Igvild clutched the bloody knife firmly in his hand. As the blood dried it grew sticky and he wanted nothing more than to loosen his grip and wash away the proof of what he had done in one of the many streams he had passed by as he fled any who might be pursuing him. A part of him almost wanted them to catch up to him. To kill him. To end this living hell once and for all.

  They did this to you. They drove you out. Don’t let them win!

  The skin upon his face and head was still raw and touching his now bare skin sent needles of pain flaring across his skin. The mental scars ran far deeper and delivered an agony that threatened to drive the dwarf mad.

  Beardless…they made me a Beardless!

  Igvild Clanless had been found guilty of a crime he had admitted to committing, but the punishment had been the most severe the Dwarfs of Clanhold Starbreaker could impose upon one of their own. They had put him on trial. Naturally, none had spoken in his defense as the Elders couldn’t let someone like him get off on a technicality. Dwarves were a litigious race and were good at finding loopholes in their laws that had existed for a millennia. That he was an Awakened meant nothing, only that they needed to make sure Igvild left the Clanhold and never returned.

  So he was found guilty. His sentence was Exile, but not before they wrapped him in chains and forced a painful potion over his head that wiped every follicle of hair off his head and face. When he finally saw his reflection, heard the laughter of the Clan Goldslakker bully boys, it had been too much. He had activated his skills and killed them all. One of them had been an important Noble’s son.

  Igvild fled the Clanhold and didn’t look back. He was driven by pain, anger, sorrow and a need for revenge. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he had killed the others, but when he came to his senses and looked around he was in unfamiliar territory.

  I don’t know this place? Somewhere lower. Air isn’t as crisp, ground not as frozen.

  Igvild was hungry, but had no food. Finally, he allowed himself a few minutes to stop and drink from a fast moving stream and wash the blood from his hands and knife.

  Rot in Hell, Goldslakkers! I’ll get you for what you’ve done to me! What I did was for the good of the Clanhold!

  “They knew why I did it. They all did,” he whispered harshly. Igvild was certain the Elders knew why he had stolen the Hammer of Thunderbreaker and then tricked Old Grishar into deconstructing it with his skills as a Master Enchanter. The old dwarf Enchanter had always been so wrapped up in his old head that he never once suspected anyone would hand him one of the most important relics of Clanhold Starbreaker to deconstruct.

  Oh, run another Dungeon, did ye? Igvild, if only the Clan had more Awakened like ye! Always sitting on their keisters, acting so high and mighty! They refuse to see that the Mana below the ground is withering away just like it is up on the surface! They can’t see past their own greed!

  Deconstructing a high level item always yielded a powerful Core. The Hammer of Thunderbreaker had been no different and had yielded a Mythic Level Core, as Igvild had suspected it would. As payment for his services, Igvild had given the trusting, old Enchanter all of the remaining crafting components. They were worth a fortune as well and Igvild had suggested Grishar pack up his shop and retire.

  I wonder if he did? Otherwise those Goldslakker bastards might confiscate the lot of what I left him.

  Igvild had then used his skills as an Awakened Infiltrator to sneak into the Temple of the Eye located at the center of the Clanhold’s cavern and approach the Starmetal Keystone. Igvild remembered how weak the Keystone had looked, how drained of power.

  When was the last time anyone bothered to charge it with mana? Idiots! They can’t think to part with any of their precious items! Past glories won’t keep the forges burning! They won’t keep the Purification Engines running to give us clean water! They won’t keep the Rune Gates powered to keep the Goblins out!

  “‘The Eye will provide, Igvild of Clan Silverark. What always has been always shall be for those who trust the stone. The world without dies, but we Dwarves shall endure forever!’”

  Elder Mogrom, you are such a fool!

  The words of his clan’s own Elder had rung hollow to him his whole life. He had seen with his own eyes that the Goblins were testing their defenses more and more. He had been down to the lower levels and seen several of the Purification Engines had already failed and were rusted through.Even the Dwarves of Clan Heartflame, the Forge Masters, had raised the alarm about the magical flames which had burned for longer than any could remember constantly needed to be fed more mana for employing their secret, steel folding techniques.

  It’s all falling apart. Clan Starbreaker is doomed.

  That was what had been going through Igvild’s mind as he laid the Mythic Core atop the Keystone. Igvild was given a prompt.

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  Starmetal Keystone: Master Access Denied to all but Elders!

  Igvild, the Awakened [Infiltator] at location 6.168880, 56.761367 is granted a Temporary Access Status.

  Do you wish to empower [Starmetal Keystone-Class A] currently at [16%] Effectiveness? Yes/No?

  Igvild ran a hand through his long, black beard and glanced over his shoulder. Nobody ever visited this part of the temple anymore. Not enough gold on the walls to gawk at. Still, he knew what he was about to do would come with repercussions and he wondered not for the first time why he even bothered?

  I don’t owe nobody nothin. These shortsighted, arrogant scrouts! I should just take the Core and head topside. Make a fortune selling it to some Human Nob!

  He selected Yes.

  Starmetal Keystone will absorb Core: Mythic Grade! Effectiveness will be raised to [71%]!

  Igvild sighed as the Mythic Core slowly sank into the Keystone, as if melting into it. The Keystone flared and lit the room so brightly that it made Igvild backpedal and pray that nobody came to see what was happening. Then, it was over. The Keystone looked brighter than before and Igvild nodded in satisfaction.

  This may buy us a decade or two. Maybe three if the sods in the Noble Quadrant can be convinced to tone down their mana hungry, monthly celebrations. Ha! As if that’ll happen.

  Igvild crept from the Temple. His abilities were good, but there were still ways in which someone higher level than he might be able to pierce his Stealth. Still, he hoped that he might make it back to his Clanhold in the Crafter’s Quadrant before anyone found the Hammer was missing from the Hall of Champions.

  I wonder if I might actually pull this off! I’m sure I can come up with some alibi if I can make it back into the hold before they start pounding on the door. If only Awakened didn’t have to reveal every little thing they are capable of to the Elders, but there are others they might suspect too.

  Igvild was convinced nobody in the Clanhold had bothered locking their doors before he Awakened. It made him grin.

  For all the good that does. They forget I’m one of those that helps make the bloody locks!

  Igvild kept to the shadows until he made it back to the familiar streets of the Crafter’s Quadrant where he lived near other members of his Crafting Clan. There was a whole squad of Dwarven Patrollers waiting for him.

  ***

  “So, then it was all, ‘How could you destroy such an important piece of our people’s history’, ‘Who do you think you are’, blah blah blah. I left knowing I had saved thousands of lives, but after what they did to me I wished I’d just kept the Core and left them to their fate.”

  I was silent as I digested the incredible story Igvild had just told, but he had left out an important part of it.

  “How did you meet Madame Krait?” I asked. Igvild frowned.

  “I had been wandering around a bit. Not sure how long, to be honest. Took what I needed when I needed it. I was in constant pain. The potion the Elders use to remove all your hair and beard messes with your mind a bit too. Or maybe it was just the shock of it stuck with me for a long time. Regardless, I eventually found myself in Bruhle. The old witch agreed to give me a potion that would eliminate the pain, but my beard was gone forever.”

  “That’s good she was able to help you,” I said softly.

  “Yeah, but when I finally had a handle on my thoughts again I became aware that I had no place in this world anymore. Who am I? I ain’t a Dwarf no more. A Dwarf without a beard or a Clan ain’t a Dwarf. I didn’t really care whether I lived or died. A part of me still doesn’t care much. I just move from place to place, looking for ways to amuse myself while the world dies a slow death.”

  We sat in silence for a bit. It was strange to hear such morbid thoughts from my friend. Did he really not care whether he lived or died? He had fought hard in the Dungeons. I asked him about that.

  “I like shiny new stuff as much as anyone, I suppose. You liked getting that robe, didn’t you? Getting stronger is what drives the Awakened. Maybe someday I’ll get so strong I’ll find a way to get back at those Goldslakker bastards who took my beard!”

  “I’ll help you,” I said suddenly. Igvild snorted, but then it turned into a full throated laugh.

  “Aye, I’ll bet they won’t know what to do if I show up with someone like you in tow. Ha! To see their smirking faces before you melt them off! Haha!”

  I grinned to see my friend’s mood improve over thoughts of violence against his enemies. It had been a sad story he had told me, but I was fixated on a particular part of it.

  “Igvild, can all enchanted items be broken down into components and Cores?” I asked. Igvild stopped laughing and scratched his chin.

  “Strong ones, yeah. One’s with names almost always. You could, for example, take three items of middling enchanted strength to an enchanter. The Enchanter could break those items all down into their base components, including their cores and then reassemble them into a more powerful item. Of course, it depends on if the Enchanter were able to successfully recover all three Cores during the process.”

  “Why is that important?” I sat forward. Enchanted items, like my ring and robe, were fascinating items and I wondered if it was possible to learn how to enchant things myself.

  “Cores can be combined. Say you take those three Cores…” Igvild produced three stones and sat them next to each other on the ground before me. “An Enchanter, a talented Enchanter mind you, could fuse those three Cores into a more powerful Core that could then be used to create an even more powerful enchanted weapon or armor or whatever.”

  “That is amazing! I would love to learn how to do that!”

  “Aye, there is a way to add Cores and enchantments to items one already has too. Getting an upgrade for your robe by adding a Core to it would not be out of the question.”

  “I wonder if Master Blam has any Enchanting books?” I started to say, but Igvild shook his head.

  “If you think Soothe books are rare, Skill books that unlock Blacksmithing, Herbalism or Enchanting skills or recipes are even harder to acquire. Your best bet is to travel to a major city with a few big bags of gold and be prepared to pay an expert a fortune to help you. Awakened with Crafting classes are so rare that they either get snatched up by Kingdoms and pressed into service immediately upon Awakening or they become so rich and famous that they create their own Forged Academies of Crafting and will only Train those who pledge an oath of loyalty to their Awakened “Master” and Crafting Family.”

  “Incredible. I wonder why Booshka Krait lives in a shack in an alley, then? Why isn’t she rich and living in a big palace?”

  “Who would want to learn Alchemy from some creepy, old Beastkin? Besides, I think she prefers her privacy and she is welcome to it.” Igvild growled. He clearly preferred not to talk about her, so I dropped the subject.

  “I suppose the best thing to do now is for me to get ready for the Dungeon. I’m going to practice my new spells tomorrow.” I rolled over on my bedroll and drew the blanket up to my chin. Igvild grunted and went back to his drinking. I think Igvild was hiding how melancholy he was remembering what his people had done to him. To be cast out of one’s society for trying to help them and disfigured on top of it. I suppose I understood his sadness, a little.

  I had meant what I said. I would help my friend, if he asked me. I didn’t want to kill Dwarves, but I didn’t doubt they had been in the wrong for what they did to Igvild. Booshka Krait had given him something to take away his physical pain, but there was another pain he suffered from that would never go away.

  Sleep took me after a few minutes and my dreams were of the obelisk of fire and treasures yet discovered. Getting stronger was what drove Awakened, Igvild had said. It was now what drove me. I realized, even in my dream state, I was being brought over to Igvild’s way of thinking. My time with the Graf was only temporary and the day would come when Igvild and I would leave together and seek adventure elsewhere. We were Awakened. Our paths would lead us into even greater danger and opportunities.

  My Fire swirled about my Mana Core and I felt a surge of warmth. Imbolc’s Flame approved of my thoughts? I would find a Pyromancer Trainer. I would travel to Imbolc’s Monastery and discover its secrets. I would claim the Everburning Gem in the City of Bludgard. This, and much more, I would do.

  And I will never let anyone put a Level Block on me, either. I’ll never let anyone lock me up in a Box ever again!