“Huh,” Arwin said, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “This is okay. I wasn’t expecting there to be much of substance in the area.” “Me neither,” Reya admitted. “Turns out, the lady that wanted to start a tavern was serious about it. She promised to give us five more meals, free of charge.” The two of them had polished off the remaining drumsticks and had piled the bones between them. There weren’t any chairs or a table in the smithy, so they just sat cross-legged on the floor. Arwin wasn’t particularly bothered by the chill, but Reya had progressively scooted closer and closer to the warmth of the hearth until she sat right beside it. “Did you get a chance to test my dagger?” Arwin asked, covering a yawn. The day was finally starting to catch up with him. “No, s – uh, Arwin. I don’t gut random people I walk by.” “Ah, right. Good point.” Arwin rubbed his eyes, then pushed himself to his feet and wiped his hands off on his shirt. Napkins were another item on his growing list of necessities, but those could come after he patched the rest of the place up. He’d managed to forge a single sword while Reya had been out. It wasn’t anything special, but it looked like a sword and handled well enough. It would probably sell for a bit, so long as he could find a buyer. “I’m going to try to start making some money,” Arwin said, stretching his arms over his head. “Keep an eye out for anyone who might need the services of a smith, would you?” Reya squinted at Arwin, as if she were trying to determine if he was joking. No clue if he was right, but I’ve got nothing but time. Experimenting will be fun. Arwin waited until the metal was properly heated before setting the first one out on the anvil and laying into it with his hammer. As he had previously, Arwin quickly fell into a rhythm. His hammer rose and fell, striking the glowing portions of the metal. This piece seemed particularly determined to guide him in the right direction, and he made good time. Once it was flattened out, Arwin claimed another one of the pieces and hammered it out as well. He started to layer them, folding them in on themselves as he worked. It was getting harder to read the metal’s intent, but there was just enough to follow by. It helped that every [Scourge] empowered blow struck the metal like a hundred individual strikes, drastically increasing the speed he worked at. Before long, the shape of a sword took form before Arwin. A grin stretched across his lips as he worked, feeling his desires mixing with those of the metal and starting to take form on the anvil before him. Arwin accelerated. This was going to be a magical weapon. He could feel it in his very bones. Every minute he made the world wait felt like a disservice. He worked for a little under an hour before the glow finally faded and Arwin let his hammer lower, breathing heavily as he took in his creation. There was no real hilt, and the handle was more of a spike than a comfortable grip. Arwin brought the blade over to his old whetstone and got to work, sharpening the blade. He was starting to get better at it, though his efforts still weren’t exactly those of a master. But, even after he raised the blade from the stone, nothing changed. Magic simmered within the metal – and yet, it wasn’t finished. Arwin’s brow furrowed as he looked down on the sword. “Do I need to get you a proper handle?” Arwin murmured. “I suppose that would make sense. Can’t call it a proper sword if you’re holding it by that little nub.” He scanned his shop, but he didn’t exactly know any woodworking. Still, he wasn’t about to be dissuaded. Arwin set the sword down on his anvil and departed the smithy, returning to the wooden house he’d looted the day prior. After a quick search, he spotted a piece of wood that looked to be in pretty good condition. He snagged it and headed back to his smithy without a second glance. As soon as he returned, Arwin used one of the swords he’d taken from the Brothers to shave away strips of wood until he had something that vaguely resembled a hilt. Arwin then took the sword and held it to the anvil, pounding the wooden hilt in at its bottom with his hammer. Each strike impaled the wood a little farther on the tang until it was all the way up to the blade. He took a step back, studying his creation. It didn’t have a proper hilt, and he knew for a fact that he’d made it completely wrong. But, despite that, he felt the Mesh tingle against his skin. [Short Sword: Garbage Quality] has been forged. Forging a magical item has granted you energy. Arwin wasn’t exactly surprised. The sword looked like it had been dropped down a flight of stairs while it was being forged, and the impurities in the metal had done a serious number on its potential. That said, he’d still made a magical weapon. Arwin inspected the weapon closer to see what properties he’d imbued it with. Short Sword: Garbage Quality [Brittle]: This weapon has a chance of shattering on every blow. Upon shattering, the magical power stored within the weapon will be released in an instant, causing a minor magical explosion. A burst of laughter slipped out of Arwin’s mouth. He carefully carried the sword over to the corner of his forge and set it down, taking care not to move it too aggressively. It wasn’t a sword he was inclined to use himself, nor did he want to find out what would happen if he ate its power, but it wasn’t bad as a throwing weapon. “I suppose this is the detrimental quality my skill talked about.” I wonder if the gemstone that was meant to kill me worked in a similar manner. Maybe forging a few more weapons with Brittle would actually be a good way to research what happened – but I’d rather make something actually useful. Arwin studied the blade, pondering on what he’d done wrong. The first and easiest problem was obviously his materials. He needed better metal to work with, but that would be fixed when he started earning more money. The bigger issue was with his actual technique. He was pretty certain that he’d made the handle entirely wrong, and now that he thought about it, when he’d seen his smith making a sword for him, the man had twisted two metal rods together rather than just hammering some scraps. Maybe I need to get some metal rods first. They would certainly lend themselves to the shape of a sword better. I think that should be my next step. Arwin was still nodding to himself when he heard gravel shift near the entrance of the smithy. He glanced over as Reya walked inside, chewing on a chunk of meat on a bone. She froze as she saw Arwin. “Of course I’m awake,” Arwin said dryly. “What else would I be? It’s the middle of the day.” “Uh, right. Yeah.” Reya cleared her throat. “It’s just that you slept for like… two days straight. I was wondering if you would wake up.” “Two days?” Arwin’s eyes widened, but Reya’s word did make a certain amount of sense. “I suppose I was rather tired.” “Are you hungry? I didn’t get food for you, but…” Arwin shook his head, surprised to find he meant it. His stomach didn’t exactly feel full, but he didn’t feel like he’d slept for two days at all. As a matter of fact, he actually felt rather good. “Forget food for a moment. Did anything interesting happen?” Arwin asked. Reya crossed her arms behind her back and suddenly found one of the broken-down walls fascinating. “Uh… nothing too interesting, no.” Arwin’s eyes narrowed. “Out with it.” “I, uh, may have killed someone.”