[Voidknight Ascension] Chapter 213 - Powerforge

Once Komachi made a [Special Group Commission], they got to work. Gone were the days when they had to spend every hour at maximum efficiency. They had completed the quest that would–for the time being–safeguard the Skyshard from the Maelstrom.

Clearly, the Maelstrom did not appreciate its unwanted attentions being rebuffed, but Sam was confident that they could deal with whatever it threw at them.

In fact, he was starting to like the possibility of drawing the Maelstrom’s ire. Not only fixating its hatred on himself and away from potentially unshielded Skyshards, but the uncontested gains that could be had by having monsters drawn to him.

Sure, it wasn’t exactly the safest thing, but with the dullahans at full strength, and the wall that Bal’daz wanted to build erected, they would have a solid foundation from which they could sortie with the monsters assaulting their home.

Maybe I should talk to Bal’daz about setting up a maze or tunnel system that would allow the monsters to filter into our home, but through chokepoints that we control, Sam thought. With defenses in place that would aid their attacks, they could kill far more monsters, keep their home safe, and rake in the Experience points.

It was clear to him that the monsters had immediately zeroed in on their settlement cores. If they could use them as a lure, they would essentially have a monster farm on their hands.

From time to time, Sam checked the [Seeker Stone] for Raiko’s soul aeder, Haman. They were gradually getting closer and closer.

Sam frowned. Even though his Skyshard was heading in the right direction, he was growing increasingly impatient.

He wanted to find the otter-like pobul before it was too late. He didn’t know how any other Skyshard could survive the Maelstrom’s winds. What chance did that little pobul have on his tiny island?

He didn’t voice his concerns aloud, and instead turned his focus towards completing the [Special Group Commission].

Dullahans needed something Sam hadn’t even attempted making yet: steel. Not just any steel either, he would need [Crystalline Steel] which was why he was back in his smithy, pounding away and sweating bullets while he smelted and forged, grinding every last bit of Experience he could from the materials he had.

Raiko’s strategy was a bit different from his. She focused on creating various alchemical materials that Chompers ate to convert them into the immensely versatile alkahest. So far, the mimic was Sil’mara’s primary source of alkahest, which was one of the ingredients needed to repair the dullahans.

She wasn’t able to craft as fast as Sam, since she took frequent rests to ward off further soul affliction symptoms. Which was basically napping in a newly created hammock beneath a crafting station.

Unable to help himself, he watched Raiko sleep once. She seemed to be having nightmares. He wasn’t going to tell a soul, but it was obvious Chompers was staring at him.

Sure, he was a mimic and all, but Sam could tell. There was no easy way to describe it. He could feel the mimic staring at him. Chompers shuffled closer to Raiko with his dozens of corgi paws.

Sam patted the lid. “Keep an eye on her for me, will you?”

The mimic tilted its lid up and down in a nod.

At the end of the day, the first shipment arrived. There was a lot of commotion at the edge of town. Matt rushed up the stairs and leaned into the doorway. “Your guests have arrived, and they’re making the dullahans and mandys nervous.”

Sam nodded, set down the forging hammer and tongs, and stepped out into the cool, refreshing evening air.

The sun was just beginning to set, but the Maelstrom was shifting and bending the light so that it had an unpleasant green cast to it.

Refusing to come within a hundred feet of the palisade gates, the cinderblood treants shuffled back and forth when Sam arrived. The dullahans and mandragoras stood at the gates, watching and waiting for the creatures to make a mistake.

Sam didn’t blame them. He put a calming hand on the nearest dullahan. “These are friends. They’re not the ones that hurt you.” At least, Sam didn’t think they were.

The cinderbloods were burning treants, monsters that were—for some reason—allied to him. Sam blamed the Archflame and his connection to the primordial fire. That had been a total accident. He was just trying to keep everybody warm. Creating the first fire in the First Layer eventually awarded him the Archflame and all the powers that entailed.

He couldn’t help but wonder if there were other firsts that gave even greater rewards. What about the person who first slew another? Would they have the Mark of Cain? What about the first monster slayer, or any of the other countless firsts that had to exist?

Sometimes I wish we weren’t so secluded here, Sam thought to himself. It could get a bit lonely. He was used to sharing the beaches, the roads, even going to work at the crack of dawn, he was surrounded by other people.

The cinderbloods were living monster trees with molten cores, burning leaves, and cracks of magma coursing between the ashen bark of their trunks.

Earlier that day, Sam had gone out to request something from them, hoping that they would pull through but hardly counting on it. Sam’s knowledge of how to make steel was nascent at best before becoming a Blacksmith.

With his Ascension to Tin, Sam understood a great deal more. While he didn’t have bituminous coal, the cinderblood treants could make something very similar with their unique bodies. Ingesting certain compounds would create a product very similar to coke.

And coke–not the drink, and no, not the drug either–was a necessary ingredient in the creation of steel. Sam could find the rest of what he needed, and use mana to cover any inconsistencies.

Bowing their burning canopies to Sam, the treants backed away and spread their wide, many-limbed arms. There, on the patch of smoldering grass, was a large supply of black lumps streaked through with shiny layers.

Sam put two fingers to his mouth and whistled.

Sir Chompers the Third, Komachi’s dog-like mimic companion, rushed out of their compound on dozens of chunky corgi paws. The creature skidded to a halt beside Sam, looked to Komachi on his shoulder for confirmation–he was Komachi’s pet after all, not Sam’s–and then gobbled up the coke in two bites.

The treants eyed the mimic warily. With its mahogany red tongue and pointed white-picket fence teeth, it looked more cute than imposing, but Sam knew first-hand how deadly the mimic could be.

Without Chompers fighting alongside him, he doubted he would have survived long enough to save the Aker Academy. Though they weren’t as tightly bonded as Komachi and Chompers, they still possessed a deep kinship.

It didn’t hurt that Sam fed Chompers the failed scraps of his blown-apart creations. While a far cry from having a dog beg for scraps at the table, it wasn’t too dissimilar either.

Komachi gingerly hopped down from Sam’s shoulder and landed lightly on top of Chomper’s treasure chest lid. “Home, Sir Chompers!” she cried.

Obedient to a fault, the mimic turned about-face with a scuffling of many paws, and sped off like a rocket back toward the gate and the dullahans keeping guard.

Sam inclined his head to the cinderbloods. “I appreciate your help,” he told them. “If you can make more without too much trouble, I would consider it a personal favor.”

I doubt I’ll have an easy time making steel, and crystalline steel is going to be even harder to make. I could barely make it with brass before, and brass is so much easier to work with than even iron!

The treants shuffled, breaking straight down the middle. Sam’s eyes widened with surprise at the sight.

Another group of cinderblood treants were coming out of the forest, and another behind them. As the first group turned to leave with another bow, the second group arrived and dropped off its load of coke.

Okay, I can work with this, Sam thought.

It took a few more trips, even with Chompers’ prodigious mimic storage capabilities. Apparently, a mimic’s ability to hold valuables was related to its current level and rank.

“He’s just a baby,” Komachi said, explaining it and gently petting his lid with her paw.

“That he is,” Sam said, escorting them back to the workshop and up the stairs to the smithy. His dullahan apprentice was inside, working on his own projects. The creature was strong and capable enough–even with just one arm–that he didn’t need Sam’s guidance anymore.

He could do the simpler recipes that Sam would hardly get much EXP for, providing them both with valuable progress. Sam got the items he needed without wasting his time, and the dullahan got Experience.

No wonder people have apprenticeships, he thought.

Sam collected all the items together, placing them before him, and began. As usual, the Artisan Orb appeared around the items. The glowing sphere of light siphoned what didn’t immediately fit.

With the Archflame’s help, and a steady supply of high-powered coal from the cinderbloods, Sam worked long into the night.

If the cinderbloods respected Sam, they revered the Archflame like a deity. He couldn’t talk to them, at least not in any way that he could tell, but they seemed to understand him well enough.

There were always gifts for the Archflame, high-quality coal and the like that he could burn within it. The Archflame’s home might be at the hearth in the center of their little settlement, but Sam could pull it into the forge when he needed it.

The flames at the center of the settlement died down to a bare flicker as Sam failed and failed again to produce even a single [Steel Ingot].

It wasn’t that he was bad at this–though that didn’t help–it was that the ingredients he was using were more difficult than usual. If he had some high-carbon content ore, some pig iron, he could simplify the process.

The way things worked on Il’dran, however, meant that because he was adding carbon back into the iron, he was over-complicating the recipe.

Its difficulty rose to signify the change.

“Sam,” Lenal said, back from her trip to the Aker Academy. “You should rest.” She came bearing food. Like before, many of his meals were taken in the forge as he worked.

Sometimes Komachi hung out with him, sometimes another person, but they were all busy filling out the commission. Sam didn’t have to work himself to death anymore. There wasn’t a severe threat looming over their collective necks, but he didn’t see the reason to take it slow either.

Blacksmith levels flew by even with all the failures, until finally, nearly at the crack of dawn, he completed his first [Steel Ingot].

“Nearly a full damn day to get a single ingot,” Sam muttered to himself. The dullahan was asleep or meditating in the corner, Sam didn’t know which. They didn’t seem to stay awake forever. Sometimes they seemed to “power down” for a while.

Craft Success!

You create a [Steel Ingot].

You gain additional Blacksmith Experience for attempting a recipe above your level.

You gain substantial Blacksmith Experience for creating a new crafting recipe for the first time.

[Steel Ingot]

(Tier 2 Material) (F-Class) (★★ Unusual)

A smelted ingot of alloyed steel with a considerably good purity rating due to the ingredients and process used in its creation.

Of course, there was nobody there to share in his accomplishment. Komachi was asleep near the forge, where the heat was comforting and warm on her furry golden body. Raiko was sleeping as well in her hammock, holding that otter-like doll.

His heart ached just looking at it. It wasn’t fair that they had been split up while Sam and Komachi got to stay together.

Chompers’ lid was angled back and his wooden tongue lolled out as he snored. It was only then that Sam realized the sound of snoring wasn’t coming from Chompers.

Somebody else was awake.

With his [Steel Ingot] in hand, Sam went down the steps two at a time to find Kai hard at work. He immediately recognized the comically large saw that Sam made for him.

Just a glance was enough for Sam to see that he would need to either create a new (and better) saw for Kai or repair his current tool. Green cracks of light that only Sam could see—signifying durability damage—ran up and down the blade. Several once-sharp teeth were bent out of place.

I don’t think I expected it to get used so much when I first made it.

The man was working like a machine. The Hawaiian would shoulder a great big log, set it on the sawhorse where it was nestled firmly into place, then he began to saw it into planks.

Unlike the rhythmic pounding of Sam’s hammer and the comforting heat of the forge, Kai’s work mimicked the sound of a sleeping giant the size of Ka’ala.

No wonder he initially mistook it for Chompers’ snoring. The sounds were frighteningly similar. Sam only grew curious when the sound became too rhythmic, too similar.

He understood the state of flow that Kai was in, and as much as he wanted to show off his [Steel Ingot], he didn’t want to interrupt the man while he worked.

They hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye (more like never), but they worked well together now. Kai had taken on a Job that he had never expected of him, and had turned out to be a great ally and friend.

Sometimes I wonder if the apocalypse was really all that bad, Sam thought.

Then he remembered the horrible monsters that nearly consumed both his, and Raiko’s worlds. They had beaten them back, but only just.

At least that was over. The Black City was still chasing them, but they seemed to fear the Maelstrom more than they hated Sam for killing Su’met.

As he climbed back up the stairs to the smithy, Sam couldn’t help but smile at that. While gaining Tin Rank still didn’t let him access Su’met’s powers, he was another step closer.

Even better, he was another rank closer to fully unlocking his own Breaker bloodline. That, more than anything, he was looking forward to.

But for now? More steel ingots. He could wait to show off his work when he had a whole heap of them.

After setting the [Steel Ingot] next to his slumbering cat and taking an envious glance at Raiko’s hammock, Sam went back to work. If Kai was working this hard, he would too. A little competition was just what he needed, because the hours slipped away as Sam crafted.

He failed 4 out of every 5 steel ingot attempts, but aside from running dangerously low on iron, he wasn’t too bothered. The Experience flowed like water, and Sam began to see an improvement.

Sure, succeeding 2 out of every 5 wasn’t much better, but it was progress. And that was all he asked of himself.

A single day, and he had gained 5 Blacksmith levels and succeeded in making several [Steel Ingots], but he wasn’t going to rest on his laurels.

Sam went back to work with a fire in his heart.