The next week passed quietly, and Arwin enjoyed every second of it. He managed to keep his new armor hidden until he could bond to it, but he ended up spending considerably more time than he’d planned to helping Lillia and Zeke refurbish the tavern. They rebuilt a large portion of the second floor, getting two more rooms into a usable state. Rodrick and Anna both moved into her tavern with almost no hesitation, taking one of the rooms so Zeke could have the other. Lillia added a proper bathroom at the back of the tavern through a door that she and Zeke installed, and Arwin spent most of his time polishing the smithy up even further or planning his next armor sets. The entire group – Zeke excluded, of course – made another dungeon run midway through the week and sold everything they’d gotten for a tidy profit. Arwin then used all the money he’d just earned to buy more metal to work with. A good portion of that metal had gone into making two magical swords that Arwin had eaten throughout the week to keep [The Hungering Maw] at bay, but weapons weren’t currently his focus. He made several drafts for a helmet, but none of them sat quite right with him and they were scrapped. Several of them felt like they would have turned out magical, but none of them felt right. When he wasn’t working on figuring out how to make his helm, Arwin spent his time in the smithy forging new sets of armor to sell at the market. He was out of lizard scales for the time being, but armor was still armor. Arwin also found himself spending far more time with Zeke than he’d initially planned. While he’d just wanted the boy to occasionally help him tidy a few things up and give some slight help while smithing, he ended up letting Zeke work the forge nearly as much as he did. They invested in an oil barrel, and the two of them worked together on more sets of plain armor than Arwin made himself. Zeke’s snippets of memory paired with Arwin’s pushed the two further, and the boy was a fast learner on top of everything. “I didn’t,” Arwin said with a chuckle. “Don’t stay up too late. That’s my thing, and I don’t like sharing. You need some rest.” “Why?” Zeke asked. “A few hours a night is more than enough.” “Not if you’re hunting monsters.” “Hunting monsters? I’m not–” Zeke cut himself off, his eyes going wide with realization. “Wait. We’re going to go get a class for me? I was hoping I’d get the blacksmith one, but the Mesh hasn’t recognized anything I made yet.” Arwin had been hoping the same thing, but Zeke had been in the forge and had helped with enough magical items by now to make it clear that smithing wasn’t necessarily his final calling. “We are,” Arwin said with a nod. “So long as you want to, of course. I won’t force anything.” “Are you kidding? Damn right I want to!” Zeke exclaimed, nearly dropping his tongs in his excitement. He hurriedly adjusted his grip on the hot metal, sending Arwin a sheepish look. “Sorry.” “Just focus on your work,” Arwin said, setting the unfinished helmet on the ground at the corner of the room. “And remember what I said. Don’t stay up too late.” Zeke nodded absently, but Arwin could tell the boy wasn’t paying attention as he headed out of the smithy and locked the door behind himself. If Arwin was honest, he couldn’t blame Zeke. There was something enrapturing about the feeling of creating something. A small shiver of desire ran down Arwin’s spine. I want to make my helmet. Not now, though. I’ll wait. Zeke’s already doing something, and he’s been helping me out all day. He deserves a chance to use the smithy. I’ll just occupy myself helping Lillia out and then sleep until tomorrow. Arwin was ripped from his sleep by a deafening crash. He flew from his bed, his armor slamming into place around him as his hammer materialized in his hands. Visions of past battlefields flashed through his mind and tightened his chest, and he spun, searching for enemies in the shadows. He sprinted out of his room, the last vestiges of sleep gone by the time he took the second step, and raced down the stairs. Lillia was already in the common room, swirls of darkness gathered at her back and a Minor Imp standing at her side. The windows, which they’d still been in progress of replacing, were covered by large tarps that blocked view of the street. “What in the Nine Underlands was that?” Lillia’s eyes darted around the room; her lips peeled back just enough to reveal fangs. Her eyes seemed to gaze into the same past that Arwin saw at the edges of his own vision. “No damn idea,” Arwin said. His chest felt tight, but he didn’t give himself time to consider it. “It wasn’t the tavern. We’d be smoldering by now if it was.” Light poured into the entrance of the tavern, though it didn’t make it deep into Lillia’s magical darkness. Confusion passed over Arwin’s features. It’s the middle of the night. Why is it so damn bright? Arwin stepped past Lillia, trying to get a look into the street – and froze as he saw where the light was coming from. Fire twisted and smoke rose into the air from the shattered remains of his smithy. He burst into a run. Lillia yelled something behind him, but Arwin didn’t even hear it. He skidded to a stop before the broken remains of his door, burnt black by intense flame – flame far too intense to have been created by any mundane means. Arwin’s ears rang as he charged through the flame, ignoring the heat as it burned his skin. He wasn’t resistant to this like he was to [Soul Flame], but the heat resistance from his armor was enough to let him tolerate the inferno. He coughed as he pushed through the smoke, moving more from memory than from sight as he staggered into the smithy. “Zeke!” Arwin roared. “Where are you?” There was no response. Arwin’s foot hit the anvil and he cursed in pain, doubling over as a coughing fit gripped him. His head spun at the intensity of the thick smoke pouring into his lungs, but he didn’t care. He crawled, his hands desperately searching across the ground. “Zeke! Say something!” A form took shape near the corner of the room, just barely visible from the light of the flame in the rapidly deteriorating room. Arwin scrambled toward it, squinting as his eyes stung and watered from the acrid smoke. “Zeke!” Arwin yelled, coughing and grabbing at the body. It was burnt black and almost unrecognizable. Metal rang out as it rolled across the ground, inadvertently pulled free of the body’s grip. Arwin’s breathing sped up even as the world seemed to slow around him, his throat constricting as a shape took form in the shadows. A helmet, with two pieces of metal jutting out of the top. It was unfinished, but Arwin knew what they were.