Of course, forging was only one of the skills I was interested in practicing. With my Spatial Inventory’s size and weight capacity growing with each rank-up, it was only a matter of time before I could fit a full forge in there.

  Which meant I could forge while inside Cataclysm Dungeons and Trials—both of which were known for their rare metals. It was either that or pay through my nose at shops, and as I’d recently seen with our orbs, even a small fortune didn’t go very far when it came to the truly exotic items.

  Considering how delving was pretty much guaranteed to be in our future, I figured I’d have plenty of opportunity. But only if I had the skills to match.

  But first, there was a bit of spring cleaning to be done. Thanks to Rocky, my Essence was maxed out, and I had more than a few dead weight items I needed to get rid of.

  Pretending like I was reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the remains of my poleax, which had been chomped by the giant serpent we’d fought. While the wooden shaft had been minced, the blade itself was in relatively decent condition. Apparently, that was sufficient for the System to consider the weapon intact, albeit with a Condition that was now in the single digits.

  “You’ll be wanting to repair that, then?” Rogar said, taking the blade.

  “Not quite. Thinking of melting it down, actually. Maybe I can practice forging the metal into something else, after?”

  “Aye, we can do that,” Rogar said, surprisingly amenable. No mention of the cost or the effort involved or anything. “Are you sure, though? This is decent steel.”

  I nodded. “Positive. I mean, compare that to Light of the Fearless. It’s not even in the same league.”

  “Indeed,” Rogar said, flushing with pride.

  The fact was, I didn’t need the weapon any longer. Sure, [Skunky] was a useful distraction against the weaker enemies of Dominion’s Trial, but it just didn’t hold up against the sorts of foes we now fought. And with it being a [Common] weapon, the ability was capped to Foundation rank. It’d never grow stronger.

  The other no-brainer was my old Stainless Steel Gauntlets with the [Minor Heat Resist] ability. Still stuck at F - 2, because I never wore the thing. Another [Common] piece of armor, and so it went too. Melting stainless steel would be harder, but I bet we could manage to destroy it, regardless.

  My Steel Mace was harder. It was also [Common], but its [Bleed] ability was both at F-10, the max level for the Foundation rank. While relatively weak, the ability was incredibly useful. Especially when shot from my inventory. To make the most use out of [Launch], I’d need a small arsenal of disposable weapons—weapons strong enough to hurt, but cheap enough to be alright losing.

  I couldn’t very well shoot Light of the Fearless—even if the sword didn’t break upon impact, how many archers recovered all their arrows? Probably not many. Chances were good I’d lose it in a fight.

  That just left me with Aerion’s Nobleman’s Steel Shortsword. While she was fine melting it down, I didn’t really want to Uninitialize that. It was both [Uncommon], and its [Venom Strike] was very useful. Another great option to have in my arsenal. I’d save that one for later.

  I similarly held onto my shield. Thanks to Rogar’s handiwork, it was small enough to stick inside my inventory, and it had saved me more times than I could count. Its [Mirrored] ability was at F-10 now, and was decently handy as a distraction. Especially enemies sensitive to light.

  Philip worked the bellows, bringing the forge up to temperature, while I stuck the blade of the poleax into the coals.

  “Now, pounding down metal might look easy, but there’s quite a bit of technique to be picked up here, too,” Rogar said, surprising me. “Melting the metal’s a good opportunity to fold it over. Many ways to make a blank, but this way, they come out stronger, you see? Fewer imperfections. More evenly distributed.”

  Even Philip looked taken off-guard. He’d never once mentioned this to either of us before. Seriously, what was up with this guy? His behavior went far beyond what I’d have imagined. It ventured dangerously close to ‘nice’. I didn’t like that one bit. Not one bit.

  Except I wasn’t that desperate stranger looking to make a dime, anymore. I had some real awareness of this world. Prestige, too. I didn’t have to agonize endlessly, too scared to bring up the hard topics.

  So I didn’t.

  “How about we cut the crap?” I said, causing the stocky man to freeze.

  “Beg your pardon?” Rogar asked, while Philip looked at me pensively.

  “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Like what?” Rogar said, looking genuinely confused.

  “Why are you being so nice to us?”

  Rogar opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then his expression shifted, and I knew I’d unveiled the true face behind the mask.

  “You saved my life,” Rogar said, and it was my turn to be confused.

  “Huh?”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “You saved us all, Grug. Yer nothing like before. As I said… Yer a hero. Seems to me, nothing I do could repay that debt.”

  Rogar’s face scrunched up in anguish, and he looked away.

  For the first time since knowing this man, I saw regret on his face. Real, genuine regret. He wasn’t faking. He wasn’t planning some elaborate ruse. He was just… genuinely thankful.

  “O-oh,” I said lamely, before clearing my throat. “Oh look! The metal’s hot. Let’s get on with melting, shall we?”

  I made it a point to ignore Aerion, who looked like she was just barely containing herself from breaking into giggles.

  It turned out Rogar had a point. I had to hand it to him, for all his character flaws—which seemed to have magically dissipated—he knew his stuff. Between his guidance and the hours I’d spent recycling metal with Philip before the dungeon, I really felt like I was getting the hang of things. The motions came more naturally, and the hammer felt less like a tool and more like an extension of my own arm.

  It was helped in no small part thanks to what I suspected was a combination of the Soul Evolution Seed and my new armor, which prioritized Grace. In the two hours we’d worked, that stat had jumped a whopping ten points to 37—unheard of, even at lower levels. It confirmed my theory earlier, that this Grace-optimized suit of armor actually leveled that stat faster than normal. Not to mention the feeling of stats increasing at this pace was incredibly exhilarating. It wasn’t often I could actually feel the gains as they happened.

  Even Aerion had gotten involved, pounding iron for the first time in her life. She seemed to enjoy it greatly, despite the heat and the soot, but then again, Aerion had never had any qualms getting her hands dirty.

  Before I knew it, the weapon that was once my poleax was gone. Its Essence cost was gone. And what remained was a hunk of pristine steel, ready to be shaped into whatever I wanted.

  “Let’s make…” I was about to tell Rogar to make a sword, but that felt like a waste, at least for now. I’d seen the destructive potential of those stones… What I needed was something light, more than anything. Optimized for one purpose and one purpose only—to punch through armor and hide. To penetrate.

  Not unlike a bullet. Except, bullets were so deadly because of their conical shape, and that conical shape only flew straight when spun. I had no way of making it spin, so bullets were out of the question. No, it had to be a stable, aerodynamic shape.

  Which meant long and pointed. Needles immediately came to mind, though I doubted those would do much damage. Sure, they’d penetrate easily, but they were so tiny that I doubted they’d actually hurt my enemies that much. The deadliest bullets expanded once inside the body, or broke apart into a bunch of pieces. Needles would punch right through, leaving only a tiny wound.

  I shook my head. I had to admit, I never figured all those shooter games I’d played could come in handy like this.

  The more I thought about it, the more certain I became. I needed something bigger than a needle and smaller than a sword. Something that was naturally stable in flight, and that could penetrate objects easily.

  And while making cylindrical metal things was a lot harder than it looked—I’d know, I’d tried one night when it had been just me working the recycler—this was Rogar we were talking about. The guy was nothing if not skilled. With my Soulweaving interface to help, I was pretty darn sure I could do it, too.

  “Steel crossbow bolts,” I said at last. “Or, darts. Six inches long. No need for a notch at the back. In fact, let’s make a bunch of them. As many as we can. As light and aerodynamic as possible.”

  While I’d first thought of arrows, I didn’t know how well their wooden shafts would hold up to the abuse I would put them through. Probably well enough, considering how widely used they were in combat, but I didn’t want to risk it. After all, arrows were rarely fired at point-blank range at the speeds my inventory was capable of.

  “Doable,” Rogar grunted, nodding. “You sure that’s what you want, Grug?”

  “Positive. But let’s work this Soul Crystal in while we’re at it, shall we?” I said, pulling out one of the cheaper orbs we’d bought at the curio store.

  This one in particular had a very interesting ability. Nothing that would make it inherently valuable, or sell for any meaningful price, but I had a unique advantage there. Crafting magical weapons was normally a difficult process that only the most talented smiths could pull off. Which was why the few who could only bothered with high tier orbs and exotic metals.

  Rogar wasn’t quite at that level, but this? He could definitely manage.

  “What’s it do?” Rogar asked, taking the orb.

  “Penetration enhancement. Nothing special, just a Foundation rank. Should be perfect for these little darts, though. Say… You wouldn’t happen to know of a way to incorporate Soul Crystals intact, would you?”

  “Intact?” Philip asked, looking awfully confused.

  “Yeah, like, without crushing them to dust.” I knew it was a long shot. Still didn’t hurt to ask.

  “Never even heard of such a thing,” Rogar said. “Where’d you hear about that?”

  “Ah, I didn’t. Just an errant thought,” I said, evading the real answer. I hadn’t heard of it, but that message that popped up on my Soulweaving interface about soul crystals losing their sentience when crushed had certainly hinted at it.

  Rogar shrugged. “This going to be like last time, then?”

  “Last time?” Philip asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Grug here took over halfway. Ended up making a damn fine blade out of it. Like he’d been working them for years.”

  “Oh?” Philip asked, throwing me a pensive gaze.

  I raised my hands. “Look, I won’t pretend like it was some fluke. We all know it wasn’t… But you’ll have to forgive me for not saying any more.”

  I’d been bracing for an argument, but the two nodded back without complaint.

  “Of course you do,” Philip said, as if it were obvious. “No ‘normal’ person helps Champions defeat a Divergence-class dungeon. Nor does any Blessed have any obligation whatsoever to tell others about their abilities. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rarer to find one willing to divulge details.”

  “Right…” I said. “Thank you. Both of you. Needless to say, I have something that helps with crafting.”

  “Wish you’d said so earlier,” Rogar grumbled. “Would’ve put you to good use… Not that I’d ever dream of doing such a thing now, mind you. Which reminds me… The contract you signed, consider it annulled. No reason to—”

  “No,” I countered. “I’d like to continue training, if that’s alright. I’m leaving again in a few days, and I don’t know when I’ll be back, but while I might have some help from my ability, it’s clear that there’s no substitute for actual skill. I want to learn. I want to improve. So whenever I’m able, I’ll come back and visit. Is that… amenable?”

  I’d been wondering how to broach the topic, but Rogar had thankfully solved that problem by bringing it up.

  “More than fine,” Rogar said with a genuine smile. “It’d be an honor to teach someone like you, Grug.”

  I almost corrected him about my name, but thought better of it. I’d grown too used to being called Grug. Anything different sounded wrong now.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Then let’s get aforging!”