Riftside 3 - Chapter 31

I smiled at Eryn where she sat across from me at the dining room table, nursing a mug with both hands as if it was the only thing keeping her alive. I’d never seen her hair this wild before. It looked like the weeds tumbling past outside Dawnwatch, and I loved how she let me see her this way. The shadows under her eyes and the redness of not quite healed burns finished the story of too much ale, too tall flames, and too little sleep. 

She took a slow, careful sip of her tea and winced.

“By the bells,” she muttered, her voice a raw whisper. “My head feels like Knut used it for anvil practice.”

“Poor darling,” I said, trying to put as much care and sympathy into my voice as I possibly could, all while taking a hearty bite of bread and cheese. 

I felt fantastic, a fact I knew was more than a little irritating.

She shot me a glare. 

“Don’t you dare tell me you feel fine.”

“Tell her it is because Arclight lacks the kingly soul of a weapon of my magnificent caliber. If she was up to my standard, she would also purge the weakness from her wielder’s system. A little Blood Forge after a night of revelry works wonders.”

“Of course you cured his hangover,” she grumbled into her mug. “Lucky bastard.” Then she sighed. “I can’t believe my boyfriend’s warhammer is a better healer than I am.” The jealousy in her tone was light, but it was still there.

“You are finding your path, and saving lives on the way,” I said. “Besides, Arclight is ready for her breakthrough, and that will also make you a lot stronger.”

“Later. Maybe today, maybe,” she said, shaking her head. “I need time to… prepare. Meditate. Figure out how to do it without messing up. Maybe take a nap.” She looked up, her gaze softening as it met mine. “Thank you, by the way. For last night.”

“For what?”

“For being a gentleman,” she said, blushing faintly. “I know I got a little… handsy after we got back from the Timberline. I guess the relief, and the ale…”

“It’s fine,” I said, reaching across the table, putting my hand on top of hers, my thumb brushing gently across her fourth finger. The skin was smooth, bare. Empty. “We have time.”

Her shoulders relaxed, the tension draining out of her. 

“I know. It’s just nice to know for sure.” Then she yawned so widely her jaw cracked. “What will you be doing today?” she asked.

“Heading to the smithy,” I said. “I’ve got a special project, and Pa and I will start work on the new armor sets. We’ve got some ideas, and it’ll be…not magical, not rare, and hopefully not even epic.”

“Just spit it out already,” Roq said. “We’re making a legendary piece of armor or we’ll melt it back down and try again! And again! And again!”

“Somebody please make that hammer quiet down!” Nabeeh screamed from the second floor. “Some of us are still trying to sleep!”

Eryn and I chuckled.

“Do you know if Nabeeh came in alone last night?” I asked, and Eryn shook her head.

“I could tell you if you’d like,” Roq offered. “I know who’s in the house.”

“My fire might not burn hot enough to melt a certain warhammer, but it certainly is hot enough to turn pies into coal!” Nabeeh discreetly added to the conversation via another scream.

“But I shan’t, because it would be ungentle-hammerly,” Roq finished, smoothly.

“Shut up! Both of you!” Lan cried in response. 

Eryn laughed into her tea, and I smiled. 

“Hopefully the Hive Mind doesn’t choose this moment to attack,” I whispered conspiratorially to Eryn. “Our defences might just be somewhat temporarily reduced after yesterday.”

“Yeah,” she said, reaching over and ripping a mouse-sized bite out of my sandwich. “It was nice to see Knut and Katherine enjoying themselves, though. They are weird, but also work weirdly well as a couple. Probably because of that? Ahh! I’m getting lost in my own thoughts. Never mind.” 

I popped the rest into my mouth to avoid further raids and leaned over the table and kissed Eryn on the head.

“Alright. Heading to Pa’s. Feel free to drop by later if you want,” I said, picking up Roq. 

Then I looked at our trophy wall. Arclight’s head with Quarris’ crown on top. The Scrambler’s eye mounted on a plaque of its own metal. And the biggest trophy of them all, my warhammer, from the Woodweaver.

*

“Who’s this?” I asked, as I stepped into Steel & Scale to find not only Pa and Torsten elbow-deep in Emmet carcasses, but a third person standing with them. 

They all turned, and I nodded to the newcomer, a boy who couldn’t be more than seventeen, with a lanky frame that hadn’t yet caught up with his hands and feet.

“Morning, son,” Pa said, stepping back from the worktable and wiping a gauntlet on his leather apron. His movements were slow, and almost as if his head wasn’t quite on right. “This is Londar. He’s here on trial. Came in with the last caravan.”

The boy, Londar, swallowed hard, his eyes wide as he took in my size, his gaze flicking nervously to the massive, rune-etched warhammer in my hand. He looked like a stray dog hoping for a scrap, but equally terrified of being kicked.

“He recognizes true magnificence,” Roq said. “A sign of some intelligence. Ask if his parents are good at making pies.”

“Sir Aldrich,” Londar said, his voice cracking on the title. “It’s an honor. My father… he’s a builder, here to help build, and he said he’s heard of your fighting. They say you’re the strongest adventurer here.”

“My friends call me Ash,” I said, offering him a small smile to put him at ease. “And I’m no silver serpent, so you can drop the ‘Sir’.” 

“Lad used to be an apprentice blacksmith in Hillspar,” Pa explained, “But seems the mine’s played out so the town’s dying. Not much work for builders there.”

“True,” Londar said. “We packed up everything and moved here to Dawnwatch. Father says it’ll give us a fresh start.”

“Nice to meet you,” I told the boy, before turning to Pa. “Can I have a word out back?”

Pa gave a weary nod and followed me out back where he went to lean against the storage shed, letting out a yawn so wide I could count his lower teeth.

“So, what’s going on?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“By the bells, what a party that was,” Pa groaned, rubbing his temples. “I’m not as young as I used to be, son. Thank the forge I had the sense to stop drinking after the… well, after too many drinks.”

“The boy, Pa. What’s that about?”

“Getting to it,” he grumbled. “Will you give me a damned break? You’re starting to sound like Roq.” 

“Pa!” Roq demanded. “Him? I mean, he is a nice specimen of biped and all, but like me?”

We both ignored the hammer’s sputtering.

“This morning was rough. Now, don’t get me wrong, the forge was lit and I’d warmed up by the time Torsten came slinking over, but it was a near thing. Then this lad, Joric, just shows up at the door. Polite, eager, says he’s looking for work. I thought about our chat, about needing more help once we expand, and that windfall of gems… I figured why not start training an apprentice now?”

“You’re hiring randoms off the street?” I asked, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice.

Pa just shrugged, a motion that seemed to cause him physical pain. 

“Luck’s been with us recently. Figured I’d roll with it. I’ll give him a few hours, see what he can do. If he’s no good, he’s out. Simple as that.”

“And what about… you know?” I said, jerking my head back toward the workshop. “Roq? All the other weirdness? You’re going to tell him why my warhammer can talk and yours can’t?”

Pa nodded, his expression turning serious. 

“Been thinking about that. For now, he’ll only be here for a couple of hours. Odd jobs, cleaning and light forging, let me see if he has any potential. Then I’ll send him home before we get to the… fun stuff.”

“But we’re supposed to start the new armors—”

“Son,” Pa cut me off, his voice a pained rasp. “Have some mercy. My head is hurting worse than when I fell down the stairs looking for the outhouse the first night we slept upstairs. I’m in no shape for proper forging. Not yet. Not all of us have magical hammers to cure our hangovers.” He pushed himself off the wall. “Now, come on. Work with us on preparing those Emmets. Speaking of which…” He pulled out and handed me a pouch. “Twenty-three bell-blessed Mind Gems,” he said, this time smiling genuinely.

“Thank you, Pa,” I said, hefting them, feeling the weight. Then I counted out four and handed them back. “An investment in the expansion. One from each of the so-called ‘co-owners’ of Steel & Scale.”

Pa took the gems and pocketed them with a grateful nod. 

“Thank you, son.”

“Alright,” I said, rubbing my hands together and forcing a booming, cheerful tone into my voice, clapping my hands together. “Let’s go work off that hangover!”

Pa flinched, a low groan escaping his lips as he clutched his head, and I couldn’t help but grin. A little light revenge for the time he’d found Samuel and me with his hidden bottle of fire-water. I shuddered at the memory of the headache, vomiting, and deep-cleaning of the forge that had followed.

I liked this much, much better.

*

A few hours later, after a grateful but exhausted Londar had been sent on his way, we broke for lunch, with Torsten heading across the street to eat with his family. The usual scent of Ma’s cooking was conspicuously absent; in its place was the savory aroma of Matron Kora’s venison stew from the Hollow Hearth. The fact that Ma had gone out and bought soup was all the proof I needed of just how severe her hangover was. Pa still moved with the slow care of someone trying not to jostle the contents of their own skulls.

“Let’s talk armor,” I said, digging into the thick stew. “Tell me what you’ve come up with.”

Pa took a long, slow spoonful, his eyes closing for a moment as if the warmth was mending him from the inside. 

“This… this is something I’ve been turning over in my head for a long time, son. An impossible project. Until now.”

“What is it?” I asked around a mouthful.

“I’m not talking about a new cuirass or a set of greaves,” he said. “I’m talking about a full panoply. A complete suit, forged from the carcasses of not one, but five separate variant monsters.”

I let out a low whistle at the audacity of the staggering idea. A single suit of armor made from the remains of five of the most powerful creatures we had ever faced? Forging with materials from one was challenging, but his idea was insane. And exciting.

“At last!” Roq said. His voice held a satisfaction so deep it nearly made him sound like Arclight. “This is the vision of a true master smith! The soul of a king resides in this one’s hammer! This is the kind of project worthy of my wielder!”

“The Scrambler's self-repairing shell will be the foundation, providing the core plates," Pa said, his gaze going distant. "Finally we’ll get to work with the Woodweaver again. Should be safe now that Benedict’s dead and gone. The heartwood will form the internal frame and all the articulated joints. I’ve got an idea for using Quarris crystal as a way of handling magic damage. The Queen will be used for reinforcing the plates, her plumes for a crest, and a few choice pieces to…well, you’ll see. And then, to top it all off, we’ll line the entire suit with Arclight's silvery fur."

“Thomas Tharen. I grant you permission to proceed with this magnificent endeavor,” Roq declared loftily. “I shall, of course, be present to supervise every strike and quench. Together, we shall ensure this becomes the finest suit of armor in all of Tharungia! No, in all of Noros!”

Pa’s good mood vanished like steam from a quench tub. He set his spoon down with a sharp clatter. “Listen here, you noisy rock,” he grunted, his voice a low growl. “You’ll show me the proper respect, or I’ll kick your haft out of this forge so fast you won’t touch the ground ‘til you hit the Rift.”

“How dare you!” Roq sputtered, seeming genuinely taken aback. “I am offering you my unparalleled wisdom! My guidance is a gift! An honor!”

“I accept a lot from you, Roq,” Pa said, his voice dangerously quiet. “But I am a master smith, and a hungover one at that. In this forge, and under this roof, I am the king. You will act like an honored consultant, or you will not act at all. Do not forget who’s hand forged the very body you inhibit!”

A tense silence stretched. I held my breath to stop from laughing, wondering if Roq’s pride would force us to work on the project without him. Then, to my surprise, when he spoke, the arrogance in his mental voice had subsided, replaced by something grudging but sincere.

“I stand corrected, Master Smith,” he said. “This is your domain. Your skill is… considerable. My apologies. I will support you. As an equal.”

Pa let out a long sigh, the tension draining from his shoulders. He picked up his spoon and took another mouthful of stew. 

“Fine. Good enough.”

I took a slow breath, not wanting to ruin the moment with laughter, and said, “Alright then, Pa. Would you tell me more? What’s the plan?”

“This won’t be like forging any armor we’ve made before, son,” Pa said, tapping the table. “Those were about survival. But you’ve not only become the tip of the spear, but also a leader. The armor must be more than just protection. It needs to be a banner. A statement.”

“It must be a statement of my overwhelming superiority,” Roq declared. “Adorned with spikes! And a mural depicting my glorious victory over the Queen!”

“It will be adorned with practicality, you noisy rock,” Pa grunted, “Now pipe down. Remember, two ears and only one…urgh, nevermind. Just listen.” Pa shook his head. “You’re not just an adventurer anymore, son. You’re a raid leader. When you stand at the front, others need to see more than just a man. They need to see a bastion. Something that will not break.”

“A masterpiece, then,” Roq said. “Crafted by the finest smith in the land, guided by the wisdom of a king.”

I nodded, understanding Pa’s point. This wasn’t just about protection. It was just as much about presence.

“Where do we start?” I asked.

Over the next few days we settled into a rhythm of stability, one I hadn’t known for a long time. While Dawnwatch buzzed with the frantic energy of repairs and reinforcements, our small circle turned inward, focusing on improving ourselves.

With their soul weapons at breakthrough, Eryn had convinced Lan to join her in picking up shifts at Sentinel Station, competing to see who could slay more monsters during the waves.

Sparks flew as I brought my warhammer down, not on a monster’s skull, but on a plate of the Scrambler’s self-repairing shell, attempting to curve it into the shape of a pauldron, but it was fighting me, healing through it all. Just as with Arclight’s carcass and all the electric shocks her fur had zapped us with.

“A fraction more curve on the lower edge, biped,” Roq said. He was nothing if not a critical supervisor. The problem we faced? He was mostly correct. “Do you want your armpit chafed for all of every glorious battle? Think the Hive Mind will grant you a pause for adjustments as you scratch and tug on your musky parts?”

I was spending nearly all my time with Pa and Torsten in the Steel & Scale, preparing the parts of what would become my suit of armor, alongside additional pieces for Lan and Eryn.

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it,” I muttered, trying to keep my temper down.

This was the most complex work we’d ever attempted. The legendary materials seemed to fight to remain in their original states, and progress was measured not in finished pieces, but every inch of perfect alignment.

Across the main workbench, a few pieces for the suit were now prepared, like the early stages from a puzzle of legendary proportions. There were the greaves, helmet, vambraces, sabatons, cuirass, gauntlets, and my current project: the pauldrons.

What made this project so complex wasn’t just the difficulty of forging one legendary piece. No, each piece had to fit both my body and every other piece of the panoply. We couldn’t forge a greave and then adjust the sabaton to match its flaws; they had to be born as one.

Pa and I spent hours with calipers and chalk lines, laying the pieces out, checking the flow from cuirass to pauldron, from vambrace to gauntlet, working to ensure a perfect fit. He’d spend ten minutes on what felt like less than a hair's breadth of an adjustment, and I'd hold my breath as he made the mark. But when two cuts fit together seamlessly… the satisfaction was a physical warmth in my chest.

I loved everything about it.

Well, except for Roq’s incessant bothering and complaints of it being ‘boring’.

I did make some time each day in the smithy to work on my secret project, and little by little, it progressed.

But the forge wasn't my whole life. As satisfying as the days were, the evenings I spent with Eryn were what truly refueled my spirit.

One evening we met at our favourite spot on top of the keep. She’d just come back from a double shift at Sentinel Station with Lan, and we’d agreed to look at the installation of the new gate.

“Look at that,” Eryn said, her voice fighting against the wind and whipping across the top of the keep. We leaned out over the parapet, staring down at the team of guards and engineers carefully hoisting the Steel Scrambler’s massive shell into place above the main entrance. Roq and Arclight were propped up by our feet.

“Looks like they’re going to rig the thing so it can be dropped,” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Block the entrance completely if needed.”

“It’s incredible,” she breathed. “To see something that tried to kill us become a part of our home’s defenses. It is quite morbid in a way, no?”

“And just look at that goo,” I said, pointing at the silvery fluid reflecting off the chain. It was the creature’s own silvery fluid, helping to make the lift smooth. “We take what they throw at us and grow stronger from it. I guess that’s how it’s always been, right?”

“But seeing it around town just makes it all feel… even more real?” she said. “Worth it? I’m not even sure what I want to say. Who would ever think that we’d be going out and hunting those monstrosities?”

“It is very much worth it,” I said, kissing her temple. “Speaking of making things real… How are you and Arclight? Any closer to figuring it out?”

Eryn chuckled. 

“I’m Riftside every day, pushing Arclight to her limits. I’m already halfway through level thirteen. But when it comes time to meditate on the breakthrough… the vision is just blank. It’s like trying to imagine a color you’ve never seen.” She picked up her bow and ran a hand lovingly along a limb. “How do you improve on perfection?”

“Spikes?” I joked.

“Haha. You are so funny,” Eryn said. “Watch out or I might just miss one of my shots the next time we’re out hunting.” She looked up and mock-growled. “Don’t underestimate the power of an arrow to the knee!” 

“I surrender,” I said, pulling her back into my arms. “And you saw how it was with Roq and I. Easy. Kind of? And with Roq and Katherine there, just in case Arclight is extra sparky, you’ll be as safe as can be.”

“That’s just it!” she said, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re a smith! You have a creator’s mind. You saw Roq as he was, and you envisioned him as something more. I saw it happen. You weren’t just a passenger, you were a co-creator, a…a… soul forger.” She gestured vaguely at my warhammer. “And yes, Roq, I know you’re a glorious, magnificent, kingly piece of metal with a haft, but you’re still kind of a…lump on a stick.”

“The finest lump in all the realms!” Roq said proudly.

“Thanks for being kind to her.”

But she wasn't wrong. When I'd held Roq during his breakthrough, I hadn't just felt the heat, I'd felt the very grain of his being, and knew instinctively how to help shape it.

Eryn shook her head, hair fluttering across her face.

“Arclight is different. She feels… like a thousand different pieces held together by will alone. She’s all tension and grace and intricate parts.”

“My wielder speaks the truth,” Arclight said. “My form is one of balance and complexity. More like an artwork than a brute instrument for smashing.”

“See?” Eryn sighed, an equal part frustration and amusement. “Even she knows. It took Lysander, Pa and you to make the bow, and then she just zipped her own gem over and claimed it!”

“Maybe it’ll be that easy this time too?” I said.

“Maybe,” she said, nodding. “But would you risk it? I'm supposed to be a hunter, not a smith or a bowyer. When I look at a bow... all I see is a perfect bow. And I’ve been trying everything. These days, Riftside? I’m sketching, meditating, talking with Arclight, I mean, by the bells, I’ve even bugged Lan until she started talking to me about it. The vision just won't come. How do I soul forge a better weapon when I can’t imagine anything better than what I already have?”

“You would not forge a better bow,” Roq said. “Focus on forging a truer one. You must find out what she desires. What is the truth of her existence?”

“Her truth is the hunt,” Eryn said.

“Correct,” Arclight added.

“It is a simple truth, but one I think part of me still fights,” Eryn said. “So when I try to envision her ultimate form, all I get is conflict. Is she a weapon of pure, silent death? Or something else? Something that protects? I can't forge her a 'truer' self when I'm still at war with my own."

“The prey does not care for the hunter’s feelings,” Arclight said. It didn’t feel cruel, just how her predatory mind worked. “It only cares if the arrow flies true. Wielder, we must break through. We cannot stagnate.”

“I know, darling,” Eryn said. “And I promise I’ll figure it out. Just be patient a little while longer.”

*

The next day, Pa, Torsten, and I finally managed to crack the code on forging with the Scrambler’s shell. Roq’s standard approach of ‘if you bang on things long and hard enough it’ll turn into what you want’ actually worked, as suddenly, the metal stopped repairing. It turned out that there was a finite amount of damage a piece of metal could repair before running out of energy. Once we figured that out we simple cut and ground the same piece over and over, letting it heal, until it finally ran out of energy and stayed cut where needed it. 

It was exhausting and frustrating, but by the day’s end, we had the first plates for my new cuirass shaped and ready. We weren’t sure if it meant the finished armor wouldn’t heal, but even if it didn’t, the material was even tougher than Steelhusk and would provide me with fantastic protection.

Then, before heading to the Timberline that evening, I finished preparing all the pieces for my special project, except one I’d ordered, and I ducked into the tavern with a broad smile on my face. 

“Evening, Ash!” Johan called. “Ale’s on the table!”

“Thanks, Johan,” I said, nodding back. It was relatively quiet in the tavern, being a bit too early for many.

But not my party. They were all at our reserved table.

“Hi, gorgeous,” I said to Eryn, sliding in next to her on the bench. 

“Handsome,” she replied, hugging my arm and putting her head on my shoulder. 

Knut slid a mug of ale over to me and I drank deep.

“By the bells, that’s good,” I said, closing my eyes.

“Cold like northern bear’s hospitality,” Knut said, nodding happily.

“Johan!” I called. “How’d you manage to keep the damn ale this cold?”

“There’s a new frost mage in town,” Johan said, walking over, polishing a mug. “Fortunately she’s nothing like Benedict, and has been happy to cast a few spells for me. I’ve had a new basement dug, not that anyone’s watching, and filled part of it with water. She froze it for me in exchange for food and drink.”

“Clever man,” Nabeeh said, sipping what looked like white wine so chilled the glass had condensation on it. “You’ll make your money back a thousand fold if you can keep serving stuff this good.”

“That’s the plan,” Johan said. “And the basement can double as a monster refuge in the worst case. Bought myself a steelhusk trapdoor and everything.”

“Good thinking,” I said, licking the froth from my lips.

“And how are you finding our service, Miss Xiang?” Johan asked, giving her half a bow. 

Lan sat in the corner of the booth, as if draped in shadow, her staff in one hand and a cup of red wine in her other.

We all turned to look at her.

After a rudely long pause, she sighed, and said, “It’s fine.”

“Perfect,” Johan said, chuckling, and headed for the bar. “I was going for fine!”

Lan grunted and sank deeper in behind her hair.

“Well,” Eryn said. “After defeating, what, seven waves now, I finally managed to drag you out, so there is that.”

“And nothing can ruin my good mood,” Nabeeh said. “Not even your brooding.”

“Oh?” I asked. “What’d you do?”

Nabeeh took a slow, theatrical sip of her wine, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Commander Edwin and I had a most productive afternoon,” she said. “We… inspected the structural integrity of the keep’s ramparts. A commander must be thorough in his examination of all potential weak points, you know.” She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “He is very dedicated to his duty.”

A deep, rumbling chuckle came from Knut, as he grinned into his ale, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Katherine and I also do… important business.”

“Oh?” Eryn asked, a playful lilt in her voice.

“Medical check,” Knut declared, winking. “Thorough.” He raised his ale, his grin widening. “We missed lunch. And dinner.”

“While I’m stuck doing the hard work,” I said, sighing dramatically.

“Such is the burden of leadership,” Nabeeh said. “Except for Edwin. He can afford to take some time off.”

“How is forging?” Knut asked.

“Nearly finished with the core plates now,” I said. “Pa thinks the self-repairing might recharge itself based on my mana, but we won’t know until the suit is finished.”

“Will be better than my plate?” Knut asked.

“It will be the finest suit of armor this world has ever seen,” Roq said.

“Make two?” Knut asked. “Upgrade for tank, no?”

“We’ll see,” I said. “Next project is Eryn and Lan’s armor.”

“Good,” Knut said. “After weapon breakthrough, pretty bird will be even more deadly.”

Eryn smiled, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

Nabeeh must have caught the subtle shift in her as well, as she asked, “Still wrestling with the bow, sweetie?”

Eryn nodded, tracing circles on the table.

“I know what Arclight wants, in theory. I just can’t figure out how to give it to her. What she is supposed to be.”

“What do you want?” Knut asked.

“That’s another problem,” Eryn said with a sigh. “She says she wants to hunt. Great. Not much to go on. But me? I don’t know how I’d like her to evolve. And yeah, I’ve considered just going ahead with the breakthrough anyway and take whatever comes. But would you do that if you had a soul weapon? Accept anything but the best result?”

“No. Weapon deserves perfection,” Knut said, shaking his head. “Is why I polish my big two-handed sword twice a day.”

Nabeeh sputtered into her drink.

“Axe also twice,” Knut said, fighting a smirk. He definitely knew what he was doing.

“And even if I did know what to make, how would I do it? I’m not a bowyer, or a smith. I’m not any type of creator. How am I supposed to remake a soul weapon?”

“You’re a Stormwarden, right?” Lan suddenly said. Her tone was clipped, as always, but there was no real hostility to it.

“Yeah?” Eryn said.

“Arclight is electricity and lightning. That’s stormy, right?” Lan said.

“Sure,” Eryn said, seeming unsure where Lan was going with this.

“Well, a storm has much in common with water and waves,” Lan said, finally looking at Eryn. “And you know I know water. Think of my wave in the colony. You can’t guide a storm. We rode it. Kind of. It’s that or get out of the way.”

“She’s not wrong,” I said, nodding at the unexpected insight from our resident thundercloud. “When I helped guide Roq’s breakthrough, it wasn’t about forcing him into a new shape. It was about focusing our shared desire of—”

“Smashing things better!” Roq helpfully added.

“Yeah,” I said. “That. And we didn’t invent a new hammer, I just helped him become… more himself. Added a spike, extended his range, and gave him a bit more flair.”

“As befits a king,” Roq said. “As long as your vision is pure and powerful, and you want something with every fiber of your being, you will do fine.”

“What you want, sparky kitten?” Knut asked.

“Hunt,” Arclight said.

“Use more words,” Knut said.

“The chase,” Arclight said. “The movement. The dance with the prey. The thrill is not in the distant, perfect shot, but in the blur of motion, and closing the gap. I want to be a mobile, ever-present threat. To strike and vanish, again and again.”

Eryn suddenly straightened.

“That’s it,” she said. “I think that’s what I’ve been getting wrong. I’m not a sniper. These days, Riftside, I keep thinking I should be, because Lan and I stand on Sentinel Station’s wall and just…kill. I pick targets from afar, and shoot, and they die. It’s so easy. One by one by one they fall. That’s how powerful Arclight is. But it’s wrong. It’s not who I am. We, our party, were not meant to fight on the walls. We head Riftside to hunt, like Arclight says. When we are in a damn cave, dungeon, or rift rot, an oversized ant colony, Arclight’s size is challenging.”

Her voice grew stronger, filled with conviction. “I need to be more agile and support you with Arclight and my abilities in short to mid-range as well. To protect our pack.” She looked down at Arclight, a real, brilliant smile spreading across her face. “You should reflect that. You don’t need to be bigger for more power. You need to be smaller. More rigid. Faster to draw for rapid shots that apply our spells.”

“Yes,” Arclight purred. “Faster. Closer. Deadlier. This is the way.”

“See?” Nabeeh said, raising her glass. “All you needed was a pep talk from our resident emo kid.”

Lan scowled, but there was no real heat in it.

“I’ll still have to figure out how I’m going to forge it,” Eryn admitted, “The actual creation…but I like what you said, Lan.”

“Sleep on it,” Knut rumbled. “Now you know desire, making it easier. Tonight? Time for more rounds. Look. Favorite people arriving.”

He gestured with his chin towards the door. Commander Edwin and Doctor Ridley were making their way to our table, and both Nabeeh and Knut sat up a little straighter. Their arrival marked the end of our strategy session and the beginning of a night of well-earned camaraderie.

*

The next afternoon, Eryn and I walked along First Steel eating iced treats as a celebration of her hitting level fifteen from that morning’s wave. She’d unlocked a new spell, and we’d dropped by the guild so she could show me.

NAME: Stormward

TYPE: Active

DESCRIPTION: Select a creature or loose object within 100 feet. Elemental energy pushes or pulls the it up to 20 feet directly towards or away from caster. Targets over 200 pounds resist, and are only staggered. 

MANA COST: 10

COOLDOWN: 15 seconds

The guards saluted and gave us plenty of space so we could walk in private, which was nice, considering how crowded the centre of town was getting. 

I looked at the new ballistae they’d installed, upping the total number to four, set to cover both the rift and the two gatehouses.

In between the giant crossbow-like contraptions, and on opposite sides of the wall, the massive claws of the Steel Scrambler had been mounted. Once the ropes were cut, they would swing down, scraping along the wall to sweep away any climbers before thudding to the ground.

It was a simple and brutal solution.

“Makes me feel proud seeing how our hunts have contributed to the station’s defenses,” Eryn said, leaning out to look down at the claw beneath us.

“Makes it feel even more like home,” I said. “We’re not just visitors or settlers, but part of the foundation of an established town.”

“We are,” Eryn agreed.

“And the more powerful we get, the more valuable we are,” I said. “Have you decided on which gem you will use for Arclight’s breakthrough?”

“Yes,” Eryn said, swiping out the two ranged Class Gems. One a deep and clear green while the other was filled with dark streaks.

We’d shown the gem to the officials, Edwin, and Harold, but none of them had heard of or seen streaks in a Class Gem before. Rone had offered to buy it at one third of the price of a normal Class Gem, on account of how unsure its result was. 

“Tell them,” Eryn said, holding Arclight in her other hand.

“After…consulting with Roq about how he knew he needed a damage dealing Warrior’s Class Gem,” Arclight said. “I have decided the streaked one feels wrong. Unbalanced, for a hunter. The other… its sound is pure. Like silent footfalls in a forest. The thrum of the string for a perfect shot. That is the gem for my breakthrough.”

“That’s settled then,” I said. “Use the normal Ranged Class Gem. Should I talk to Rone about selling the other? By the time you reach nineteen we should be able to buy another normal one.”

“No. This one is for me,” Eryn said, grinning down at the black streaked one. “I’m only ninety gems short of my next breakthrough, which I know sounds much, but…”

“With the amount of gems we’re pulling in, and if Knut and Nabeeh chip in…” I said.

“Yup,” she said. “And there’s something about this gem that calls to me. My class isn’t pure ranged. I’m a Stormwarden, which seems to mean a conflict of nature and lightning, calm and chaos. This gem…” She hefted the streaked gem. “It feels like it fits me.“

“I enthusiastically support this experiment,” Roq declared. “New knowledge will be unlocked no matter the outcome!”

“I guess all our greatest advantages have come from doing something…unexpected,” I said. “Our soul weapons, guided breakthroughs, heck, turning into classed adventurers in the first place, it’s all from consuming what we get from the monsters. I would be lying if I said part of me isn’t nervous…”

“But?” she asked.

“I’m more curious about about what cool abilities you’ll get,” I said. “We have Roq. We have Katherine. We have Arclight. If anyone can make this work, it’s us. So, yeah. I’m all on board.”

“Good,” Eryn said. “But first, Arclight’s breakthrough. She’s been patient long enough, letting me hunt and, as Roq keeps saying, abusing and leeching her experience.”

“Like a blood sucking insect!” Roq said.