Chapter 33: Mule

The timer kept ticking.

They searched nearly the entire hoard, and slowly, the reality settled in like cold water.

Everything was a trap.

Everything.

Either it crippled the body, broke the mind, or made survival impossible in some subtle way. The hall was not a treasure vault. It was a psychological weapon. A test of restraint. A test of greed. A test of how badly someone wanted power even if it came wrapped in rot.

Finally, the timer forced the decision.

“Damn,” John muttered, voice tight. “We’ll have to take something. There’s less than ten minutes left…”

“What are you taking?” Kael asked, watching him carefully.

John’s eyes drifted back, inevitably, to Achilles Leather Armor, like he had been orbiting it since the moment he touched it. “I’ll have to grab the Achilles armor…”

“That’ll kill you,” Kael said bluntly.

“Unless you don’t attack me I should be fine,” John smiled, but it felt more like a warning than reassurance. His eyes held that edge again, the one Kael had been watching for since the day John offered to split a hidden piece in half.

Kael’s gut tightened.

John was already thinking past the trial. Past the exit. Past the moment they would be alone again.

“Yeah,” Kael said slowly, turning away so John would not see the calculation in his face. “I think I’ll grab the rune and this hammer.”

He pointed toward a small hammer.

It looked completely inconspicuous and plain. A forging hammer. The kind of thing you could find in any toolbox. The kind of thing that did not belong in a hall like this, and that alone made John suspicious. In the tower, plain items were often the worst kind of trick, because they made you underestimate them.

John inspected it.

Brokk’s Hammer. (Incomplete set ½)

Tier: Legendary

Increased proficiency in metallurgy and craftsmanship.

Ability to repair any and all weapons.

Description:

A seemingly ordinary blacksmith’s hammer with a faint reddish glow along the handle. Though plain in appearance, it radiates the weight of a master artisan’s legacy. Simply carrying it makes every step feel monumental, as if the hammer demands perfection from its bearer.

[Forbidden]

Madness of Steel: Interferes with other items. Each two minutes the hammer will break one of the items you carry. Upon physical contact with any other item, the said item will immediately disintegrate.

Echo of the Forge: randomly the hammer emits a phantom shockwave of heat and vibration, stunning the carrier briefly (1–2 seconds) and causing minor burns or hand pain.

Auditory Haunting: Whispering echoes of metal striking metal fill the carrier’s mind, reducing concentration-based actions and causes mental distortions.

Time Dilation: The aura of the hammer makes the carrier feel like time drags. Reactions and reflexes slowed by 20%.

Kael stared at the list of penalties and felt his mouth twitch in a humorless way.

A blacksmith’s hammer that punished you for carrying literally anything else. A legendary item that acted like a jealous spouse. It was almost impressive how petty the tower could be.

“What about you?” Kael asked, more to hear John’s tone than to get information.

John’s gaze flicked to the rune again, and his face twisted with irritation. “You should drop the rune. That hammer is good enough.”

“Nah,” Kael said, keeping his voice neutral. “It’s interesting…”

John’s expression sharpened. “I told you man, fucking drop the rune. It’s worthless. If you use it, it’ll just make you unable to use magic, and you can’t even remove that since this isn’t the normal tower. Take something else!”

“Like I said,” Kael replied, letting his eyes meet John’s without blinking, “I find it interesting. Why does it matter to you what I take, man? Aren’t you taking something awesome yourself?”

John opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Ah… yeah,” he said, and the pause in his voice was the pause of a man catching himself mid-slip. “Fine. Do whatever.”

His gaze lingered on Kael, and it was not friendly. It felt disgusted, as if Kael had refused to play the role John had already assigned him.

Kael understood immediately.

John wanted a mule.

He wanted Kael to take the heavy burden, the crippling one, so John could take the armor and still move. Or he wanted Kael to take something that would slow him down enough to make killing him easier later. Either way, John was pissed because Kael was not cooperating.

Kael filed that away quietly.

If John was going to take Achilles armor, then he would not be an issue until the exit. That was where the real problem would begin. Fighting someone with Achilles chest was already suicide without all the [forbidden] nonsense, and with the tower’s twisted modifications, it might still be suicide in a different direction. Either way, Kael did not plan to let John stand behind him for long.

“Fine,” John said, voice suddenly brisk, as if he wanted to cut the tension with action. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed the chest and equipped it.

Almost immediately, Kael watched John’s body react. His face turned pale, fast, like blood had been drained from him. His shoulders stiffened. His jaw clenched. He took a shallow breath, then another, as if the armor was not sitting on him so much as pressing down into him.

“Are you good?” Kael asked, voice steady, eyes scanning for the telltale tremor of panic.

“Y-yeah,” John forced out. His voice came strained. “Shit is heavy as fuck though. Go ahead. I need to adjust to this thing.”

It was clear from his words that he could not afford to have Kael behind him.

He did not want Kael in a position where Kael could decide to do something about him.

“Sure,” Kael said, not arguing, not smiling.

He turned to Brokk’s hammer first, and with a controlled swing, broke the glass.

Then he moved toward the legendary rune box, eyes narrowing slightly as his hand hovered near it, the timer still ticking in the corner like the tower’s patient heartbeat.

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