55 (III)

Volatile

Valor huffed. “I will tell you now, Shiv, that I know only three other people in the world who possess a Unique Skill.”

“And what are they like?”

“Well, one is the greatest idiot I’ve ever met,” Valor answered. Shiv didn’t know what to say about that. “Another is the single most terrifying woman I have ever met. The third is my son.” Shiv turned at Udraal Thann’s mention, but Valor said no more of it. “Regardless, each of them possesses something no one else does. It has changed their nature so much that the way they live in the world, the way they gain other skills, is entirely changed as well.”

“Yeah, well, my Unique Skill also came with a Unique Feat. That’s part of the reason why I level so fast. It’s because I gain levels practically every time I die, to make up for the reasons why I die.”

Adam was slamming his head against the wall. Tran stepped forward, trying to get him to stop.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk about this with him around,” Valor muttered, watching Adam suffer.

“No, I think we should,” Shiv insisted. “I think everyone should know about this right now. It’s important to know. Especially for Adam.”

“I will kill you, Shiv,” Adam ground out. “I will kill you.”

The Young Lord slid down against the wall. His knees hit the ground with a thud. Tran and Heather knelt beside him.

“It’s okay,” Tran said. “It’s okay, he’s on our side. It’s… it’s…”

“He’s a monster,” Adam whined. “He’s a godsdamned monster.”

Valor looked away from the mind-broken Young Lord and continued. “But ultimately, your vitality and your soul are practically the same thing. And that is why you do not die. Because there is no dissipation, there is no separation upon loss and death. You remain together. You probably merely enter a state of drastic instability in which your soul starts burning your vitality to remain in existence. Because you lack a vessel to root you in the world. And after absorbing enough vitality and going over capacity, you use that excess energy to automatically rebuild your last remembered self before death.”

Shiv blinked. “Is that why my non-bound pieces of equipment don’t stay with my Revenant?”

“No. That is because they technically have souls of their own and cannot be so easily reconstructed. That is my theory, anyway.”

“Pieces of Equipment have souls?” Shiv muttered.

“Actually, this is a good lesson right now. What Tier is your bone armor, the one you are wearing right now?”

Shiv blinked. “Uh, it doesn’t have a Tier, but if we’re going by my Adamantine Adaption—”

“‘It does not have a Tier’ is the right answer. It is not awakened. It cannot bear Enchantments. That’s why your bone armor is not true magical equipment. It is simply a piece of clothing, to an extent.”

“Wait, then why don’t I respawn naked?” Shiv asked. He’d been wondering about that for a while.

Valor paused. “I have no idea. Perhaps the System cares about your modesty.”

A weird thought rushed through Shiv’s mind, imagining Uva to be the System all this time. He ignored it as much as he could. “Well, my armor still blocks attacks pretty good,” he muttered.

“Yes, that is true. But what separates true equipment from something that is dead and merely usable is the ability to be enchanted, is the ability for it to be reforged and to grow stronger, potentially even becoming a true, living intelligence.”

Shiv stared at Valor. “Equipment can become intelligent?”

“Yes. Just like any creature can, eventually life can find its way into an object. A soul is what is mainly needed. That is the reason automata have become alive and gained consciousness as well.”

“Huh,” Shiv muttered. “Then, a dagger can become self-aware too?”

“Yes. How do you think I maintained my existence?” The Deathless slowly nodded. When Shiv first found Valor, the Legendary Pathbearer was no more than a dagger that could talk to people. Now he was more—a skull and arm holding a dagger. “And while we are on this topic, I believe it is essential that you find yourself properly equipped, especially with this new weakness discovered. What is your Magical Resistance, Shiv?”

“Uh, none,” Shiv replied.

“You do not have the skill?” Valor sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” Shiv muttered. “I, uh… like magic too much.”

“You didn’t get it even as your mind was torn in half?”

“Well, yeah, I was kind of pissed off that my Psychomancy wasn’t stronger, but, you know, it didn’t make me hate magic. It just made me want more magic.”

Valor let out a sigh. “You… Hm, I see that you’re too well-adjusted. If there was only a way to fan some hate inside of you.”

“Oh, I got another Feat from fusing that Orcish Skill. It lets me use up my rage to supercharge some of my skills. It’s pretty strong and even keeps me mellow.”

“And it makes me angry,” Adam muttered. He was barely even reacting at this point. He just stared at the ground with a lost expression. Tran and Heather were patting him on the back while Siggy just stood awkwardly by their side.

“How did you survive that encounter with the Greater Demon, then?” Valor asked.

“Oh, I got this,” Shiv said, holding up his Magebreaker Gauntlet. “That, uh, turncoat gave it to me. And also, I got the mask. Both helped a lot in keeping me standing and sane during the fight.”

“Ah, very useful. Wait, is that Inertium?” Valor leaned closer. “Ah, it is. I haven’t seen this in approximately four hundred years.”

“Four hundred?” Shiv breathed.

“Yes, it’s been a while since I ventured to the outer dimensions. Most are quite taken with magic, but some have learned to truly fear mana and loathe the System.”

Shiv nodded. “I can’t get Magical Resistance with the gauntlet because—”

“Because it is also technically a magical skill and will trigger the gauntlet’s response.” Valor already knew. Shiv didn’t know why he was surprised. The Legendary Pathbearer had been alive for longer than Shiv had, well, for longer than anything.

Valor was practically the oldest person Shiv knew. Wait, how old is the Composer?

“Regardless, we can work with this,” Valor continued. “We simply need to find a proper set of armor for you first. You can even fuse your bone armor as additional plating on the outside after. After that, we’re going to give you a Vitality Enchantment.”

“Vitality?” Shiv said, and a surge of worry shot through him. “Doesn’t that make Necromancy go off like a bomb?”

“No,” Valor said. “Most vitality is merely diluted by the Withering and expended. Your unique… Vitae—your mixture of soul and vitality—is the dangerous ingredient in the current alchemy. Alas, a good Vitality Shroud will require a Master-Tier Enchantment at the very least. Preferably higher than that. It is my best solution, at least for now.”

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“All right,” Shiv said. “And if that Enchantment dies and I get hit by a Necromancy spell…

“Then you likely explode and kill many, many people.”

“And I really, really want to get out of here now,” Tran said, staring at Shiv. “We’re still too close to the Necromancer’s pit.” His courage was practically dust. Everyone’s courage felt similar to Shiv’s Dread Aura Skill. Even Valor’s was a bit unsteady.

“Alright,” Shiv breathed. “Let’s… let’s get me proper armor, so I don’t turn into a walking mana bomb. Uva’s gonna give me some new clothes too, so why not? I guess we’re doing some shopping.”

***

Shopping for armor proved to be an absolute nightmare. The first problem was availability. Shiv needed something that was at least in the Master-Tier. The most common Master-Tier armor was composed of mithril. Mithril was like glass for Shiv. He tried moving in the armor, and it practically broke off of his body in an instant.

After paying the terrified shopkeeper a hefty sum of money in apology, they moved on to sturdier materials.

“Right. Armor needs to be strong. Strong enough to deal with someone who has both Master-Tier Toughness and Physicality,” Shiv muttered.

Adam shook his head in exasperation.

“Hey, Adam, how attached are you to that armor?” Shiv asked, eyeing his plates.

“I will die before I give this armor to you.”

Shiv laughed.

The next concern was quality—there were quite a few sets of adamantine armor, at least ten Shiv came across. Most people couldn’t even lift the armor with how heavy they were. That wasn’t too much of an issue for Shiv. His problem was, adamantine armor was also nightmarishly hard to build and craft—and, apparently, how well-made a piece of armor was determined its Tier.

“If it is not awakened,” Valor said, “then it is not proper armor. It will be like your bones. You cannot enchant those. And these are… poorly made.” Valor glared at the armorer—who looked like she was about to fall over dead.

“She’s supposed to be a Master Smith,” Shiv replied.

Adam scoffed. “Yes, and I see no reason to doubt her ability based on just this. Does every meal you make come out perfect?”

“Yes?” Shiv said, frowning. “The Chef Unwavering is all about perfection.”

“Well. Most Master craftsmen spend years trying to make one masterpiece armor. It’s practically a major event every time someone crafts a Heroic-Tier armor.”

Heather nodded at this. “Yes. I remember hearing the saying that every time a Heroic-Tier armor is made, a celebrity is born. The capital practically throws a rave for someone who can create something that good.”

“Wait, how did your dad get that Legendary armor?” Shiv asked, looking at Adam. “He’s a Master. You know. Like me.”

The Young Lord scowled at Shiv’s comparison. “My father is a remarkable man. He was defeating and besting Masters while he was still an Adept. A hunter, after all, is rarely larger than their prey. But with precision and mastery, a man can bring down a giant.”

Their hunt went on for a few hours, and by the time the orbs in the sky above started to dim, there were still no worthy candidates. There were adamantine, titanium, and nightglass armors aplenty, all Adept-Tier or below. And there were other armors, Master-Tier, but too fragile, especially for someone with Shiv’s skills. Most tragic of all, there was a Heroic-Tier armor—something made of Moonsteel, the same kind of metal that composed Shiv’s cooking knife. However, it had already been sold long in advance.

“Forty million shards,” Shiv muttered, gawking at the sale price.

“Hmm, doesn’t sound too expensive,” Adam replied.

Shiv stared at Adam. “Doesn’t sound too expensive.”

“It’s not,” Adam said. “Do you have any idea how much someone pays for good armor? Do you have any idea how much more they might pay for a specific Enchantment?”

Shiv kept staring.

The Young Lord shook his head. “You do not?”

Shiv’s stare turned into a glare. “Yeah, and that’s my fault?”

“Financial literacy is a citizen’s personal civic duty,” Adam declared, clasping his arms behind his back and walking past Shiv. “It is not the state’s duty to coddle you.”

“Yeah, well, if it doesn’t come in the form of a Unique or Legendary skill, I wouldn’t know about it,” Shiv spat.

Adam started walking faster and further away from Shiv. Valor simply sighed and shook his head.

Soon after, they found themselves sitting on a bench outside the smith’s district as people came to and fro. There, Valor, Shiv, Adam, and their tag-alongs spent a few moments in respite, considering what to do next.

“This is only one district.” Adam sighed. “We can go seek out all the others. Actually, Shiv, it might be better if you recruit your lady love for this cause. We’re practically running around like a headless chicken. Valor’s been here, but the shops haven’t exactly stayed in place for multiple centuries.”

“Yeah,” Shiv said, rubbing his face. “But I hate this. I’d rather fight the Jealousy again. Hells. Let’s go back to the apartment. I’ll make you guys dinner or something. Oh, sorry, Valor.”

“It is fine,” Valor said, sounding not fine.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Tran mumbled with a full mouth. He and Heather were nursing on Sticky Grub, which was effectively the weavers’ equivalent of ice cream; juicy bugs attached to a dense, edible cocoon web.

Adam and Shiv had tried it earlier as well. The latter thought it was better than the last bug-dish they’d tried, but he still wasn’t quite convinced. Adam, meanwhile, had gotten three for himself and described the sticks as “quite tasty and crunchy.”

“My old man wasn’t much of a Pathbearer,” Tran said. “But if there’s one thing I agree with him, it’s this. It’s worth waiting on good equipment. Settling for bad equipment with terrible composition, poor quality, and a low Tier is just asking to get killed.”

“I’d be plenty happy to wait,” Shiv said, “except I’m going to be raiding a gate soon, and the bastard who runs that gate will likely probably pop me, himself, and maybe a good part of the Abyss if he hits me with the right spell.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to ask the Composer too,” Adam said, yawning slightly. “She might have a better idea on how to arm a Master-Tier Pathbearer.” Then the Young Lord looked at Shiv again, did an exaggerated double take, and held out his hands. “Oh, sorry, Unique-Tier Pathbearer Shiv. We will have to find a very entirely special armor for you. Perhaps in bright pink and the finest gold filigree. We’ll call you Gilded Princess.”

“Is that what you think about, Young Lord? Me in bright pink and gilded armor? What would your fiancée say?”

Adam’s pretend mockery died for a moment, and his expression turned to one of sourness and uncertainty. Shiv grimaced. They hadn’t exactly continued with the topic after his initial retelling of the events inside the gate. “I… Adam… I don’t think she’s a part of this. What Oldsmith said…”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore about most things.” Adam stared off into the distance. “But I will find out.”

“We will find out,” Shiv said.

Adam eyed him a moment, and then he nodded. “Yes, I suppose we will. Me with my precision, and you with your… destructive, barbarous ways.”

Shiv chuckled. “Well, what was that you said? You’re the hunter, I’m the Hawk?”

“Well, you’re not really like a hawk. A hawk is quick and agile in the air, plunging and catching prey in an instant. You’re more like… a rhino.”

“What the hells is a rhino?” Shiv asked.

“It’s an extinct animal. Supposedly it was very big, very strong, and it smashed through everything in its way, uh, until it couldn’t, and then it usually died.”

“Oh,” Shiv said. “So it’d come back stronger and smash through eventually?”

“No, not really.”

“Well, then I don’t think I’m quite like a rhino either.”

Adam laughed.

The group settled into a brief silence. Just then, a psionic wave washed over Shiv, and it carried Uva’s voice with it.

“Shiv,” Uva said. “Shiv. Can you hear me?”

Shiv blinked and sat up. “Uva? Yeah. I can hear you? Why? Are you alright? The Jealousy didn’t come back to life, did it?”

She gave a brief laugh. “No. But this does concern the Jealousy. The Psychomancers at Elaboration and I delved a bit deeper into this creature, and we uncovered something very, very interesting. Something that concerns you and especially Adam.”

Shiv was about to tell Adam what was happening, but the Young Lord just nodded. “I’m here,” Adam said. Shiv blinked. Uva was getting very good at using the Jealousy. “What is the matter?”

“It turns out our Greater Demon was more than just a gate guard, and working for more than one person at a time. While Confriga assumed the Jealousy was just guarding his gate, it seems that the Greater Demon already had a prior contract. Specifically with an individual from the Yellowstone Republic—a certain City Lord Havel Van Stormhalt.”

Shiv and Adam shared a look, and the Young Lord’s head promptly fell into his hands.

“Adam?” Uva asked with a tinge of concern to her voice. “I’m sensing great pain from you? Are you well? Shiv? What’s wrong with him?”

“Just give him a second,” Shiv said, sliding closer to pat the Young Lord on his back. “The man’s got to process some pretty nasty family bullshit—and also start plotting the murder of his to-be father-in-law.”

“System!” Adam roared up at the sky, scaring the nearby smiths.

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