Chapter Sixty-Five: Suit Up

  Jace trudged toward the shops, scrolling through his inventory again, sighing at his lack of gold.

  He had considered going back to that creepy little shop from his first days in Terra Mythica—the one where he’d picked up the White Raven ring. The owner had been a little too eager to trade vague, ominous favors for shiny objects. Maybe he’d offer some equally sketchy deal for armor and a decent weapon. But Jace decided against it. Last thing he needed was to owe some mysterious shopkeeper yet another favor that would no doubt come back to bite him. Hard.

  He sighed. This wasn’t what he wanted either, but his options were slim, and it was time to get creative. His mind drifted to his old job at Albert’s Hardware Store, the comforting weight of tools in his hands, the clatter of metal, the smell of sawdust and oil. Not exactly Terra Mythica, but there was something about it that was grounding. Albert had always been a steady presence, like an uncle who wasn’t actually related to you but might as well be.

  Jace tried to picture his face. What did Albert even look like? The image wavered at the edges, like an old photograph left out in the sun too long. Hope he’s doing okay. Hope my brother’s not missing me... not that he’d even know if I was gone. His thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind, refusing to settle on anything for long.

  Life outside of Terra Mythica felt hazier with each passing day. Not in any dramatic way—just... off. Like everything was a dream he couldn’t quite remember, a place where the colors weren’t as bright, the edges not as sharp. It was still there, still real. Just... less.

  The crowd buzzed around him as he walked through the Hephaestus district, voices rising and falling like the hum of a distant hive, while the faint scent of charred meat drifted from a nearby vendor.

  He spotted Twig in the throng—hard to miss a half-giant, especially when he was yanking thick slabs of leather off racks with one hand and hauling them to his workstation. With deft, practiced movements, Twig draped the heavy hides over a table, cutting and shaping them as if they were paper. Jace watched for a moment, amazed.

  “Jace!” Twig called out, flashing a grin, his massive hands still working a thick strip of hide. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

  Jace approached, the crowd parting around Twig as if he carried a force field. “Yeah, well… I had a thought.” His voice wavered, but he tried to keep it casual. He needed this.

  “That so? Sounds dangerous.” Twig chuckled, still focused on the leather, the familiar rhythm of his stitching a comfort.

  “ I, uh, need to pay back that loan, but I can’t—not until I’ve got better gear. And I kinda need to… suit up. And, uh, I’ve got this new cloak ability thing? But it drains aether, so… yeah.”

  Jace mentally kicked himself. He was almost twenty, for crying out loud—asking for a job shouldn’t feel like facing down a demon horde. But here he was, palms sweaty, voice doing that weird shaky thing, and feeling like he was back in school asking if he could borrow a pencil.

  Slay terrible monsters? No problem. Almost die a few times in a game where respawning might come with a side order of permanent brain fry? All good.

  Ask someone for help? A job? Yeeesh.

  He pressed on, ignoring the alarm bells going off in his head. “You seem to know how to smith… or whatever it’s called. I used to work at a hardware store back on Earth. I wasn’t great at it or anything, but I could probably help out around the shop if you need an extra set of hands.”

  Twig watched him with that unnervingly patient look, a faint twinkle in his eye, like he was holding back a laugh. But, to his credit, he didn’t laugh. He just smiled pleasantly and waited for Jace to finish his awkward ramble.

  When Jace finally stopped talking—because he had to breathe at some point—Twig frowned, but not in a bad way. More like a “this kid has no idea what he’s asking” kind of way.

  “Jace, I’d be happy to take you on, train you up. But, with how things are right now, I don’t have time to teach someone new. I could let you clean up around here, maybe get you started, but it’d be a while before you earned a full set of gear. And I don’t want you waiting that long.”

  His tone was sincere, but Jace had feared this. The “sorry, kid, not today” rejection.

  Then Twig added, “Or… maybe we could just fit you for armor now and tack it onto the loan?”

  Jace paused, considering it for a split second, but then shook his head. “I can’t accept that. No handouts. I don’t take charity.”

  His voice came out a little sharper than he intended, and he could see Twig’s brows lift ever so slightly. Jace flushed, the heat crawling up his neck. “I didn’t mean…” he muttered quickly.

  Twig waved it off with a grin. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I get it. Pride’s a hell of a thing. Just know, you ever change your mind, the offer’s there.”

  Jace nodded, feeling both relieved and kind of stupid. He was getting better at accepting help—just not all the way better, he realized with a wry smile.

  They exchanged small talk—surface level, nothing important—until Jace finally had another thought. “Actually, what about this?” He fished out a couple of minor health potions, holding them up like he was offering Twig a new toy.

  Twig glanced at the potions, brow furrowed as he inspected them. “Not bad,” he said, though the enthusiasm in his voice was less than inspiring.

  Jace swallowed hard, a nervous edge creeping into his voice. “What if you sell them for me? We could split the profit.”

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  Twig raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Thing is,” he said, walking over to a shelf and pulling back a small curtain. Behind it were rows of potions—dozens of minor healing vials, alongside others in every shade imaginable. “We’ve already got plenty of these. The minor ones don’t really sell the best, but if you could whip up a Cure-All or Full Health potion? Now those fly off the shelves.”

  He shot Jace a sidelong glance, his tone soft. “I’m trying, man. Really. But… you sure you don’t want to just add it to the loan? I wouldn’t be able to get you the top-tier gear, but I could at least get you sorted for now.”

  Jace’s mind raced, and he nervously shifted his weight. He needed something. He hesitated, staring at his inventory for just a second before he pulled out the other potion—the one he hadn’t shown anyone outside of his closer circle yet. The flavor enhancer.

  “Alright, check this out,” Jace said, holding up a small vial with a flourish. “I call it... uh, The Flavor Enhancer... Thing.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice carried a hopeful edge.

  Twig raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

  Jace rolled his eyes. “It goes on food. Just try it, Twig,” he urged, gesturing toward the half-giant. “Grab some food, you’ll thank me later.”

  Twig pulled a roast beef sandwich from his inventory, the bread still soft and the meat glistening like it had just come off the grill. It had to be something like his own temporal pouch, keeping food as fresh as the moment it was made.

  He put a healthy helping of the potion on it before shrugging and taking a bite.

  At first, nothing. The silence stretched, and Jace’s heart raced. Then, Twig’s eyes went wide, his chewing slowed, and his mouth hung open in disbelief.

  “Jace, this… this is incredible!” Twig exclaimed, his expression cracking into pure shock as he spoke through mouthfuls of sandwich.

  Jace gave a casual nod, but inside, relief flooded him. “Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

  “No, you don’t get it,” Twig said, practically shaking. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This is huge.”

  Jace blinked. “I mean, the food sucks at the University, so… yeah, kinda the point.”

  “It’s not just the University, man. It’s everywhere. The system? It dulls Travelers’ taste buds. Not sure why, but to us, everything tastes like cardboard unless you’ve got high-level enchantments. And even those? They fade in thirty minutes, tops. But this? This is like magic in a bottle. And you made it with… common ingredients?”

  Jace nodded. “Yeah, that’s kinda the trick. Simple stuff, no fancy spellwork.”

  Twig leaned in, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You gotta keep this under wraps, Jace. Seriously. This? This I can sell. But we’ll need to come up with a better name.”

  “How about... Flavor Savers?” Jace suggested, throwing it out with a shrug.

  Twig paused, his expression deadpan. “Flavor Savers, huh?” He scratched his chin, a hint of a grin creeping in. “Wasn’t that what people used to call beards? Whatever, your product, your name… Flavor Savers.” His lips twitched like he was on the verge of laughing, but the awe still lingered in his eyes.

  “How much do you think it’s worth?” Jace asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though the nervous edge crept back in.

  Twig thought for a moment, then leaned back, the wheels in his mind turning. “Hard to say. We’ll have to test the market a bit.” He paused before adding, “I’ve got an idea. And you can totally turn me down. We just met after all, and I wouldn’t be offended. But, you need gear, right? How about we update our deal? I’ll forgive the loan from before, and back you for the whole thing—potions, gear, everything I have access to. We go fifty-fifty. You make the Flavor Savers, I’ll handle the selling. And, in return, I suit you up properly. I’m talking real armor, not the raggedy stuff you’re wearing.”

  Jace’s pulse quickened. “You’re really willing to do that? Just like that?”

  Twig smirked. “I don’t do charity, Jace. But I know a good investment when I see one. And this? This is gold. Literal gold. You keep making those flavor potions, I sell them, we split the profit, and in the meantime, I make sure you don’t get skewered out there. Deal?”

  Jace hesitated, glancing at the potion in his hand. “I still want to be able to sell some myself. I’ve got the Midnight Festival coming up, and I want to supply it.”

  “Alright, fine,” Twig said with a wave. “You give me ten vials a week, a full deck we call it. I’ll sell them. You handle the festival. Then we see where this goes. And I’ll throw in the gear—because, let’s face it, you’re gonna need it.”

  Jace mulled it over, but the math was simple. I need this. “Deal.”

  Twig grinned, extending a massive hand. “Good. Now let’s make sure you don’t die before you can make us both some gold and maybe provide a better time in TM for us Travelers.”

  Jace shook Twig’s hand, feeling the weight of both the opportunity and the risk settle over him.

  Twig outfitted Jace with a temporary set of dark leather armor, more of a test run than the real deal. The straps felt a little loose, and the chest piece pinched slightly at the shoulders, but it was light and flexible—enough to let Jace move. That was the point, after all.

  “Don’t worry,” Twig said, circling him, eyes sharp, sizing up every movement. “This isn’t about winning. Just show me how you move.”

  Jace barely had time to nod before Twig was on him. No warning, no buildup—just a blur of motion as a fist the size of Jace’s head came hurtling toward him. He sidestepped on instinct, barely dodging out of the way.

  Jace launched into a counterattack, fists flying and legs kicking in rapid succession. Twig stayed eerily composed, effortlessly dodging each blow, his expression unchanged, as if the flurry of strikes was nothing more than a light breeze. He jotted down notes in a small book without missing a beat.

  Jace lunged forward, but Twig pivoted, sweeping a leg out low. Jace stumbled, just managing to leap back before getting his feet swept out from under him.

  “Good reflex,” Twig muttered, taking a step back and jotting something down in his small notebook while Jace caught his breath. “Chest plate’s too tight—messing with your dodges.”

  Jace grunted, focusing. He could feel the armor restricting his movement in places, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He circled Twig, testing the weight, shifting his stance. When Twig lunged again, Jace was ready—he ducked under a wide punch, rolling to the side.

  Twig’s eyes flicked over him, still calm, still taking notes. “Right armguard needs reinforcement. You’re relying too much on the left. Next time, try an overhand block.”

  How high of a rank is this guy?

  Jace barely registered the words before Twig’s next strike came—a brutal swing aimed at his midsection. Jace pivoted, twisting out of reach, and for the first time, his body moved with real fluidity. He wasn’t just reacting anymore. He was flowing with the rhythm of the fight.

  A grin spread across his face. I’ve got this.

  Twig came at him harder now—his legs moving with surprising speed for someone his size, testing Jace’s balance, his timing. But Jace dodged, twisted, and even threw in a few quick counters of his own—nothing serious, just enough to show that he wasn’t a punching bag.

  “Interesting,” Twig said under his breath, scribbling again as Jace blocked a high kick, narrowly avoiding getting thrown across the dirt. “You’re faster than I thought. Might have to adjust the legplates. Keep moving.”

  Jace’s heart pounded, his muscles humming with energy as he danced around Twig’s attacks. The more they sparred, the more he felt in tune with his body—the practice, the increased stats, everything was clicking into place. Each move felt more natural, each dodge more precise.

  By the end, Twig lowered his arms and snapped the notebook shut. “Not bad,” he said with a grin.

  Jace wiped sweat from his brow, catching his breath. “I think I could get used to this,” he said, glancing down at the armor.

  Twig had adjusted the fit of the armor like a master craftsman, tailoring each piece with precision. Every strap, every buckle, felt just right. Light enough to keep Jace quick on his feet but sturdy enough to take a hit. Twig had even thrown in a promise. “Need a fix? Just keep those vials coming,” he’d said with a wink. Fair deal, in Jace’s book.