Aiko is a Dis-asster 04:

Aiko is a Dis-asster 04: 

Reality twisted and turned in a brief moment before they were elsewhere. Artoria stumbled, but was caught by Tamamo as they fell into a room. Azazel was not so lucky and fell flat on his face, ass in the air with an ungainly squawk.  Odin was nowhere to be found. Muninn simply looked around.  

Dark feathers dissipated in the air around them, falling apart like drifting sands to reveal the room around them was a cluttered workshop saturated in bronze and iron. The floor was elaborately carved, while the ceiling was lit by brilliant lanterns that, despite their rustic appearance, lit up the room better than most modern LED lightbulbs. The walls were covered in rack after rack of assorted weapons, items, shelving, and more, while storage bins, tables covered in countless tools, and more lay everywhere in a mildly disorderly manner. In one corner lay a forge with a complex contraption fitted with controls, currently unlit. One ornate door led behind them, while another doorway lay on the opposite end. 

Most of all, however notable in Artoria’s opinion, lay the spartan bed in one corner with a snoring dwarf. Above his bed was a poster of the most scantily clad and muscular dwarven lady Artoria had ever seen.  She was clearly a crafts dwarf given the hammer in her hand, and goggles over her eyes, but the clothing, or lack thereof, was utterly unfitting for any practical work. Then again, given some of the insane outfits heroic spirits sported, maybe it wasn’t so strange. 

“I see he is a Dwarf of Culture,” Tamamo grinned, nodding approvingly at the aesthetics of the room. 

Surprisingly enough, the dwarf did not awaken. If anything, his snores deepened. 

Azazel looked up, and despite his ungainly position, smirked as he got up and dusted himself off. “So, where are we—” 

Muninn hopped onto a table. He opened his beak as if to caw. 

The sound that came out could only be considered a caw in the sense that a nuclear explosion had sound. The sonic, piercing shriek made Artoria wince and cover her ears. 

Tamamo — the poor kitsune — flopped to the ground unconscious and bleeding from her ears. It was that loud. 

Artoria whirled on Munin. “The Hell was that for?” she demanded, her temple throbbing.  She knelt to check on Tamamo, finding a strong pulse. All at once, she was dimly aware of how little she knew of healing. She knew from Artoria’s memories she could level a castle with her fists, and with Rhongomyniad she could achieve a duality of both being an effective WMD and could construct a shining fortress in less than a day, but for the life of her she knew nothing more than first aid to help someone in need. 

This realization was profoundly upsetting. 

She grabbed a cloth from a nearby table and ripped it to dab at the blood leaking out of Tamamo’s ears. 

“Apologies,” Muninn said, his voice deep and even. “The master of this domain would not wake to anything less, and trust me, we have tried lesser options before.” He hopped over to Tamamo. His eye ignited, and in its orb Artoria saw swirling runes and something deeper within. Green light engulfed Tamamo, and the blood flowing from her ears came to a stop. 

“...You know I am still going to bundle you up and throw you down a trash chute at some point, yes? You could have at least warned us,” Artoria said. 

“That would be fair, and I would not resist,” Munin replied.  

“Gah!” Tamamo bounced into the air, half transforming into a fox before shifting back with a strange scrunching sound. “I feel like I just had my brain rearranged by a wall of sound!” 

“This literal bird brain screeched out of nowhere. Knocked you out,” Artoria said. 

“No kidding. Took me by surprise too,” Azazel said. “Now, as I was saying, where are—” 

Groans and moans interrupted him as the sleeping dwarf sat up, blinking at them. “Oi, ye cheeky cunts. I was jus’ gettin’ some shut-eye before the next custo—” he blinked as he looked at Artoria. “Ye might wanna show me yer bound weapon lassie, I think somethin’s mighty wrong with it.” 

Artoria stiffened. “You noticed?” 

“Aye,” he grunted, holding out his hands. “Dependin’ on what it is, I might have ta take it over to the forge before ye end up hurtin’ yourself with it.” 

Muninn popped up.  “I would trust him, Artoria Pendragon. He is Ivaldi, foremast craftsman among the dwarves, father of the makers of Gungnir.” 

“Oi, ye don’t need to slather me cock with yer praises ye dumb bird!” Ivaldi exclaimed, waving him off with a chuckle. “Besides, me boys barely know the qualities of Adamantite versus Scarletite-Orichalcum alloys, and why one might make for a be’er weapon when combined with some runes over the other!”  

Munin let off a long-suffering sigh. 

“Bit late for that, I’m afraid,” Artoria said softly. “Tamamo, could you make another doll? Just in case. I’d rather not cough up blood again.” She didn’t say last time it had hurt so much worse than the first time. She worried what it would be like this time. 

Tamamo sighed, manifesting a series of dolls and plucking out some of Artoria’s hair to infuse into each one. “I would ask you to suck on them instead, but they taste like paper, sooo.” 

“Am I just being ignored?” Azazel asked aloud. 

“Yes,” Muninn said, focusing on the exchange between Tamamo and Artoria. 

Artoria smiled at Tamamo, but that turned into a grimace as she drew on her soul. She held her hand out toward Ivaldi, invoking her spear once more. Odin’s seals remained on them and held, but Artoria couldn’t help but worry about how long that would last given it took all his effort. She held the divine lance out toward Ivaldi while eyeing the dolls with some anxiety. 

“Wot in the Hels is this?” he asked, looking over the spear with a worried glance as he took it over to the forge nearby, the group hot on his tail. “I’m going to need to put a patch on this lassie, I can’ jus’ leave it like this.” 

After a moment he grimaced, placing it on the anvil for a moment while he worked the bellows. “I can understan’ Odin’s work here, and it will serve fine as a base for the patch, but I can tell he was in a hurry.” 

He placed a bar of a gleaming silvery metal into the forge, heating it up as he began to heat up the lance as well. “Grit yer teeth lassie,” he told her. “This is goin’ ta burn.” 

Artoria grimaced, but did as he asked. She took a nearby seat from one of the workstations and planted her hands on her knees while she braced herself for what was going to come. 

The paper doll talismans immediately began to burn at the edges as he heated up and poured the divine metal onto the spear, filling in all the cracks with a material so strong that it looked to be solid even as it was liquified and poured onto the spear. And then he began to hammer, singing a tune as he beat the spear back into shape, a set of runes appearing with each rhythmic swing of his hammer. 

Artoria bit back a scream. Flame licked at her veins, flooded her heart, and yet, she knew it would be infinitely worse if the dolls weren’t there to take damage to her. Tamamo, for her part, watched the deteriorating dolls worriedly. 

Once it was all done, he carved a set of seals along it while it was still hot and poured a special red dust into it, before repeating the process. This continued for some time, each repetition building a layer that slowly seeped into the lance’s mystic metal before he grunted and held it up for inspection. A moment later, he turned to her, lance in hand, and gave her a stern look. 

“Ye can’ use this in battle until we fully repair the tower attached to this lassie,” he told her with a grimace. “And at tha’ point, we’ll need to completely reforge the spear at the same time we rebuild the tower…” 

He sighed. “Keep this hidden away until we can get the shite needed to fix the tower’s core. I can already tell you what would happen, but suffice ta say I’m pre’ey sure you already understand what would go down, even if you were to use it as a fancy walking stick.” 

Artoria nodded gravely. “I understand.” Fortunately, she knew she had other weapons in her arsenal, but she would have to experiment. Memories of them did not equate to familiarity, even if some instinct remained alongside basic knowledge. 

The dwarven man nodded, patting her on the arm as he spoke to her. “It’ll be a long task lassie, getting that repaired,” he mentioned with a small frown. “I’ll need a few things ta reforge it proper, and it’s not like I jus’ have those things lying around tha forge!” 

Artoria drummed her fingers on her side, thinking. Part of her simply wanted to celebrate not coughing up blood as an immediate and worsening problem in her future, but she had a nagging question that simply has to be satisfied. “If I may ask, how do you know this so well? I acknowledge you as a legendary craftsman, but this is rather sudden and yet you were able to do this instantly. I understand Odin divining it near instantly, but...” 

Artoria’s eyes went wide as she realized what she implied. 

“Lassie, I know ye dunno the divine craft as well as ye ought to, but can ye kindly not insult a master craftsman that jus’ repaired a weapon bound to yer soul?” he asked with a shake of his head. 

“I know this may come as a shock to ye, but once ye reach the status of a divine deity of craftsmanship, ye tend to get a few perks with it,” he explained calmly. “One of which includes the ability to analyze and simply know anything related to your craft at a glance.”  

Artoria swallowed around the lump in her throat, mouth suddenly very dry.  “Sorry, I, uh, am very new to this. Way newer than you’d think,” she explained awkwardly.  

Eager to change the subject, she asked, “So, what are we going to need to get to begin fixing the lance? Or...I suppose the Tower is more accurate given this is just a reflection of the Tower’s true form.” 

“Well the first thing I’m going to need is a sample of primordial fire,” he sighed as he looked at them. “After that, I’ll need the pure essence of a pair of opposite concepts. Things so opposed to each other that they cannot exist in the same space without destroying one another.” 

After a moment, he paused. “And then a great sacrifice will need to be made. Something that means something to the world, and once used, will be lost forever.” 

“Something like the power of the Sun and the Moon?” Tamamo asked with a tilt of her head. 

“Nae lassie, something more like Light and the Void itself, or Heat and Coldness,” the dwarf claimed with a small tap against the forge. “Though the latter would be harder to work with.” 

“You said opposing concepts. I assume they aren’t totally destroyed in a typical sense? Otherwise, there wouldn’t be much point just to lose them immediately,” Artoria asked. 

“Are ye daft lassie? The opposing concepts aren’t the ones being sacrificed, so they wouldn’t be lost,” he told her with a raised finger. “Nae, the one that would be lost is whatever it is ye sacrifice. Could be anything really, so long as it has value. All the easy ones were taken already though.” 

“Apologies, I was just trying to wrap my head around how the opposing essences are to be used. The way you phrased it was akin to matter and antimatter, so I was assuming you’d use their volatility to each other to create something new,” Artoria clarified. 

“It’s more that tha energy created from the reaction’ll be used  to fuel the transformation of the metals I put in,” he claimed with a grunt. “Tha metals I already have in abundance.” 

“I see. Thank goodness for that, frankly. Just...ever since I arrived, I have either been in pain or had Rhongomyniad’s worsening condition in the back of my mind like an ongoing itch. It is... is such a relief to not have hanging over me. I can’t state how grateful I am.”  

Artoria very carefully did not break up, saying this even as her voice flooded with emotion. Something new to her life, something made of steel inside her wouldn’t let her, but the words were true. She never asked to be thrown into a new world by a capricious cosmic goddess. Hell, in her old life, she had never been in any serious danger worse than a teenage fist fight, and yet her first second in this world saw her hurled to the earth at meteoric speeds with barely knowledge of what her new body could do or time to adjust for some unholy reason. 

Tamamo brushed up against Artoria with her body, the small fox she had created earlier cuddling and purring at Artoria as she tried her best to comfort the girl. 

And then Ivaldi spoke. “Think nothing of it lassie…” he quietly demanded, “Just being able to work with the spear to repair it — and maybe even make it better — is more than enough thanks for me.”  

Artoria just smiled gratefully at him before turning to the problem at hand. “I suppose now we just need to start formulating a plan. I have no idea on the sacrifice, but we can definitely get started on the primordial fire and the opposing essences. Well, I say that, but I know they are going to be a royal pain, but they sound like something that is a touch more tangible.” Artoria grimaced. She knew something of sacrifice in the sense Ivaldi spoke of, and that was never straightforward or easy. 

“Know that the Allfather is prepared to provide you with what resources he may, but we are disjointed and adjusting to this new realm, and much is needed just to maintain our position and stop scavengers and jackals from swooping in to pillage the nine realms,” Muninn said.   “The warped Jotunn are bad enough and we are still facing periodic raids, even if their initial push seems to be exhausted. Other internal threats are marshalling, even as we move to quiet them. We suspect more lies out there simply waiting for an opportunity, and yet more tremors echo into the world that have yet to reveal themselves.” 

“The first substance you must seek is primordial fire. Once, it burned greatly in the world, but much has been extinguished, exhausted in the creation of fabric of reality as you know it. The greatest source we are aware of would be the lord of the fire giants, Sutr. He was born from its flame. He and it are nearly one and the same. He could certainly provide it, but we caution approaching him.”  

“He is the destined destroyer of Yggrasil in Ragnarok, and takes few visitors, even among his own kind. As you are now, I fear he would burn you long before you could even begin negotiations. His descendants host only echoes of the fire. Some of the older ones, perhaps, could be concentrated to recreate it, but it would be along shot even should you not bring the wrath of all of Muspelheim’s on you.” 

“Well shit,” Tamamo groaned. “Looks like we’ll have to try elsewhere first.” 

“Indeed,” Muninn said. “Fortunately, echoes of it linger in the forgotten corners of the world, and they can be found, even if it would take some effort. What else is there is once more in the Fire Giant’s possession, which we would not advise pursuing if you value your lives. That said, we know they can be found beyond the nine realms but can say little more on the matter given Asgard’s disjointed state since awakening.” 

Behind them all, from his place leaning against the workshop wall, Azazel finally made himself known. 

“I believe this is where I step in. It sounds like you are in dire need of information, and that just happens to be my specialty.” Azazel’s affable mask broke as his gaze bore down on them with a piercing intensity. 

~~~~ 

AN: 

Kitsu: So Artoria did Artoria things while floof sat in a corner and tried to be cute. 

And we have discovered a Dwarf of Culture! How fun! 

Hidden: Woohoo, no more coughing up blood for Artoria! For now, at least.  

Some necessary exposition out of the way and the reveal of an actual quest that Aiko was so unkind as to give our protagonist. The world is still quite fucked, btw, but now there is something of an avenue to do something about it. 

Kitsu: Yus, no more bleeding internally! Tamamo from the Ministry of Truth approves of this message. 

Of course, foxxo be floofing the Arty to cheer her up. Maybe Arty gets a fox fur blanket and scarf sometime? Tammy sheds more than enough for that. 

Anyways, if you like this story, toss cash our way! 

HiddenMaster: I'd also appreciate the support support. Finally stepping into the world of actually posting my works rather than hoarding them like some dragon, so any support, comments, etc., is appreciated. 

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Thanks for reading and stay fluffy! :fox: