The facets were dim by the time Vivi returned to Shivenar. Construction was still ongoing around her smithy, the street lit by a bright spear of light cast by a large ethereal lamp atop the Runes and Rain building. The buildings behind the rows of scaffolds were slowly resembling livable businesses.

Is this really what the city should be spending its ether on? Vivi thought. To improve the Lowmoor district?

“It’s not like these guys can fight,” Lucius said. “They’re construction workers.”

Vivi sighed. She supposed that was correct. But to see the richness in the city still felt wrong after witnessing the storm just hours ago. Shivenar’s safety revolved around the few elite members who were strong enough to tackle storms. Just being maxed out was barely enough.

What if a storm brews under the city? Vivi thought. Is that possible?

“Wouldn’t be the first time that happens,” Lucius said. “At least one town or city usually gets destroyed each storm season that way.”

Fantastic…

“Nevermind that. What about the skill? Ythar’s encyclopedia says it’s called Nature’s Slingshot. I think it’s a spellcaster’s skill. I think we should sell it.”

Sure, let’s donate it to someone who will make use of it, Vivi thought. She opened the door to her smithy. The door chime clinked, and someone inside lifted their head.

Her smithy wasn’t empty. An old man was pillaging through Vivi’s sack of ether roots.

“Grandpa?” Vivi asked, raising her eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

Grandpa, sitting on Vivi’s anvil, lifted his head. He said nothing, but merely watched her as if he was gazing at some colorful garden.

“Grandpa?” Vivi asked.

“You really do look like a Princess, Viv,” he said.

Vivi’s lip formed a line. She glanced in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. Fighting and sand particles had ruined the wavy streaks. Now her hair stuck together, as if she’d been smithing for hours straight. The smudged makeup made her face look tired. The dress itself, though miraculously still without rips, had particles sticking to its black surface. The moonweaver’s silk was resistant to smudges with a coating of ether, but the more stubborn stains still stayed.

I look disheveled if anything, Vivi thought. How was it now that Grandpa thought she looked pretty?

Regardless, she said, “It’s a swordmaiden’s dress. It conducts ether. All ether hunters wear one to protect themselves. Good ones, at least.”

“I see. Does it have runes?” Grandpa asked.

“No,” Vivi said. “The material itself is just… I’m not sure exactly how it works, honestly.”

“Right.” Grandpa placed down the sack of ether roots, sat on Vivi’s anvil, and faced her from below with his back arched, hands on his thighs. “You’re a hunter now. Were you… on a hunt today? Fighting monsters?”

“Something like that,” Vivi said. “I was mostly watching, though.”

A slight smile crept on his cheeks. “Do they feel good?”

“What?” Vivi asked.

“Runeswords,” Grandpa said. “You’ve been testing, swinging, killing monsters with them. Are our swords actually any good?”

“The swords feel amazing, obviously,” Vivi said. “They’re just as adept at killing monsters as you always thought.”

Grandpa studied her expression. “You don’t look all that amazed.”

Vivi blinked, realizing her fingers were pinching the hem of her dress, and she was avoiding eye-contact. “I’m alright,” she said. “It’s just… Lucas got hurt today. I don’t know if he’ll live.”

“Ah, the manager guy,” Grandpa said. His smile fell. Lucas was Grandpa’s manager now as well. Losing him would be a problem for their businesses. “Was he your friend?”

The author’s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Vivi nodded. “Storm season is serious. Three days from now, two more storms are going to hit. And honestly, it looks like Shivenar isn’t prepared to deal with them. Their weapons are… not good enough.”

“Their weapons are outside-carved, is what you’re saying,” Grandpa said.

“Yes,” Vivi said. “It might be up to us to help the city survive the storm season. I will start building missiles for ballistas today. That should be possible with inside-carving.”

Grandpa nodded. “Should be possible. Although, it depends on the specifications of the ballistas being used.”

“You should get to work as well,” Vivi said. “Shivenar needs all the help they can get. We need hard-hitting weapons to deal with golems and colossi. Something explosive wouldn’t hurt. Coshi can probably deal with agile monsters using Blossom and its swiftness runes.”

“And defences?” Grandpa asked. “What about monsters that hit back with power?”

Vivi paused. She hadn’t thought of that. So far, most monsters she’d fought were either agile or bulky. But what if she encountered a monster that hit back with both agility and power? Or a monster that could throw bombards back to their ballistas?

“Those kinds of monsters exist, by the way,” Lucius said. “They’re considered surge hazards. So far, Coshi has done a good job avoiding letting them spawn. Ether sticks exist for a reason.”

Gods, Vivi thought. We’ll have to build shields as well, won’t we?

“Eh, if a bombard like that spawns, it’s best to just kill it before it can cause damage. Defending against them is largely impossible.”

“For now,” Vivi said, “we should focus on adding offensive power. Shivenar needs ballistic missiles, and we probably need stronger monster slayer swords. Could you do the latter?”

“I suppose I will do just that,” Grandpa said, nodding to himself.

Vivi watched him for a moment, then asked, “And what were you doing with my sack of ether roots?”

Hearing that, Grandpa turned back to the sack and looked inside. “I came to borrow some. That Lucas demon only offered me the most expensive roots. Adamantite, locium, every goddamn high-tier mithril in existence. I asked for cheaper roots, and the fucker brought me red mithril, palladium, all sorts of bankruptcy. I’m looking for iron roots, white obsidian, the cheap shit.”

Seeing Vivi’s sack, Grandpa didn’t exactly look overjoyed. “Where the hell are the cheap roots, Vivi? Why do you have so many adamantite roots?”

“I’m a millionaire,” Vivi said. “I haven’t worked with iron roots in weeks.”

“So,” Grandpa asked, baffled, “you just spend an adamantite root for every one of your attempts? Even if they fail?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting… I guess a six-runed sword could be fun with a full row of rare mithril roots.”

“We need a lot of power quickly,” Vivi said. “You won’t have time for six-runed attempts. Please just work on five-runed swords.”

Grandpa looked thoughtful. Something about the expression bothered Vivi. It was the same look Grandpa had when he ordered a hundred of the cheapest ether roots back home, knowing full well that he’d be wasting all of them on failed attempts.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Grandpa eventually said. He stood, stretched, then said, “I’ll stay in my smithy for a while now. Don’t bother me unless you have to.”

“You’re getting to work?” Vivi asked.

“I am always at work,” Grandpa said. He buttoned up his raincoat and headed for the door. “Good luck, Vivi. Let us both work hard.”

The smithy fell silent again. Vivi stood still, watching the door.

She sighed. Why do I feel worried about this old man?

“He seemed fine to me,” Lucius said. “Surprisingly nimble, considering his age and the coma.”

Yeah, that’s good, Vivi thought. But how do I put it… He’s still stubborn.

Lucius tilted his head, confused.

I guess we can only wait and see what he crafts up, Vivi thought. Hopefully he’s done before the next storms hit.

She quickly washed her face, and headed to bed, spending another night playing around with ether in Paradise.

In the morning, she got dressed and heated up her porridge, and not much else when the next interruption arrived at her doors. Four consecutive knocks. Vivi quickly buttoned her raincoat and opened the door.

Senith’s smile greeted her. “Hey, Vivi.”

Behind her were two nicely dressed men. Far from nobles ready for balls, but their coats would allow them to the higher levels. One of them had the callused and bruised hands of a carpenter. The second wore spectacles and carried a stack of papers.

“Hello,” Vivi said to Senith. “These are?”

“The Luminary’s head ballista designer and operator,” Senith said. “I was told they had an appointment with you.”

The carpenter-looking fellow bowed ever so slightly. “Patryn. The head operator of Shivenar’s ballistas. It’s an honor to be here.”

The spectacled man followed suit. “Freyven. The head designer. Honored.”

Vivi realized she recognized Patryn. He had been present at the storm zone, having sat in the aiming seat of one of the ballistas. He was one of the many who nearly died in a vampyr attack.

She hadn’t seen Freyven, though. His face was tired beneath the spectacles. He wasn’t disheveled or dirty by any means. Vivi actually thought his hair looked quite nice. His attitude as he studied Vivi, however, wasn’t the most pleasant.

“I’ve been told that my ballistas are not exactly on par with expectations,” Freyven said, sounding unenthusiastic. “They’re crap, essentially, according to the Luminary. And that they need to be improved. We’re here on behalf of that. Is someone called Vivian here?”

“Frey,” Patryn said, eyes snapping to his friend. His face was that of someone concerned for their job. “You really don’t know who you’re talking to. This is her. Vivian Runeblessed. She’s the one who felled the golem. In two hits.”

Freyven blinked, and realization replaced the tiredness on his face. “Oh, my apologies.” He bowed again, now speaking a little louder. “Hard to know who’s what when ether is involved. Forgive me.”

Vivi smiled and said, “Don’t fret it. The Luminary was right about the ballistas. They need work. Especially the missiles. Come in. Let’s see if inside-carving can help us.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep