Chapter 165, 1/2

Chapter 165, 1/2

The Smithy, the noble district, and the administrative district, each had their own floating platforms that held in the air above the main landmass of Enduring Forge, with each location about equidistant from each other. The three platforms were essentially the points of a triangle above the main city.

Looking up at those three platforms from the streets of the main city was not nearly as claustrophobic as Erick had expected, even if the roads here were sometimes thin. Being underground wasn’t that bad, either. Having a full squad of five guards in thick black armor escorting him, though? That was claustrophobic.

The second Erick had stepped out of his appointed rooms there was a guide waiting for him. Erick had made no effort to hide his plans to start his visit at the visitor’s center, but still, it was a bit odd to have his needs so perfectly met, and with a private guide, to boot. The guide was disarmingly cheerful and acquiescent, too, which made it a pain to tell the mousy man that his services as a guide were not exactly what Erick wanted; he just wanted some direction. The five guards were... also a lot, but they were not superfluous.

Those soldiers mostly kept the locals from coming right up to Erick and lavishing him with praise, but that didn’t stop the people from trying. Some of them yelled out thanks and tried to get closer, only to have a blackguard gently push them out of the way with their shield. The citizens didn’t seem to mind this, though. They accepted the pushes. Most stepped away before they required a push, though.

And all the while, flowers fell down from second and third floor windows, along with thanks and cheers.

More than one young lady even flashed her boobs at Erick, calling out how much they’d like to personally thank him for his service to the world.

The guide, Jalrock, was extremely embarrassed about it all, and more than once he called out people by their names, to tell them to put their shirts back on.

It’s not like Erick was on any major streets, either.

In some ways the attention was nice, but mostly... It was claustrophobic.

Erick tried to laugh it all off anyway, saying, “Very relaxed atmosphere here.”

And yet...

Too many people looking his way. A bit too bright. A bit too loud.

Jalrock whispered to Erick, “I am so sorry, Savior. This is not normal—” He stared at a woman who threw some panties out of her window, saying, “Tulai! I’ll tell your mother on you!”

The mother in question came out to stand beside her daughter, asking, “Waking me up from my nap. What fool thing is going on— Oh my Bright Gods. Is that the Savior!”

“Yes, mom!” Tulai said, “And those are my panties on the ground beside him.” She waved at Erick. “Yoo hoo!”

The mother’s eyes went wide, but not at her daughter’s actions. The mother leaned out from their shared window, waving as she shouted, “My sister is alive because of you! Thank you!” Then she slapped her daughter on the arm, saying, “Have some respect! He’s got a mana sense so he can see what you’re offering already!”

Erick’s cheeks flushed because, yes, he did have a mana sense. Oh, boy, did he have a mana sense. He almost wanted to shut it off as he walked down this road, to their lunch destination, but he did not.

They seemed to pass a bottleneck not too much further, leaving the crowded street behind, though a few people still trailed after Erick and his entourage. The guards stopped a lot of that following, though.

Soon, they arrived at their target.

Walking into ‘Hothalls Chamber of Spice’ was an unfun experience.

There was some sort of [Airy Spice Ward] in the entrance hall, alongside a sign that said, ‘If you can’t handle the heat, don’t enter the Hothall!’. Erick could practically feel his taste buds bursting into flame with every breath he took. The scent in the air had Nirzir holding back tears, while Poi and Teressa both just held their breath. Jane relished the scent, though. She breathed deep and smiled wide.

Erick was very tempted to [Dispel] the offending magic.

He did not, though.

Erick ordered a normal meal of rice and steak, with a half-star heat rating, AKA baby slime rating. ‘For the infirm, elderly, and babies of all kinds’. Erick was certainly a baby, yes; this was fine.

Jane enjoyed self-harm in the form of a 12 star entree.

That dish would come out with its own personal spherical [Air Ward] that ensured the poison inside didn’t spread to others, for it certainly would have spread; the rice and sauce and fried chicken swirled some sort of orange and red glow into the protected space. According to the menu, the red glow was a form of poison. [Cleanse] would have knocked the meal down from a 12 star rating (‘for demigods and the dumb’) to a 10 star rating (‘for army generals and archmages’).

No; Erick did not want to try it. He was perfectly happy with his meal for babies.

Jane’s was so strong, a fully-armored waiter had to bring it to the table. That waiter was even dressed up in reflective silver [Conjured Armor], which Erick suspected was exactly the same sort of armor that would prove useful when dealing with steel smelting, or heavy duty Smithing. The restaurant was hamming it up, of course.

But the dish did contain poison.

Jane’s eyes watered as the waiter brought the dish next to her, allowing her to experience the red glow before he set it down in front of her. When Jane just smiled wide, the waiter set down the food like it was a bomb waiting to go off. Jane laughed. Her nose ran. Her face tinted a bit red, but she just smiled, and said, “It’s beautiful.”

Everyone else, by this point, had scooted their chairs away from her. The waiter watched to see if Jane would cower, or persevere. Every nearby person watched. A few new people even showed up to try to get a glimpse of the new challenger of ‘Red Wall’, the name of the dish that now sat in front of Jane.

Even Erick watched, enraptured, as Jane stuck her fork into a bit of red chicken, and pulled it out of the red morass of liquid pain. The rice and the air sparkled as she lifted the bite up, closer to her mouth. Tears already flowed down her face.

Erick broke the silence all around, saying, “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

Jane took the bite.

Silence descended.

Tears flowed. Her face reddened. Her eyes took on a red tint. Even the roots of her hair turned from brown to the barest reddish. That was apparently normal, though. If she ate the whole thing, her whole countenance would turn bright, neon red until the next time she [Cleanse]ed herself. Apparently, the spice that produced this effect was a happy accident from the attempted invention of a beauty product.

Jane swallowed. The roots of her hair turned bright red. Her irises took on a definite red tint.

The watching crowd erupted in cheers. ‘Eat eat eat!’

But then Jalrock started telling people to, “Disperse! Disperse! Even Saviors of Light gotta eat and you all saw your show! Disperse!”

Teressa, meanwhile, lifted up her veil and gave a gleeful grin at Jane, saying, “I bet you can’t finish the whole thing.”

Jane scowled, though the effect was much diminished by her tears and snot. She took a second bite. After a while, she swallowed.

“Are you taking Health damage?” Erick asked, trying not to be too concerned.

Both he and Nirzir were too entranced to eat. Teressa had no such problems. She smiled as she ate. Later, Erick would notice that Poi seemed to specifically eat between Jane’s bites. Perhaps he was second-hand tasting everything that Jane tasted, and it was not a fun experience?

Jane finished off her third bite, then squeaked, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

At the end of lunch, Jane had finished her whole meal, and as people cheered and she shook the hand of the Cook, she got her image captured in a lightpainting by one of the waiters who was good with that. Jane’s hair and eyes were shockingly bright red. Her image joined the rest of the images hanging on the ‘Winner’s Wall’.

As they left the restaurant, having not paid for anything because the owner would not accept payment from the Savior of Light, Erick decided that he could probably try a 1 star meal, the next time.

Jane had joked about trying a 13 star meal from their ‘secret menu’ when she was near the Cook of Hothalls, whereupon the man smiled and said she was now qualified to try that, if she wanted.

They would be going back at least once more.

- - - -

The Black Blade was both the name of the high-class front offices of the Adamantine Smiths, and of an ancient weapon held under heavily enchanted glass in the middle of their main showroom.

Getting to that main showroom usually required going through a few checkpoints, all of them crawling with guards and requiring people to submit to a lot of checks, but Jalrock made those checkpoints trivial.

And now, Erick and his people were here, in the main showroom, looking at blocky black armor and blocky black swords and shields and everything in between. Adamantium armor was not fancy; it was utility made manifest. Form matched function, and nothing else.The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.

Other people spoke with Smiths here and there, while a few more scattered people looked at weapons and otherwise like they were buying expensive cars. It was a pretty apt metaphor, Erick decided, for even the smallest of daggers, weighing in at half a kilogram, cost 25,000 gold. A Poi-sized set of full plate armor looked to cost 1,500,000 gold, and weigh about 30 kilos. A Teressa-sized set of armor would set Erick back nearly 8 million gold, and weigh in at 160 kilos.

Erick realized that he could not buy this entire place all by himself.

For the first time, he had met his financial match.

While that particular revelation was kinda funny, what was not funny was the namesake of this place.

The Black Blade, the sword, was a hunk of dark metal with the blade two meters long, and a handle that was easily large enough for two hands. It would be the perfect sword for an orcol to use in a single hand, but on anyone else, it resembled more a plank of iron, than like a real, usable weapon. And it floated inside a glass cage, just like how a certain person’s weapon also floated when not in use.

Erick recognized the weapon, because he had seen it multiple times by now.

Nirzir raised her head to look at Erick.

Erick said, “I might still want a dagger after I talk to Grosgrena and figure out all of my options, but until then, I won’t take more than I need.”

Verizag looked to Erick with a bit more appreciation in her eyes. She gave a small bow.

Of the five of them, only Nirzir and Teressa got what they wanted that day.

Apparently, the Black Blade had an old orcol-sized shield in storage, fit for a Juggernaut, and enchanted exactly how Teressa wanted; [Flying Spell Reflection Shield] was apparently a standard-ish spell. The shield was nearly two meters tall and a meter wide, and pitch black with zero adornments, save for the runework on the protected backside of the shield. It weighed 65 kilos, but Teressa lifted it as though it weighed a small fraction of that. And then she cast into the shield, as Verizag instructed. Teressa's magic soaked into the dark metal like she had actually enchanted it herself, the entire thing taking on a grey cast that lingered in the runework grooves and glinted along the edges. The whole thing seemed to shimmer with a mirror finish when the light hit it right.

Teressa grinned, showing off her lower fangs as she whispered, “It’s beautiful.” She let the shield go, and it hovered there in front of her. At her mental command, the shield moved to her back and held there, waiting for further instructions. Teressa laughed. “It’s great!”

“Yes.” Verizag said, “Adamantium armaments take in spellwork and make it their own, giving the strength of physicality to the ethereal and intangible. Aside from the adamantium shield itself, which is rated to stop a wyrm charge, your [Flying Spell Reflection Shield] should experience a marked increase in stability, magnifying the amount and quality of spellwork you can reflect by a large amount. The baseline increase for your particular shielding spell is anywhere between 2 to 4 tiers, depending on any number of factors. Would you like to test it out before you leave with it? We want you to be satisfied with your purchase.”

“Yes.” Teressa said, “I do want to test it out.”

Erick said, “We’ll be testing them out in private.”

Teressa stood straighter. “Uh. Yes. What he said.”

Verizag smirked, then nodded. “If you’re unhappy with the runework or what it does, bring it back and we can work on a custom shield. We can’t change that one, for it was made how it was made. We can’t even resize it, like how we resize the armors you see on the Elite Guard.” She added, “Almost all of those black armors out there are decades old.”

“Thank you, Verizag.” Erick said, “You’ve been very helpful.”

Verizag bowed deeper, then rose, and said, “Thank you for your patronage, Archmage Flatt. We hope our armaments serve you and your people well. If you ask the Old Smith about your orders for your daughter and your man, I am sure you will be allowed to see them actually get made in the coming days.”

“I might do that.”

- - - -

On the road back toward the nearest Teleport Square, which would get them back to city hall and their rooms in the tower, Jalrock paused in the middle of the street and turned to Erick.

Jalrock said, “Old Smith Grosgrena wishes to know if you’re ‘ready for some learning’, in her words.” He glanced to the people with Erick, adding, “But only you and your man, Poi.”

“Exactly as we already agreed, then.” This place wasn’t nearly as worrying as Songli had been, but Erick still wasn’t willing to go anywhere on his own unless he had to. He turned to his people, saying, “Jane, Nirzir, Teressa. I’ll meet you back at the room later. If this lasts into the night I might switch you, Teressa, out with Poi.”

Teressa said, “Understood.”

The party split.

- - - -

The Smithy was possibly the most protected space in all of Enduring Forge.

City hall was open to anyone who wanted to be there. You could walk down any street of the main city without facing too much scrutiny from the guards, and you could even sneak into the protected and empty evacuation shelter in the middle, though you’d get kicked out pretty damned fast, and you might get a black eye for your trouble. You could even venture down to the bottom level, to see some of the defensive structures and the constant war going on at the cavern’s surface. Erick wasn’t the only tourist visiting Enduring Forge that day, and he saw a lot with his scattered Ophiel.

According to Jalrock, the actual population of Enduring Forge was 110,000 people, while thirty thousand people were visitors, like Erick. Spur had similar ratios, but with at least twice as many people. Erick wasn’t sure how many people had moved to Spur since he had left, but there were certainly more there now than had been there before Last Shadow’s Feast.

But the Smithy was the one fully protected part of Enduring Forge. None of the visitors were allowed past the Teleport Square that sat outside the massive metal edifice that surrounded the Smithy, like it was its own private city. In a lot of ways, it was exactly that. They had their own water systems, their own gardens, and full-scale anti-magic runework that encapsulated the whole place in an ovoid shield; except for the spit of land where Erick now stood, atop the only public Teleport Square on the island.

Erick suspected the protective sphere was actually a Domain of some sort.

According to Jalrock, the Smiths brought metals and otherwise into the Smithy through a [Gate], provided to them by some contractor they didn’t talk about. For visitors (which were very rare) and for students and faculty (which usually stayed at the Smithy full time), the only way into the island was the giant door in front of Erick. That door was ten meters tall, and three meters wide. No one stood at that door, protecting it from the outside; that would have been a liability. There were people standing on the other side, though, and they began moving to open the massive thing as Erick stepped closer.

Like a ponderous beast, the gates opened with nary a sound save for the clacking of ratchet mechanisms inside the walls.

Jalrock continued to speak, saying, “[Scry]s from an outside source will not pierce the barrier, so Yggdrasil’s eye will go out, but since you are going inside yourself, your Ophiel shouldn’t experience any such problems—”

Ophiel trilled in recognition of his name.

“—and. Uh! There’s Old Smith Grosgrena.” Jalrock bowed as he stepped away from Erick, saying, “It has been a pleasure. Thank you for your fight against the Dark. I don’t think you understand the boon your actions have brought us, but know that the people of the Underworld know you as our Savior of Lig—”

Grosgrena moved like an ancient shrunken spectre, as she stepped forward. She came to within five meters of her side of the wall, moving a lot faster than Jalrock would have liked, for sure, because Grosgrena called out, “Jalrock! Quit altering his friction!”

“I will leave you now,” Jalrock said, stepping backward, going demure and submissive.

Grosgrena called out to Erick, “Come on, now. I ain’t as young as I used to be, and even if you are super smart this learning is gonna take you a while.”

Erick said, “Thank you for the opportunity to learn, Grosgrena.” As he stepped forward, to cross the barrier that surrounded the Smithy, he sent a ‘Farewell, for now,’ to Yggdrasil, right before the [Scry] eye vanished from his shoulder. Ophiel went temporarily blind, all of his eyes turning milky white before his sight came back, as Erick stepped through the doors, into the Smithy proper.

And the world changed.

From outside, this place looked like a collection of rough buildings and smokestacks and carts of metal.

But from the inside...

A bunch of buildings sat all over the place, while green grass grew in the spaces between those buildings, and nice shade trees provided nice sitting spots on rolling hills here and there. The whole place reminded Erick of college. Sure, there was magic in the air, and heavy duty spellwork locked this place off from the rest of the world, but students of the Smithing arts studied books under those trees, and more than one gaggle of girls way over yonder talked about whatever, like the world outside wasn’t a hellish danger to them all.

Grosgrena let Erick appreciate the view for a moment, before saying, “Not what you expected?”

“It makes sense that you show illusions to the rest of the world.” Erick said, “I did not expect to see what looked like a university.”

“Got to teach the next generation, and not everyone is an Adamantine Smith. A lot of our youngsters prefer the Adamantine Rune Carver path.” The Old Smith started walking forward, and Erick walked beside her. “We even have a few more esoteric Classes in the mix. Adamantine Tailors do a damned fine job of making robes for the magey types out there, while Adamantine Artillerists are what you’d see Down Below ensuring that the bigger monsters never stick their heads into the Cavern. Those explosion junkies shoot [Fireball]s from their adamantine cannons that are large enough that you might call them Super Large Area spells.” She added, “Not technically, though; that’s just the power of adamantium for you.”

The doors to the compound closed behind them with a loud ka-shunk and a rtch-tch-tch-tch.

“The actual smithing of adamantium is done by Adamantium Smiths.” Grosgrena said, “The rest of them can move it around a bit, but it takes a Smith to actually work the metal like it deserves to be worked.”

“Verizag at the Black Blade spoke up the stuff quite well.” Erick said, “We still have to test the veracity of some of her claims, but from what I heard, adamantium is truly a miracle metal.”

“It’s alright.” Grosgrena smirked. “It’s what we built our power on, for sure. There might be other metals better suited for specific needs, but adamantium can do everything pretty damn well.” She stopped at a crossroads between two different buildings, while the way ahead passed through an opening in a meter high wall, before continuing on to even more buildings. Down that way, Erick saw smoke billowing up from more than a few structures, while here, there was no smoke anywhere; just office-like spaces. Grosgrena said, “Before we begin, I need to tell you a few things. Mainly: Whatever adamantium work you do here likely won’t be repeatable anywhere else; not without either [Duplicate] or an Adamantium Class. It’s like with your Particle Mage Only spells. I heard [Call Lightning] was one of em? Yeah. You understand. Only an Adamantium Class can truly work with adamantium after it’s alloyed and tempered. This is one of the main reasons we’re even agreeing to teach you at all, for even if you got the learning, without the Class, it’s useless.

“But! You’re you, so if you do figure out how to circumvent this reality as we know it, I’d warn you not to go spreading around this knowledge. Make no mistake, for we would never do anything against you. We honor what you did inside Ar’Kendrithyst.” She stared up at Erick, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she squinted at him. “It’s the wrought. Adamantium is their Royal Caste, and they tolerate Enduring Forge since we got deals and history with them, but they ruthlessly go after anyone else usurping their strength. Know that the wrought basically allow us to live and sell our weapons because we’re allied against the Dark, and that’s about it.” She stared for a bit longer, gauging whether or not Erick understood.

And he did. Maybe more than Grosgrena did—

Maybe just as much, actually. He shouldn’t go assuming Grosgrena’s history, for she had probably seen a lot in her long life down here in the dark.

But how Erick understood it: The wrought were one of the main forces that marched on the world when a Forgotten Campaign was called by the gods to erase some catastrophic new knowledge from civilization. So far, the only Forgotten Campaign that Erick was absolutely sure about was when the gods erased Atomic Magic from the world. But now, hearing what he was hearing, he thought there might have been a Forgotten Campaign against the easy knowledge of adamantium, too. If adamantium actually gave physical weight to the ethereal, and if it was usable by everyone, and if it was a simple alloy instead of its own metal, and if it required a specific Class to fully use (that part was the biggest giveaway), then yes; there had to have been a Forgotten Campaign against adamantium, too.

Erick’s own experience with Particle Magic checked a lot of those same boxes.

He hoped Particle Magic wouldn’t suffer the same fate.

Erick said, “I understand.”

“I knew you would, soon as I laid it out there. And now that the warning is out of the way:” Grosgrena gestured left, forward, then to the right, asking, “How do you want to start. Academically? Practically? Or do you want to pull apart some metals for me, and for yourself? I got some untempered adamantium if you want to take it apart; see what’s inside.”

Erick instantly said, “Let’s pull apart some metals.”

The wrought probably should scare him more than they did, but whatever! Erick was going to get his knowledge, and he was going to use that knowledge to make the world a nicer place.

And adamantium Gates sounded just about perfect; practically immutable and highly magical, the best combination. He knew there was a Worldly Path reason to come here, and this was that reason.

Grosgrena smiled wide. “Hot damn! Let’s go fuck up some alloys!” With an excited step, the ancient woman practically hopped down the right path, toward a large building without any windows, and without much foot traffic.