Inside the cramped, gear-filled workshop, the smell of grease and ionized air was thick enough to taste. Marnie stood near a heavy velvet curtain at the back of the room, her hands hovering near the fabric. The magical purple leash around her neck pulsed with a low, threatening light.
"Alright, look," Marnie grunted, glancing back at the floating mage. "If I'm going to explain this masterpiece of a gear properly, you need to take this leash off. A master smith can't work while being walked like a pampered poodle."
Virelle's magenta eyes flared with a smug brilliance. She didn't budge. "A master smith should be honored that I am the one holding her lead. I will not release you. If there is a reveal to be had, I am perfectly capable of opening a curtain with a thought."
Marnie huffed, her goggles sliding slightly down her forehead. "Fine. Suit yourself, Sparky. We'll do it your way. On the count of three, we show the lad his future. One... two—"
Before Marnie could reach three, Virelle gave a bored flick of her slender finger.
Marnie froze. Then she slowly turned her head, one goggle slipping down her nose as she stared at the empty space where her moment had been. Her jaw tightened.
"…You couldn't wait half a heartbeat?" she muttered, irritation grinding under her words. "I had timing. Atmosphere. Suspense."
Virelle didn't even glance back. "You were taking too long."
Marnie exhaled sharply through her nose, folding her arms. "Hmph. Ruined the reveal. Absolutely butchered it."
Behind the curtain sat a display stand holding a limb that looked nothing like the heavy, industrial gear Aiven had expected.
It was sleek and remarkably light, forged from a polished, golden-hued brass that caught the dim workshop light. It wasn't bulky; it followed the natural, elegant curves of a human arm. At its center—right where the bicep would be—rested a translucent, teardrop-shaped mana stone protected by a rotating circular casing of reinforced glass. The shoulder end featured a sophisticated socket interface, bristling with tiny, needle-like sensors designed for insertion.
"I call it the Armvil Mark 3," Marnie announced, her chest puffing out with pride. "Get it? Anvil? Arm-vil? It's a pun."
Virelle's lips curved in a faint, patronizing smile.
"Ah. A pun," she said. "Short, blunt, and overly fond of itself. I suppose that is what passes for elegance when one spends a lifetime talking to hammers."
Aiven stared at the sleek device, his mind snagging on a specific detail. "Mark 3? What happened to the first two?"
Marnie's proud expression faltered for a fraction of a second. She cleared her throat, adjusting her tool belt. "Well... the Mark 1 and Mark 2 were... educational. They were a bit more 'enthusiastic' about mana conduction."
Aiven went pale. "So...They exploded?"
"Only a little!" Marnie insisted, waving a soot-stained hand. "The test subjects walked away with nothing but minor burn wounds and some singed hair. Character building, really."
A sharp crack echoed through the room. Virelle had flicked the mana-leash, sending a jolt of violet electricity directly into Marnie's neck. The dwarf let out a yelp, her short legs jumping in a frantic, pained dance as she trembled from the shock.
"You plan to use my Master as a test subject for a prototype that has a history of spontaneous combustion?" Virelle's voice had lost its theatrical playfulness. It was now a cold, horizontal line of pure malice.
"Yes! No! Wait!" Marnie sputtered, rubbing her neck as the zapping stopped. "The success rate for the Mark 3 is much higher! I've stabilized the kinetic centrifuge and dampened the feedback loops!"
Virelle turned toward the door, her skirts billowing. "We are leaving. I will eradicate this shack before we find a real craftsman."
"Wait! Think it through!" Marnie shouted, reaching out but stopping short of touching the floating elf. "Look at the lad! He's an E-rank with a missing limb and by the looks of it. A not-so-deep pocket! I'm giving this to him for free! All he has to do is wear it and let me see how it performs."
The temperature in the workshop dropped.
Virelle's smile vanished as if it had never existed. Her magenta eyes darkened, no flare this time—just a cold, cutting focus. The orb at her side slowed its rotation, humming low, like a restrained growl.
"You speak of him," she said, each word measured, "as if he were a defected prototype."
Mana gathered at her fingertips.
Before it could sharpen into something dangerous, Aiven stepped forward—unsteady, but deliberate. He touched her wrist lightly.
"Virelle," he said under his breath. "Please. Not now."
She stiffened at the contact. For a heartbeat, she looked ready to ignore him.
Then she exhaled.
The gathered mana dispersed like mist under sunlight. Her hand relaxed, though her eyes never left Marnie.
"…Very well," Virelle said coolly. "I will stay my hand. For now."
She drifted half a step closer to Aiven, a silent barrier at his side.
"But understand this," she added, voice low and precise. "My Master is not desperate. He is choosing whether you are worthy of him."
Aiven swallowed, then gave Marnie a small, strained smile. "She's… protective," he said. "Let's just talk this through."
She looked at Aiven, her voice becoming uncharacteristically soft. "Even if the sync fails, kid, it's not fatal. It's just a mana-burn. A mid-tier healing spell could fix it in an hour. But if it works? You'll not only be having an arm, but one that can perform miracles!"
Aiven looked at his empty sleeve, then at the sleek brass arm. He thought of his empty pockets and the fact that he was already a liability to his party. He didn't have months to save up or weeks to go 'arm shopping.' He needed to be able to fight now.
"Miracles?" Aiven asked quietly.
"Yes," Marnie said, lifting the arm with renewed pride. "The Armvil Mark 3 can do things no standard prosthetic ever could. But if I'm going to demonstrate properly, you'll need to undo this leash first."
Aiven hesitated, then turned to Virelle. "Virelle… I think it's okay now."
Virelle's jaw tightened. Her magenta eyes lingered on Marnie for a long moment, sharp with suspicion. Then, with a reluctant flick of her fingers, the mana rope unraveled into drifting motes of light and vanished.
"Do not mistake this for trust," she said coolly.
Marnie snorted and reached for the arm. "Fair enough."
She set the Armvil Mark 3 on the workbench, tapping the metal casing as if introducing an old friend. "Now—this beauty has three standout functions."
She raised one finger.
"First: ranged output. It can fire condensed mana bolts. The stronger the user's mana flow, the nastier the blast. But there is a cap to avoid the mana stone from being destroyed. Don't expect to one hit a boss-class monster."
A second finger followed.
"Second: impact enhancement. Channel mana into the fist, and it'll hit like a freight golem. Same as the mana bolt, it has a maximum power cap also."
Then she grinned, raising the third.
"And third—mobility." A compartment snapped open with a sharp click. "Built-in grappling hook. Walls, cliffs, idiots trying to run away—doesn't matter."
Aiven stared at the arm, his breath shallow.
Virelle crossed her arms, eyes narrowed—but this time, there was something new in her expression.
Interest.
"All this for free?" Aiven asked quietly.
"Well, I was going to charge one gold coin, but... " Marnie glanced at Virelle, who was staring daggers at her.
"... Now it's totally free," Marnie said quickly. "Just—don't sue me if your sleeve gets a little scorched."
Aiven took a deep breath.
"Let's do it."