Wizardly Dude
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[TEA] (128) 3.27. The Meaning of Life
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 16:00:10 +0000 UTCAsher stared at the smith as she made her demand, his eyes following her finger to the rusty dagger he held clutched in one hand. Fifty thousand shards for a mithral weapon sounded like an absolute steal to him, based on what he’d heard. He’d turn that over in a heartbeat, without question.
But his first dagger? The blade that he’d used to kill the imps after his life and allowed him to rescue Samantha and Brian?
The decision should have been an obvious one, seeing as the old, rusty iron dagger wasn’t even one he used anymore. It was like turning in an old, banged-up car for a small rebate while purchasing a brand new one. He should say yes and take the deal immediately.
But what if this was the test?
Asher started as he realized the smith’s request might be the true test she gave people who walked into her shop and demanded a weapon. Seeing as she knew he’d purposefully banged his dagger against the wall, she clearly had some ability that let her either view a weapon’s past, or possibly even communicate with weapons, as crazy as that sounded. She also appeared to be made from metal herself. If she could talk to them, she probably viewed them as something akin to people.
Would giving up one of his ‘people’ for a shiny new one constitute failing the smith’s test?
Asher’s eyes flicked back to the smith as he struggled to come to a decision. She merely stood there in the doorway, still as… well, still as a statue, as she waited for him.
“If I agreed to this trade… what would happen to my dagger?” he asked slowly, deciding there was no harm in fishing for details.
“Does it matter?” she asked, raising a metal eyebrow. “It would no longer be your dagger.”
“It matters to me,” he admitted, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his old dagger. The smith must have seen the determined look in his eyes, as she nodded appreciatively.
“I would need to more closely inspect the blade itself. If possible, I will rescue the soul of the weapon and restore it to its former glory. If the blade is too damaged, however, I will give it a proper rest. No weapon should be forced to rust away, acting as a person’s showpiece. They are forged to be used.”
“Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?” Asher couldn’t help but point out, looking around at all the weapons scattered about the shop haphazardly. “No offense, but from what I heard, you barely ever agree to sell any of your weapons. Aren’t they all just lying here, rusting away?”
“None taken,” she said, a thin smile on her face as she nodded respectfully toward him. “I can see how it would look like that to the untrained eye. I have a stasis skill in play on the weapons I forge. Until they find themselves in the hands of their eventual owner, the weapons I create are in something akin to a deep slumber. They could sit here for a thousand years and not accumulate so much as a speck of rust. Better that their time to shine is delayed rather than handing them out to someone who would mistreat them.”
“I guess that makes sense…” Asher hesitated, his eyes going to his dagger once more. Logically, he knew he was being stupid for not having already handed over the dagger immediately. But as much as he wanted to hold onto the dagger for everything it had helped him get through, the smith’s words struck a chord in him as well.
After the old, rusty blade had helped him out so much, it was only fair that he either give it the chance to shine anew or finally let it get put to rest. Regardless of whether or not this was some further test, it felt like the right thing to do.
“Alright,” he said, nodding slowly as he conjured fifty thousand shards and held them out along with his dagger. “I’ll take that deal. But on one condition.”
“Oh?” she asked, looking at him curiously.
“If you can restore the dagger to its former glory, I’d like to be first in line to buy it back from you,” he said, his gaze unwavering as he stared down the iron woman. “I feel as if that’s only fair.”
“Indeed it is,” she smiled, revealing her teeth to be pure iron as well as she took the dagger and shards from him. “Give me just a moment.”
The smith vanished into the back of the shop, and Asher let out a heavy sigh. He hadn’t expected this transaction to be quite so stressful, and he tried to distract himself by checking his new shard total.
Shards: 95,847
Close, but not enough for even a single skill evolution. And with Eternal Mark at lvl 19 and Incorporate at lvl 18, that’s not going to cut it. Not to mention I haven’t even picked up the arrows for Samantha yet, which will probably be another good chunk of shards based on how she acted.
While Asher debated the intelligence of actively hunting down another one of the Guild’s senior assassins before leaving Dormaul, the smith finally returned, walking up to him and holding out a simple sheathed dagger.
“I wasn’t sure if the sheath was necessary after that strange trick you showed me, but a blade needs a proper place to rest. Take a look for yourself.”
Nodding, Asher gently drew the dagger from its sheath and gasped at the gleaming blue blade. His previous mithral dagger had been listed as ‘good’ quality and had shone like moonlight reflecting off a blue lake.
This new blade looked almost ethereal, as though the light itself was capable of phasing through the rare metal. Turning it this way and that, Asher was shocked when his Identify revealed the dagger was quite a step up from ‘good.’
[Mithral Dagger] - Masterwork quality. (Crescent)
“One of my better works, if I’m being honest,” the smith grinned, admiring the blade right beside him.
“What does it mean by ‘Crescent?’” Asher asked, almost afraid to even put the blade back in its regular-looking sheath. He didn’t exactly have the firmest grasp on this world’s economy, but it was obvious at a glance that this blade was worth far more than fifty thousand shards.
“It’s the blade’s name,” the smith said, as though it were obvious. “A weapon such as this deserves a name, and the metal chose one that felt appropriate. Humans tend to give lesser weapons names as they see fit, but a true masterpiece names itself.”
“You say that as though you’re not a human,” Asher finally pointed out as he sheathed the dagger and placed it within his Personal Rift. There was no way in hell he’d keep something like that in his bandolier where something might happen to it. “My apologies if this is rude, but can I ask about your race?”
“What’s rude is the fact that you’re asking about that before even asking my name,” the woman said, chuckling at his wince.
“Sorry… I’m Asher.”
“Helpha,” she nodded, surprising him by taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. Few people in this world were willing to risk shaking hands with strangers when there were so many skills that required touch to activate. She was either incredibly confident in her defenses, or she was just particularly reckless.
Or she wanted to use her own skill on him, he supposed.
“Helpha,” he nodded, letting her hand go after a moment. He did currently have one Eternal Mark in reserve, but he saw no reason to place it on her specifically. “Sorry again for my rudeness… It’s just that I met one other person that wasn’t human back in Whikoga. A ‘craston,’ she called herself.”
“Ah, I’m not surprised. Of all of the elemental-kin, cranstons are probably the most plentiful,” Helpha explained. “A bit fragile, but there are a good number of them.”
“Elemental-kin?” Asher blinked, pretty certain he’d never heard the term before, not even in any of the books he’d read through in the library. “What’s that?”
Helpha gave him another strangely piercing look, her eyes scanning him up and down as if she were deciding whether or not to reveal some deep, dark secret to him.
“What stage are you?” she asked, tapping her chin with a soft, metallic noise of iron on iron. “Honing?”
“Yeah. A bit past halfway,” he admitted.
“Hmph,” she grunted. “I’d get in serious trouble if anyone found out I told you the specifics behind elemental-kin before you were in at least the Stage of Bleed.”
“Oh, sorry for asking then!” Asher said, quickly backpedaling. Anyone capable of making a masterwork mithral blade was definitely someone he wanted to keep as a friend. Especially one willing to sell such a blade to him for practically nothing.
“Keep your blades in their sheathes, I said I’d get in trouble if anyone found out, not that I wouldn’t tell you,” Helpha snorted, rolling her eyes. “I don’t give much of a damn about the truthseekers, and I have a feeling you don’t either. Isn’t that right?”
“We have an… interesting relationship,” Asher admitted, nodding slowly.
“That’s what I figured,” she grinned. “What do you already know about the Stage of Bleed?”
“It’s hit once a person evolves all fifteen skills to the second tier, and then a person’s elements begin to bleed together,” Asher recited, recalling his conversations with both Draken and Gran.
“A bit textbook, but not incorrect,” Helpha grunted. “You’re right, but you didn’t specifically state what happens during the Stage of Bleed.”
“I know a person’s physical form can change a bit, taking on aspects of one of their elements,” Asher recalled, looking pointedly at her. “...Is that what happened to you?”
“No, not quite,” she laughed. “Again, that’s another byproduct of the Stage of Bleed, but it’s not the most important thing. Far more important than a slight change in form is the creation of new skills.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that as well,” he said, curious where she was going with this. “Did two of your elements blend together and grant you a skill that allows you to turn into living iron? Like a new skill from the Iron and Life elements?”
“It’s amusing how close you just came, and yet how far you still remain with that guess,” Helpha chuckled. “Tell me, if not what you just suggested, what else do you think happens when someone with the Life element forms a new skill with another one of their elements?” she asked, causing his eyes to widen in shock as it finally hit him all at once. “Precisely. It doesn’t always turn out that way, but frequently enough, they gain the ability to create life of their own. We call these races elemental-kin.”
“So you’re…”
“The result of Iron and Life elements blending together, yes,” she nodded. “Now, these blends don’t always result in such skills, and even when they do, sometimes the creatures conjured by the new skill are mindless or temporary. But every so often, we are formed. It’s rather obvious to tell when a skill is capable of creating true life, as we are granted an origin element of our own. In our case, our origin element always matches whatever element was blended with Life to create us. So Porcelain in the crastons’ cases, or Iron in mine.”
“That’s insane,” Asher said bluntly, trying to imagine just creating life through the activation of a skill. “Why don’t they tell more people about this? Warn them about this?”
“I don’t make the rules,” Helpha shrugged. “You’d have to ask the High Prince about that. And like I said, it’s infrequent enough to not really be a problem. When you find an elemental-kin, they were almost always made by the same person. For example, all us ferrus were made by the same healing smith two hundred years ago, while the crastons were all made by the same person nearly four hundred. That guy had a strange obsession with fathering new life, and he made a lot of crastons during his time. If they weren’t so fragile, you’d probably see them everywhere. The survivors are all those who found a spot to hunker down in and live out their lives peacefully.”
“This is a lot to take in,” Asher admitted, remembering the series of cracks all along Wilna’s face. “I knew the effects of skills were near limitless, but I never imagined the creation of life itself was even possible.”
“Elements are powerful, dangerous things,” Helpha nodded, hooking her thumbs in her smock. “Anyway, as much fun as our little chat has been, I’ve got a dagger I need to get to work on. As promised, you’re welcome to come back sometime to check up on it.”
“Thank you, I’ll do just that,” he said, deciding then and there to leave his last Eternal Mark on the small shop itself. Seeing as they were about to head out, having a mark in Dormaul wouldn’t be a bad idea in the slightest. Wishing her good luck with the restoration of the rusty dagger, Asher headed off toward Samantha’s position.
The best part of getting his new dagger at such a steal was that now he had more than enough shards for however many arrows Samantha wanted to buy.
Comments
Joe Brennan
Very cool chapter
