Harvey added enough fuel to keep the forge hot before they stepped outside to get some air. The heat and heavy emotion made sitting inside stifling, so the chill of the forest air was a welcome relief. It helped change the subject back to the problems ahead of them.

  “I really do think your art skills are special. Maybe there’s a profession that could benefit from them?” Harvey suggested.

  “Thanks, but I don’t know how drawings are going to stop an army,” Elena replied.

  “I may be wrong about this since all of my knowledge comes from old video games, but I saw a guidebook for inscribing in the shop. If it works like I think it does, that could be a great fit.” Harvey said.

  “I saw that one too, but had no idea what it meant. It looked like the guy on the cover was doing some weird calligraphy.” Elena replied.

  “It’s usually etching or painting symbols that give things magical properties. Kind of like the weave on all of our bodies. You create a network to channel energy either from a person, a power source, or the environment to do things.” Harvey explained.

  “Like what?” Elena asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing it’s how the swords can self-sharpen with essence and the hunter’s quivers conjure new arrows. Probably a lot of other stuff like reinforcing armor or…” his voice trailed off as he took a closer look at his wand. The lines were tiny, thinner than a hair winding from the base of the wand up to the tip. “Shoot bolts of magic.”

  He pointed to the wand and found the same set of lines on her own. He was kicking himself for not noticing earlier. He’d listened to a lot of books where the characters were in a similar situation as his own, and always thought he was too smart to make the stupid mistakes they did when they were first stumbling around their new world. Turns out, he’d been so caught up in the chaos that he’d yet to inspect his own weapon properly.

  “Maybe, I don’t know how I’m going to afford that guidebook though,” Elena muttered, inspecting her own weapon and clothing for any similar markings.

  “I’m flat broke too, and need to go buy another axe so I can start making more charcoal. Once the iron I poured cools a little bit, I’m going to try to make some nails. Once I’m done, why don’t we go hunting for a little bit? You can get some class levels and save up for your profession?”

  He could see the fear flash in her eyes when he mentioned hunting, but after a silent beat of hesitation, she began to nod. They chatted for a while longer, dreading the heat that awaited them inside. But, he couldn’t afford to let his material harden too much, so with a groan, he pushed to his feet and stepped inside.

  Tentatively poking the slab with his pinkie, offering his weakest finger as sacrifice, he found it was still warm but safe to pick up. Dirt and slag stuck to it like a powdered donut, and he got to the task of cleaning as much as he could. Most flaked away, but the larger chunks he chiselled out until he had a decent-sized chunk of iron. It was shaped like a cracked plate with a ridge down the middle where his mold had pooled it together, and he’d need to carefully heat the sides before folding them around the ridge to fuse it all into a rod.

  He exchanged the crucible tongs for his set of wolfjaws and put it back in the forge. When it started glowing bright orange, he pulled it out and turned towards the anvil. It was an awkward shape, and his hands weren’t used to clamping down on the long-handled tongs. Angling the slab so he could slowly bend the sides inwards, he took his first swing. A clang ran through the smithy, and he felt both hands vibrate as the hammer bounced. The vibration rattled through his bones, and he nearly lost his grip on the tongs. Without gloves, he was going to feel every strike, and any hot scale flying his way was going to burn.

  He really needed some merit if this new pursuit was going to be anywhere close to enjoyable in the short term. He gritted his teeth and struck again. Every blow bent the metal a few degrees more, and he rotated his arm to take it just a little further.

  It took a few rounds of heating before he’d gathered it all up in a loose coil. His hands were already tired, but he kept pounding away like an angry sewing machine until a crude rod took shape. He slowly rotated it on the anvil, looking up and down the red metal to see if there were any visible cracks he could pound together. He was sure there were a few under the surface he couldn’t see, but it should be good enough for simple nails. He would need a better method for casting when he started making weapons and armor. Otherwise, a flaw in his creation could be the nail in a veilstrider’s coffin.

  Once he was satisfied, he adjusted his tongs to clamp tightly around the center of the rod before heating one end. His plan was simple, using only one of the seven basic techniques the guide had taught him. It was called drawing down, and was where you hammered the metal at an angle to stretch it to a thinner point. Lifting the rod at a shallow angle against the anvil’s face, he struck the end, rotating 90 degrees each time, until the rod took a pencil shape. Sparks flew as the hammer met the anvil, sending shards of scale flying away in a dazzling display.

  It was a slow process, and for a while, he wondered if his strikes were even doing anything. Hot and frustrated, he swung harder and harder as sweat fell from his face like rain. Rhythmic clanging echoed off the walls as the nail he envisioned began to take shape. He swung faster, willing it to grow like a seedling sprouting from the earth. When a swing was met with a dull crack, he lifted his hammer to find he’d snapped his budding point in half. Swearing, he awkwardly brushed the broken tip aside with his hammer and got back to work.

  Moving slowly, adjusting each swing to the thickness of his target, he drew a thin pyramid shape long enough for his first nail. Carefully, he turned the rod so it was up on an edge and rounded out the point.

  “Elena, can you help me for a second?” He called out, hearing a stool scrape against the wooden floor behind him.

  She rushed over, and he passed her the tongs, reminding her to keep a firm grip as he picked up one of his chisels. The guide had explained the difference between a hot chisel used for cutting heated metals and a cold one, but with how old and rusted the tools were, he wasn’t exactly sure which was which. He’d have to gamble and hope for the best. Holding it lightly against the rod, he swung down and carved a deep gash.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Before long, his first nail was free.

  He set the rod back in the forge while doing his best to flatten the nailhead before dumping it in the water trough beside him. A loud hiss erupted as the red-hot iron rapidly cooled. Metallic steam invaded his mouth and nose, leaving him feeling like he’d licked a battery.

  Lifting the nail, he watched the vapor curl from its blackened tip. The stench of metal and coal filled his nostrils as he turned it in front of his face, inspecting the very first creation in Veil’s End that wasn’t purchased from the shop, but built by a survivor’s bare hands.

  “I’ll need to heat it again to temper it once the forge cools down a bit! Will you help me with the next one once it’s ready?” Harvey shouted.

  “Yeah, no problem! You don’t need to shout, it's not that loud right now.” Elena replied

  “Sorry, my ears are still ringing from all the hammering!” Harvey laughed, placing his nail on a workbench and pulling the rod from the fire.

  Over and over, he worked the metal into shape, only to sever it and start over.

  Pound, cut, quench, repeat.

  He realized that pouring multiple, smaller rods instead of the 15-pound monstrosity he’d ended up with would’ve made things a lot easier. He wasted hours reheating the thick rod just so he could pound it down to a tiny point. It wasted time, fuel, and material, but at least he’d learned for next time. Not every nail was usable, with subsurface cracks in his rod or careless blows ruining more than one.

  When all was said and done, he’d crafted a batch of around 200 decent nails. The shapes and sizes were about as consistent as an order of fries with a few tater tots mixed in, but they’d be usable enough to start repairing buildings and fixing furniture.

  He stopped feeding the fire and let it slowly burn down. As it cooled, he placed the nails on a thin metal sheet before moving them to the open-air portion of the firepot's stone slab, tempering them. Quenching iron made it hard, but brittle. Tempering heated the material just enough for it to settle before being air-cooled, resulting in a hard, durable outcome.

  First, you have to get it really hot so you can wait for it to cool, then you get it hot before you cool it really fast, but then you have to get it hot so it can cool slowly. This is so much harder than it sounds. Harvey chuckled to himself.

  When the fire finally dissipated, he moved the sheet to the anvil to cool. Placing his tongs on a workbench, he sighed, releasing the tension of an hours-long crafting process. As he did, fire burned in his chest and light erupted from within him, bursting out through his weave with the fiery red, orange, and silver glow of his profession. His tired mind was invigorated as potential turned to progress, and a flurry of notifications flooded his mind.

  A new creation has been made | Simple Nail | Major Essence Gained

  …

  You have created | Simple Nail x194 | Minor Essence Gained

  …

  Your profession, Apprentice Inventor, has reached Level 2. +3 Strength, +3 Endurance, +2 Wisdom, +2 Willpower, +2 Free Points.

  …

  Your profession, Apprentice Inventor, has reached Level 3. +3 Strength, +3 Endurance, +2 Wisdom, +2 Willpower, +2 Free Points.

  …

  Your race, Veilstrider, has reached Level 5. +1 to all stats.

  It seemed he received a bonus for creating something new, but each time he repeated the process, he’d get significantly less essence. It was good to know he’d need to do more than turn the forge into a nail factory if he wanted to level his profession. Still, two profession levels and a race level all at once were a massive power-up.

  Looking at his status screen, his dexterity and vitality were falling behind at 13 and 22, respectively, so he put 2 of his free points into each. A gentler glow radiated out, and he considered his budding addiction to the power surging through his veins. It was a drug, but unlike any other drug, this one really was making him stronger.

  It felt like he was finally catching up to Hannah and Julian. The system rewarded them for daring to leave the outpost and brave the unknown in search of more survivors, and it rewarded him for creating the tools that would help those survivors thrive once they arrived in Veil’s End. It was hard to compare a few nails to all the lives Julian saved, but the levels were proof of his contribution. The work was different, but both were important.

  He beamed a smile towards Elena as she turned to look at him, the glow interrupting her drawing.

  “Success! 195 nails and two more profession levels!” He announced.

  “Congrats! Do you get merit for crafting like you do killing monsters?” She asked.

  “Nope, just essence. I’m guessing the system expects you to sell your creations instead. Getting paid to make nails would turn every profession into a free money printer.” Harvey replied.

  “That makes sense. You’re not going to charge the town, are you?” She asked.

  “Of course not. Once they finish cooling, we can deliver them to the repair crew. It’s probably too late to get much use out of them today, but at least they’ll be all set for tomorrow.” Harvey explained, wiping his hands on the torn piece of his robe he’d turned into a washcloth. “In the meantime, we can get hunting.”

  “Shouldn’t we eat dinner first? It’s getting late.” She asked, nerves evident on her face.

  “I literally can’t afford dinner right now,” Harvey replied, looking at the 18 merit he had left after buying lunch and all the water he’d used to fill the grindstone and quenching troughs.

  “Really, you don’t even have 20?” She asked.

  “Nope! And we’re losing daylight, so let’s get moving. Look, I know you’re nervous, but I’ll be watching your back the entire time. Plus, I just got seven more points in strength. I’d like to see something try to take me down right now.” Harvey joked, flexing like he was in a bodybuilding contest.

  “You know, the robe hides your arms pretty well, but something tells me I still wouldn’t be impressed.” She laughed, standing up from her stool.

  “Hurtful!” He replied in a mocking tone. “I doubt your profession is going to give you muscles like mine! Inscribers don’t get to swing hammers around all day like us blacksmiths do.”

  “Oh no, I don’t get to swing a heavy hammer? Whatever will I do?” Elena replied in a flat voice.

  Harvey was happy to see her having fun, even if he knew she was doing everything she could to hide the nerves of her first intentional monster kill. It was a necessary evil, both for merit and for power, and they’d get through it together.