Chapter 200: A Master of His Craft

Kael’s jaw tightened. He hated admitting flaws in something he built. Not because he was proud, because flaws got you killed in this place.

He still wanted to prove himself, thought that what he created mattered, that it had substance. It was a life-saving item that brought him all the way here. But the words just spoken about the Fist King made him hesitate being proud. After all, someone like the Fist King was unable to progress further. And he was far stronger than Kael ever thought possible, so what right does Kael has to, to be proud?

“I see your point,” Kael said as he raised the gauntlets, “I’ve realized that it has versatility, but it’s lacking in terms of application.”

Andre leaned forward slightly, slightly impressed by the ’humbleness of this climber. Still, his eyes were narrowing like he was looking at a failure he could already predict.

“It’s slow…” Andre said.

“Yes, painfully so, when I need to swap out the runes.” Kael replied.

Kael didn’t say the rest out loud: and if I fumble at the wrong time, I die. He didn’t need to. Andre’s type lived long enough to understand what “slow” meant in a world where everything wanted to eat you.

“Hand it here,” Andre said.

Kael hesitated for a second. After all, he’d be handing over his only weapon. The instinct to clutch it tighter came automatically, like his hands had their own opinions. But he forced himself to move anyway and placed both gauntlets into Andre’s hands.

The dwarf held them with surprising confidence, like weight and metal were languages he spoke in his sleep. He turned them, squinted at seams, ran a thumb along the runic sockets, tugged at the chain with a quiet, displeased sound.

“Tsk… the more I look at it, the more I want t’ smash this abomination to bits,” Andre said.

Kael bit back a retort. The man was insulting the thing that had kept Kael alive, and yet Kael couldn’t fully disagree. He’d built these with desperation first and engineering second.

“But… the idea’s solid. Never seen the like. Never been done. Hell, I doubt it can even be replicated.” He said as he inspected the gloves more.

Kael’s interest sharpened. “How come?”

“System ain’t flagged it yet. And when it does… it’ll likely bind it to ye. No one else’ll use it like you can. Either way,” he looked at Kael, “Ye want to improve this?”

“I sure as hell want to,” Kael replied with enthusiasm. An upgrade to his gauntlet would bring a lot more comfort and certainty to his current life.

Andre nodded once, like that was the only answer worth hearing.

“Better materials won’t fix it. Won’t change how it works, won’t make it faster. It’ll still be slow.”

“I think I might have solved that issue…”

Andre’s eyes narrowed again, this time with actual attention. “How?”

Kael couldn’t explain what a revolver was, so he asked, “You got a pen and paper?”

“When’ve ye ever seen a smith without ’em? Table’s right there, papers and a pen.”

Kael moved to the table, cleared a patch of grime with his sleeve, and grabbed the paper like it was a lifeline.

His pencil strokes came quick, not pretty, but precise. A gauntlet outline first. Then he sketched a cylinder mounted along the forearm, segmented like chambers.

Each segment had a rune slot and a separator, and he indicated a path where rotation would connect one rune at a time while disconnecting the others.

No more fumbling with prying stones mid-combat. No more “hold still while I reconfigure my arm.”

He pushed the paper toward Andre like he was presenting a weapon blueprint.

“I see…” Andre said, “Not enough.” He pushed Kael to the side.

Kael stumbled a half-step, more surprised than offended. “I thought it would be decent.”

“No, it’s decent. But it’s incomplete… and it’ll get ye killed. What if ye need two runes at once from the same cylinder? That setup limits ye, doesn’t it?”

Kael’s brain ran the scenario instantly: two runes needed in the same chain, same timing, same output lane. If the chamber could only connect one at a time, he’d be locking himself into single-rune expressions when his entire advantage was combinations.

“Another cylinder?” Kael asked.

Andre’s expression turned into something like pity, which somehow felt worse than anger.

“Still thinkin’ wrong. Ye didn’t fix the problem, you doubled it. Addin’ another cylinder just makes it worse. What happens when ye need multiple runes across ’em? This way, ye only get one at a time.”

Kael opened and closed his mouth.

He hated that Andre was right. More cylinders meant more bulk, more failure points, more things to jam, more things to break. And the moment you needed two runes active from the same set, you’d be stuck choosing which half of your plan got to exist.

“Ye’ve already got the answer,” Andre said.

“How?” Kael asked.

“That ugly excuse for a belt ye’re wearin’.”

Kael looked down, and the idea immediately clicked.

The belt wasn’t just “a place to store a rune.” It was a mechanism, push to engage, push to eject. On-off. Clean. Fast. Something you could do even while moving, even while panicked, even while bleeding.

Andre never meant the cylinder idea was bad; no, it was proper, it was good, it allowed for multiple runes access with ease. However, this option now allows for much smoother operation. This changed the, ’You will die because it is slow,’ to, ’ You will die if you mess up.’

“That… I can even remove the cylinder option entirely if I have clickable runes.” Kael said.

“Ye could. Or… ye keep both. Up to ye.” Andre shrugged.

Kael stared at the paper again, but now he wasn’t seeing a cylinder. He was seeing function. Chambers wasn’t the real breakthrough; control was. Quick engagement. Quick disengagement. The ability to choose which runes to connect without fighting the material itself.

For the first time since stepping into Andre’s forge, Kael felt something that wasn’t dread or urgency.

It was direction.

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