Lava — stolen from Wallace’s Forge, of course — squelched in Arwin’s mouth as he chewed. He rested against his anvil as he worked to prepare the molten stone to work with. Magical energy prickled at the inside of his mouth. If he pretended hard enough, it almost felt like spices. If he’d never tasted any of Lillia’s cooking and had such high standards to compare against, he might have been able to believe it. “You have been chewing for too long,” the red mist said, irritation tinging its voice as it flitted around Arwin, steps flickering in and out of sight as the invisible being moved. “It does not take you that long.” Arwin reached into his mouth and pulled the ball of worked lava out before sending a cross glare at the smoke. “Who said you get to decide how long I take? I’m the smith here.” “Then you will learn to be patient,” Arwin said curtly. He popped the lava back into his mouth and went back to chewing. Every movement layered more of his magical energy into the rock, infusing it with his intent. The Armory wasn’t entirely wrong. He’d taken longer than he normally did. Arwin’s connection with the lava had already been firmly established — but he wasn’t satisfied yet. The longer he worked the stone, the more of his intent entered it. That wasn’t to say he could keep at it forever. While there didn’t seem to be a perfectly clean exact limit, there were definitely drastically diminishing returns. The past few minutes of work were likely overkill. They’d only gotten him the equivalent of a one or two percent boost in his synchronization with the lava. But that tiny amount wasn’t something he was willing to give up. Not when he was about to start working with cursed materials. He finally pulled the lava out of his mouth with a [Soul Flame] encased hand a few minutes later, adding it to the rest of the lava he’d prepared and rolling it all together into an orb. Waves of heat rolled off it and prickled against his face and sweat beaded against his back before soaking into his shirt. The entire building had heated to the point where even he was starting to get a little uncomfortable. Molten energy pulsed within the lines running throughout the ground and walls. He could feel the Infernal Armory’s impatience with him. Arwin ignored it. This was not something he would let himself rush through and make a stupid mistake in the process. He would be taking every precaution he could until he knew the extent of what kind of items he’d be consistently creating. It hadn’t taken Arwin long to determine what kind of material he wanted to try to work with for his next Cursed item. He didn’t have a teacher that could give him suggestions as to what materials would lend themselves the best toward being Cursed, but his latest Title had given him a strong hint. “Very well,” the Armory said. “I will ask.” “Good,” Arwin said. “Now, how are we on metal?” He thought for a moment. If he was going to make something with the scales… given how tough they had been to break, it had to be something defensive. Arwin glanced down at his feet. He’d still yet to complete the Ivory Executioner Set. All he had left were the boots, but he hadn’t figured out what kind of enchantment he wanted on them. A scale one is going to lend itself great to defense. That wouldn’t hurt to have on my sabatons, but I think I’d prefer some sort of movement related trait on them. If I’m going to go for defense, then there’s only one option. “Get me the rest of the Maristeel,” Arwin said, coming to a decision with a curt nod. He set the scale on top of the anvil and rolled the ball of magma between his hands. “Some Brightsteel as well.” The pillars sank into the ground seamlessly before being replaced by another one. Piled upon it were several large sheets of Brightsteel and Maristeel. Arwin looked from it to the ball of magma in his hand, then reached out to grab the first piece of metal, sliding it into the lava. He had a lot of work ahead of him. Hours slipped by. Arwin purified and prepared every single piece of metal, breaking pieces of the sheets off and feeding them into the orb of molten rock one by one. By the time he finally finished, he had a large stack of blue and silver ingots resting on the anvil beside his dragon scale. Arwin dropped the magma and the floor opened up to swallow it. That particular feature of the Infernal Armory got more and more useful with every passing day. It was like having a magical trashcan that followed him around. Something tells me the Armory wouldn’t take too kindly to that. His gaze flicked over to the red mist. It swirled at the back of the room, quivering in anticipation. There was definitely something a little disconcerting about the smithy being excited about this. He wasn’t quite sure if the building was malicious but given that the magical object powering it was a massive zombie heart, it certainly wasn’t going to be feeding any orphans. Arwin blew out a breath and studied the materials he’d readied one more time. He was pretty sure he had everything he was going to need. He gestured to the mist. “Come on, then. Let’s do this.” “You’re going to make a Cursed item? Properly?” the airy voice grew even more animated and the mist danced through the air to gather by his side. “What kind?” “Why do you sound so surprised about it? I’m making a shield,” Arwin grumbled. He rolled his neck and extended a hand. Verdant Inferno snapped into being in his palm. The weapon sent a contented purr rolling through his mind. It was just as eager to make this as the smithy was. I think I’m getting ganged up on. This is unfair. Where’s Lillia when I need her? “And of the traits?” the Armory asked. “What will we imbue? The bloodthirsty will to carve through our enemies? The all-consuming hunger that drives us?” “It’s a shield,” Arwin replied. “What do you think, smart guy?” The voice hesitated for a second as the mist shifted back, taken by surprise. “You are sarcastic.” “I’m allowed to be snippy,” Arwin growled. He extended his hands. Black tendrils shot form the wall and streaked through the air, slamming into his back and shoulders. Arwin drew in a sharp breath as energy thrummed and started to flow between him and the smithy, connecting them.