“That went well,” Harvey whispered, stepping down to join Julian and Hannah for dinner.

  “I knew it would. Veils End has your back, Harvey,” Hannah smiled.

  “Yeah, I’m starting to understand that,” he replied, taking a seat next to her on one of the long wooden benches arrayed by the fire. His lap grew warm when his meal appeared from his slipsack, and his still shaking hands skewered a steaming carrot.

  Back in the corporate world, people only cared about you as much as you were useful to them. It was all about staying late, working hard, and never making any mistakes. Mistakes got you laid off and out on the street with nothing but a cardboard box to carry the random knick-knacks that piled up on your desk over the years.

  “Hey, Harvey. Do you need anything from me to make the glowy armor you were talking about?” Carla called from her bench across the aisle.

  “Not for the inscriptions, but I could use your help with a grip for my new hammer!” He replied.

  Finishing their food, the trio joined the leatherworker in the Smithy and got to work on the crafting blitz they’d need to finish before invading the mine in the morning. Grabbing a chunk of charcoal, Harvey emptied two tool crates from the yard and hastily scrawled Drop Off and Pick Up on each one. Setting them out front, he explained that anyone who wanted a light added to their gear could leave it out front and pick it up in the morning.

  “So, even the Defender of Veils End is afraid of Gary? We thought it was just us.” Carla asked the second the door shut.

  “I wouldn’t say…” Julian began.

  “Yup.” Hannah interrupted.

  “Can’t think straight whenever he comes up. Which is all the time since I’m always around Elena.” Harvey agreed.

  “None of us can figure out what she sees in him. Amy’s obviously off her rocker at this point, but I’ve seen how different Elena acts around you guys.” Carla chuckled.

  “Don’t bother asking. She won’t tell me anything,” Harvey lied.

  “Really? She’s stuck in here all day with you and still hasn’t said anything? I know guys suck at asking questions, but still.” Carla accused.

  “What do you mean, suck at asking questions?” Julian laughed.

  “Would you ever golf with your buddies back home?” Hannah asked.

  “Yeah, all the time.”

  “Ok, and when you got home, and your wife asked you how their families were doing or if they liked their new job, could you answer her? Or did you realize you spent 5 hours in a golf cart together without asking a single question about each other's lives?” Hannah continued.

  “Umm…” Julian began.

  “No. Because you boys don’t seem to care about each other at all, so we have to snoop around on the internet if we want to know anything about your friends.” Hannah laughed.

  “You’re literally not supposed to talk while you golf. It’s like rule number 1,” Harvey interjected.

  “5 hours!” She exclaimed.

  “My point exactly. And you spend more than that with Elena every day! There’s no way you don’t have some idea of what’s going on?” Carla said.

  Yeah, but I’m not going to tell you. Harvey groaned, trying to keep a straight face. Before Elena finally let it all out, he’d been struggling to decide whether he needed to keep pushing or just back off. It was clear to see something was wrong after Amy started calling her Brittany, but she was adamant about leaving it alone. He didn’t want to pressure her so hard that he pushed her away, so he did his best to ignore it. Now that he knew the truth, part of him wished he still didn’t.

  “She tells me it’s all good, and I believe her,” Harvey sighed. “Even if I think she’s full of it, pressing the issue is only going to push her away.”

  “Whatever, you win.” Carla groaned. “Where’s the hammer you want gripped?”

  “Right here,” Harvey said, picking up the metal pole with the essence crystal. “Can you install it just above that crystal on the bottom?”

  “You know this grip isn’t going to stop your arm from rattling every time you swing this thing, right?” she asked, concern clear on her face.

  “I know, just a comfort thing. I’ve got some inscriptions planned to handle the vibrations.” Harvey smiled.

  Moving to the inkwell still cooling on a table, Harvey got to work. Carefully grabbing the lip with his essence-infused tongs, he filled the sigil for Perfect Finish and used every last degree of extra heat to temper the perfectly smooth cauldron. Casting it left a much prettier result than his old lotus flower method, but also required carefully breaking it out of the mold before quenching it in one of the old feed troughs he’d dragged into the smithy. If he had the time, he could wait for his construct to break down, but didn’t want to chance the inkwell tumbling off the table. Removing as much of the mold as possible, he dunked the cauldron into the water.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  I could use Elena’s… He thought, but why waste time learning to drive an old beater car when he had a shiny new sports car sitting in the driveway?

  Carla finished the wrap around his handle before heading back to her own workstation, which she’d set up in the old Saloon, where she slept. Grabbing the handle, Harvey slotted it into the tube extending down from his hammerhead. Lining up the holes he’d left in his molds, he heated up the steel pin and grinned as it gently slid into place. Essence molds made for what was essentially zero-tolerance machined parts.

  A perfect fit every time.

  Carefully, he hammered both sides of the pin, flattening it to the outside of the tube until his warhammer was finally complete. Reverently, he gripped the handle, feeling the stonetusk leather buckle under his superhuman strength. Every muscle in his right arm flexed as he hoisted it into the air.

  “How’s it feel?” Julian asked.

  “A little heavy, but that’s ok. A few more profession levels and I’ll be swinging it like it’s weightless.” Harvey smiled, just as radiant light exploded out from his weave. It burned with the heat of the forge, illuminating the room like he’d become one of the chunks of charcoal feeding his fire.

  A new creation has been made | Steel Warhammer | Essence Gained

  A new creation has been made | Steel Inkwell | Major Essence Gained

  Your profession, Runeforged Artificer, has reached Level 26. +8 Endurance, +10 Strength, +4 Dexterity, +12 Willpower, +8 Free Points

  “Did you… time that? Somehow?” Hannah asked, looking stunned.

  “No?”

  “Then why did you level up the second you picked it up?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know how the System decides when a creation is considered done. Just kinda happens.” Harvey explained.

  “And a single hammer was enough to level up?”

  “The first steel, F Grade, full metal warhammer feared by monsters and revered by man? No. Most of the essence came from the inkwell.”

  “Oh my god.” Hannah sighed.

  Setting the hammer down, he moved to dry his cauldron with the shredded chunk of robe. With the massive pile of gear in his crate, he might not have time to finish the inscriptions on his hammer before the raid. He knew harnessing the vibrations and morphing them into a burst of electricity was possible, but that didn’t mean he already had a perfect plan in place. He could see a string of runes clear in his mind, but had no idea if it was the best array available. Add on not knowing what materials would have the resonances he’d need, and he’d be hard-pressed to finish the weapon in one night.

  First things first. Everyone has to be able to see.

  Popping out into the chilling night air, he ran over to the campfire with an old set of tongs to snatch a few coals. He could use his own charcoal, but the effect would be weaker, even if they were almost identical chemically. It came down to purpose. The coals left by the campfire were the result of producing light for the masses, not feeding the forge. Even that tiny change affected the material's legacy, making it resonate more with light, while his kiln’s coal would be better for forgefire inscriptions.

  Satisfied he’d procured enough, he retreated back to the warm smithy, borrowed Julian’s blade, and slit his hand.

  “Harvey! What the hell?” Hannah gasped.

  “Chill out,” he laughed. “Ink always includes blood.”

  Flooding Artificer’s Toolbox with essence, he felt the brown liquid leaking from his half-dead hand fill the inkwell with his will. It was almost like Soul Forge, the cauldron becoming an extra limb he’d never known was missing. Trying to use it was awkward at first, like learning to move an extra set of arms grafted into his torso, but instead of arms, they were carefully carved channels overlaid throughout the metal connecting each of the essence crystals he’d suspended in the steel.

  Elena had been forced to carve hers by hand using one of Harvey's old chisels. He’d added his with the essence mold. For such a simple skill, Artificer’s Toolbox had already saved him countless hours of tedious refinement.

  Slowly, carefully, he let his mind invade the charcoal. Unlike the remains of a living being, like the Moonshade Stalker or a Kalthera Widow, that would fight against his influence like a cornered beast, he felt no resistance from the dead wood. The blood pooled in the cauldron, roiling and gently mixing with charcoal dust as light flashed through the array of runes covering the inkwell. It killed him to have no idea how it all worked, but he could feel the ink changing nonetheless. The transformation process had its hiccups, with multiple stops and starts as he adjusted to his new limb, but it didn’t take long before his first batch of ink was created.

  A new creation has been made | Campfire Ink | Essence Gained.

  Inspecting it with his ocular skill, a second screen appeared in front of him.

  Warmth? He thought, a new dream of adding hand warmers and air-conditioning to his armor trying to drag away his focus.

  Ink in hand, he grabbed the charred stake Elena used as her brush when painting her campfire inscriptions. This would be his first time using ink made from his own blood, giving him a lot more control over the process since he wouldn’t have to borrow the strength of Elena’s will in the ink. It was all his own, and being an inscription he’d already drawn before, he got to work.

  Julian, Hannah, and Buttercup eventually fell asleep. Rumbling snores filled the room as Harvey worked by the light of his own gloves, carefully drawing the same set of runes over and over again. With the inert canvas, basic ink, and simple string of runes, the task quickly grew tedious. When he ran out of armor, he grabbed a few old bits of G Grade infused iron and got to work inscribing them as well. His body ached for him to sleep, but he didn’t stop until every chunk of infused metal available shone like a star the second a trickle of essence wormed its way in.

  Looking out the window, he couldn’t see the collapsed tunnel through the darkness, but he could feel it. An army of elementals could storm out at any moment, and Veils End couldn’t afford to fight on two fronts once the Undead arrived.

  His heart ached at the elemental genocide about to be brought by his own hands, but it had to be done. It felt even worse knowing this fight might kill a few of their own, but at least he could rest easy knowing they’d at least be able to see every punch coming.