Matizu Writes
patreon
B2 Chapter 27 - Stress
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 08:43:30 +0000 UTCThe first thing Vivi did when she woke up was reach into her bag of ether roots to start another attempt. She drank a mug of water and readied herself.
“What about food or a bathroom break?” Lucius asked. “It has been hours since we last ate.”
Water has been exiting through my sweat, Vivi thought. I’m not hungry. Let’s get this done.
“Okay, then,” Lucius said, and the root was initiated.
The second day of any runesmithing marathon, in Vivi’s experience, was usually the best. The first was always spent fumbling around, failing projects, exactly as she had yesterday. After a night’s rest, the fumbles of the first day usually culminated into a day of actual attempts.
While shaping the first root, Vivi noticed that the workstations around her were strangely quiet. Only a few peeling sounds and some scraping came from further away. She seemed to be one of the first smiths already awake. Frewell had gone to sleep an hour earlier than her, and he was still asleep. His sword lay comfortably on the vise with the start of outside-carved veins creeping up from the hilt.
Hearing Vivi working, however, made him slowly squint his eyes open. He rose to sit, blinked at Vivi a few times, then said, “Someone’s up early.”
Vivi continued shaping the veins, trying her best to ignore him.
“I can’t believe you’re this serious about crafting nonsense,” he said. “Are you preparing some sort of prank?”
“Say, Frewell, how much ether did your customers bet on you?” Vivi asked.
Frewell lifted his eyebrows. He uncorked one of his beer bottles, then chuckled and said, “I doubt anyone bet anything at all. Swords are selling, mind you, but only the top contenders are gambled on.”
“One of my customers gambled five hundred ether on me,” Vivi said. “He needs me to reach top split.”
“Seriously?” Frewell asked.
Vivi nodded. “I’m not about to craft some garbage sword. I’m going to win. And for that to happen, my sword needs to be good.” That, or I’ll fail and craft nothing at all.
Frewell sat on his seat, watching Vivi as he sipped his beer. He forgot to throw an insult, and for a moment, he actually seemed to study her work. Eventually, he sighed and said, “Sure, girl. Whatever the slum smith says.”
***
The second day, as Vivi had hoped, was a lot more successful than the first. The first attempt was a failure, of course, but more than half of her attempts reached the third ether root. She even had one attempt close enough to finishing that adrenaline started pumping.
That was a good sign. A really good sign. Her consistency was at its peak. She reached the third root more often than ever. If she managed to get even ten attempts to the third root today, her chances of completing a sword were high. She just needed one lucky attempt.
Or so she hoped, until the scorching facets reached their peak, and the endless scraping of every outside-carving runesmith rang in her ears all at once.
The working conditions were truly awful. Vivi usually benefited from heat, but the scorching facets were different. Their heat wasn’t pleasant warmth like the heat of a forge. The facets’ light hit directly on her skin. It felt like she was being attacked. The heat got so bad that Vivi had to head to the canopied bathrooms just to sit in the stall for five minutes to cool down.
The canteen was thankfully located under a nice canopy. The food was surprisingly decent. There were steamed vegetables and seasoned lamb. Vivi enjoyed a big plate of both and drank half a gallon of water before heading back to her scorching hot workstation.
Even after the embarrassingly long break, her attempts reached decently far. She made it to the third ether root twice more, failing on embarrassingly stupid mistakes. She didn’t let the mistakes deter her. Her consistency was fantastic today. Everything was going well. She just needed one solid attempt that made it all the way to the end.
That attempt didn’t seem to be coming. The next attempt failed early on the second set of veins, and the one after that didn’t go anywhere at all. Slowly, the day was turning into night, and Vivi’s consistency fell down the gutters.
Vivi came to the realization that the second day was most likely over. She bit her lip, staring aimlessly at her sack of ether roots, which had shrunk considerably in size. She hadn’t expected to succeed on the second day. Technically, she had reached her goal of improving her consistency.
Well, that’s it for the second day, Vivi thought with a sigh. Put me to sleep again, Lucius. We’ll wake up early tomorrow. The third day is usually still good. We’ll need to complete the sword tomorrow.
Lucius didn’t look as eager as he did yesterday. “Do we really need to craft something so complex? I don’t mean to argue, but I’m fairly certain we’ll win even if you craft a top-notch two-runed sword. We’d do well with a basic three-runed sword. There is no need to create a top-notch three-runed sword.”
It’s not about that… Vivi thought.
“Why not?” Lucius asked. “Do you disagree with me?”
A lesser sword would probably suffice, Vivi thought. But inside-carving is not about crafting just something. The heart of inside carving is perfection. Grandpa chased the peak for as long as he was alive. I’m not about to showcase his method with some trash sword we accepted because I failed to craft something better.
“Even your Grandpa would have made compromises for a timed competition,” Lucius said.
He could have won this competition with his eyes closed, Vivi thought. Her heart started to sting again, thinking about him. He was good. Really good. I’m not joking when I say my swords were jokes compared to his.
“You’re still the best runesmith in this city,” Lucius said. “Easily. Let’s not forget that.”
Vivi hugged her knees, stared at her failed works, then stretched and thought, Well, let’s prove that tomorrow. Place me to sleep, please.
***
Vivi woke up for the third day with the most determination yet. The third day of any marathon, from her experiences, was usually decent. Her consistency remained, though by this point, she made more sloppy mistakes. Nothing that would force her to take a break, but she definitely felt her hands growing tired.
The problem was that the third day was usually the last day before Vivi’s consistency dropped to the gutters. The fourth day was always miserable, only getting worse to the point that Vivi sometimes failed on the first and easiest ether roots. By the fourth days of her runesmithing sprees, Grandpa usually forced her to take a break.
If she couldn’t finish the vein-shaping by today, the third day… Her sword probably wouldn’t make it through.
The thought stressed her out in the back of her mind, but it also pushed her to try her absolute best. She still felt good. She could get this done.
Failures stopped feeling like stepping stones for the next attempts, and more like punches to the gut. She had to succeed. She just had to. This competition was her chance to realize Grandpa’s dream. If she managed to craft an actually good sword—a serious three-runed sword, she could showcase inside-carving to the best runesmiths of the world. Not to mention the ether she’d gain.
She just had to get one lucky attempt through.
And she was failing. Nothing seemed to be working anymore. Her attempts kept failing either during the second set of veins, or very early on during the third. Her consistency slipped. Her clothes were covered in so much sweat Vivi was starting to get uncomfortable. Her fingers ached, and her wrists were begging her to stop. Human bodies just weren’t built to work on intricate projects for as long as she had.
But she kept going. The pains would only get worse from here. She had to succeed.
She started attempt after attempt, working underneath the scorching facets, into the evening and into the cold night. Her eyes started to hurt. And ether roots kept being wasted.
Until her failures culminated into the most miserable failure yet. Vivi was shaping the very first mithril root, when she pressed a little too hard on her crochet hook, and a snap sounded from the ether root.
Vivi tsked, feeling a lump in her throat. She tossed the failure aside in frustration.
Lucius watched her, concerned. Vivi ignored his look. It’s fine, she thought and picked up another root, fitting it to the vise. I can still keep working. Initiate the root, please.
“Vivi,” Lucius suddenly said. Concisely and loudly. “What if we just stop? Just stop doing this and we’ll calm down. Take a break. Right now.”
Vivi blinked, her heart skipping a beat. What do you mean? We need to win this competition. We need to complete a sword.
“No, Vivi, I am not initiating a single more ether root,” Lucius said. “Not before you rest.”
What? Vivi thought. Her voice wavered even though she was speaking in her head. Why? Don’t you want to win? Tomorrow our chances will only worsen.
“Yeah, if you wear yourself out in desperation, of course we’ll fail tomorrow as well,” Lucius said. “We still have more than half of the competition remaining, Vivi. Just take a break. Go to sleep early. Forget today, and start fresh tomorrow.”
Vivi paused. She opened her mouth to argue. Instead, she thought, That… is probably smart.
Lucius nodded. I’m glad you agree. I can’t watch you go on like this. You’re scary when you get overly invested in your work. Let’s head to sleep. I’ll let you fully rest this time. Okay?
Vivi bit her lip. But she couldn’t argue. She collapsed to sleep on her anvil and dreamed of the fourth day.
Comments
Matizu
If she summons her tools from spatial storage, she could. But any successful attempt she makes there wont make it to the real world.
Bob
Can she practice in the sleep space? Thanks for the chapter
Matizu
Let her cook 😂 In my mind, she's not suffering from stage fright at all. Her work is much more precise now compared to what she was crafting in the privacy of her smithy. Adrenaline and nerves come regardless from the fact that a single mistake at the end of a project will ruin all the intricate work placed into that project. But then again, arguing in the comments about what happened in the book is useless after the fact lol. Your feedback has been noted, and I'll see if I can improve this section for the final release.
Quendolayne
Not sure, I like this drawn out phase of stage fright. She has 15 years experience, saw her death in the eyes many times, fought enemies much higher than her, weathered the blight… and then one small, lousy competition turn her in a nerve wreck? Feels, slightly contrived to me. Sorry. Where’s her backbone, her grit, her determination?
