Heat shimmered against the kiln’s glass at Ashengate’s Pottery Association. Jack kept a close eye on the clay barrels inside.
The yellow bars hovering above the ten clay cylinders in the kiln were almost full. He only needed four barrels per pot bot, but he’d made extra, just in case.
Making the cylinders had been simple enough. First, he’d created a perfectly flat cylinder on the wheel, then cut it with a string at the bottom, over the piece’s base.
For the peg slots, he waited until the clay reached the bone-dry stage and pressed a tin peg into the sides in neat rows, like a cookie cutter.
Once the pieces finished firing, he could get back to the house and experiment with the robot’s programming.
When he saw flashing red bars, Jack pulled the hatch open and removed the tray with the hot cylinders. Despite the kiln’s interior being over 1500oC, he barely felt it—his high fire resistance dulled the heat to a mild wave of warmth on his face.
A satisfying chime sounded as the system registered the completed crafting process.
You've crafted 10x [Clay Cylinders].
+1000 XP in Pottery
+1000 XP in Tinkering
Jack picked one up and turned it over in his hand. It almost looked like an old-fashioned hair roller—hollow, and riddled with evenly spaced holes.
“Alright! Now let’s see how it comes together.”
He grabbed one of the axles from his workbench and tried to slide the clay piece into place.
It didn’t fit.
“Huh?” He flipped it around, tried again.
But it was still not working. The diameter was too narrow.
“I’m sure I took the right measurements. Or did I?”
He stared at the axle and the piece for a long moment before it clicked.
“Argh. Forgot about shrinkage,” he muttered, palm to forehead.
Clay shrank about 10% during bisque firing and even more during glaze firing. How could he have forgotten that? He’d made the hollow center match the axle’s exact diameter when shaping the clay, thinking it would give him a snug fit. But now it was just too small to even slide on.
He set the piece down with a sigh and paced. He had to figure out the best way to account for the shrinkage and make a piece just wide enough to go on the axle.
What if I make the whole crafting process with the barrel around the axle? I shape the clay, get the fit just right from the start, and then throw everything together into the fire. Let the shrinkage occur around the axle rather than away from it.
His brow furrowed. But… what happens to the axle in the kiln?
Jack grabbed one of the many axles in his inventory and weighed it in his hand. A silver per rod. It wasn’t cheap, but not outrageous either. It was better to risk ruining one now than waste any more time making cylinders that didn’t work.
He crossed the room and popped the kiln’s hatch.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered as he placed the metal bar on top of a tray and slid it into the kiln.
The bar began to glow, its edges softening. Within seconds, the item’s durability reached zero, and it turned into dust.
The axle didn’t even get to melt. Since he didn’t have the [Smelt] skill, the system just turned it into ash instantly. Still, the experiment had given him enough information to establish that this method wouldn’t work.
He stepped back, arms crossed, and weighed his options.
Only two other possibilities came to mind. Trial and error was one way to go. He could make a bunch of oversized cylinders, fire them, then test which one fit best. He could make a cylinder 10%, 11%, 12% bigger, and so on until he got the measurements just right. Then he’d use that as a model for future versions. It’d be a hassle up front, but once he nailed the size, he could just reuse the measurements.
The other option was skipping the hollow altogether. He’d make solid cylinders, fire them, then drill out the center afterward, kind of like he did in bone carving. That would require more work per unit, but less guessing.
He frowned, chewing the inside of his cheek. “What’s better long-term…”
After a moment, he nodded to himself. Trial and error. It’d take a bit of patience up front, sure, but once he locked in the perfect dimensions, he could mass-produce them without thinking twice.
Jack began marking out a new batch, noting the width of the center hole and the thickness of the walls. If he wanted to replicate the results, he would have to ensure he could reproduce the type of clay, moisture levels, and every measurement to the smallest detail.
*
The Slayer sat by the hearth inside IronIre’s headquarters. He’d come straight here after dying to Amari’s team, and hadn’t moved from his chair since.
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The room was dimly lit, the flicker of flames dancing over walls lined with trophies of past hunts. A carnotaurus’ skull grinned down from above the mantel, its serrated maw frozen in a silent scream. Rows of horns—some spiraled, others jagged—lined the walls like weapons on display.
But all he had eyes for was the floating screen hovering before him, the video of his fight against Amari and the others playing on loop.
He wasn’t sad about his defeat. Dying didn’t sting him the way it did for most players—not with his Epic skill, [Undying Rage].
Undying Rage (Epic)
Skill level: 7
Description: Anger burns hot within you, allowing you to push beyond human limits and fight through death itself.
Effects:
Reduces death XP penalties by 95%;
Can hold up to 3 stacks.
Cooldown: 24 hours
Cooldown reduction: Time spent in battle under 10% HP.
Even at his level, that 5% loss wasn’t trivial, but it meant he could die twenty times to lose what most players would on a single death.
He wasn’t worried about the item drop, either. Sure, the [Dire Wolf Mother Pelt] was pricey. It was a rare drop from a level 70 wild boss that could go for 1.5k gold in an auction. But he had six more in storage.
Losing face? Sure, a little. But hadn't he gone 1v5 bare-handed? He wasn’t worried about losing reputation.
What he felt wasn’t rage. It was… harder to pin down. Annoyance, sure—seeing Amari, Rob, and the rest of that upstart team thriving, despite everything he’d thrown at them. He'd burned through guild resources to interfere with their progress, camped Rob and even fought them personally... None of it had been enough to stop their rise.
His jaw tightened at the thought of the memory of Rob’s cousin mouthing off again and again, like there wouldn’t be consequences. But alongside all that was a flicker of something else.
That fight had been fun. The fury that usually burned within, unquenchable and impossible to contain, had cooled to something steadier. This wasn’t bloodlust. It was the anticipation before the hunt.
Every member of Amari’s team had pulled their weight with near-perfect coordination. And their items—those weren’t random drops. Their gear had to be the reward for being the first to complete a Breach run. Just how many epic and legendary items did these guys own? No wonder their power levels had jumped.
Despite the level difference, next time, he wouldn’t go in with just fists. Next time, he’d bring everything.
The footage reached the moment when Horace had caught up with the team and re-engaged. The Slayer narrowed his eyes as Horace swung that hammer. Each hit had the chance of triggering a bonus—sometimes a pull, sometimes a taunt.
He couldn’t pin down the odds for each one, not yet. But one thing was certain: any hammer that could do that passively and still have an active skill on top was a legendary weapon, no question.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Come in.”
The heavy ironwood door creaked open on its hinges under the dead gaze of the beastly skulls hung on the wall.
Xana stood in the doorway, arms at her sides. She tilted her head, eyes scanning the space in front of him, as if she could see the video playing, even though only he could. “Haven’t you watched that enough?” she asked.
“Nope,” he said, still focused on the display. He paused the video, adjusted the angle from first-person to third-person, and rewound it. The hammer’s effect triggered—pull, then taunt. He narrowed his eyes. Was there maybe a 10% probability for each bonus effect? It was hard to tell with such a short fight.
“You know,” Xana said as she walked closer, “if you spent half as much time actually running the guild as you do chasing people who’ve wronged you, we’d have surpassed the Krakens by now.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right. As if we have half their talent.”
The Krakens had some of the best players in the game—ColdHand, DavyJones, and Kraken himself, three of the top ten, many more in the top hundred. IronIre only had him in the top 100. He was ranked among the top ten berserkers in the game and had even held the number one spot on more than one occasion. Impressive, considering the guild had started as a school project by him and four of his classmates. But that wasn't enough to be anywhere near the level of the Krakens.
There was a way to overcome that lack of talent, but he still wasn’t sure if accepting Loki’s deal was the right move.
Xana sighed. “Roth, I’m serious. Can you please look at me?”
His gaze snapped to her. Most guild members would’ve earned a broken nose for calling him by his real name. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then start acting like the Slayer, the leader of IronIre,” she said, folding her arms.
He exhaled hard. She wasn’t wrong. He’d been too caught up in these senseless fights lately. Now that his anger was smothered beneath anticipation, he could see that. Pushing up from his chair, he headed for the door. “Fine. Hit me. What are we dealing with?”
Xana brightened, falling into step beside him. “Two things. The Basilisks sent us a list of rare ingredients. They’re all from Mt. Magma. And there’s still that boss preventing our team from progressing in the Murky Islands.”
He gave a short nod. “I’ll go help out on the island first. Then I'll take care of the Basilisks’ request.”
As they walked, he decided to check his messages, looking for anything else that might require his intervention. Sure enough, he spotted a couple of things.
“Hmm... The Stegos hired us to fight the Heraclians. They’re lowballing the price. The Heraclians just enlisted Jasmine.”
Xana blinked. “Wait—Jasmine? That archer who soloed the Grand Hidrossaurus?”
“Yeah. She joined their roster yesterday. Was on the Nova News podcast.”
Xana blinked. "How’d I miss that?"
“It wasn’t you. Wilson missed it. He’s swamped and barely has time to stay up to date with this kind of thing.”
She giggled. “Well, I’ll make sure I renegotiate the fee with them.”
The Slayer flicked to another tab. “Also, sell off all our lumber stocks. End of the month’s coming, and I’m pretty sure they’re going to nerf wood prices. Buy up leather while it’s still low—fewer people are going for leatherworking these days. Feels like the devs are about to buff it.”
Xana tilted her head, considering. “Now that you mention it... the stock of pelts has just been piling up on the market, hey? Will do! See what I'm talking about, Roth? When you put your mind to it, you're unstoppable, man!"
He left through the door, expecting Xana to be gone, but found her still by his side. “Xana? What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with.”
“I don’t need support.”
“No,” she said, smiling slightly, “but you do need someone to remind you you’re a guild leader.”
He sighed heavily, but didn’t argue. Just before he summoned his T-Rex mount, he paused and turned to her.
“By the way, what do you think of Loki’s deal?”
“I thought you were never going to ask,” she said lightly, though her voice held a faint edge of hurt.
He took a deep breath. “Of course I’d ask, Xana. You’re like the smartest person in the guild. So... any thoughts?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I don’t like this merger thing. Feels too good to be true.”
“Or maybe we’re just that good. Maybe we’re worth that much,” he countered.
“Come on, Roth. Let’s not bite off more than we can chew. You know all our parents put up money to get IronIre off the ground.”
“Hmph. All except mine. And it’s Slayer. Don't push it!”
Xana just ignored him. “You're selling your parents short, Roth. Don’t speak about them like that. Mrs. Bessie is awesome. She’s the best baker from all the school’s moms. You know what? Speaking of her just got me craving some brownies. I’m calling your mom to order some.”
He exhaled through his nose and gave a stiff nod, already knowing his mom would definitely say yes and that Gary, Wilson, Brian, and Shirley would all be at his house tomorrow to eat brownies after class.
