Rise of the Living Forge

Black lava coiled down Arwin’s fingertips and encased his entire hand in a glowing gauntlet. It shifted forms, moving as easily as a new limb in accordance to his will as it moved through shapes and twisted around his body like a coiling snake.

Every movement drew power from him. Controlling the soul lava drained his magical energy reserves at an alarming rate. He’d only been controlling it for around a minute and he was already nearly drained of power — but the tests had shown him all he wanted to see.

He could control the lava with a thought. It was immensely hot and immensely powerful — and he could feel everything that it felt. It was an extension of his very soul. Instinctively, he knew that the terrifying power could do anything his [Soul Flame] could do.

That, and more. Much, much more.

Arwin called his status forward with a thought as he let the lava sink back into his own skin. The temperature within the smithy immediately started to lower now that it was no longer being super-heated from within.

Letters shimmered through the air before him. It had been some time since he’d taken a moment to look at the full extent of his power, and things had changed significantly.

Name: Arwin Tyrr

Class: Living Forge (Unique)(Tier: Adept 1)

Specialization: Forbidden Soulmancy.

[Awaken] (Passive) – All items forged by your hand have the potential to take on a trait, determined by the harmonization of their component’s songs. The potential for the trait to be detrimental is [67%]. This potential drops to 0% if perfect harmony is reached. Materials with songs that do not easily harmonize with yours or the other materials will fight with you to exert their influence on the piece they are being made into.

[Molten Acolyte] (Passive) – You have spent enough time working immersed lava that it has begun to recognize you. It will respond to your song, should you sing well enough. You have become a Dwarven Smith. Your potential depends only on your creativity — and how hard you can swing a hammer. Your very soul has taken on volcanic aspects, deepening your connection with all molten materials.

[Soul Lava] – Passion burns within you with such intensity that it become manifest. You may draw out your soul, empowering your forge and turning it to soul lava, but be wary – any magical damage done to the lava will transfer onto your soul. Increasing the amount of magical energy you use to form the Soul Lava will increase its intensity and the amount that is manifested. Your Soul Lava can pull all the traits from a magical item and allow you to transfer them onto other items without pre-existing magic. It will consume all materials given sufficient time. This ability can also manifest Soul Flame.

[Arsenal] – You live and die on your equipment, so you might as well make it part of yourself. Bind yourself to [4] pieces of equipment, summoning and dismissing it at will. The number of equipment you can bind to scales with your Tier, up to a total of 10. Unbinding a piece of Equipment will make this skill inactive for 1 day. You may temporarily bind yourself to 1 extra piece of equipment after holding it for an amount of time scaling with the difference between your current Tier and the Tier of the item’s holder. Breaking this bond will not deactivate [Arsenal].

[Dragon’s Greed] – Your hunger for magical power has begun to manifest itself in the physical world. Extend your senses to search the area around you for magical items at the cost of significant magical energy. The range of this effect scales with the amount of magical energy used. At the cost of extra magical energy, the focus of this ability can be targeted to a specific type of magical item or material.

[Unleash] – A master of cursed items never fights alone. Meld your power with that of an item bearing a soul, allowing it to temporarily manifest itself. The effects and duration of this ability depend on the strength of the targeted item. Stronger items will require increased amounts of magical energy to maintain their bond, and this ability is ineffective on items whose requirements exceed the magical energy you can supply.

[CURSED][Soul Guardian]: Draw upon the connection between yourself and the Infernal Armory, temporarily melding your spirits into one and inserting them into a Soul Guardian that can be activated when the armory is under threat. The Soul Guardian’s strength is magnified by your own and is strengthened by any materials within the Infernal Armory. For this ability to function, a Soul Guardian must be crafted. The Soul Guardian is powered by [Soul Flame], and a portion of the damage it takes is transferred onto you.

[Forbidden][Volcanic Soul](Passive) – Take the fire that burns the furnace of your soul and push it past the limits of what a mortal soul can handle. Your will survived submersion within an ocean of magma and your soul has been tempered.

All of his Achievements had been consumed and the only change to his Titles was the addition of Questgiver — but the changes to his abilities and subclass were significant. [Soul Flame] had been completely changed by [Volcanic Soul], transforming it to lava instead of fire.

That fit Dwarven Smithing considerably better, though it would take some adapting to get used to working with exclusively lava. The immense benefits it gave, for combat and crafting alike, were more than worth it.

Arwin swallowed as he dismissed the page. The Mesh hadn’t said anything about what Forbidden Soulmancy would actually let him do. It was something he was going to have to discover on his own.

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He planned on doing that quite shortly, but there was something far more important that he refused to put off for a moment later.

It was more important than his class or his abilities. More important than checking on the fully finished [Soul Guardian] that stood at the back of his smithy, as dormant as it had been when he’d completed it, stuffed so full of energy that Arwin could feel it prickling against his skin. �

He turned and strode out of the smithy at such a speed that he nearly blew the doors down on the way out. The sun hung low in the sky and the evening was well underway. Loud conversation came from within the Devil’s Den.

A line of people waiting to get into the tavern wrapped around the block. Arwin cut past all of them. Nobody complained — they knew who he was. And, even if they hadn’t, a single look at his face was more than enough to stop anyone from anyone from standing in his path.

Arwin walked straight through the common room, not slowing in the slightest, and right into the kitchen.

Lillia stood in the center of a swarm of flying utensils. Knives chopped, spatulas shuffled food around on dancing pans, and dishes washed themselves. A cacophony of sounds that was somehow in perfect organization at the will of their conductor.

“Arwin?” Lillia asked, turning to him. She caught the expression on his face instantly and concern passed over her features. “Are you oka—”

The rest of her sentence was swallowed by a muffled grunt of surprise as Arwin pressed his lips against her. Her eyes widened, but she leaned into it and returned the kiss, wraping her arms around his back. They didn’t part for several seconds.

One of the knives thunked against its board a bit too hard, lodging itself deep within the wood.

Arwin reluctantly pulled back, though he kept one hand on her waist. One of her arms remained looped around his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you,” Arwin said.

Lillia stared at him, a mixture of concern and satisfaction in her expression. “I — I’ve missed you too, Arwin. You usually aren’t so… forward. Did something happen? Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Arwin said with what he hoped to be a comforting smile. He didn’t need to dump everything that had happened with the Mesh on her — but they were going to have to talk about what it meant when she wasn’t quite so busy. “I just needed to see you.”

“That’s sweet,” Lillia said, a small smile pulling across her lips. “I…”

She didn’t finish the rest of her sentence. Her eyes went as wide as saucers and she stiffened in shock.

“What?” Arwin asked urgently. “Is something wrong?”

“Something wrong?” Lillia exclaimed, taking a step back from him. “What the fuck, Arwin? How are you Adept 1?”

“I made a Core,” Arwin said. “It gave me an enormous amount of power. Far more than I had expected.”

“Enough to skip half a Tier? How is that even possible? What in the world does that Core do if it gave you that much power? Is it going to destroy the entire city?”

“I’m, ah, not actually sure yet.”

Lillia stared at him. “You’re not sure. You jump six levels in a single item, waste an enormous amount of potential in the process, and you aren’t sure about what you even did? Are you insane, Arwin? Wait. Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine,” Arwin promised, putting his hands on Lillia’s shoulders. “And I didn’t lose any potential.”

“Then how do you—”

“After I leveled up and saw what had changed, the only thing I wanted to do was come see you again,” Arwin said. “The [Soul Guardian] will still be where I left it when I get back.”

Lillia’s cheeks reddened and she coughed into a fist, averting her gaze. “Did leveling up somehow turn you into a flirt?”

“That would probably be the void,” Arwin muttered, his thoughts drifting for a moment before he yanked them back.

“The void?” Lillia’s concern was back. “Are you sure you’re okay, Arwin? What happened to you when you leveled up?”

“I’m fine,” Arwin promised. He gave her shoulders a small squeeze. “I’ll tell you everything tonight. I’m messing with your dinner preparation. Sorry. I should have waited until tonight, but I had to see you.”

“It’s fine, you big oaf. You’re more important than dinner is. Losing a bit of satisfaction isn’t going to hurt me after the amount I’ve gotten over the past few days. I’m practically getting flooded with strength and energy,” Lillia said with a shake of her head. She put a hand on Arwin’s cheek. “But I can wait until tonight.”

Arwin nodded. He covered Lillia’s hand with his own. She let her hand lower together with his and he gave it a tight squeeze.

A weight felt like it had lifted off his chest. Even though it had only been a few hours since he’d seen her last, his internals couldn’t quite tell if it had been seconds or years. It was like someone had tossed his internal clock down the side of a cliff.

They released each other and, after one final exchanged look, Arwin slipped out of the kitchen and walked through the common room of the tavern. His eyes locked onto Olive. She sat at a table eating dinner with Reya, Elias, and Maeve.

Perfect.

He walked over to them.

“Olive, Elias, Maeve, I’d like to see you in the Infernal Armory after you finish dinner,” Arwin said.

Reya’s brow scrunched as she squinted at him. “Are… you okay?”

Arwin blinked. “What? Yes. Does it look like there’s something wrong with me?”

“Reya’s right. You do feel a bit odd,” Olive said slowly. “I don’t know how to phrase it. Kind of wild, I guess?”

“Like you haven’t slept in forty days,” Elias said. Even though his face was covered with bandages, Arwin caught the unease in the man’s posture. “It’s your eyes. They’re different.”

“Well, never mind that,” Arwin said. “I’m just ready to make your equipment. I don’t know when the Secret Eye are going to announce the Proving Grounds are starting and we need to make sure you’re all ready for it.”

“We’ll be there,” Elias said immediately. “I can’t thank you enough. We—”

Arwin was already gone, sweeping out the door and slipping past the crowd.

The four adventurers at the table exchanged a glance. Then they set back at their dinner with renewed vigor. Not a single one of them was about to be late for this. Something important was happening.

***

Arwin returned to the Infernal Armory, not pausing once until he stood before his [Soul Guardian]. The imposing suit of armor rose before him, silent and still. Power radiated from within it, but it was fading with every passing second.

No. Not fading. Concealing itself. The power is still there. I can feel it deep inside myself, but externally, this just looks like a suit of armor. How do I pull up its information with the Mesh?

And more importantly…

“Who helped me make you?” Arwin whispered, reaching up to touch the armor.

“I did.”

Arwin spun as cold prickled against his back.

Standing behind him, even though Arwin been certain that he’d been the only one to enter the smithy, was a man clad in dirty rags with pure white hair and ice blue eyes.

It was the drunkard.