Unforged

Chapter 12: Determination

Aaric

Aaric had spent every day of the three weeks since his Awakening training and improving with as much efficiency as was possible. Now he was closing in on level 6, which nearly put him at the pace expected of someone with the title he currently wore: {Ice Prodigy}. It felt good to be recognized.

It felt right.

All it had taken was casting [Frost Nova], a tier 2 spell, in tier 1. Of course, that had taken persistence, dozens of worthless wands, and--most importantly--finally watching someone else cast it. His Core did the rest, and everything else clicked into place. His Core had acknowledged his determination and fully aligned with ice, which led to the realization that he would now be able to save even more time since he could duplicate ice spells without needing to learn them. For Aaric, seeing wasn’t just believing, it was mastering.

Core: [Glacial Mirror] Greatly reduced skill selection. Attuned with ice. You can replicate any ice spell within one tier of you that you see performed.

His Core allowed him to focus his efforts elsewhere, like perfecting his daily schedule. He began with meditation, collecting every stray insight from the previous night’s dreams. Then breakfast consisted of protein, mana water, and sometimes a natural treasure--if his father’s buyers had gotten lucky. They had all said that any potential boost to Aaric’s growth, no matter how limited it would be in tier 1, was worth the price, especially once Aaric’s father had agreed.

Natural treasures were rare items that could be absorbed to give a permanent increase in power. They would never give their full effect to lower tiers, but even when diminished, growth was still growth. Even a small increase now would snowball into a larger one later. So while they weren’t cost effective, cost was no object to the Longblooms. Aaric would eat them until his supply was exhausted, even if that only added 1% more mana regeneration. It was a permanent gain.

Two hours of practical study in his personal library preceded the hardest part of the day: picking through his wardrobe to assemble the most effective outfit for what he expected from the training grounds. Unlike his father, efficiency was not Aaric’s only concern. He had to consider color combinations, enhancements, and overall comfort. While sometimes the last was sacrificed for the former, as with the epic mana regeneration bracers commissioned from Marrik Hammerson, lately his midday sessions had been more of a breeze.

Little had changed in his morning scouting reports, and he’d quickly learned how best to handle his prospective challengers. Hardly any of the other tier 1s could touch him. Yet he could not allow himself to slack off, because sparring with other combat-oriented Classes was the most efficient way to grind levels by himself, and he was only a single level off from exploring grander options.

At level 6, he’d get to join the dungeon party his father was selecting for him. Aaric had often wondered why he had to wait so long, especially since there was a genuine beginner dungeon just outside Woodsedge. He suspected it was because his father had booked a more challenging dungeon. In truth, any loot he’d get before level 5 would be inferior to what they’d already bought for him. Thus it was probably a matter of efficiency.

His father loved nothing more than efficiency. At times, Aaric suspected that even extended to his family.

Lord Longbloom viewed the whole world through that lens, and Aaric could hardly blame him. He’d been taught from a young age that the world was transactional, and the Longblooms always came out ahead.

Aaric arrived at the training grounds wearing his matching cerulean tunic and pants. They’d been crafted by the same tailor, who had at least been able to weave in a set bonus that granted a marked increase to mana regeneration. The man’s design had been so bare bones originally that Aaric had nearly refused it. If it was truly going to replace his old level 4 robe, it needed to look the part as well! Appearances mattered, after all, and Aaric would never settle in this regard. He was going to be the best, and look the part. Such was why he had changed over to the straight laced boots; they paired reasonably well with the blues, and he hadn’t really needed movement speed enough to warrant wearing the old, worn shoes. The shoes did not complement his otherwise stellar attire. He returned them in his closet, just in case the situation changed.

At the corner of the training ground, a blur slowly resolved itself into the form of a man. The scout Aaric’s father had hired only a handful of years ago and, in Aaric’s mind, trusted far too much.

Aaric sighed as the scout walked over, no doubt with the morning’s report. “Same as always?” Aaric asked. “Has the fighter kid at least leveled up to 7 yet?”

The ‘fighter kid’ was the last boy to have actually landed a blow on Aaric in a spar. But that was days ago. He hadn’t gotten close to touching Aaric since, so his name wasn’t deemed worth learning.

The reply came in a measured, eerily calm voice from which Aaric could never gleam any insight: “No sir, though there has been a new arrival today.”

Aaric waited for more, but the scout never offered information freely, giving it only once Aaric asked for it. Aaric had long since learned to push down that annoyance.

“Who is it, and why are they worth mentioning?”

The scout began leading him toward the rear arenas. “Tristan Hammerson, the son of Marrik Hammerson, the blacksmith. And because he has no combat Class, yet he is doing quite well this morning.”

Aaric lifted an eyebrow and touched the cool metal bands at his wrists in recognition. “How?”

“You may see for yourself if you desire, sir. He’s still engaged with Flor.”

“Fine. Show me.”

The scout inclined his head slightly and led Aaric toward where a young but physically-impressive-looking boy seemed to be holding his own against the willowy, green-haired girl that Aaric knew was extremely proficient for her level.

Aaric held out his hand toward the scout and immediately received the [Monocle of Identify].

“I thought he Awakened well after me. How is he already level 4? And he’s doing well against a level 6... Is she taking it easy on him?” Aaric squinted his eyes, failing to hold the boy’s sword in frame long enough for [Identify] to register it.

“He Awakened 7 days after you, and I have not seen Flor hold anything back yet. This is their third spar, with the young Hammerson winning both priors.”

“How?” Aaric repeated, walking even closer.

Just then, the Hammerson boy deflected her [Fire Bolt] with his shield, which opened her up for a big hit from a mottled, rusted-looking sword.

From across the field, Aaric heard Flor say, “Your determination... somehow, it’s even greater than mine!” She bowed fully, showing the same respect she usually gave Aaric, making the frost mage bristle. “I concede. I don’t think I can do anything about that shield currently.”

Aaric cringed. I would never admit such weakness aloud. But now he was curious. He wanted to test the boy for himself. “What is his class?”

“Blacksmith, sir, like his father.”

He’s handling Flor as if she were freshly Awakened. It didn’t make any sense. Still, the boy was new to the training grounds. Aaric needed to know just how far above this noncombatant he stood.

The Hammerson boy smiled back at Flor and somehow said something even dumber: “I’m definitely determined. And I enjoyed the fights. Thanks for the practice.”

They separated, with Flor looking around for someone else to spar. Though, once she spotted Aaric, she moved quickly in a different direction.

Such was to be expected by now, as Aaric had been beating Flor, and all the other challengers, for days. Her leaving at least allowed him a good look at her opponent, who was finally still enough for the monocle to [Identify] his full equipment. Nearly everything the Hammerson boy was basic: a [Workman’s Shirt (Basic), [Workman’s Pants (Basic)], and [Workman’s shoes (Basic)]. Not a single piece registered as real gear. His sword was literally a [Repaired Rusted Sword]!

This doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense! How could a blacksmith be winning against actual combat classes?

The Hammerson boy turned, apparently finally noticing Aaric, and seemed conflicted about calling out to him. But as Aaric drew nearer, the boy hesitated before asking, “Oh, hey Aaric... You didn’t want to spar too, did you?”

Aaric’s smile came easily as he tapped his chin feigning consideration. Really, he was just waiting for the monocle to finally [Identify] the shield.

[Heartmending Shield (uncommon)]: [Rejuvenation], Soulbound

A shield forged by a fledgling blacksmith pushing beyond the limits of his abilities.

Uncommon is impressive. He examined the [Rejuvenation] property out of curiosity.

[Rejuvenation] Recover a fair amount of health every other second.

It seemed standard for something of higher rarity. He just didn’t love that the potency of its self-healing was so vague. What exactly is ‘a fair amount’ in terms of health? It could dramatically change his estimation of the item, which he found more than a bit irksome.

Then he paused. Aaric went to his party interface, where he’d already relabeled the man simply as ‘Scout,’ because he hated the bloody question marks that showed he didn’t know the man’s real name.

Aaric: What is the Soulbound property on his shield?

Scout: I’ve never heard of it before, sir.

Aaric didn’t allow his displeasure to show. What’s the point of having a tier 4 scout then?

They were now just across the squared arena from the Hammerson boy, who was clearly still awaiting a response. “Sure,” Aaric said. “If you can beat Flor so handily, you might even be able to give me a bit of a workout. Though I should warn you, I’m a frost mage.”

The boy shrugged. “So I’ve heard. Also, you know, your title. Seems impressive.”

“It is, isn’t it? Shall we establish ground rules?”

The Hammerson boy rolled his shoudlers. “I’ve just been doing standard spars this morning. First to surrender or zero-out loses. No lethal damage, obviously.”

“Acceptable,” Aaric said. “I’ve always won with the standard rules as easily as with any others. Good luck and all that.” He handed the monocle back to the scout, who vanished before finishing his first step.

The Hammerson boy rolled his eyes, then rolled his shoulders as he raised his shield and tapped it just hard enough with his rust-colored sword to create a resonating sound. “Guess we’ll see.”

And then he charged.

The opening minutes were spent with Aaric testing the Hammerson boy. Every few steps he’d shoot a quick [Frost Bolt] to check his reflexes and overall defenses. Of course, it also built up chill on his target, slowing him down.

Yet... his attacks didn’t seem to be as effective as normal.

First of all, the shield absorbed or deflected far more of his spells than Aaric had expected. Secondly, even when Aaric was sure he’d pushed damage through, it didn’t seem to discomfort the Hammerson boy in the slightest. Sure, it slowed him substantially, allowing Aaric to easily keep his range, but the boy was literally shrugging off the damage.

A crowd had begun to gather. Not feeling any pressure from the Hammerson boy, Aaric took a moment to see if anyone of consequence was there. Flor had drifted back across the way, as if to be in the Hammerson boy’s corner. She normally wouldn’t have mattered, except that she had apparently brought two level 9s with her. How had she convinced them to stop their sparring, and why were they spending more time watching the Hammerson boy than Aaric?

I need to put on a better show.

With each [Frost Bolt] fired, Aaric ensured that the Hammerson boy wasn’t able to get close enough to even consider landing a blow. The rust-colored sword was always held at the ready, but it never so much as swung. Aaric actually approved. The boy is nowhere near me, but he keeps his sword readied just in case the situation changes. There’s no chance I’ll let that happen, but maybe he’s not as dim as I thought.

Aaric kept applying more and more chill, until eventually the Hammerson boy’s feet were frozen in place.

It’s time for the big finale.

Aaric quickly positioned himself directly behind the frozen boy, where the shield couldn’t reach or block the incoming barrage. He knew that while frozen, the boy would also take increased damage from the next hit. Aaric wanted to make it count.

He had practiced his spells enough to know their strengths and weaknesses. [Frost Bolt] was amazing control, easily countering speedy opponents, but it was slow to cast. [Frost Nova] was a top tier emergency defense, but its cooldown, range requirement, and mana cost were prohibitive. With his opponent totally frozen, mobility and speed weren’t a concern. And since a crowd had gathered, Aaric wanted to provide a bit of a spectacle. That meant he used his newest spell: [Ice Barrage]. It did the most damage--if all of the smaller bolts connected--which made its higher mana cost worthwhile in moments like these.

But he didn’t just cast it once.

Aaric’s lip curled as his hands glowed powdery blue, and he unleashed his [Ice Barrage] Barrage!

From the tips of his fingers, dozens of tiny frozen shards blasted into the Hammerson boy. Ice and frost began to cover him, spreading outward from the impact point, which Aaric kept tight and precise. While each individual shard might be weak, their overwhelming number added up. This was also why he chain cast the spell three times: if his so-called [Ice Barrage] Barrage fully connected, it was death by a thousand cuts. That the later casts also often started restacking the chill debuff only added to its impressiveness.

Yet as Aaric’s fingers started the second cast, he could already see the cloud of rime fading around the Hammerson boy.

In fact, the boy had been able to move his feet enough after the first hit that the second set of shards didn’t fully connect. Then up came his shield just as the third cast began to strike! The final [Ice Barrage] was almost entirely blocked. Even though the chill effect clearly still hit, coating the boy’s basic garments with frost again, the Hammerson boy showed no sign that any of it had hurt him!

For the first time, Aaric began to worry he might not be able to outlast this opponent. He might not win. While previously inconceivable, he now had to consider that he might not be able to outpace the shield’s healing. But I have to win. How do I win?

Looking at the mostly-impressed surrounding crowd, he had an idea and began hiding his concerns behind his casual public facade. “Are you going to just stand there all day? If I wanted a practice dummy, I’d be using one of the wooden ones.”

In apparent defiance, the Hammerson boy was able to take two slow steps toward him.

Aaric affected a yawn to mask pulling up his own Status. What he saw was troublesome: his mana pool was well under half capacity. He’d known [Ice Barrage] had a high mana cost, and he’d just chained three of them. But that had always ended whatever fight he’d been in. He’d never needed an ‘after’ plan before. Stay cool, he thought. You’re still in control. Think through this. He couldn’t allow any concern to show. He was Aaric Longbloom, {Ice Prodigy}.

He resumed kiting his opponent as he launched [Frost Bolt] three more times. Each cast paired quickly with a step back, compensating for the fact that the Hammerson boy was still coming forward.

“Stubbornness won’t win you this battle,” Aaric said aloud. “I could keep doing this all day.” Luckily that lie elicited a few laughs from the gathered crowd--notably from one of the level 9s--so Aaric’s smile was only half forced.

The Hammerson boy merely tapped his sword against his shield again, which rang out with a piercing clarity.

“I tried to warn you,” Aaric said mockingly. “Now you’re going to have a bad time.”

Shortly thereafter, Aaric completed another full freeze by landing a perfect, max-ranged [Frost Nova]. He contemplated sneaking a potion to pull out all the stops and truly blast the Hammerson boy once again.

But what if someone notices? This is the blacksmith boy, for crying out loud. I can’t risk it.

Instead, he decided upon his efficient combo one more time. It was all he could afford without totally emptying his mana pool.

Besides, there’s no way a level 4 can take that much damage and still be fine!

Yet once the final spell was cast and the surrounding ice-splosions had settled, two things were quickly obvious to Aaric. First, he was utterly spent; and second, the Hammerson boy, while cold, was otherwise unbothered.

“Well, I’m bored,” Aaric said, trying to hide his abject horror while starting to walk away. “Next time you want a lesson in ice, ask someone else. Assuming you thaw before spring.”

Most of the crowd began to cheer and clap as they parted for Aaric, who walked away with a very controlled wave. They had no idea how close he was to genuinely losing. No, not losing--just not winning. Aaric had only run out of mana. He didn’t take a hit. He didn’t even take damage. He didn’t bother looking back as he left the training grounds. He didn’t want to see that boy again.

At the edge of the training ground, where no one else could see or hear, the scout appeared at his side. “I assume that didn’t go as you expected,” he said, barely hiding his amusement.

Aaric didn’t even dignify it with a response.

- - - - -

Tristan

Tristan could only stare as Aaric walked away, and not just because he was frozen. Does he... actually think he won? Based on the cheers of the crowd, he might.

But in spite of that, Tristan couldn’t contain his smile as he again tapped his shield with his sword.

He still loved hearing the sweet ringing sound of things hitting the uncommon metal. It was as beautiful now as it had been in the forge when he'd finished it. And that had been punctuated brilliantly, too, with an amazing achievement.

You have gained the Born Blacksmith Achievement!

You have crafted three blacksmith items before possessing the associated crafting skills, tempering your ambition and determination.

Reward: Greatly increase the chance of successfully crafting blacksmith items for which you do not possess the skill.

All the materials and time he’d sunk into his shield-crafting marathon were worth it, and he had indeed been ambitious. He’d known when he started, that [Craft Shield] was a higher level skill that all blacksmiths would eventually earn, but he had wanted to challenge himself. To craft shields without having the skill made him better--and in more ways than just the levels he’d earned. He was truly mastering his craft. The [Heartmender’s Shield] felt like his Path agreeing and rewarding his ambition. It had shocked him when he’d crafted something uncommon, and all morning he’d been learning how big the jump in power truly was.

But that final spar had been eye opening. Tristan had just held his own against Aaric, even if the {Ice Prodigy} would never admit it publicly.

Tristan had known it would be difficult for him. Aaric was a frost mage, and Tristan was still just a blacksmith, with no combat skills to speak of. His latest Class feature hadn’t been very helpful (at least in this situation) either. The passive [Heat & Fire Resistance] was great, especially as it had finally gotten Tristan to reorganize his skills on his Status display. But worthless against someone specializing in cold and ice.

There had even been a moment, at the start of the fight, when Tristan had felt genuine fear crawling up his back. The chill from those opening spells had sunk all the way to Tristan’s bones. He had no way of fighting without moving. But somehow that helplessness had helped him. He’d let go of the fear, choosing to see an opportunity instead. He’d decided to test his new shield’s limits by not breaking free as quickly as he could. He was curious, after all, just how good his new Rejuvenation would be. And it clearly was far, far better than he’d ever imagined.

I never even went below half health.

When Flor came over and tried to console him, he just shrugged. “I’ll get him eventually,” he said with a smile. A statement he knew was true.

“That’s a great attitude! There was that one time I thought you might even hit him. Not that anyone has lately. He’s just too good with all those ice spells.”

Tristan paused, recognizing something. “He does only use one school of magic, doesn’t he? It would be a lot easier if I crafted some gear to resist cold.” His thoughts immediately cascaded into near-endless possibilities.

“Absolutely!” Flor said, patting his back. “You should be proud of your performance, especially as a blacksmith! Keep grinding, and I have no doubt you’ll go far.”

Tristan thanked her, ignoring idle comments from the crowd, and began hurrying home. With each step, his smile grew. Thanks to Flor, he’d just had several very interesting ideas.

Once again, he needed to get to the forge.