Damn, I enjoyed that. Was there anything quite like letting loose and utterly wrecking a few dozen Giger-level monsters?

  Congratulations! Grace has increased from 43 to 48.

  I think not. And seeing the pure glee in Aerion’s eyes, I knew she felt exactly the same. That the soul seed was working overtime on my stats was just icing on the cake.

  “Hey, uh… sorry about that,” I said, scratching my neck. “Earlier, I mean. That was uncalled for.”

  The grin slipped a bit from Aerion’s face. “Yes, it was.”

  “I honestly don’t know why I said that. I guess we all say things we don’t mean when we’re irritated,” I said, laughing awkwardly, hoping Aerion would play it off.

  “Truly?” she asked.

  I froze up. “Uh, what do you mean?”

  “I am asking if you truly didn't mean it,” Aerion said softly, looking away.

  “Of course,” I said. “I mean, who’d like a guy like him?”

  “On the contrary, who wouldn’t wish to be betrothed to a Champion?” Aerion said, frowning. “It would be the honor of a lifetime.”

  “You’re serious…” I said, feeling suddenly hot. “After he treated you like that?”

  “Like what, exactly?” Aerion asked, meeting my stare. “He simply asked for my hand in marriage, and when I rejected him, he swore to win my favor. It was… quite a gallant proposition, all told.”

  I clutched my helmet. A part of me wanted to go off on Aerion about how Eskil didn’t give a damn about her wishes. That people like him did anything to get what they wanted, up to and including things that would get you life in prison back on Earth.

  But we weren’t on Earth, were we? The customs and expectations were different here. And, well… I had to admit Eskil hadn’t exactly forced himself upon her. If anything, it was Passion who had.

  I let out a long breath. “If that’s how you feel, then why didn’t you accept his proposal?”

  Aerion’s back slackened, and her ears drooped, almost like she was disappointed. It lasted just a moment. Then she frowned. “We’d been fighting for our lives not moments earlier! How could I have said yes?”

  I bit my lip, feeling something nasty brewing in my chest. “You’re really considering this?” I asked, knowing full well what that ugly feeling was. Not like this was my first time around the block.

  Shit.

  I glanced at Aerion. Was I jealous? Seriously?

  Once again, Aerion’s expression faltered.

  “Perhaps,” she replied after a moment, her ears drooping. It was almost like she was waiting for me to say something... But the only things I felt like saying at that moment were curses. Certainly not the words I had a feeling she wanted to hear. Those were words I just couldn't say. So instead, I did the only thing that seemed reasonable at the time.

  “Really sorry about that,” I repeated. “Promise it won’t happen again.”

  “Oh… Right,” Aerion replied, eyes downcast. Her ears somehow managed to droop even lower. “We… We should leave soon. But, thank you. For apologizing. I appreciate that. Truly.”

  Aerion wandered off, her previous happiness nowhere in sight. I wanted to say something to cheer her up, but the opportunity had passed.

  I watched her receding back and sighed. I was never great at dealing with situations like these. She’d thanked me though, so at least she wasn’t angry anymore. That was a win in my book, and as much as I wanted to take the time to follow up with her properly, we really needed to get a move on. Before we could, I had to find that damned dart.

  Fearing this exact scenario, I’d only used a single dart in my attacks. Maybe my thought process had been wrong, after all. Maybe I shouldn’t have prioritized pure destructive power. What good was that sort of power if I lost the dang dart after? At least swords were easier to see…

  I recruited Philip and Richard in scouring the meadow for any sign of my dart. My Blessing projected a faint outline around anything I Initialized, making them easier to spot—it’s how I had retrieved all of my [Pet Rocks] after my first real boss fight, back when I’d first arrived on the fifth floor.

  Problem was, that overlay didn’t show me objects through walls, or if they were otherwise covered up. And here on the jungle floor, there was a lot to hide any trace of the dart.

  I was in the middle of searching on my hands and knees when Rogar came up to me.

  “Er, Greg… Got a minute?”

  “Kinda in the middle of something, here Rogar—” I began, then froze.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Sorry, what did you just call me?”

  “Uh, Greg. Right?”

  I gawked. Was my reality turning upside down, or was this actually happening?

  I pinched myself, ignoring Rogar’s confused look. No… This really was happening.

  “Fuck me sideways…”

  “What’s that?” Rogar said, very obviously flustered.

  “You called me by my real name… After all this time. You finally used my real name.”

  Rogar scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, well… By the time I realized yer name was strange, I’d already gotten too used to calling you Grug. Figured it’d be… awkward, to change.”

  I laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Just glad you finally got it right. Anyway, what can I do for you?”

  I asked, straightening up and facing the blacksmith.

  “Actually, it’s more what I can do fer you,” Rogar said, thumbing to a nearby mountain range. Well, nearby for people who traveled as fast as we did, anyway. I figured it was maybe five miles away.

  “Could be wrong,” Rogar said, “but I know that rock. Might be some good ore at the foothills. Might be worth checking out.”

  “Oh. Oh…” I said, a grin slowly forming on my face. “Well, why didn’t you say so earlier? Lead the way! Or, actually, hold up. I still need to find my dart…”

  Searching for that damned dart took many times longer than the actual fight itself, but I did eventually find the thing. It was lodged into a fallen trunk nearby. A large frond covered it, preventing me from sensing it. I only found it by retracing my steps to where I’d shot it, and extrapolating the general area from the direction and trajectory I’d shot it at.

  I really needed to be careful about that in the future. There were several possible solutions—from insta-reclaim to an ability that let me remotely stick Initialized objects in my inventory… Unfortunately, I couldn’t know if either of those were real abilities I would gain in the future, and so, I was stuck with what I had. And that meant I really had to be extra cautious with how and where I spent my ammo.

  I glanced at Aerion as we moved through the forest to the mountains. She seemed to cheer up when I mentioned the plan… As far as I could tell, we were back to normal. For now, anyway.

  The vegetation thinned out as we closed in on the foothills, the damp soil giving way to pebbles and rocks, and eventually boulders we had to jump over.

  That was actually easier than navigating the forest, so we made better time the closer we got.

  “Might try over there,” Rogar said from underneath Aerion’s arm, pointing to a rockfall. I had to give it to the stocky man, he sure had adapted to the undignified method of transportation faster than I would’ve guessed. “Frostsilver likes to hide out among crumbly rock like this. Rockfalls are a good sign.”

  Aerion let the man down, and he began rummaging around the rubble, occasionally picking up stones to inspect. He went around like that for a while as the rest of us watched on, until his actions suddenly got more energetic. Falling to his knees, he dug out some larger rocks.

  “Can I get a hand with this?” he asked, attempting to pull out a small boulder.

  Aerion walked up to the struggling man, reached under the boulder, and with only a bit of effort, turned it over.

  The force caused the rock to tumble the rest of the way down the hill, cracking and breaking until it came to rest in a huge cloud of dust.

  “Er, thanks,” Rogar said, visibly shocked at Aerion’s display. I could understand the feeling. Scrawny elf casually doing what he, with his impressive, stocky build, couldn’t.

  He’d get over it sooner or later… I know I did. These days, it surprised me more when I saw normal people struggling with heavy things. Aerion had completely broken my sense of normalcy in that regard… And to be honest, so did my own strength.

  “Thought so,” Rogar said, staring at the compacted soil the boulder had been sitting on.

  It was only when I took a closer look that I saw what Rogar was talking about. Mixed in with the soil were white specks, almost like kernels of sand.

  “Frostsilver?” I asked.

  “Frostsilver,” Rogar replied with a nod. “It might be the lowliest of exotic metals, but it’s still more durable than the best steel, takes a sharper edge, holds it longer, and synergizes with magic far better. You want to ever incorporate a Soulshard above Uncommon rarity, you’ll need at least this.”

  “I’m sold. Now, how the hell are we supposed to turn these flakes into a usable weapon?”

  “With the forge you brought along. Speaking …”

  “Right,” I said, looking around for a flat spot. There was one just a dozen feet away, so I brought Rogar’s forge out there.

  “Never will understand how you manage to do that,” Rogar muttered, checking the forge over.

  “Relax,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s not damaged. No safer place than with me.”

  “Right. Of course,” Rogar said, eyeing it warily. “Anyhow, this forge doubles as a Bloomery. Philip?”

  “On it,” the warrior said, taking apart sections of the stone base of the forge and rearranging it into a chimney.

  “Now, we’ve got plenty of dirt, but we’ll need some water. I don’t suppose that should be a problem?”

  “Nope,” I said. “We passed plenty of water sources along the way. Why, though? What are you doing?”

  “Mud,” Philip said. “We’ll need to mud up the chimney to seal it. Past that, this Bloomery works much in the same way as the one at Rogar’s smithy. We dump ore, coal, and coke—the other stuff we had you bring along—through the top in alternating layers, and when that all burns down, we get a Bloom at the bottom. Hammer that, and it becomes an ingot.”

  Richard, who’d stood back and spectated until now, whistled. “Incredible, innit? Never would’ve thought you could do so much with so little.”

  “These forges are optimized for Trial and Dungeon purposes,” Philip said. “We’ve had centuries to perfect the art.”

  “Mind you, the goal isn’t to get a high purity weapon here,” Rogar said. “Not with such a makeshift forge, and certainly not with as little time as we’ve got.”

  “Can’t really make a weapon out of Frostsilver, anyway. Too weak,” Philip said. “Need to alloy it with steel.”

  “Right,” Rogar said, nodding. “So we’ll shape the ingot into the roughest of weapons. Just enough for the Trial to consider it a processed good. Then once we’re back at my shop, we’ll melt it back down, hammer out the impurities, and rework it into usable weapons.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I said, scanning the surroundings. “So, I guess we’ll be here a while, then?”

  Rogar shrugged. “Six or eight hours, I reckon.”

  “Works for me,” I replied, already growing excited at the prospect of new, exotic weapons. This was so much better than spending a fortune in a shop.

  I rubbed my palms together. “Let’s get you guys some water.”