spent on trying to find another party to join--something that was getting harder by the day as she had worked through all the regulars.
As the crowd continued to churn and drink around her, Sophie tried to put her most recent defeat behind her and instead focus on the one absolute truth that she was certain of and would never give up on:
Sophira Adrielle would one day be known as the greatest summoner the realm had ever seen.
“Meep.”
...And Poof would one day learn to keep that bow on.