Rise of the Living Forge

Arwin summoned the Mesh with a thought, bringing up his Achievements and mentally selecting the one he’d gotten for defeating Twelve.

[Assassin Assassin] – Awarded for killing a target more than 1 Tier above you in front of a crowd without a single person recognizing what was happening right before their noses. What a show. Effects: You took Twelve’s Life. You might as well take his belongings too. May they serve you well. This achievement will be consumed upon request to bequeath everything that all 12 of Twelve’s bodies had on them to you.

From what it sounded like, the Achievement had been holding all the equipment that each of Twelve’s clones had been wearing or holding. He wouldn’t be able to directly use, gift, or sell anything unique that Twelve had, as that would reveal that the Menagerie had something to do with the assassin’s death.

He could, however, rip things apart for the materials and do his best to repurpose the other pieces. With any luck, Twelve would have something that could help improve his understanding of smithing.

There was no point speculating when he could find out exactly what the assassin had on him with just a single sentence, so that was just what he did.

“Give it to me,” Arwin said. “Let me see what Twelve had.”

The golden words before Arwin shattered, falling apart to fragments of fading dust. A ripple of magic coiled on the ground around his feet and expanded like a glistening ocean until it covered the ground in a circle around him.

The gold light warped and expanded, forming into a variety of shapes. Silhouettes of armor, daggers, swords, and bags begun to take form in the glowing light. They grew sharper and more defined until he could make out individual scuff marks from years of use upon their surfaces — and then the Mesh vanished with a pop.

Arwin’s skin prickled as magic rolled past it and the golden light evaporated, leaving behind a pile of equipment. Power shimmered within many of the pieces and more than a few bags bulged with golden coins trying to push through their seams.

It looked like there was some sorting to do.

And that he did. It took nearly an hour to go through everything that Twelve had so graciously donated to the Menagerie. Arwin hadn’t thought an assassin would be carrying much around, but when there were twelve bodies including the original, it turned out that even traveling light could end up adding up to quite a bit.

There were — unsurprisingly — twelve sets of swords and daggers. The sets ranged, as some of the bodies seemed to have had more hidden weapons than others, but every single piece was made from the same beautiful black metal.

It was the same metal that Jessen’s armor had been made from, but there was something… different about some of the weapons. Arwin had difficulty pinning just what it was at first. Even though the metal of single weapon was identical in color, some of the swords and daggers just seemed more whole, for lack of a better word. While most smelled like nothing, those select few smelled like the heart of a churning volcano.

He was surprised to find that the majority of the weapons weren’t actually magical, which was excessively strange as they had a scent which was usually reserved for items that the Mesh had entered.

The ones that lacked a smell had an immediate and obvious use. They were the same as the metal from Jessen’s armor, and Arwin still needed more of that to make the rest of Anna’s equipment.

After some more examination, Arwin discovered what it was that set the odd-smelling weapons apart when he brought a hand of [Soul Flame] a bit too close to one of the blades while he was trying to study it. The fire slipped right into the metal, absorbed almost effortlessly.

His eyes widened. The magic hadn’t been stolen. It had soaked into the sword like water to a sponge.

“They absorb magic?” Arwin breathed, turning the sword from side to side as he studied its surface, black as night. He could feel power in the sword now — his own power. These were weapons that could cut through magic itself.

There were a total of four. Two blades and two daggers. Each of them was beautifully crafted and entirely plain. If they hadn’t been made from pitch black metal, most people would have assumed they were just normal weapons.

The part that caught Arwin’s attention the most was that the unique black swords were almost certainly made out of the same metal as the rest of them. If that was really the case, then it meant there was a chance it wasn’t the metal itself that was special, but something in the process that had created them.

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Could I learn how to do this myself? I have to study these.

An excited grin crossed Arwin’s lips as he set the special blades aside and went through the rest of the equipment. While most of the weapons weren’t enchanted, Twelve had carried no shortage of magical items.

A variety of magical blades enchanted to cut through nearly anything, armor with resistance to blows and all sorts of other attacks, cloaks that let him blend into the shadows and avoid detection.

Twelve had been loaded.

It almost hurt to know that Arwin couldn’t just use these as they were. Twelve had enough equipment to outfit a miniature assassin’s guild. Unfortunately, they just couldn’t afford to have anyone tie his death to them.

Still… If I lift some of the enchantments and transfer them onto other items with [Soul Flame], I could save a ton of this magic.

He’d have to find appropriate equipment for the magic, but that could be done. They could keep Twelve’s belongings in the tavern somewhere until he needed them. There was no point rushing.

Arwin was a little surprised to see that Twelve hadn’t carried much in the way of utility. It made sense in a way — he probably viewed his clones as expendable. There was no point heavily outfitting them with consumable items when they could just die and he could make another one without too much loss. The more he spent outfitting them, the worse their deaths would hit his pocketbook.

Fortunately, his pocketbook looked to have been quite healthy. Twelve had what Arwin estimated to be thousands of gold worth of coin and other jewelry in his bags. It was more than a healthy amount of money and would go quite a ways toward inevitably paying off the damages when someone came knocking about a demon escaping their tavern.

Arwin looked at the belongings strewn across the floor around him. There was still more to sift through, but this was a good haul. He wasn’t quite sure if he could use any of it to figure out how to make a Core for the Soul Guardian, but the weapons felt like they could potentially be worthwhile.

The idea of a guardian for the Infernal Armory that could somehow absorb magic was very tempting. If he could figure out how to replicate the effect that Twelve’s swords had, then he could somehow work that into the Core.

Looks like I’ve found myself a project to work on while I wait for Elias, Maeve, and Olive to figure out what kind of armor they want from me for the tournament.

Actually, I wonder how they’re doing. Olive said they were heading out to a dungeon today and they’ve been at that for a while. I’m looking forward to seeing how they can all fight as a team. Maybe I’ll tag along on their next run to get a look for myself.

***

Firelight flickered in a cave deep in a dungeon about two hours of travel away from Milten. Shadows danced across the walls as dirtied bandages stretched through the air like tendrils, reaching for a particular adventuring party that was lingering on Arwin’s thoughts.

Olive’s sword flashed through the air, slicing apart a tendril reaching for Maeve, and a muffled moan of fury shook the walls as the rest of the bandage whipped back to the center of the room, where a ten-foot tall mummy staggered toward them, molten red light glowing behind its eyes.

Blood dripped from its mouth, where the bandages had ripped to reveal jagged teeth. There were several deep cuts in the monster and bandages littered the ground all around them.

“Regroup!” Olive yelled, her sword flashing as it sliced through another bandage.

She and Maeve both jumped back, and Elias slipped out from the shadows at their side, a small crossbow in one hand and a blade in the other.

Bandages followed after them, slithering across the ground and shooting up to grasp at them like striking snakes. Olive and Elias cut them apart, flanking Maeve to make sure the Mummy’s attacks didn’t grow anywhere near her.

Maeve’s hands strummed through the air and invisible notes as if they’d been played from a harp thrummed out, magic brushing through the air like a warm wind. Power flooded into Olive.

The first few times this had happened, it had completely tripped her up. Her muscles had tensed and she’d launched herself straight into a wall — but she’d started to get used to how Maeve’s magic worked.

Olive forced herself to relax. Her breath slowed and she felt magic infuse her. It infused her muscles and burned through her lungs like smoke. A bandage shot for her neck.

Elias leapt in front of her, slicing it apart. He then crouched, moving into a position they’d practiced quite a few times over the course of the past few days.

“Now!” Elias yelled.

Olive dashed forward and bounded off his back. He rose at the same time, flinging Olive through the air toward the Mummy. A bandage extended for her, but Olive twisted like catlike grace, letting the strike slip past her harmlessly.

She slammed into the monster’s chest feet-first, bringing her sword straight down into the top of its head.

There was a dry thunk. A tremor ran through its body and it collapsed to the ground in a pile of bandages and bones, spilling Olive to the ground along with a slew of curses.

Elias and Maeve ran over and helped her up. The three of them looked down at the dead monster as magic entered their bodies from the kill.

“Not bad,” Elias said. “Not bad at all.”

“Wasn’t a very strong monster,” Olive said. “But it was a good test run.”

Maeve gave a thumbs-up.

“Might be time to up the ante,” Elias said. “I’m thinking we’re ready for a real threat. We should try to solo an Adept Tier Dungeon. We’re not going to find weaknesses in our teamwork when we’re fighting weaker monsters. That requires stress, and we don’t want to run into our first real stress midway through the tournament.”

They all exchanged a glance, then nodded as one.

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