“Here you go,” said the man behind the counter.

  Enya, Pell, Josier, and their skeletal entourage waited patiently as Martin, the guild clerk on duty, handed over a small leather pouch.

  “For any other items you may have encountered that aren’t registered guild materials, please visit the Merchant’s Guild for appraisal or sale,” Martin added helpfully.

  Unlike the condescending elf from earlier, Martin’s tone was neutral and professional, a welcome change. Pell untied the pouch, counting the coins quickly with practiced ease. Satisfied, he poured the contents into his inventory with a nod of approval.

  “Thanks,” Pell said curtly.

  Martin returned the gesture. “Thank you for using the guild’s services. If you’d like to leave us a review, you can—”

  His words trailed off as the group turned and walked away without a second glance. Watching them disappear out the door, he sighed heavily.

  “No one leaves reviews anymore… Is it really so hard to give us a five-star rating?” he muttered.

  A familiar voice carried over from the next counter, drawing his attention. Catarina, the senior guild clerk and ever-charming elf, was assisting two wide-eyed adventurers.

  “If you would kindly leave a review and mention that Catarina helped you, I would be ever so grateful,” she said sweetly, tilting her head with a radiant smile.

  “Of course!” the pair gushed, completely enchanted.

  Martin groaned, shaking his head in quiet exasperation.

  The group strolled down the bustling streets, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the white stone pavement.

  “That’s enough adventuring for me today,” Josier said, stretching his arms. “I need to head back to the guardhouse to wrap up some paperwork.”

  They were en route to the inn, planning to store away the skeletal minions and the spiderlings. Walking around with a pack of undead was already attracting enough attention, and they didn’t need more.

  “Aren’t you in charge of watching over us?” Pell asked, glancing at Josier.

  Josier shook his head. “Not entirely. I’m just one of the people assigned to keep an eye on you two. There’ll be others monitoring from a distance. Don’t worry—it won’t be intrusive. They’ll just track your general location and make sure nothing causes trouble for you.”

  He stopped at a corner where their paths diverged. “And don’t forget the Portal-Master’s warning. Keep those spiderlings supervised at all times. If anything happens to the city folk because of them, it won’t end well for anyone.”

  “Got it,” Pell said with a dismissive wave.

  “Bye-bye!” Enya added, cheerfully waving after him.

  Josier returned the wave before heading off in the opposite direction, leaving the duo and their entourage to continue on their way.

  The group made their way back to the inn, where Sheryl greeted them warmly. Her sharp gaze lingered for a moment on the skeletons, including Pell, her expression betraying a hint of curiosity at the variations in their appearance. However, she chose not to comment and simply carried on with her work.

  Enya instructed the skeletons to head upstairs to their room and gave strict orders to ensure the Crystal Spiderling Queen remained securely contained. As the skeletons ascended, she noticed how they reinforced Muffins’ skeletal prison, their bony hands locking together in an unyielding cage around the Queen. Satisfied that they understood, Enya turned and stepped outside the inn with Pell.

  “Alright,” Pell began, crossing his arms. “It’s been hours since we hit that dungeon, but there’s still plenty of daylight. Your tournament’s tomorrow, so we might as well get you everything you need now, even if it’s last minute.”

  Enya tilted her head thoughtfully. “Can we pick up the stuff I mentioned earlier?”

  “You mean the thread and ink?” Pell asked, his tone making it clear he already knew the answer.

  “Yep! Oh, and I also need a ring—something with an open spot to hold this crystal.” She reached into her pocket and held up the Shyrith gem, its cold surface against her fingers like a winter breeze.

  Pell leaned in, his soul-flames narrowing as if squinting. “Shouldn’t be too hard to get all that, but you sure you can even make whatever it is you’re planning in time? Most crafters need tools—hammers, forges, fancy gadgets. You’ve got… none of that.”

  Enya frowned, her lips pressing together in thought. “I’m not sure about anyone else, but the first time I crafted something—a Gravemoss Poultice—it only took me a few seconds. One of my skills makes it possible. It says I can craft things using Soul-Energy.”

  Pell’s skeptical look lingered, though it softened as he mulled over her words. The idea of crafting without tools sounded almost absurd. After all, even the most basic blacksmith required a forge and fire. But Enya had already shown her class wasn’t typical—she had made his bones far stronger than ordinary skeletons. Maybe her class really did have unique methods for crafting.

  “Alright, fair enough,” he muttered. “Let’s grab what you need and see if this miracle skill of yours can deliver.”

  With their plan settled, the two began walking toward the city square, weaving through the bustling streets in search of merchants. Pell thought about suggesting they also stop by the Merchant’s Guild, where specific materials might be easier to locate. However, he refrained from mentioning it, as finding an item via the merchant's network, although was more accurate and precise, would also take much longer.

  The city square was a vibrant sprawl of activity, the air alive with chatter and the many barks of merchants calling out deals. Stalls lined the white stone square in neat, colorful rows, each boasting a variety of wares. There were stands overflowing with bolts of fabric and neatly spooled thread, while others displayed sparkling trinkets and handcrafted jewelry. The tantalizing aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted from a section dedicated to food vendors, and somewhere further down, the sharp tang of alchemical brews tickled Enya’s nose.

  “This place has everything,” Enya murmured, her eyes darting from stall to stall. She was hoping to see another kabob stand, but unfortunately, she didn't spot one.

  “Sure does,” Pell replied, his eye flames flickering faintly.

  They both walked forward, ignoring the food stalls and artifact areas. Enya paused at a stall where a jeweler was advertising their meticulously crafted rings. The man glanced down and gave her a polite nod. “Looking for something specific, miss?” His eyes almost purposefully avoided looking at Pell, though he wasn't the first one to do so. Even as a potential customer, people in the city still despised monsters in general.

  “Yes,” Enya said, holding up the Shyrith crystal. “I need a ring that can fit this.”

  The jeweler’s eyes widened slightly at the gem’s eerie blue glow. “Ah, that's a pretty gem you got there. Never seen it before. I might have a few settings that could work for that. One moment.” He turned to rummage through a box filled with various rings and settings.

  While he worked, Pell wandered over to another nearby stall selling inks and quills. A cheerful young woman turned around and greeted him. But once her eyes laid upon his skeletal form, her demeanor changed and voice grew much colder. “Need some writing supplies?” she asked.

  “Not exactly,” Pell replied. “Got any high-grade ink? Something fit for enchantments?”

  The woman tilted her head before reaching beneath the counter and pulling out a small, ornate bottle. “This one’s made from midnight squid ink. Premium stuff, often used by scribes for magical scrolls.”

  Pell inspected the bottle and gave a nod. “I'll take it,” he said. "As a guest of Lord Clament, I must say, this city has some... cheap and inexpensive items." It was obvious to him that she was probably going to rip him off. However, using the city lord's name would put some pressure onto her. After all, no one was brazen enough to name-drop the lord of the city without considering the consequences.

  On Enya’s side, the jeweler pulled out an iron ring, pristine and neat. On top of it was a circular bracket, ready to hold a gem within it. "This should do the trick for you. Though you might need to get a gemcutter to cut that crystal down to size.

  "I'll take it!" Enya said. She called Pell over once he was finished with his own transaction, and he stepped forward to grab and pay for the iron ring.

  As Pell was paying for the ring, Enya’s attention was drawn to another stall where spools of shimmering thread were on display, each one imbued with faint magical properties, tingling Enya's mana senses. She walked over to get a closer look. The vendor, a stout woman with a warm smile, noticed her interest. “That’s spellthread, dearie. Perfect for enchanting garments or lavish blankets.”

  Enya picked up a spool, feeling the faint hum of energy beneath her fingers. “Woah... it feels really... good?" she said, questioning her choice of words. The mana flowing through the threads felt pure and calm. However, this isn't what she needed.

  "Do you have anything like uh... ice thread? or like really cold magic-string?"

  The vendor’s smile widened as she nodded. “Ah, ice thread! That’s a specialty, sweetie. I’ve got just the thing.” She bent down behind her stall and emerged holding a small spool of thread. The threads were a pale, shimmering blue, almost translucent, with an icy aura radiating from them that made the air around it feel a little colder.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “This here’s Chillweave’s Thread,” the merchant explained, her voice smooth with practiced confidence. “Perfect for anything that needs a bit of a chill to it. Keeps things frozen for a time, or helps channel ice magic. I’ll part with it for five gold pieces.”

  Enya’s eyes sparkled with interest as she reached out to take the spool. She gave it a light tug, testing the texture of the thread. It felt firm, yet pliable, and definitely carried a hint of cold that sent a shiver up her arm. “Oh, this looks perfect,” she said, clearly pleased.

  Pell, who had just finished his transaction with the jeweler walked over, catching the later portion of what the seller said, specifically—the price. His eyes flickered, narrowing slightly as he approached. He could tell right away that the price was inflated for what the thread was. Enya, being young and without much experience in the true value of goods, didn’t seem to notice. But he did.

  As Enya was about to reach into her pocket, Pell’s hand intercepted hers, and his voice lowered as he spoke to the merchant. “Five gold for a spool of thread? A little steep, don’t you think?” He wasn’t exactly being subtle as he eyed the spool, letting his words hang in the air. “I’ve seen similar ice-type threads selling for far less.”

  The merchant’s expression tightened at the mention of the price. “This is high-quality, enchanted thread,” she said, trying to maintain her composure. Her eyes flicked nervously between Pell and Enya, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but mainly whenever she spoke to Pell, the skeleton. “You won’t find anything like this elsewhere.”

  Pell didn’t let up, his tone dripping with the quiet confidence of someone who knew how to haggle. “Oh, I’m sure you’re right, but I’ve traveled a lot and I know when I’m being sold something a bit too high for my tastes. Chillweave’s thread? You could probably get away with charging two gold. Three at most without it being a scam, considering the size and the enchantment. I’m not some na?ve trader, lady. I know value when I see it.” He raised a bony hand in a shrug, his grin never faltering. “Or, I could just walk.”

  The merchant’s smile faltered for a moment, her eyes flicking to the skeletal form of Pell once more, clearly unsettled by his appearance. She cleared her throat, trying to gather herself. “You’re being a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’m running a business here—this is quality product, not some knockoff thread.”

  Pell’s grin only widened as he leaned in closer. “The business I’m in, I don’t let people take advantage of me.” He tapped the counter lightly, the sound of his bony fingers clicking on the wood almost like a warning. “I’ll take it for three gold. Or no deal. Maybe I’ll go around advertising your highly-inexpensive thread at five gold pieces, and telling others to find ones at the merchant’s guild for three gold.”

  The vendor’s face grew tight with frustration, but after a long pause, she sighed, relenting. “Fine. Three gold. But don’t go spreading the word that I gave such a low price.”

  Enya, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, finally spoke up, still not entirely understanding the full weight of what had just happened. “Three gold? Is that… good?” She glanced from Pell to the merchant, uncertain.

  Pell gave her what was probably a wink, his voice light and playful. “Better than five, kid. Now, don’t worry about it. Just focus on your craft, alright?” He handed over the three gold pieces, taking the spool of Chillweave’s Thread from the merchant. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sweetness as they walked away from the stall.

  As they moved on through the bustling square, Enya held the spool of thread in her hands, her excitement growing for the ice-ring she would craft. She looked up at Pell, grateful but still a bit confused. “How did you know the price wasn’t right?”

  Pell chuckled softly, his eye flames dancing with amusement. “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough market stalls to know when someone’s trying to take advantage. Don’t worry about it. Just consider yourself lucky you had me around and didn’t end up paying triple.”

  The square began to quiet down as Enya and Pell moved away from the bustling stalls, weaving through the streets until they found a small park nestled between two rows of modest shops. A wooden bench and table sat beneath the shade of a spell-lit lamppost, its steady glow faintly illuminating the area. The table was weathered but sturdy, and more importantly, it was unoccupied.

  “This’ll do,” Pell said, gesturing to the bench. “Not bad for a free spot in a city like this.”

  Enya paid no mind to his complaints, her focus already on the items she carried. She placed the Shyrith crystal, the iron ring, the spool of Chillweave’s Thread, and the bottle of runecrafting ink on the table, neatly arranging them with care. The Grim Pullet floated down beside her as she called for it, its pages fluttering faintly as though alive, before it stopped on the recipe for Gravecaller’s Band.

  Her eyes gleamed with determination as she read the instructions again, murmuring to herself. “Alright... I’ve got everything I need. This should be simple.”

  Pell folded his arms, one bony hand tapping against his ribs as he leaned closer. “Simple? You’re planning to whip up a magic artifact right here in the middle of a public park, and you’re calling it simple?” He pointed at the Grim Pullet with a flick of his finger. “Kid, you’ve made, what, one thing before? That moss paste? And now you’re jumping straight into crafting enchanted rings?”

  “I can do it,” Enya said firmly, pulling her sleeves back. “The Grim Pullet says I can, and I have all the materials. Plus, I’ve got soul-energy to spare.” She tapped her chest lightly, her confidence unwavering. “I’m just following the recipe. My success rate is 100% so far!”

  After successfully clearing out the Crystal Spiderling nest, she had successfully absorbed all of the Soul-Energy available, and even increased her soul-capacity. Luckily, the Grim Pullet was right, and the process was painless. Her mind probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it if she passed out from pain again.

  Soul-Energy: 468/400

  Pell sighed, his eye flames flickering in mild exasperation. “You’re doing this out in the open, where anyone can walk by and watch you messing with soul-energy. You don’t think that might draw some unwanted attention?”

  Enya paused, glancing around the quiet park. There were a few people strolling along the pathways, but no one seemed particularly interested in them. More so that they glanced their way, saw Pell, and tried to avoid them altogether. “It’s fine,” she insisted, lowering her voice. “I’ll keep it subtle. Besides, I’ve got you here to watch my back, right?”

  Pell grumbled but didn’t argue further. Instead, he pulled up a chair from the side of the park and sat down across from her. “Fine. Just don’t start a scene. And if this thing explodes, you’re paying for my next body.”

  Enya ignored the jab, her focus shifting entirely to the task at hand. She began by holding the iron ring in one hand, her other hovering over the Shyrith crystal. Closing her eyes, she activated her skill:

  Skill Activated: Transfiguration of Soul

  An ethereal glow radiated from Enya’s hands as she directed her soul-energy, the faint blue threads of energy wrapping around the materials like ghostly tendrils. The Shyrith crystal lifted off the table, suspended in the air as its jagged edges glinted in the lamplight.

  Okay… you got this Enya. Just… shape the crystal, align the thread, and then etch the runes from the book along the base.

  Using her skill, Enya carefully broke the crystal down with her soul-energy, shattering and shaping it to fit snugly within the ring’s empty slot. Shards fell onto the table as she smoothed it out until the size was a perfect fit with the ring. The process felt almost instinctual, her hands never touching the materials but moving as though she were sculpting clay with invisible tools.

  “Not bad,” Pell muttered, watching the crystal gradually shrink and reshape itself with precise cuts.

  Enya didn’t respond, her concentration unbroken as she reached for the spool of Chillweave’s Thread. With a flick of her fingers, the thread unraveled, weaving itself into a delicate pattern around the crystal and the ring’s base. It didn’t mention an exact process for how it should be placed, but she assumed it just needed to hold the gem neatly at the bottom. She guided the thread with her soul-energy, tightening and securing it into place as it pulsed faintly with a frosty light.

  The Bonecarver’s Quill appeared steadily in Enya’s grip, its sharp, ivory tip gleaming faintly in the light of the spell-lit lamppost. Enya’s breath slowed, and the world seemed to narrow around the half-completed ring floating in front of her. She dipped the quill into the ink. Taking it out, the tip of the Bonecarver’s Quill shimmered, darkened by the runecrafting ink, ready to etch the intricate markings that would bind the components into a functioning artifact.

  Her eyes gleamed bright yellow as Absolute Focus took hold, sharpening her mind to a blade’s edge. Every movement felt deliberate, every flick of the quill purposeful. She drew the quill toward the ring, the fine tip tracing the metal with precision as pale white energy danced along its edges above the black ink marks.

  The runes were carefully described inside of the recipe. There were only four, and they were all relatively easy. She just needed to copy them over exactly. The Soul-Energy she was exuding made her movements precise, almost as if she was being guided by her own power and moving automatically.

  The first rune formed smoothly, glowing faintly as it absorbed the ink and her soul-energy simultaneously. It was a stabilizing rune, meant to anchor the Shyrith crystal's volatile chill within the ring's structure. As soon as she finished it, a faint hum resonated from the band, as though the components acknowledged the start of their unification.

  Pell leaned in, watching the process with uncharacteristic muted focus. “Always thought that thing was more for show.”

  “Many uses,” Enya replied, her voice calm but distant, her attention fully locked on her work. She dipped the quill into the ink again, her hands steady as she continued to etch the next rune—a conductor, meant to guide mana and soul-energy through the ring and into the crystal. Each stroke of the quill carved the rune with ethereal precision, glowing faintly as the ink sank into the metal.

  The process wasn’t fast, but Enya didn’t rush. Every rune had to be perfect, their shapes exact and their placement aligned with the flow of energy she envisioned. She slowly regretted not buying an extra ring, but it didn’t matter now. She had to make this try count.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead as she etched the final rune into place—a frost-binding glyph that would allow the ring to emit its cold mist.

  As she finished the last stroke, the entire ring flared with light, the runes glowing a brilliant blue before fading into the band’s surface. The Shyrith crystal pulsed, its frosty hue deepening as the thread and runes worked together to lock it in place.

  Enya released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, lowering the quill as the yellow glow faded from her eyes. “There,” she whispered, exhaustion tinging her voice. “The runes are done.”

  She dipped the Bonecarver’s Quill back into the ink jar, and letting it vanish inside, so that any leftover ink on the tip wouldn’t stain the table or herself.

  She took a moment to admire the ring, turning it in the soft light of the spell-lit lamppost. The frost emanating from it was now steadier, more controlled, as though the artifact had taken its first breath.

  “Well,” Pell said after a long silence, his tone a mix of surprise and approval. “Guess you’re not just playing make-believe necromancer blacksmith after all. That thing actually looks like it might work.”

  Enya grinned, though her tiredness showed in her eyes. “Of course it will. Just one more step.”

  She placed the ring on the table and rested her hands over it, summoning the reserves of her soul-energy. Closing her eyes, she directed the flow into the artifact, binding all the components together and awakening its full potential.

  Item Name: Gravecaller’s Band

  Tier: Silver

  Rank: D+

  Effect: A ring that absorbs and regulates excessive chilling temperatures. By pouring a steady amount of mana into the ring, it releases a continuous cold mist of energy, lowering the surrounding temperature and creating frost. If Soul-Energy is used instead, the mist can emanate from summoned constructs, granting them temporary cold-attribute enhancements for as long as the energy lasts.

  Enya looked at the ring, filled with a mix of surprise and confusion. “Why is it only Silver tier and D+ rank? I thought this was supposed to be a gold item…” she muttered aloud.

  Pell, hearing the comment, added in his thoughts. “Not every item that crafters make will be the same tier and rarity. A blacksmith making an iron sword that is supposed to be bronze and A-rank isn’t going to be a bronze, A-rank sword every time. How they forge it, temperature differences of the flame, material quality and all that make a large difference. You probably had some bad materials or weren’t as accurate as you wanted to be when making it. You did use an alternative to the Frozen Mycelium after all.”

  Enya picked up the ring and considered his words. It was her first attempt at this recipe, and she did basically wing the formation of the thread. Perhaps even the gem itself wasn’t an exact perfect fit, and maybe she could have made it larger.

  “It was probably the materials then. There’s no way I made a bad one,” Enya said, disbelieving that she herself had messed up somewhere in the process.

  Pell sighed. Just take it as a learning opportunity, kid.