Problem? What Problem?
Elijah awoke with a start. Cold sweat dripped off the young man as he shot up. Expecting pain, he was relieved to find none. Patting himself down, Elijah instead found he was fine, better than fine, great!
Zzzzzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzzzzz.
The rattle of heavy snoring stole the teen’s attention. Elijah was lying in a cot with animal skins for sheets. Sitting at the foot of the bed, with his head resting on his arms, was Rubeus. The Terranoceros Ignis had fallen asleep after taking care of the young man.
Elijah felt touched. He didn’t expect the rhinokin to be so kind. Being careful not to wake his benefactor, the teen extricated himself from the furs, stepping out of the cot. He was excited to see what his new Skill was capable of.
With silent steps, the still-shaking sixteen-year-old sneaked his way over to the anvil. Reading the description of his new Skill, Elijah began thinking about what he could make. What did he need?
He could always use a dagger, but since the Skill’s description specifically mentioned weapon schematics as something that could be added later, he doubted that would be possible.
Tools were the obvious choice. A shovel for digging, a pick for mining, an axe for felling, or perhaps a saw for cutting. Elijah could see any of those options being useful and struggled to decide.
Standing at the anvil, tapping himself idly in the head with a hammer, Elijah was struck by a realisation. A hammer! A hammer was exactly what he needed.
Now that he had the Blacksmithing Skill, he could make any of the above if he had a hammer in his inventory. Given that he had already broken several weapons and damaged his prized sword, Elijah could see a blacksmith’s hammer being most useful.
With a goal in mind, Elijah searched through the still towering pile of scrap until he found an unidentifiable mass of metal that seemed similar to the hammer he was already wielding. He placed the weighty lump on the anvil and activated his Skill, intent on turning it into the tool in question.
Elijah expected something to happen. Perhaps a glowing light would envelop the piece, showing him where to strike and when; perhaps a System window would appear, Elijah would press a button, and boom – hammer, or perhaps some external force would take over his body and make the tool for him. None of that happened.
Worried he had done something wrong, Elijah tried activating the Skill again.
Unable To Use Skill:
The Skill – Blacksmithing – has a 1-hour cooldown. 59 minutes and 35 seconds remaining until Skill can be used again.
What? But nothing happened. I don’t know how to make this into a hammer! Elijah thought, anger blossoming in his frustrated soul, but, before it could conflagrate, the teen was forced to pull himself up short.
The pale child did, in fact, know how to turn this specific piece of metal into a blacksmith’s hammer. He knew exactly how: every hammer stroke that would be required, the colour the metal would turn when it was ready to be forged, and even how to attach a handle to the finished piece.
Elijah grimaced. The Skill had somehow inserted the knowledge into his mind so seamlessly that, if not for the System prompt, he may have convinced himself he knew all along how to accomplish the feat.
Gritting his teeth, the swiftly warming teen began work on his project, placing the scrap into the forge. Elijah didn’t like the idea that the System could meddle with his mind so easily; it made him begin to question everything he thought he knew. That was until he remembered denial was the order of the day.
With a completely untouched mind, the teen continued, removing the metal from the forge when it was ready. With the practised ease of a seasoned blacksmith, Elijah began hammering away, squashing the lump of malformed metal into the blocky silhouette of a hammer.
The loud, forgely noises did two things: filled Elijah’s ears, stopping him from hearing the cessation of open-mouthed snoring, and woke Rubeus from his fitful slumber.
Elijah continued hammering away, oblivious to the rhinokin’s awakening. His attention was completely focused on the work at hand.
As the teen put the partially formed tool back into the heat, Rubeus shook the sleep from his ears. While Elijah's eyes, glued to the slowly warming metal, watched closely for the piece to get up to temperature, Rubeus scanned the bed before him, surprised to find the young man not in it.
Elijah’s renewed hammering covered the Terranoceros’ footsteps as, hesitantly, he made his way over to the teen. His hands fixated on the feeling of the metal, Elijah didn’t notice as the rhinokin stopped short of interrupting him, instead choosing to watch, leaning against one of the ashy workbenches, his oily cloths causing the powdery substance to stick to him like wet rice.
The trance-like flow state he had experienced while forging a hundred flames embraced Elijah’s mind, narrowing his focus to only the project in front of him. To the teen, it was as if he had blinked his eyes and the scrap had transformed into a marvellous, if mundane, hammer, whose blackened surface seemed somehow sweeter than his grandmother’s jam pudding.
Awareness returned to the boy right as the wooden handle, taken from a neatly piled stack in the corner of the forge, was being wedged into place. Elijah smiled, proud of his work. For several seconds, he held up the piece, marvelling at its simplistic beauty.
The teen’s admirings were interrupted when a cough sounded from behind, causing him to jump slightly before spinning to face the source of the sudden sound.
Rubeus was looking at him, arms crossed, and with a complicated expression dancing across his face. It was difficult to read the emotions of the rhino man, but Elijah thought he could see a mix of pride, annoyance, and perhaps… disappointment.
“Ahh!” Elijah exclaimed, coughing in turn, “I didn’t see you there… How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough,” returned Rubeus, a stern edge to his voice. For a moment they both stood there in silence. Elijah felt somewhat guilty, and Rubeus was clearly conflicted about something. Eventually the quiet awkwardness was broken by the older man.
“That hammer, it’s quite impressive for your first project,” congratulated Rubeus.
“It was nothing; the Skill did all of the heavy lifting. I just did what it told me to,” responded Elijah, modestly.
Rubeus snorted, "Nonsense, the Skill can tell you what to do, but it can’t do it for you. The hammer is as much a product of your hard work as it was any Skill, more so, even.”
Elijah beamed, happy to receive such praise from someone he unconsciously looked up to. Just as he let his guard down, Rubeus struck, leaning on the honed instincts of a teacher.
“However,” Elijah’s face dropped, “you shouldn’t have been working so soon after an attack of… whatever that was. I saw you wracked by convulsions for several minutes before you finally calmed down. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Rubeus conveyed, his voice coloured by evident concern.
“Hmm,” Elijah coughed, not meeting his mentor’s eye, “I was thinking about a mark. Don’t most people use a maker’s mark?” He asked, changing the subject as artfully as the joke on a supermarket condolence card.
Rubeus blinked, taking a moment to reorient himself. After overcoming the conversational whiplash, he said chidingly, “Elijah.”
“I was thinking of maybe just using my initials, E. C. What do you think?” Enquired Elijah, ignoring Rubeus’ tone.
“Elijah, tell me, what happened to you?” Rubeus questioned in retort, concerned about the health of his newfound friend.
For a moment, it looked like Elijah would continue to ignore the erstwhile rhinokin; that was until he was unlucky enough to catch the flinty edge that had crept into Rubeus’ gaze. He wouldn’t take kindly to another ham-fisted attempt to divert the conversation.
Defeated, Elijah sighed and confessed, “I… I don’t…. I don’t know.” His words were stuttered, and, as he spoke the truth, he couldn’t help but feel small. The attacks which had afflicted him twice since entering the Trial were a source of great consternation, and as such, he was content ignoring them for as long as he could.
“You don’t know?” Rubeus asked rhetorically, his tone somewhat softer than before. “Have you ever experienced anything like that before?” he enquired.
Elijah shrugged. “Might have happened whenIenteredtheTrial,” he mumbled, uncomfortable with the topic. For some reason, he felt embarrassed discussing the issue.
“What was that?” asked Rubeus, moving in closer.
“It might have happened when I entered the Trial,” repeated Elijah, with reluctance.
For a moment Rubeus tapped his finger on his crossed arms before he asked, “Could it be an allergic reaction? Maybe there’s something in this environment that’s anathema to humans?”
“If that were the case, shouldn’t I be in a constant fit? Rather than the couple of seemingly random episodes I’ve experienced?" he asked. The teen could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Discussing the topic was putting him on edge.
The rising of pitch was the only reason Elijah recognised he was being asked another question. Rubeus had continued talking, but the young man hadn’t been listening. His mind had begun spiralling around the plughole of anxiety and depression.
What if he had some kind of degenerative genetic disorder that would slowly turn him into a vegetable? Would the respawns do anything to something like a brain tumour? Or would that count as a part of him? Was he afflicted by some kind of nervous condition?
There was simply no way of knowing, so dwelling on the topic wasn’t doing him any good. Elijah, stuck in his head for nearly a minute, had become the subject of Rubeus’ questioning glare.
“What?” the teen asked, more aggressively than he had intended.
“I asked—” Rubeus began but was cut off.
“Look, I don’t really wanna talk about it. I don’t know what to do about it, and you're no doctor, so can we please just drop it?” Elijah asked snippily. The world seemed to swim slightly, and his stomach roiled before the teen was able to get a grip on his emotions.
For a long moment, the larger man stared down at the smaller, a myriad of emotions dancing across his inhuman features, eventually resting on resignation.
“Fine,” Rubeus eventually relented. “It’s true, I’m no healer, nor do I know anything about human medicine. Just promise me, whenever you find yourself in a Trial with someone who is, you’ll tell them about this. Promise me you’ll ask for help?”
Elijah’s face scrunched up with pained reluctance; he found the conversation uncomfortable.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied, wanting to drop the subject.
“I want to hear you say it,” Rubeus insisted, looking the young man directly in the eye.
Elijah tried to squirm away but found his gaze locked to the other man’s. With undirected anger he responded, “Fine, first chance I get, I’ll consult with someone.” Although he spat out the words in a desperate attempt to get away from the topic, the promise still sank heavily to the bottom of his heart. No matter what, he would not go back on his word.
Seeing the acceptance in the grey-blue, human eyes, Rubeus finally dropped the subject, choosing to move on.
“Initials are okay, not great, but okay,” Rubeus commented. Elijah cocked his head, glad for the change in subject but momentarily confused by the seeming non sequitur. Seeing that the sweaty teen didn’t understand, Rubeus elaborated:
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“As a maker's mark, I mean. Almost everyone uses their initials; it works — unless you have a hundred names like the elves – but it lacks that je ne sais quoi, that something special that makes it stand out.”
Elijah, finally understanding, thought for a moment before asking, “Then what do you think I should use?”
“I can’t choose for you. This is something personal, but I will say that whatever symbol you decide upon, it should hold some significance for you,” Rubeus replied, the words clearly ones he had said before.
Elijah floundered for a moment. The uncertainty of turbid emotions had set his mind adrift in choppy waters, and, now that the storm had passed, he was still getting used to the placid sea of thought.
Something that held significance, huh?
A diamond-shaped, imperial dragon, a football, and his piano all flashed across his mind. Each had ties to him, though none had any embedded connection. His mark needed to be something deeper, something more meaningful.
Unbidden, his mind returned to the Candle-Sweep and the torturous memories contained within its Trial. Yes, the recollections had been frightening, but in a strange way he was grateful for having suffered through them.
The feelings he had towards his lifelong friends, nay, brothers – brothers that he would likely never see again – were both bitter and sweet. Seeing them one more time, even in an illusion, had added fuel to the fire that drove him to search for an escape, even if he hadn’t realised as much until this moment.
A finger had, unconsciously, drawn a symbol into the ash layer on a work surface. The basic outline of a cave entrance, simple but recognisable. Within were three vertical lines, one for Boaz the honest, one for Noah the menace, and one for himself, Elijah, their leader.
The teen looked at the image he had unwittingly made, a mix of pain and love churning in his gut. This was his mark; it had to be.
If, heavens forbid, he was unable to make it home, this mark, left on everything he made from this day forward, would act as his legacy. Should either of the others see this, through some miracle or other, they would, hopefully, know that he had lived, that he hadn’t just slipped through a crack in the pavement, never to be seen again.
Rubeus ignored the tears threatening to spill from the unstable young man as he spoke, “Let me show you how to make that into a stamp.”
??
The next few days were spent working at the forge. Thanks to Elijah’s little scare, as he called it, Rubeus had been drawn out of his morose ponderings and had thrown himself into tutoring the odd young human.
Apparently, Elijah had the right idea when it came to making a hammer. Rubeus would traditionally make his students sweat over the same sculpture a hundred times, a sculpture which honed many of the core skills a blacksmith needed, until they unlocked the Skill. At which point, they would move on to making their own tools, tools they could use out in the real world.
After the hammer and a stamp with Elijah’s mark, the pair began by making a pair of tongs. The Blacksmithing Skill gave the teen the knowledge he needed to make the implements, but when he was drawing out the handles, Rubeus suggested they be slightly longer than he had intended.
This, along with a couple of other adjustments, led to a slightly improved version of the tool. Elijah felt his new Skill subsume the knowledge and add it to its repertoire. Now, he would be able to remake those upgraded tongs in the future without having to think about it.
After the tongs, the pair made a set of chisels, followed by a series of different-shaped hammers. Then followed a series of lessons on how one could make an anvil, set up a forge, and find different metals and their relative value in gold; this information was likely out of date, but Elijah chose not to say anything. The teen would have liked to have taken an anvil with him, but there was no room in his Inventory.
Succeeding the mini lecture, Rubeus spoke briefly of more wondrous metals. S?lvfarvet, gyldent, and rumorite, to name but a few. However, the almost reverence with which these words were spoken told Elijah how unlikely it would be for him to lay eyes upon any of them.
When asked, Rubeus revealed that any of the more powerful materials were too mana-dense for Elijah to work with until he evolved his Blacksmithing Skill into something more specialised or unlocked a new Skill with a blacksmithing Class – though the latter was not an option for the teen.
Before he knew it, it was time for his final exam. The revelation stirred something in Elijah, but he did his best to repress the odd feeling of dread that overcame him. Was it to be this way forever? Would he be forced to leave each friend he made, never to see them again?
The distracted young man shook the unpleasant thoughts from his mind; Rubeus had been talking, and Elijah hadn’t been listening.
“... suffice to say your sword is quite something,” the Rhino man concluded, picking the weapon up from where it had been set down by Elijah days ago.
“Hmm?” the teen replied in questioning affirmation. He had only caught the tail end of the other man’s words and didn’t know what was going on.
“It’s a shame. This blade is well made, using fine dwarven steel, and the enchantment will likely let you cut through any unenchanted armour. But it’s got a chip right on the edge, just here,” he said, pointing at the nick Elijah had caused by cutting through one of the statues on his way up the mountain, “And that weakens the strength of the whole weapon. If this doesn’t get repaired, the sword may crack in half.”
Elijah looked away sheepishly. He had told Rubeus where the weapon came from but never how it had been damaged. Thankfully, the Terranoceros Ignis didn’t notice the look of guilt which passed over the young man, instead pressing on with what he had been saying.
“For your final exam, you shall repair this blade. I believe you know everything you need to to fix it. You may ask me questions, but all the work must be done by you. While you do this, I have a final project of my own I’ll be working on,” Rubeus revealed, with a glint in his eye that lay somewhere between mischievous and devious.
That did not deter the ill-dressed young man in the least. He leapt into his first question, “How will I repair the enchantment? I think I might be able to replace the missing material, assuming you have the right metal, but I have no idea how the magic in the weapon will react.”
“Dwarven steel can be found in billets on the rack over there, third shelf, on the left, the ones with a greeny-gold sheen. As for the enchantment, you're out of luck there. I am not an enchanter.
What I can say is that I believe the enchanting was done while the blade was being forged; having worked on similar projects, I recognise the signs – a uniform mana density and no visible runes.
If I’m right, that means you can repair the blade and the magic will be unaffected, but this also means that the repaired section won’t be enchanted; it won’t be able to cut through leather like butter, but that’s a small price to pay for the integrity of the weapon,” explained Rubeus, before turning away, intent on starting his own project.
The burly rhinokin didn’t get two steps before he was bombarded by questions. With a resigned sigh, he turned around, ready to engage the inquisitive young man.
After nearly an hour of interrogation, Elijah felt about ready to start his test. Rubeus let out a breath of relief as the teen set off toward the forge, ready to normalise the blade.
Elijah was fastidious in his work. Making sure to check every step with the experienced blacksmith before continuing, much to the older man’s chagrin. Though, to Rubeus’ credit, he never once complained about the interruptions to his own work.
With his detail-orientated, nearly timid approach, it took the teen almost an entire day to finish.
When all was said and done, the gleaming, oiled blade had been polished to a mirror shine; it would take a very focused eye to spot the repair, and even then they would likely have to be told where to look. Peering at the weapon with his Mana Manipulation Skill told a completely different tale, however.
Rubeus had been right. The dead spot on the edge of the blade did not glow with the near-blinding radiance of the rest of the piece, showing that the enchantment hadn’t suffused the repair. By testing with a bit of stout fabric, Elijah was able to confirm as much.
Despite this, Elijah felt proud. His skills had come a long way in a short period of time. With confidence, he stepped up to his master’s workbench, ready to present the repaired weapon for inspection.
Rubeus had to be shaken awake. Hours ago he had finished his own work and had since taken to napping in his chair. Elijah shook the rhinokin gently, and when that didn’t work, jostled him violently, impatience fuelling the young man’s rashness.
With a gargled snort, Rubeus awoke.
“Hmm, yes, what is it?” he asked blearily with the sort of half-awake annoyance rivalled only by the teen’s mother.
“I’m done,” Elijah announced, the weight of his words enough to spur Rubeus fully into wakefulness. With the countenance befitting a forge master, the rhino man arose, ready to judge the young man’s work.
Elijah’s initial confidence waned as the older man took his time inspecting the repair. Nothing showed on the beastkin’s face; he kept his cards firmly against his chest, and the teen’s nerves were beginning to fray. It was just like his piano exams all over again.
After an interminable wait, Rubeus finally spoke.
“Pass.”
“What?” Elijah asked, taken aback by his examiner’s brusqueness.
“You pass,” Rubeus repeated, letting a beaming smile explode across his face.
“Oh, thank god!” exclaimed the teen, clutching at his chest. The suspense had become unbearable, and he was flooded with relief, followed swiftly by regret. A part of him had considered messing up this assignment so that he could spend longer in this Trial, but that simply wasn’t him. Elijah wouldn’t disgrace himself by giving any less than his best.
Besides, he didn’t think Rubeus would take kindly to the notion. He may be nice enough, but when it came to smithing, his standards were incredibly high, as he soon proved.
“You’ve done well enough to pass, but I did notice a few small imperfections; look here,” Rubeus began, before going into excruciating detail about every little thing he could have done better – it sucked!
When his lambasting finally came to an end, Elijah felt as if he had failed rather than passed. Seeing the dejected look on his student’s face, Rubeus assured the teen that his repair was, indeed, sound, and that the strength of the blade wasn’t compromised in the least, which brought the shadow of a smile onto Elijah’s face.
“So,” the sweaty young man began hesitantly, “Is this it then?” he asked, having half expected the Trial to already have concluded.
“Not quite,” Rubeus said, the hollow grin not leaving his face. “I decide when I am impressed, and there's one more thing you have to do.”
“What’s that?” Elijah asked, taking the bait.
“Well, it’s three things really,” Rubeus began unhelpfully. “First, take this,” he said, handing Elijah an impressive sphere of dark metal, covered in glowing red runes. The teen looked at his mentor questioningly. “That’s an inheritance cube,” he revealed.
Elijah groaned, “Was it, by chance, made by the same person who gave you that translation sphere?”
Rubeus nodded. “It was.”
“What does it do?” asked the curious young man as he lifted the weighty object so that he could view it from every angle.
“When the prerequisites are met, it will be able to convey to you everything I have been able to learn about the art of smithing!” Rubeus exclaimed with an almost childlike excitement.
“I can’t accept this,” Elijah denied instinctively. “Something like this has to be worth a fortune!”
Rubeus ignored the objection and moved onto his second item, “The next thing I want you to do is accept this gift.” Having said as much, he bent down and retrieved from beneath his bench a newly made dagger.
“What’s that?” Elijah asked, and at the question, the rhino man’s face dropped, though only slightly.
“This is a burden I’m ashamed to say I must place on your shoulders,” Rubeus replied cryptically. Without further ado, the Terranoceros handed the shiny, pearlescent silver blade with an ebony hilt to the human.
Rubeus' demeanour changed, despite his best efforts to remain jovial. “This,” he began with great solemnity, “is a blade made of pure s?lvfarvet. I was given the incredibly rare metal as a gift from an elven ambassador and, because of my Inventory, was able to keep it with me through death.
“What’s so special about it? I hear you ask,” Rubeus said with a humourless chuckle. “S?lvfarvet can interact directly with the soul. You no doubt feel its supernatural weight, that abnormal pressure it’s giving off, and, knowing you, you’ve already examined it with that mana-seeing Skill of yours and found there to be nothing magical about it, no?”
Elijah nodded; he had done exactly that.
“I don't know the details,” Rubeus began. “For the why of it all, you’d have to ask a scholar. All I know is that, if you were to plunge that blade into someone’s centre, their soul would be destroyed, and nothing any cleric or healer can do would resurrect them.”
“No,” Elijah said, his voice wavering and weak. The sudden realisation of what was being asked of him caused tears to spring free so quickly he hadn’t the time to repress them.
Ignoring the teen’s quavering objection, Rubius pulled himself up straight and pressed on, “Before I ask this final thing of you, I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” Elijah gushed.
“Promise me, you’ll continue to hone your smithing skills until you unlock that inheritance cube. I don’t want the Terranoceros Ignes’ legacy as the greatest blacksmiths on all the eight plates to die with me. Please,” Rubeus pleaded, his smiling facade chipped slightly by desperation.
“I promise,” a whisper replied, choked nearly to silence by tears.
The horned head nodded, relieved. “The third and final task is one I am ashamed to ask, but I lack the strength to do it on my own.”
“Then don’t!” Exclaimed Elijah, anger breaking free and momentarily taking the reins from grief.
“I must,” Rubeus insisted, with a surprisingly gentle smile. Using his large, red-skinned hand, the Terranoceros Ignis manipulated Elijah’s hands so that the dagger’s hilt was held firmly with the blade pointed just above Rubeus’ sternum.
The teen shook like a leaf. He didn’t want to do this; he had found a friend in the master smith and for things to end like this. But what was the alternative? Could he live with himself if he condemned Rubeus to an eternity in stasis, a purgatory that he may never move on from?
Was he wrong? Perhaps Rubeus’ people were not extinct; perhaps there were just so few of them that this place hadn’t been used in so long. No, that was impossible. Terranoceros Ignes only lived fifty years; perhaps if they were a longer-lived people, their absence could be explained. Elijah was just trying to come up with reasons not to do it.
A memory flashed across his mind. When he was ten, his grandfather drove him back from football practice. It was just the two of them. The old man had seen something on one of the back roads and pulled over.
Getting out of the car, Elijah heard a pained squeak and ran towards it. There, at the roadside, was a muntjac, paralysed from the neck down and bleeding out. It had been run over. At the time, the boy lacked the understanding he needed to feel what he felt now.
His grandfather had told him to look away. He did not. Elijah watched as the man he looked up to gently laid a hand on the animal’s snout, calming it, before viciously stabbing it in the back of the head, killing it instantly. The not-yet-teen had remained silent for days after, but now he understood why his grandfather had done it.
“Please, don’t make me suffer,” Rubeus said, unable to hold the tears back any longer. Even so, a smile of peaceful acceptance remained on his face.
Shlick.
There was a dying gasp before the world went black.
Congratulations!
You have completed the Trial of Evolution 1: Terranoceros Ignis
Grade: S
Objectives:
- Impress Rubeus with your work ethic: ?
- Impress Rubeus with your attention to detail: ?
- Impress Rubeus with your talent in the craft: ?
Hidden Objective:
- Become Rubeus’ successor and inherit his techniques: ?
Rewards:
You have earned the right to Evolve from a Terranoceros Ignis into 1 of 6 Terranoceros Ignis Evolutions:
- Terra Terranoceros Ignis
- Ignis Terranoceros Ignis
- Metallicum Terranoceros Ignis
- Will of Stone
- Will of Fire
- Will of Iron
Choose Now!
patrons: