Kintu followed her gaze and spotted the blacksmith slumping over a table, an empty tankard in his hand. The man was small, even by dwarf standards, his long beard stained with ale. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was a certain strength in the way he held himself, a reminder of the craftsmanship he was capable of.
Kintu approached him with measured steps, recognizing the need for respect. "Excuse me, sir," he began, his tone respectful. "I would like to purchase some survival gear."
The blacksmith jolted awake, blinking in surprise. He quickly straightened up, a wide grin spreading across his face as he took in Kintu's presence. "Pleased to meet you!" he exclaimed, his voice booming. "Name's Rurik Ironhand, finest blacksmith in these parts!"
Kintu could not help but be taken aback by Rurik's sudden shift in demeanor. The man went from a slouching drunk to an eager craftsman in the blink of an eye. "You've caught me at a good time," Rurik continued, his enthusiasm palpable. "I have just what you need! Give me thirty minutes, and I will have my best gear ready for you at my shop."
Before Kintu could respond, Rurik was already on his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes and heading out the door, whistling a cheerful tune as he went. Kintu watched him go, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. Rurik's friendly nature was both surprising and refreshing.
"Seems like you made a good impression," Roseanne commented, her smile returning.
Kintu turned back to her, his expression thoughtful. "He's certainly… energetic. Though something felt off about his eagerness."
Roseanne's smile faltered slightly. "What do you mean?"
"The way he came alive the moment he saw me," Kintu said, moving to a nearby table. "Like he'd been waiting for an excuse."
Roseanne was quiet for a moment, then offered: "It used to be a thriving relic hunters' town. Before everything fell apart."
"And now?" Kintu asked, settling into a chair.
"Now..." Roseanne gazed toward the window, her fingers tracing the rim of a glass. "Now we're just trying to survive."
Kintu let the silence hang between them. He'd learned that people often said more when given space to speak. After a long moment, Roseanne continued.
"A hunter named Arnos found the last great relic. After he left with it, people... lost faith. Why stay in a town with nothing left to hunt for?" She turned to him. "Most left. A few of us are too stubborn."
The name Arnos hit Kintu like a fist to the gut. He kept his breathing steady, his expression neutral, though his fingers tightened on the table edge.
"What happened to the ones who stayed?" he asked quietly.
Roseanne hesitated, as if weighing how much to tell. "Come see Rurik's shop. You'll understand better than I could explain."
When enough time had passed, Kintu rose from his seat and made his way to the blacksmith's shop. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the deserted streets. As he approached the shop, he could hear the sound of hammering, the rhythmic clanging of metal-on-metal echoing through the still air.
He entered to find Rurik hard at work, his face flushed with excitement though not the genuine kind. This was the expression of someone performing enthusiasm for a customer. Rurik looked up, and the grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Right on time!" Rurik exclaimed. "I've got everything ready for you."
Kintu looked around, taking in the sight of the artfully arranged weapons and armor. The craftsmanship was visible precise joints, balanced weight distribution but something was wrong. He picked up a sword, testing its weight. The balance was good, but when he ran his thumb along the spine of the blade, he felt a brittleness beneath the polish. Old stock.
He set it down and examined the rest of the shop. His eyes caught on the anvil in the center a massive thing scarred with deep gouges, as if something heavy and hot had been dragged across it repeatedly. The forge beside it was cold.
"This is good work," Kintu said, not looking at Rurik. "But it's not recent work."
The rhythmic sound of Rurik's breathing changed. Became more controlled, as if the dwarf was consciously steadying himself.
"These pieces..." Kintu gestured at the display. "They're months old. Maybe longer."
Rurik's shoulders slumped. The performance ended.
"You're observant, lad," Rurik said quietly. He moved to the anvil and placed his palm flat against one of the scars. "I haven't forged anything new in three months. Before that... it was sporadic."
"Why?" Kintu asked, though he was already forming the answer.
"There's a dragon," Rurik said, his voice hollow. "A magma dragon. It's taken up residence in the old cave, the one that sits above the ore deposits. The heat from its lair burns too intense. I can't get near without my hands melting off."
Kintu waited.
"And even if I could..." Rurik gestured vaguely toward the window. "The bandits make sure I don't try. They wanted a skilled blacksmith working for them, so they... encouraged me to stay put. When I refused their 'employment,' they released the dragon."
"To trap you here."
"To trap all of us," Rurik corrected bitterly. "Without access to new materials, the hunters who stayed can't get proper gear. Without hunters, the town can't defend itself. Without the town..." He shrugged. "I just polish old steel and pretend I'm still a craftsman."
The system's voice echoed in Kintu's mind, calm but insistent.
"Stay out of it, Kintu. Focus on finding the next relic. This town's troubles are not your concern."
Kintu's jaw tightened. "You told me to upgrade my gear," he said aloud.
Rurik blinked. "What?"
"Not you," Kintu muttered, then louder: "This stuff won't do. I need better equipment."
"Engaging with bandits and a dragon is inefficient," the system countered. "Your mission parameters do not include local governance."
"No," Kintu shot back, his voice steady. "But they include surviving. And I won't make it through what's ahead half-armed."
"The risk of injury "
"Is lower than trying to hunt a relic with subpar gear." Kintu paused, feeling the weight of the relics against his skin. They were his now, whether the system liked it or not. "Besides, you're the one who told me to upgrade in the first place."
A longer silence stretched through Kintu's mind. He could almost hear the system recalculating, reassessing.
"Your logic is sound," it finally responded. "However, the dragon is a magma variant. Probability of success decreases by 7% per minute spent inside the cave. Efficiency matters."
"Then I'll be quick," Kintu said.
"Proceed. But be cautious."
Kintu turned to Rurik, who had watched this one-sided conversation with widening eyes. "Where's the cave?"
Rurik stared at him for a moment. "You are serious, lad? You are really going to take on that dragon?"
"Yeah," Kintu said simply. "But I'll need directions."
The dragon fight proceeded as before Kintu's shadow step, his scythe work, the magma dragon's desperate attacks. But this time, let's show it more tactically:
Rurik set Kintu down gently at the mouth of the cave. The air was thick with heat, the ground scorched black in concentric rings around the entrance.
"This is it," Rurik said, his voice trembling slightly. "Be careful, lad. That dragon's no ordinary beast."
Kintu merely nodded, stepping into the cave with a steady gait. The deeper he ventured, the more intense the heat became. The walls glowed with a sinister red, molten rock pooling in crevices. The air itself seemed to burn his lungs with each breath.
As Kintu reached the heart of the cave, the ground beneath him rumbled. A deep, guttural growl echoed through the chamber, and from the depths emerged a colossal figure a magma dragon, its scales glowing like molten metal, each step leaving trails of fire in its wake. Its eyes locked onto Kintu with predatory intent.
The dragon roared, the sound reverberating through the cave like a thunderclap. It unleashed a torrent of flames, the searing heat rushing toward Kintu. But Kintu was ready. He activated his shadow step, vanishing just as the flames engulfed the spot where he had been standing.
Reappearing behind the dragon, Kintu struck with the Staff of Reaping, transforming it into a scythe. The blade sliced through the air, aiming for the dragon's exposed flank. But the dragon was no easy target. It twisted its massive body, swatting at Kintu with a tail made of molten rock. Kintu barely managed to shadow step away, the force of the tail sending shockwaves through the cave.
"You're fast," Kintu muttered under his breath, "but I'm faster."
The dragon inhaled deeply, its molten core pulsing as it prepared to unleash another wave of fire. Kintu charged forward, his scythe gleaming in the dim light of the cave. Just as the dragon released its fiery breath, Kintu shadow stepped to the side, avoiding the flames by a hair's breadth. He slashed at the dragon's legs, trying to weaken its stance, but the beast was resilient.
The dragon roared again, its massive claws scraping against the cave floor as it attempted to crush Kintu. He dodged and weaved, his movements a blur as he stayed just out of reach. The heat was becoming unbearable, sweat pouring down his face, but Kintu remained focused. He could not afford a single mistake.
Rurik watched in awe as Kintu danced around the dragon, avoiding its fiery attacks with ease. It was then that Rurik realized something Kintu was no ordinary fighter. The way he moved, the speed, the strength… it all pointed to one thing.
"Kintu…" Rurik whispered to himself, his eyes wide with realization. "He's a relic user…"
The battle raged on, with the dragon growing more and more frustrated by its inability to land a hit. It began to unleash more desperate attacks, filling the cave with fire and molten rock. But Kintu remained calm, waiting for the right moment.
Then, in a flash, he saw his opening. The dragon reared back, exposing its vulnerable underbelly. With a burst of speed, Kintu leaped into the air, his scythe raised high. He brought it down with all his might, the blade slicing clean through the dragon's molten scales and into its heart.
The dragon let out one final roar a sound that shook the very foundation of the cave before collapsing to the ground. The light in its eyes faded, and the fire that once burned so fiercely in its body began to dim.
Kintu landed softly, the Staff of Reaping returning to its original form. He took a moment to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. The dragon was defeated.
Rurik approached cautiously, his eyes wide with admiration. "You did it, lad… You actually did it."
Kintu looked over at Rurik, a small smile on his lips. "Told you I could handle a small dragon."
Rurik let out a hearty laugh, relief flooding through him. "That you did, lad, that you did. I should have known you were a relic user, the way you spoke."
Kintu shrugged, not offering any more information than necessary. "I do what I have to."
Rurik nodded, clearly impressed. "Well, after seeing what you can do, I would like to offer you something. I can upgrade that staff of yours, make it even more powerful. What do you say?"
Kintu looked at the staff in his hand, feeling the familiar weight of it. An upgrade could be useful, especially with the challenges he knew lay ahead.
"Alright," Kintu agreed, handing the staff over to Rurik. "Let us see what you can do to it."
Rurik, eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and reverence, approached the fallen dragon's massive, still warm body. He knelt beside it and reached into the creature's chest with practiced precision, pulling out a glowing, pulsating orb the dragon's core. The core radiated a deep, molten orange, emitting a low hum of immense, containing power.
"This," Rurik said, holding the core up to Kintu, "is what we need to upgrade a relic. A dragon's core, especially one from a magma dragon like this, holds untold power. It is the perfect material."
Kintu watched as Rurik carefully stored the core in a small, reinforced pouch at his side. "You stay here," Rurik instructed, "while I gather the rest of the materials I need. Will not take long."
As Rurik scurried away, the system's voice echoed in Kintu's mind once more.
"Magma Dragon defeated. Thirty points available."
Kintu's lips twitched in a brief smile at the notification, but it was quickly followed by another alert.
"One relic removed from your relic series. Warning: Removing all relics will result in the system being removed from the user. It is not advised to give relics to others."
The seriousness of the message gave Kintu pause. He had known the relics were intertwined with the system, but to lose them all… What would happen to him then? The thought lingered as he waited for Rurik's return.
True to his word, Rurik soon reappeared, his arms loaded with various materials, fine metals, enchanted stones, and a variety of tools. "I've got everything I need," Rurik said, slightly out of breath but grinning. "If I need more, I can always come back, but let's get to work on upgrading your relic and crafting you my best items."
The two made their way back to Rurik's shop. The forge roared to life as Rurik began his work, setting the dragon core in the center of the anvil and meticulously arranging the materials around it.
Rurik set the dragon's core into the anvil's center. It pulsed like a heartbeat, casting orange light across his weathered face and the stone walls behind him.
The hammer came down once, twice, a steady rhythm that made Kintu's teeth hum. With each strike, the core's glow intensified, bleeding into the metal of the staff. Rurik worked without speaking, his movements economical, practiced. A dwarf who'd done this before, though not in years.
The core began to sink into the staff's shaft, melting rather than fusing. The wood turned dark as obsidian, veins of orange running through it like molten scars. Rurik added metals silver, something that glinted violet in the firelight layering them with precise, controlled taps.
Hours passed. The heat in the forge became unbearable. But Rurik didn't stop.
As he worked, Rurik began to speak, his voice filled with pride and a hint of melancholy. "Long ago, the gods turned to a mighty dwarf my ancestor to create the relics. This technology, this craft, it is ours by right. We can change them, upgrade them, alter them as we please. But the gods were clever. They made sure we could not create new ones. You see; to power a relic, you need a god's blessing. Without it, all we can do is make fakes, and their power burns out quickly."
He paused, inspecting the dragon core as it fused with the staff, its glow intensifying. "But what I am doing now? This is different. I am using the power of the dragon's core to enhance your staff an existing relic. That, we can do."
Finally, after hours of work, Rurik dunked the staff into a basin of smoking water. Steam exploded upward in a violent hiss. When it cleared, Rurik lifted the staff free. The core was absorbed, integrated into the weapon itself. The staff hummed, a low vibration that Kintu felt in his chest, as if something alive now resided within the wood and metal.
"It's alive now," Rurik said, breathing hard as he handed it over. "You'll feel it."
The system chimed in as Kintu took the staff, its weight familiar yet different.
"Staff of Reaping upgraded. New modes available."
Kintu examined the staff, intrigued by the faint pulse of warmth emanating from it. "What exactly did you do?" he asked.
Rurik beamed with pride. "I made it so you can pour mana into the dragon's core and channel its magma into your blade. You can also split it into two for dual-wielding or attach a reverse scythe at the bottom to create a shuriken scythe. Versatility is key in battle."
Kintu twirled the staff experimentally, feeling the power coursing through it. "Impressive work. Thank you."
Rurik was not done yet. He reached behind his counter and pulled out a set of clothing and an outfit that looked remarkably like Kintu's current attire. "I also made you this. It might look like your old clothes, but it is reinforced with special materials that will absorb more attacks. With this, you will be near-impervious to slashes or stabs."
Kintu inspected the outfit, feeling the smooth yet durable fabric between his fingers. "You have outdone yourself, Rurik. Thanks."
Rurik smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "For the help you've given this town, it's the least I could do."
Kintu, however, knew nothing came without a price. "How much does all this cost?"
Rurik hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, given the rarity of the materials and the work involved… One platinum plate should cover it, my boy."
Kintu's eyes widened, nearly choking on his surprise. "One platinum plate? That is a fortune! You are a crook!"
Rurik chuckled, though there was a seriousness to his gaze. "Quality comes at a price, lad. But, given the circumstances, I am willing to cut you a deal. Half a platinum plate five hundred thousand gold coins."
Kintu grumbled under his breath but knew the price was fair for what he was getting. Begrudgingly, he handed over the money. "You drive a hard bargain, Rurik."
As he prepared to leave the shop, Roseanne burst through the door, her expression one of panic. "Kintu! You need to leave, now! The bandits are here, and they are not happy!"
As the tension in the air thickened, Kintu glanced at the others in the shop. Rurik was fidgeting nervously, and Roseanne's wide eyes showed nothing but fear. "Stay here and keep hidden," Kintu instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. The two nodded, their faces pale. Kintu gave them one last reassuring look before stepping out into the open.
The town square was eerily silent, except for the heavy footsteps echoing through the streets. Standing at the center was a large man, his presence as imposing as the massive hammer slung over his shoulder. An eye patch covered one eye, and his exposed one gleamed with arrogance and malice. Surrounding him were five rough-looking acolytes, each one sneering at the sight of Kintu.
"Drop your weapons," Kintu called out, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous edge.
The acolytes exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. "Look at this kid!" one of them jeered. "Thinks he can boss us around."
Another one spat on the ground, grinning maliciously. "Run home, little boy, before you get hurt."
Kintu didn't respond. Didn't blink. Didn't acknowledge their laughter at all.
Then he was gone.
The acolytes barely had time to process the silence before Kintu reappeared behind them. His hands moved with surgical precision a strike to one's collarbone, a jab to another's solar plexus. Each blow landed exactly where nerve clusters peaked near the surface. Within seconds, all five were on the ground, breathing but unconscious.
The leader's face twisted in anger and surprise. "What the hell did you just do to my men?" he growled. "Who are you?"
Kintu turned to face the large man, his eyes glowing faintly. "It doesn't matter. You're next."
The leader sneered, slinging the massive hammer from his shoulder and planting it on the ground with a resounding thud. "My name is Gorrick Vargos the Deceiver," he rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. "I'm a relic user for the God of Earth, Terranox."
With a roar, Gorrick charged, swinging his hammer with earth-shattering force. The ground cracked beneath the weight of his weapon, sending shockwaves through the square. Kintu leaped to the side, avoiding the blow just in time. The hammer smashed into the ground, sending debris flying.
Kintu barely had time to regain his footing before Gorrick swung again, this time horizontally. Kintu ducked, feeling the rush of air as the hammer passed over his head. Gorrick's strength was immense, but his attacks were slow and predictable.
"You're fast, I'll give you that!" Gorrick taunted, swinging the hammer downwards in a mighty arc.
Kintu dodged again, slipping into the shadows, and reappearing behind Gorrick. With a thought, he split the staff into two scythes, their blades glinting menacingly. "Fast enough to break you," he retorted, raising them both.
Gorrick turned, just in time, to block one of Kintu's strikes with his hammer. The clash sent sparks flying, and Kintu's scythe scraped against the hammer's shaft. Gorrick grunted, pushing Kintu back with brute force.
But Kintu pressed forward, his movements precise and controlled. He swung both scythes in a figure-eight pattern, probing Gorrick's defense. Left, right, high, low testing the rhythm of the bandit leader's responses. Gorrick blocked each strike with his hammer, his arms straining with the effort, his breathing becoming labored.
Then Kintu saw the opening a half-second where Gorrick's hammer dropped lower as his muscles fatigued. Kintu pivoted and drove both scythes inward, creating a pincer movement. Before Gorrick could adjust, Kintu leaped, using the momentum to drive himself upward and slashed across Gorrick's ribs.
The scythe bit deep, and Kintu felt the resistance give way to flesh. Blood soaked Gorrick's side, and the bandit leader let out a roar of pain and rage. He swung wildly, desperation replacing technique. Each attack became more frantic, wilder.
Kintu stopped retreating. He planted his feet and countered , matching Gorrick's downward swing with an upward slash of both scythes. The blades met the hammer's handle at the perfect angle.
There was a crack sharp, final and the hammer split in half, wood splintering around Gorrick's hands. His weapon fell apart, useless.
Gorrick's eye widened in shock as he stared at the ruined hammer. " How is this possible?!"
Kintu did not hesitate. "Easy," he said coldly, "you had a fake. But me? I have a real relic."
In one fluid motion, Kintu threw both scythes. The blades spun through the air, glowing with an eerie light. Gorrick barely had time to raise his hands in defense before the scythes sliced through him, their edges cutting cleanly through flesh and bone. Gorrick's body fell in two, the life draining from his single eye as he hit the ground.
The system's voice chimed in, almost nonchalantly.
"Ten points awarded. Total: forty points."
As Kintu retrieved his scythes, the mayor emerged from his hiding place. He looked at Gorrick's corpse, then at Kintu. His lips moved as if to speak, but no words came. His hand trembled at his side.
Kintu noticed the tremor. Noticing how the mayor's eyes darted to the crowd, as if checking who was watching.
"Thank you," the mayor said, stepping forward. His voice was steady now, controlled. "You've saved "
Kintu's hand was already moving. He'd seen that eye movement before the quick glance to confirm he had an opening. The trembling hand reaching for his belt.
The knife came out fast, but not fast enough. The blade glanced harmlessly off Kintu's enchanted shirt, and before the mayor could react, Kintu split him in half with a single, swift motion. The man's treachery ended as quickly as it had begun.
The townspeople, who had been watching the battles from the shadows, slowly emerged, their faces a mix of fear and awe. Realizing they were free from the bandits' control, they began to cheer, their voices rising in a wave of gratitude and hope.
Kintu caught Rurik's eye as the dwarf stepped out from the shop. The blacksmith nodded a gesture of understanding. This wasn't Kintu's fight to stay for. Both of them knew it.
"Take care of them," Kintu called out, already moving toward the edge of town.
Rurik grinned, the weight of the town's future settling on his shoulders but meeting it with determination. "Consider it done, lad."
As the celebrations continued behind him, Kintu sprinted out of the town, the weight of the upgraded staff reassuring against his back. The white arrow appeared in his vision once more, pointing him toward his next destination. His mission was far from over.
The horizon beckoned, and with it, the next relic.