Rise of the Living Forge

“Godspit,” Reya said for the tenth time in that minute. “Did you see that?”

“I did,” Arwin said, fingers drumming on the armrest of his chair. Olive’s team had ended their fight some time ago, now. Caldera had already returned to its spot within [Arsenal]. The hammer had agreed to let Olive use it for one fight, and it had been devastatingly effective.

A large part of that success had been Olive herself. She’d wielded Caldera perfectly. Even without access to its strongest abilities, she’d adapted to a unique style of fighting with near-terrifying effectiveness.

Her armor had been what allowed her to withstand Caldera in the first place, of course. There was no way she even could have picked the weapon up without getting melted into a puddle without it.

It had also done an incredible job of completely neutralizing Vale’s abilities. Arwin was beyond pleased with the Soul Weapon. Even though its purpose was simple, it was incredible. A suit of armor with the ability to adapt to nearly any situation.

The Soul Weapon would grow together with Olive. As far as he’d been able to tell, it was literally an extension of her. The armor was, in many ways, alive. She would never need a new suit for as long as she lived… though there would always be room for upgrades and improvements.

But Arwin couldn’t’ give the equipment all of the credit. Olive had performed incredibly well. She’d controlled herself, held the Blackguards’ attention, and played for her team. And while her armor had helped her adapt, it hadn’t taught her how to fight dirty.

“I saw some of your style in that fight,” Arwin said, nudging Reya. “You’ve been teaching Olive your tricks.”

Reya’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t know if I’d say that. We’ve just been sparring a lot. I didn’t think she was actually going to use the moves I showed her. They’re so… dirty. I didn’t think she’d want to use anything like them. Her style is normally so refined.”

“She’s always been a good warrior. She just stopped holding back.”

“True enough,” Arwin agreed.

As much as he hated to admit it, the fight had been fascinating. Phoenix Circle had also been impressive. Arwin knew just how limited Elias and Maeve were. The majority of their abilities would force them to reveal who they were — but both had managed to conceal themselves thus far.

Olive might have drawn the brunt of the focus in the fight, but Elias had been dodging blows from the third Blackguard for the entire time without getting caught even once. And then, at the end of the fight, Maeve had used an ability that had deactivated the very armor the Blackguard wore.

Never seen anything like that before. Equipment is usually pretty hard to mess with, especially when you aren’t the one wearing it. I’m definitely going to try and figure out how she pulled that off when—

The door swung open behind Arwin, pulling him from his thoughts. He and Reya turned to find Esmerelda striding into the room. The old woman had a grim, determined expression on her features.

“What happened?” Reya asked instantly. “Is something wrong?”

In response, Esmerelda extended her hands. A dagger sat upon her palms. The weapon looked plain. It had a black metal handle with a silvery blade devoid of any pattern. There was only a single marking up on it — that of a hammer with a skull embossed in its side.

“You can say that,” Esmerelda said. “Arwin. Look at this. It’s the weapon that—”

“Olive got from Vale,” Arwin said, rising to his feet immediately. “She gave it to you?”

“I went to her room before the fight had even ended,” Esmerelda said. “It only took one look at that Vale hunk to realize he was jumped up on some impressive magical equipment. I went to grab it and bring it here the moment Olive got back to her room. She can’t leave, after all. But we both know Vale wouldn’t have given Olive this thing for no reason.”

“Didn’t it kind of sound like the Blackguard team was here to do something?” Reya asked. “It was like they had a mission. Maybe he’s hoping she’ll take it up for him. This could be a symbolic passing of the flame or something.”

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“Why would Olive willingly take on that deal when she doesn’t even know what it is Vale wants from her?” Arwin asked, examining the weapon with a frown. Its status was hidden from him, but he strongly suspected this dagger was more than just a mere blade. “Is it cursed?”

“No,” Esmerelda said. “That was the first thing I checked for on the way here. It’s definitely not a normal blade, but it isn’t cursed.”

“How do you know?” Reya asked. “Is it possible the curse is hidden somehow? What if Vale gave it to Reya knowing it would cause her to mess up in the next fight? Like some kind of revenge?”

“Didn’t you just suggest he was trying to pass a mission on to her?” Esmerelda asked.

“I’m just tossing ideas out,” Reya said with a harrumph. “How am I supposed to know? But I don’t want to take risks. What if there was poison on the handle or something?”

“There isn’t,” Esmerelda said without a second of hesitation. “I already tasted it for poison.”

“That’s goo— wait.” Arwin blinked. “You tasted it?”

“How else do you check for poison?” Esmerelda rolled her eyes as if he’d just asked the dumbest question in the history of mankind. “Focus, Arwin. There isn’t that much time before the next round of fights.”

“Right.” Arwin shook his head. He reached out and took the dagger from Esmerelda’s hands, pinching the handle between two fingers as he studied it. His brow furrowed as he sent his senses outward, trying to form a connection with the weapon.

Come on. Speak to me. I’m listening. What’s your story? Why are you here?

It was a lot easier to communicate with raw materials than it was with finished weapons, but Arwin felt a flicker of something brush across his consciousness. It was so faint that he almost missed it, but it happened again mere moments later.

Flickers of information tickled the very edges of his mind. They were nothing more than passing thoughts. Arwin focused on them even more intently. He didn’t pick up words so much as general feelings, emotions, images.

The flash of a hammer. The smell of brimstone. The clang of a forge — and pain.

There was so much pain that it nearly drowned out everything else. It intermingled with a tingling sensation that felt like Arwin had stood outside directly in the path of a thunderstorm. But, slowly, he felt the fragmented parts drift together and form into something slightly more cohesive.

“Necrohammer definitely made this,” Arwin said. He could pick out shimmers of the man’s face through the visions — and there was absolutely no doubt that he was a Dwarf. The same one that had outfitted many of the other teams in the tournament.

“What a surprise,” Esmerelda said dryly. “Who could have guessed?”

“I don’t need the sarcasm,” Arwin grumbled. He focused closer on the blade. There was something more within it. The weapon was trying to tell him something, he was nearly certain of it. He just couldn’t quite tell what it was.

What kind of weapon has this much pain in it? Is Necrohammer some form of evil bastard that likes torturing his equipment into shape?

With how Dwarven Smithing worked, that wasn’t entirely impossible — but the moment the thought passed through Arwin’s mind, he knew it was wrong. Being able to speak to materials like this connected him to them on some level, and Necrohammer’s smithing methods did not feel like they were what caused the pain.

The dwarf was cold and efficient, but he was not evil. At least Arwin was pretty sure he wasn’t. He wasn’t about to bet his life on it. The amount of agony infused into the dagger made it a bit hard to take all of what it wanted to impart seriously.

If you’re making something this fucked up, you have to have a reason. Why is it like this? Why would you create a weapon that feels so terrible? The materials are basically screaming. It’s almost as if —

A chill gripped Arwin’s back like the hand of death itself had tightened around his spine. He nearly dropped the dagger as he jerked back.

“What?” Reya asked urgently. “What is it?”

“Shit,” Arwin breathed. He stared at the dagger in a mixture of awe, horror, and disgust.

“Out with it. Use your words,” Esmerelda urged. “Did you figure out what the blade was?”

“That… thing is far more than just a blade,” Arwin said. He resisted the urge to dry heave. He’d seen some dark things in his time, but this was vile. “There are bones in it. Human ones.”

“Really?” Esmerelda arched an eyebrow. “That’s what has you worked up? How is that any worse than smithing with monster—”

“No,” Arwin said. “You don’t understand. Necrohammer forged that dagger out of someone’s finger while it was still attached to their hand. It’s alive. Like a Soul Weapon of some sort but perverted beyond belief. Incredibly powerful as well.”

“Oh, shit,” Reya said, her face paling. “You mean the person felt their finger getting smashed to bits the whole time, right up until Necrohammer pulled it off and finished the dagger?”

More than that. He’d have had it mixed in with the molten metal while it was still on the poor bastard’s hand. What a horrid method… though the results it produced are insane. They must be so intricately connected to their wielders that they could be even more effective than my own Soul Weapons.

Arwin didn’t voice that last bit. There was no need to — and his thoughts were still lost within the fading thoughts of the metal, focused on the one final emotion that was buried deep beneath everything else.

“Yes,” Arwin said. “But there’s something more. This weapon almost feels hollow. Like it’s unfilled.”

“What does that mean?” Esmerelda asked.

“I’m hazarding a guess here, but I believe the dagger consumes energy,” Arwin said grimly. “And it passes it along to its chosen wielder.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kraven roared, his voice booming through the cave. “Make some noise!”

Arwin had missed who the competing teams were, but he didn’t need to hear their names to recognize the man striding out onto the field, flanked by two cloaked figures.

Hein had taken the field once more.

“This is the same kind of weapon that Hein has,” Arwin said grimly. “Necrohammer made Hein’s dagger… which means he’s working for the Adventurer’s Guild.”