Back in the Huntmaster’s office, Kell retrieved a scroll from a cabinet along the wall.

  "Shadowfen was once a sacred grove," he explained. " The druids tended to the land, making the very earth bloom. There, the old gods were worshipped. But those times have long since passed. Now it’s a festering wound on the land, under the influence of the Demon King.“

  He unrolled a detailed map of the swamplands, weighing it at the corners with small stones.

  “The water runs black in places, and what grows there feeds on death rather than sunlight." His finger traced the boundaries of the swamp. "The outer regions are hazardous but navigable. This far"—his finger moved inward—"the mist begins. Vision becomes limited, directions distort, and the creatures grow more aggressive."

  "What kinds of creatures?" Clive asked as he studied the meticulous rendering of twisted trees and waterways on the map.

  "Shadowfen hosts three primary threats," Kell explained. "First, the twisted flora—carnivorous plants that have evolved to mimic normal vegetation until prey comes within reach. They’re weak to fire but their poisons are particularly virulent. Paralysis, hallucinations, necrosis of the flesh while the victim remains conscious. You’ll want antidotes. Plenty of them."

  He moved a marker shaped like a claw to the eastern section of the swamp.

  "Second, the corrupted fauna. When the Demon King's essence seeped into the swamp, it didn't spare the wildlife. Wolves with extra limbs, deer with fangs. If you’ve faced the shadow monsters, you’ll know what to expect."

  Another marker, this one shaped like a miniature humanoid, was placed near the center.

  "Finally, and most dangerous of all—the Risen." Kell's voice dropped to a whisper. "The dead of Shadowfen do not rest. They walk."

  Clive stared at the marker, noticing now the tiny skull carved atop its humanoid form.

  "Some are ancient druids, their bodies preserved by the swamp's unnatural properties, now animated by its corruption. Others are former hunters and adventurers who fell to the swamp's perils. Unlike mindless shambling corpses from children's tales, these undead retain fragments of their former intelligence. The older ones can command the flora and fauna. The fresher ones remember how to wield their weapons."

  “How do we beat that which is already dead?” Clive asked as his mind imagined the horror.

  “How do you think?” Kell asked in return.

  “Holy magic?”

  “A good guess. But their weakness is earth magic. What comes from the earth returns to the earth. Especially after death.”

  He reached beneath his desk and withdrew a heavy war hammer.

  "If that fails, physics remains. Shatter the spine, crush the skull—separate the parts so they can't coordinate. Even in death, the body remembers what it once was. Destroy what remains of that memory, and you put them to rest."

  "Thank you, Kell," Clive said, meeting the Huntmaster's gaze. "Your knowledge might be the difference between life and death out there."

  Kell nodded solemnly, "You're welcome. If you ever feel like training, the Hunter's Guild doors are always open to you. You got talent kid, you would be a great hunter."

  “I’m not sure about being a hunter but I appreciate your offer. Still…” He looked back up at Kell, recognizing the wisdom in maintaining allies in this dangerous world. "I might take you up on that training. You clearly know the beasts of this realm better than most."

  Clive and Garrett returned to the blacksmith's workshop.

  "So," Garrett said, "You're dead set on going to the Shadowfen? "

  Clive nodded, "If there’s even a silver of a chance that the cure exists there, then its worth the effort. Will you help me prepare?"

  "Prepare?" Garrett barked a laugh that rattled the hanging tools. "No one's prepared for the Shadowfen, lad. The best you can hope for is to be less unprepared than those who never returned."

  The old blacksmith moved to a far wall where weapons hung in neat rows.

  "For a place like the Shadowfen, you'll need versatility above all," Garrett said. A blade that sings against a man might be useless against corrupted flora."

  Clive withdrew his sketchbook. "What would you recommend?"

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Garrett stroked his iron-gray beard, considering. "Four weapons, minimum. A sword for general combat, which you've already mastered."

  Clive turned to a previous page, showing the detailed sword sketch he'd used against Kell. Garrett nodded approvingly.

  "Good edge geometry. Pommel could be heavier for better balance, but it'll serve." The blacksmith pointed to another page. "Your dagger design is solid too, though I'd suggest a fuller groove down the blade to reduce weight without compromising strength."

  Clive made a notation in the margin, appreciating the technical advice.

  "Beyond those," Garrett continued, "you should add a spear and a mace to your arsenal."

  He lifted a spear from the wall, its shaft of dark ashwood polished to a warm glow by years of handling. "The spear gives you reach—keeps those teeth and claws at a distance. Critical against the corrupted fauna Kell mentioned."

  “How should I design the spear?”

  "When it comes to spears, balance is everything. Too top-heavy and the point drops between thrusts. Too bottom-heavy and you sacrifice penetrating power."

  Clive held the spear in his hand. “This feels... heavy near the bottom.”

  “You’ve got a good sense for it,” Garrett said with approval. "I hollow drill the butt end and pour molten lead inside before capping it. Creates the perfect counterweight to the head."

  He guided Clive's hands along the weapon. "Feel that? The point of balance should be just above your forward hand when held in a fighting stance."

  Clive closed his eyes, his fingers detecting subtle variations in the wood's density. "I can feel how the weight shifts through the shaft.”

  When Clive opened his eyes, he began sketching rapidly. “I could create variations," Clive mused as he sketched. "Different weights for different situations. Lighter for quicker thrusts, heavier for penetrating power."

  "Now you're thinking like a weaponsmith!" Garrett clapped him on the shoulder.

  "What about the head design?" Clive asked, studying the various spearheads on display. "I notice they're all shaped differently."

  "The head is crucial," Garrett explained, pointing to his preferred design. "For the Shadowfen, you want a leaf-shaped blade with a central ridge for strength."

  Clive added the feature to his sketch. "Why the ridge? Wouldn't a flat blade be easier to forge?"

  "Easier, yes, but inferior. The ridge makes it easier to withdraw after a thrust, prevents suction in a deep wound."

  "Suction?" Clive paused his sketching.

  "When you puncture something with a flat blade, especially in boggy creatures, the flesh can create a vacuum grip. I've seen hunters pulled off balance when they couldn't retrieve their weapon fast enough." Garrett's expression darkened. "That's often all it takes in the Shadowfen—one moment of vulnerability."

  Clive nodded, adding more detail to his sketch. "And these wings at the base of the blade?"

  Garrett ran a finger along the edges. "These prevent an impaled creature from running up the shaft to reach you."

  "Could I modify this design?" Clive asked, already sketching variations. "Maybe sharpen these wings to create secondary cutting edges?"

  "I like the way you think, but that might weaken the structure, making it fragile and prone to shattering."

  As Clive completed his spear design, Garrett retrieved a wicked-looking mace from a locked cabinet.

  "Finally, for the Risen and anything with an exoskeleton, you want a mace." The weapon's head consisted of six flanged blades radiating from a central core. "Crushing force delivers shock through hide or bone.

  "I've never designed something like this," Clive admitted, carefully studying the weapon. It was heavier than it appeared, designed for maximum impact.

  "It's simpler than it looks," Garrett assured him. "The handle should be just long enough to swing one-handed but short enough for close quarters. "

  Clive studied the head's geometry, already sketching. "These flanges are thinner than I expected."

  "Good observation! That's the secret. Many smiths make them too thick, thinking it adds strength. But a properly tapered flange concentrates the force to a smaller point. These will punch through bone where a blunter design would only bruise."

  "How many flanges is optimal?" Clive asked, noting the six-flanged design before him.

  "Six is the sweet spot," Garrett said, rotating the mace to demonstrate. "Four doesn't distribute impact evenly enough. Eight weakens the individual flanges. Six gives you consistent impact no matter how the head connects."

  Clive sketched various cross-sections of the flanges. "What about the central core? It looks solid."

  "It is. The core must be uncompromisingly strong." Garrett tapped the center of the mace head. "This is high-carbon steel, heat-treated separately from the flanges. If the core fails, the entire weapon becomes useless."

  "And these notches near the base of each flange?"

  Garrett smiled, pleased at Clive's attention to detail. "Those serve two purposes. They lighten the flange without compromising structural integrity, and they create tears in flesh rather than clean cuts. Against the Risen, you want maximum trauma."

  Clive winced slightly but added the feature to his design.

  "The pommel is important too," Garrett continued, pointing to the base of the handle. "This flat end can be used for precise strikes in close quarters. And see this loop? Attach a leather strap here—prevents disarming and lets you swing with more confidence."

  For the next few hours, they collaborated on refining each design. Clive’s sketchbook was filled with detailed drawings and annotations, each refined under Garrett's critical eye.

  [Draw analyzing creation...]

  [Item Created: Steel Spear (High Quality)]

  [Item Created: Steel Mace (High Quality)]

  [Level up]

  [Metalwork Illustration - Level 6]

  [New Weapon Unlocked: Spear]

  [New Weapon Unlocked: Mace]

  Clive closed his sketchbook. "Thank you, Master Garrett."

  The old smith waved away the thanks. "Just come back alive, lad. I've forged too many memorial plaques for those who ventured into the Shadowfen."

  Clive looked at the weapons in front of him. Swords were a weapon type he was familiar with due to their ubiquity in comics he had drawn. But spears and maces were something he was less proficient in. He needed someone to mentor him in the way of the spear and mace. He needed the Huntmaster.

  "A wise hunter knows his prey, his tools, and his limitations—in that order. The fool who ventures forth with only one of these will not return to learn the others."

  —Huntmaster Kell, Chronicles of the Deep Hunt