Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 527-528

Caldera collided with the Golden Guardian’s head with an echoing crunch. The statue crumpled in on itself. Obsidian spikes of jagged, solidified magma tore out from beneath the hammer and sheared through the crumpling gold with loud shrieks.

Arwin’s blow slammed the statue back down into the ground and embedded it a foot within the stone like a squashed bug. The entire Guardian lurched, its limbs clanging against the piles of gold as they splayed out in odd directions.

Beads of sweat rolled down Arwin’s brow and his breath came in sharp gasps. The intensity of the power that had just torn through his entire body to wind through Caldera and unleash into the Golden Guardian had been immense.

He was pretty sure he would have passed out had he tried to utilize so much magic before his class had been Sunset. Even with his new resilience, it felt as if he’d been wrung out. Arwin forced his hands to release the hilt of his hammer. All the power Caldera had gathered from repeated, uninterrupted blows against the Guardian had been even more than he’d been expecting.

The Guardian didn’t move again. Its head was still embedded in a pile of melted golden slag beneath Caldera. A flower of glistening obsidian had bloomed to swallow its entire head and carve deep into its upper body.

Coins shifted to Arwin’s side. Olive clambered up the hill he stood on, her eyes going wide as she stared at the fallen statue.  

“Holy shit,” Olive said. “What did you do to it?”

“I hit it,” Arwin replied. He paused for a moment as he glanced down at the shattered remains of the statue. “Hard.”

“I suppose this is what happens when you train one strategy a thousand times instead of a thousand strategies one time,” Kien said as he joined Olive. He shook his head. “Definitely stick to hitting things. It works well.”

“We should make sure it’s dead,” Arwin said. “That was a statue. Smashing its head isn’t exactly guaranteed to kill something that doesn’t have a brain.”

“It’s dead,” Kien said. “I got energy from the kill.”

“So did I,” Olive said, nodding to Anna as the other woman joined them beside the fallen statue. “Guess sunsetting your class doesn’t change the fact that you don’t get energy from killing monsters.”

“Interesting,” Arwin said slowly. The purpose of Sunsetting was basically to liberate someone of the main restrictions that the Mesh put over classes to let them focus on exactly what they wanted to do.

Theoretically speaking, I shouldn’t be limited by the crafting-class rules at this point. Killing monsters should hypothetically be able to get me magical energy. I suppose I’m not getting it because I have no desire to kill metal golems, so the energy had no reason to enter me.

That’s… interesting indeed.  

“Look,” Olive said, nodding over her shoulder. “The door.”

Arwin glanced in the direction she’d indicated. The Vault exit was open. Killing the statue had evidently been all that was required to let them out again. Arwin banished the Gehenna armor, then scratched the back of his neck.

Huh. That’s…

“A bit disappointing,” Kien said. Then he let out a snort. “You know what the problem with ancient vaults is? They build with the knowledge they have at the time. Shit changes. I bet the statue trap was a hell of a lot more effective when it wasn’t the most common trick in the book. Makes you feel a bit bad for them.”

“Bragging before we’ve actually gotten out of the vault is probably a bad idea,” Anna observed. “That’s just tempting fate.”

“There’s a difference between blind confidence and understanding,” Kien said. He crouched beside the statue and scooped up a gold coin to examine it. “There’s definitely another trap in here. Probably a greed-based one.”

“Greed?” Olive asked. She tilted her head to the side. “I haven’t heard of those.”

“They fell out of practice. People nowadays are more concerned with actually keeping robber’s noses out of their shit rather than teaching them a lesson,” Kien said with a snort. “You see how the ground is completely covered with gold?”

“Bit hard to miss,” Olive said.

“Yeah, well — take too much, and I’m willing to bet the entire room self destructs. Maybe it drops open into a pit or the whole thing catches fire. Who knows. But generally, the idea is you let the thieves that have restraint live and kill the greedy ones so you can feel like you’ve had some kind of positive influence on the world by being a dick about what happens to your gold after you die.”

“Seems like you’ve got opinions on the subject,” Arwin said.

Kien grunted. “Done too many dungeons in my time, Arwin. Seen too many people get killed in terrible ways. It’s why I preferred to work alone. Is it really that different for you?”

“I didn’t do all that many dungeons,” Arwin replied. “I did them to train, sure, but after that… rarely. My focus was more toward the Horde. They didn’t need the Hero clearing out dungeons and accidentally getting himself caught in something they didn’t control. Hell, maybe they controlled the dungeons too. Who knows. Not worth worrying about anymore. So what do you recommend we do here?”

“Take the best stuff,” Kien replied. “There’s a lot of it. Take what we can carry, focusing magical items. We can grab a good bit of gold as well, but don’t go crazy. If you see anything odd, call out a warning. That’s it.”

Arwin glanced at the others. Then he shrugged. Kien seemed confident enough, and the magical items were the reason they were here in the first place. This strategy seemed as good as any other.

“Sounds good,” Arwin said. He paused for a moment as he looked back around the room around them. “Say… do you think they’ll mind if I take a few bits of the golem with me?”

“It’s not in the shape to do much about it,” Kien said dryly. “I doubt they’d mind.”

“Great,” Arwin said. “Then get to it, everyone. Gather up the magical items. Let’s move quickly. We haven’t been here that long, but I don’t want to tempt fate. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

 ***

Rodrick awoke.

His heart pounded in his chest like a runaway horse and sweat coated his brow. Thoughts spun through his mind so fast that he could barely grasp any of them. Confusion budded up, but he crushed it out before even an instant had passed.

Rodrick’s mind sliced through the fog that tried to cloud it. Memories clicked back into place as he kept his body’s movements exactly as they had been. He was lying in bed. A rather comfortable one.The sweat wasn’t new, and he’d clearly been having quite an intense dream.

He made sure to keep the beat of his heart at exactly the same eccentric pace as he let his eyes dart around behind his closed eyelids as if dreaming. The last thing one wanted to do when waking up in an unfamiliar place was give away the fact that they had awoken.

Was I captured? How? When? I—

Oh.

Rodrick opened his eyes.

Two sat at a chair near the foot of the bed. The man looked tired. He started slightly as Rodrick moved.

“When did you wake up?” Two asked. “I didn’t even realize.”

“Only just now,” Rodrick replied. He sat up. “How long has it been?”

“A day,” Two replied. “You were exhausted. The first normal thing I’ve seen you do, actually. I was starting to think that literally every single member of the Menagerie was somehow superhuman. But I guess even you can’t tank Sunsetting your class without needing some recovery time. How are you feeling?”

Rodrick paused for a moment. He looked down at himself. Now that Two asked, it struck Rodrick that he felt better than he had in a long, long time. Old aches and pains were gone. His mind felt sharper. Younger, almost.

And his magic… it had changed.

A faint smile pulled at the corners of Rodrick’s lips. He didn’t even need to check his status. Old bindings, restrictions on skills that had been there for years… they were gone. He was no longer a Fallen Paladin.

How am I feeling?

“New,” Rodrick said. “I’m feeling new.”

“New.” Two nodded. “Good. No ill feelings? Destabilization? Odd thoughts or feelings of being… fragile?”

“None. I feel fresher than the day I was born,” Rodrick said. He swung his legs out of bed and rose to his feet. He felt great. The rest had clearly done him a lot of good — and that wasn’t even getting started on the literal benefits of getting his class Sunset.

But those could wait.

“Where’s Eleven?”

“Waiting,” Two replied. “Sleeping, probably. But she’ll be ready. I take it you’re eager to get moving.”

“Is there anything more that must be done to ensure the process is successful?”

“No,” Two replied with a weary smile. “It’s done. You’ve Sunset your class, Rodrick. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Rodrick said. “Then please find Eleven. The Menagerie is waiting for me.”

Chapter 528

Art fought to keep himself from sending a nervous glance over at Vix and the giant bag of trash she had slung over her shoulder. Everything — and everyone — was in position. He’d checked to make sure at least half a dozen times before they’d set out.

It wasn’t that he was concerned about the viability of his plan. Art didn’t believe in half-measures or uncertainties. He had complete certainty that he’d thought everything through. The Dwarven Council would already have an envoy headed to join them in Thornhelm. Similarly, the Blacktongues would have been tipped off of their presence by the spies he’d intentionally left untouched during their preparations.

Reya had been dispatched to make sure that the noble family would have someone to chase back to them. Without her, Art wasn’t confident those bumbling idiots would be able to arrive before the Council, even with the head start they’d gotten.

Vix sent Art a look that said far more than words ever could.

Sorry. I’ll stop glancing over.

Art forced himself to focus on the street in front of him. Parading through Thornhelm with a giant bag full of supposed riches was such a moronic idea that even doing it with a bunch of fakes was still moronic. His father may have still controlled the city, but that didn’t mean it was free of crime.

The thieves guilds existed here, just as did a great number of passing adventurers who would be more than happy to take advantage of a free payday. Any of them could have gotten wind about what was happening here. Art doubted the Blacktonges mercenaries would be entirely tight-lipped, and that wasn’t even getting into the possibilities of enemies of Thornhelm itself. Stealing from him would make his father look bad. There were countless enemies that would be more than happy to arrange for such an event to occur, even if they didn’t earn a single non-existent gold coin for their troubles.  

But there was one thing that would keep many of them in place.

Logic.

Not some genius-level intellect that was reserved only for the greatest masterminds and manipulaturs. No, the one thing Art was relying on was basic common sense.

Namely, only a drooling moron would ever stride through the center of a city with a fortune from some legendary vault, then proceed to protect it with a rag-tag group instead of the main members of the Menagerie. That goes doubly so for when Rodrick hasn’t been seen in several days.  

Anybody with even half a brain is going to realize this is a setup. The talented thieves are going to pin this — correctly — as a honeypot. Adventurers won’t want to risk their lives for what is almost certain to be a trap. They’re not stupid.

The only people who would ever actually think for a moment that this show was real would have to fall into one of two groups. They would have to either be ignorant enough of the world to believe that wandering through a city with a ridiculous amount of gold was realistic… or they would have to be so arrogant as to think that nobody could ever dare steal from them.

Fortunately for Art, his targets fit that profile perfectly. The Dwarven Council had access to some of the best gear in the kingdom. They’d supposedly funded an enormous part of the war against the Horde… and one of their men had been taken out by Arwin’s golem.

The Council would believe that the Menagerie had to be impossibly strong. After all, if they weren’t, then that would have been akin to admitting that their own warrior had been rather pathetic.

Naturally, anyone powerful would have no fear at all about being robbed.

And the Blacktongues… well, they hadn’t been an adventuring family in ages. They didn’t have the slightest damned idea about what dangers the real world held. All the nobles could do was hide behind towers of gold and pay others to handle their problems for them. They wouldn’t even consider the fact that someone else might steal their prize.

Art and Vix came to a stop before a trickling fountain. Behind them, Elias scanned the area. They — along with Reya — were the supposed team that the Menagerie had sent after the Vault.

Maeve and Vanessa were in the shadows a street over. The two of them had taken up position several hours ago, well before Art’s group had staged their grand return to Thornhelm. Their presence wouldn’t be needed so long as everything went well… but it never hurt to be careful.

“How long?” Vix asked, sending a quick glance to Art.

“As long as it takes,” Art replied. He absent-mindedly rifled through his deck of cards. They were in position. It theoretically shouldn’t have taken the Blacktongues long to follow Reya back to rejoin them, but overestimating someone’s intelligence was just about as dangerous as underestimating them.

The biggest thing he was concerned about was the Blacktongues somehow taking so long that the Dwarven Council’s forces got to them first. That would be a problem. Any mercenaries hired by the Blacktongues would take a single look at the dwarves and immediately turn tail.

We need to be under attack by the time the Dwarven Council finds us. That’s the best way to make sure they strike first and deal with the Blacktongues. Obviously, we can’t let anyone see in the bag either. That would reveal we set this whole thing up. Doubt the Dwarven Council would appreciate that much. But that’s all fine. All we have to do—

“She’s coming,” Elias said.

Art glanced back at him. He didn’t hear anything, but he knew better to doubt the bandaged man. Elias knew what he was doing. Art stopped playing with his cards. He palmed one, then slipped the rest of them away.

The echo of distant footsteps reached his ears a second later. Art tilted his head to the side as he focused, trying to see if he could pick any other sounds. Reya’s running was getting closer at a pretty rapid pace, but he couldn’t—

Ah. There they are.

Metal clanked against the street in a heavy drumming storm. There were a good number of them. Somewhere around ten, by Art’s best guess. That was actually more than he’d been expecting Blacktongues to send.

Evidently, they weren’t too worried about being discreet.

Idiots. Even if they did somehow manage to take our fake treasure, the amount of noise they’re making is going to get the attention of everyone in Thornhelm. They’ll never make it out of the city.

Reya dashed into the square a few seconds later. She looked winded, but it was all a load of crap. She could have thrown her pursuers in less than a few seconds just by phasing through a few walls and vanishing from sight.

But they didn’t know that.

“Art!” Reya exclaimed, her voice a pitch higher than normal as she staggered over to him. She was really laying it on thick. “We’re getting—”

A dozen men darted out from the alley Reya had just emerged from. They wore heavy metal armor without any manner of identifying crest. Only around half of them were armed, but it was impossible to tell if they had any magic in their gear.

Looks like I miscounted by two. That’s quite the squadron they sent for us. Twelve versus a supposed four. I guess we should feel honored.

“Who are you?” Art asked.

“Hand it over,” the man at their head growled. He wore a helm that blocked out his face, but there was a small black plume at the top of his head that marked him as either the leader or the most pompous of the lot.

“Hand what over?” Art asked. “You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that.”

The man let out a snort. He set his hand on his sword—

A streak of dark magic blurred toward Art.

He flicked the palmed card in his hand onto the ground. The bolt of magic vanished an inch away from his face, swallowed by the card before it could connect. A flicker of surprise passed through Art.

This isn’t some random group of mercenaries.

“Going right for the kill?” Art asked, tilting his head to the side as his eyes flicked to the person that had attacked him. They’d positioned themselves right behind the lead man, covering much of their motion. “And in such an underhanded fashion? Not much honor there.”

“I know who you are,” the man said. “There’s no honor to be found here.”

Art smiled. “No. I suppose there isn’t. Honor is for better men. But if you think you’re going to intimidate us into giving so much as a single gold up, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Your cooperation is entirely optional,” the man said. “Last to make the right choice.”

Art flicked his hand. The magic stored within the card at his feet burst free, streaking across the square to splash harmlessly against the man’s armor. That answered one question. They had magic equipment.

“Oops,” Art said dryly.

The mercenaries didn’t say another word.

They charged.

Two new cards snapped into place between Art’s fingers as fingers of dark magic darted through the air toward them. There was no going back now. Every part of the plan was in motion.

All that remained was to see how the pieces fell out.