Ultimate Level 1 - Book 6 - Chapter 315

[ Status Check ]

*****

Max Hoste

18-Year-old Human Male

Level 1

Exp 421/1000

Tower Experience:    40.00%

HP:                  21,840/21,840

MP:                  9520/9520

Stamina:         5460/5460

STR:                1038

DEX:                997

CON:                1092

INT:                 952

WIS:                920

Defense of the Dragon           - 20.0%

Defense of the Demon           - 20.0%

Demon Essence:                    - 218

Gold Walkers-                        20% Stat Increase

Merfolk King’s Gift -              75 STR/DEX/CON/INT/WIS - Merfolk Water Attunement

Black Boss Band -                  20% Stat Increase

Ring of Growth -                    10% Stat Increase

Legendary Elemental Staff - 100 INT/WIS 25% Bonus to Elemental Spells

*****

Twisting the staff in his hands, Max couldn’t help but smile as he walked down the street, nodding at everyone who stared at him.

Between these few items… 

Imagine if we could unlock the rest of your equipment.

[Skill Description - Spell Burst ]

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Spell Burst - Rare Skill: Next offensive skill cast will deal twice as much damage. Spell costs 3x as much mana. 1 Day Cooldown.

*****

I’m glad when she hit me with that stone spell it only broke both arms and most of my ribs… Still it’s a nice skill to have.

Yes… For most casters, having to use three times the mana would be a difficult thing. For you… not as much.

Saying nothing, Max continued to listen to the conversations of those he heard around him.

“That’s the one they call Ifrit… strange for a humanoid to be so strong…”

“Surely, he won’t make it soon. Look at the fool. He doesn’t protect his heart with a covering… unless perhaps his heart is actually in his pants where the armor is…”

“Perhaps he would like to try to sire some of our children…”

Coughing, he choked on nothing but his own spit as a pair of mantises had just spoken about him siring their children.

I doubt that would go well for you, but perhaps you could regrow your head.

Yeah… that’s not going to happen…

Eventually, he made it down the maze of streets, knowing where he was headed, and stood before a shop that was different from the rest.

Unlike so many, which had fancy signs that moved or flashed drawing people to them, this one was a simple metal door set between two other storefronts. An image of a bearded dwarf holding a hammer while sitting on an anvil was all that told him this was the shop he wanted.

Who would imagine a dwarf would be here.

Please… those are some of the greatest when it comes to forging weapons, no matter what world you are on.

A bell jingled as he pushed the metal door in, and a shimmering portal washed over him as he stepped through.

Everyone has these small dimensional pockets…

Gone was the small shop's outer appearance; now, a fifty-by-fifty-foot room was present, with a pair of twin dwarven girls talking with two other clients, both covered by the magical cloaks that hid their presence.

Perhaps we should get one… only two more fights before we can afford one.

Or not… that cloak will not hide who you are, just where you are going, and from what you and I both know, no one is going to attack you in the street. There is too much power being traded here. I can feel the flows of this place, and after the last few fights and the power we have gained, realize that this is a trading hub of sorts for lesser beings… or perhaps I should say, those who have outgrown their world but are not able to compete in the system as a whole.

And you still don’t remember what it takes to bridge that gap?

No… it will come, or you will achieve it, and then we both will know. Just remember, not every world is the same. What it takes to leave one world will be different depending on how they are set up. Imagine—

“Excuse me sir, it’s Ifrit, right?”

The sound of a dwarven woman caused Max to focus on the beaming face of a six-foot-tall dwarf. She was about as muscular as most men he had seen, and a scar ran down her uncovered arm. A red beard was twisted in tight braids, tucked under a blackened apron.

Silver eyes studied him as she smiled.

“It is… are you Buwingrid?”

“I am,” she replied, winking at him. “It would appear by how your eyes are as big as a piece of sunfire ore that you were expecting a man.”

Clearing his throat, Max ignored Bob laughing in the background of his mind.

“I might have been led to believe you were one, but that doesn’t bother me at all. My favorite dwarf is a woman, a healer in fact, and her husband is…” Max’s throat locked up as the words he started to speak caught in his throat. “Her husband is my best friend. He is a warrior and from a family of armor and weaponsmiths.”

Laughing loudly, the dwarven woman held out her hand and gave his a firm shake, smiling even more when he didn’t flinch as she squeezed hard.

“So tell me what I can do for you. I must say I have been impressed watching you in the fights. You are skilled in magic, and I can sense your staff has some strong enchantments. Even more, I can tell it is bonded to you.”

Blinking a few times, Max saw her grin as she continued on.

“I’m older than you might expect and have been around a long time. My ability to make the weapons I do has allowed me to gain even more knowledge of what is possible across all the worlds. Now tell me, what is it you are looking for?”

“I need a melee weapon. If possible, I prefer a halberd, but I can use any melee weapon. Right now I’d like to focus on strength, agility, and constitution.”

Buwingrid began to chuckle as she motioned to a worked stone counter at the far end of the main room.

“So you cast spells, hit like a bushamol, and now want a melee weapon? Should I expect your next stop will be an armorer?”

Smiling, Max followed her and shrugged.

“Tokens are my limiting thing right now. While armor is good, I prefer to minimize getting hit, and after facing that last opponent, it became evident that I need to acquire something able to penetrate a hard shell or armor. On a side note, what is a bush… bushomel…”

“Bushamol,” she answered with a wink. “Where I am from, they are about thirty feet high, don’t have a lick of hair on their bodies, and have a fist that is about eight feet wide. When one punches something, they often destroy it completely. Thankfully, they are peaceful unless you manage to piss them off… then they aren’t.”

As she spoke, she pulled a large piece of paper out from under the counter and set it down. From behind her ear, she retrieved a pencil.

“Now tell me, do you have any ideas on how you want this designed? Length wise? Balance wise?”

It was Max’s turn to grin as he held out his hand.

“Seriously?”

He nodded at her, and she sighed, giving him the pencil and watching Max pull the paper closer to him.

Letting his skill take control, Max began sketching out the weapon he had in his mind. After so many different ones over the years, he knew what he liked.

The handle ran from the ground to the tip of his head.

Who knew that I would be content with a weapon so small.

Because you do not fight like most. While a true halberd using warrior wants that added reach, you prefer to get in close, using your body also.

Smiling, Max sketched the head of the weapon, the length of the pointed tip and the size of the hammer on the other side. 

Minutes passed as his mind finished the initial sketch, and then he looked up, seeing an appreciative nod coming from Buwingrid.

“You’re able to enchant as well?”

“What kind of weaponsmith would I be if that wasn’t possible?”

“Elemental essences? Power cores? Life and mana infusements? Runes?”

The dwarf’s head twitched a few times, and even through her red beard a frown formed slightly.

“Why is it I’m about to ask a question I don’t think I want the answer to?”

“Because I’m trying to do this on the down low and would like to potentially have a hand in what you create.”

Buwingrid’s frown grew deeper, and both eyes narrowed.

“You can craft weapons?” she whispered.

“I can. Though I have no doubt your skill is higher than mine.”

“I would hope so!” she exclaimed, quickly checking to see that the pair of visitors with the twins were not paying them attention. “What can you do?”

“As I told the last weaponsmith who let me work in their shop with them, perhaps it is always better if I show you what I can do.”

She frowned, biting her lip as silver eyes studied the man on the other side of the counter.

“You say you have dwarven friends… tell me… what is something special to them?”

“Besides ale, gold, the one they love, family, a fiftieth birthday, protecting—”

“Enough! Okay, it’s evident you either have them or you did some research. Give me a moment to think.”

Max nodded as the weaponsmith stood there.

As she did, he drew the paper closer and began sketching again. This time he did a close-up version of the shaft, drawing runes he knew she would understand for power and strength. Next, he did a rough outline of the weapon head, creating lines and potential runes and other designs he had learned from Romandis. Time passed, and Max could sense Buwingrid leaning close, felt her eyes widen with his Sonar skill. When he finally finished and about twenty minutes had passed, the woman had barely breathed for most of the time he was bent over.

“That… that weapon… you designed that right now in your head…”

“And there are many more. I’m assuming you have access to lots of parts and powerful items, things I can’t come close to acquiring yet, but together… I would be willing to share what I know and in turn learn from you.”

Max watched as she slid a hand between her apron and saw her chin jerk a few times, trying not to smile as he noticed she was tugging on her beard.

“There will be rules,” Buwingrid blurted out as she let go of her braids. “This is my forge, and no one will know you are working here. To do so would tarnish my reputation and potentially cause others to want to get the same kind of treatment. Do you understand?”

Max nodded. 

Letting out a sigh, the dwarf turned and motioned for him to join her.

“Brendalla and Trendalla, I’ll be back. Our newest patron would like to inspect the forge and verify I have the materials needed for his order.”

Both girls glanced up at the same time, their silver eyes gave a quizzical look as they cocked their heads for a second before nodding.

“Let’s go.”

Following the weaponsmith, he moved past crystal-covered cases with weapons on display behind the counter. So many different ones that he recognized and at least two dozen that he didn’t. His mind called out to want to touch them and inspect them.

At the back of the room stood a simple wooden door. It was green, and when Buwingrid touched it, it swung open with a creak, leading to another small shimmering portal.

“Don’t touch anything, or I’ll cut your hands off,” she muttered before going first.

Never touch a dwarf’s beard or their forge… that is what Fowl said.

I’m pretty sure it was to never touch a dwarf’s beard, beer, or forge, but you’re probably right.