Forged Legacy

Chapter 154 - First Things First

So much to do, so little time. There were a half-dozen projects that could easily be his top priority, but he could only finish a few before the next day's battle and hunt began. His own armor still needed to be inscribed before he took it to the leatherworker for the finishing touches. Tyler needed a proper bat to make use of his new deflection skill. Steve needed a proper shield to make the most of his barrier. Not to mention the various bullets Harvey still wanted to make. Sticking to holy resonance was fine for now, but his mind raced with thoughts of thanefire rounds made of carved dragon bones and steel-tipped lightning rounds.

[Put your own mask on first.]

Harvey agreed, grabbing the pieces he’d cast in between working on his bullets the night before. All they needed were a few rounds of heating and hammering to compress the grain enough for the soft metal to serve as passable protection. It was a long process, but familiar enough by now that he could sprinkle in a few smaller tasks in between sessions.

While the silver heated up, he pulled out his inkwell and filled it with blood. Since this armor set would really only be useful against demons, he planned to double down on the holy resonance within. That meant it would be practically useless outside the trial, but hopefully he’d have found some better materials and honed his skills even more by then.

A vial of crystal clear water with a stopper shaped like a wooden cross appeared in his hand. He wondered if the holy water back on Earth had been real, or just another echo of the Father’s path leaking through. If religion could pass through, maybe demons could too. He’d always found it interesting that concepts like angels and demons seemed so ubiquitous. The names might not be the same, but two cultures developing on completely opposite sides of the globe often had shockingly similar legends.

Who knows, he thought, uncorking the vial and pouring it into the cauldron. Divine power swelled within, once again deciding whether to bless or smite his blood. Before it could decide, Harvey added a large dragon bone. The latent will of the thanefire drake roared with indignation, attempting to devour the holy essence with its life-consuming fire. Despite the holy resonances S-Grade origins, it was imbued by an F-Grade priest, leaving the divine power at a disadvantage against the innate power of a dragon. Harvey and Julius joined in and tipped the scales, making the most of the Cognition Matrix’s 10% boost to Willpower as they overwhelmed any desire left in the materials before stripping them down for parts.

Putrid mist that smelled like a mix of honey and death rose from the cauldron as all the unwanted resonance was cast out. It was bad enough that he almost lost control over the rest of the essence, too distracted by the sputtering coughs it induced. When all that remained was heaven’s protection and the dragon’s resilience, he began the slow process of weaving the energies together and infusing them into his blood. Even fully refined, the holy power still seemed to judge the dragon unworthy, a sentiment equally shared by the dragon, but their fates were sealed.

Item: Sanctified Bulwark Ink | F Grade | Rare

Ink mixed from the blood of Harvey Thorne, holy water, and the bone of a thanefire drake. Once a being of ruin, the deceased drake has been redeemed through divine will, its innate fortitude sanctified and reforged into a bulwark meant to protect those under the Father’s light.

Resonances: Holy, Fortitude

[Cash said other churches use the holy resonance, too, right?]

Yeah, Harvey answered as he used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow before bottling the ink.

[Then what’s with all the references to the Father?]

I don’t know. Probably has something to do with how they make the holy water.

Turning to the forge, he saw his silver was on the verge of overheating, and he dove for his tongs. The next few hours were spent hammering away, his brother and father joining halfway through to keep working on their chainmail while they planned out their own equipment.

“I’m trying to decide if I should stick to a drop 3 or go heavier,” Tyler said, pausing every few words as he strained to clip another ring.

“Is drop 3 even possible with silver?” Steve asked, doing the same. A small pile was forming on the workbench between them, but it would take a long time before they made any real armor. Especially since neither seemed very interested in the task, mostly using it to occupy their hands while they talked to Harvey.

Stolen story; please report.

“I have no idea,” Harvey gasped, catching his breath as he continued to hammer his breastplate. “What that means.”

“That’s a good point,” Tyler replied to Steve. “Is silver lighter than aluminum?”

“No way! Isn’t the point of aluminum bats that they’re the only metal light enough to swing?” Steve replied.

“I guess I’m just worried that a heavier bat will mess up my swing. I know we’re a lot stronger now, but the ratio probably needs to be similar.”

“Guys!” Harvey interrupted. “What the hell is a drop 3?”

“It’s a ratio of the length of the bat to the weight in ounces. Drop 3 means the bat is 3 ounces lighter than the bat’s length in inches.”

Harvey plugged the numbers into the Cognition Matrix, taking advantage of the Aurelia half of its knowledge base for the first time in a while.

“Yeah, that isn’t happening.”

Eventually, they settled on forging a bat with the same dimensions as his old one, hoping that the similar shape and center of gravity would be enough to make up for the difference in weight. They’d gone back and forth on whether to embed an essence crystal in the knob at the bottom of the grip, but decided to go for it once they learned it would allow him to add a few burst healing runes.

Harvey made sure the mold was slightly larger than the bat's final shape so he could cast it all in one piece before hammering it to size. Like Aftershock, a purely metal bat couldn’t absorb all the vibrations, especially since he’d be hitting armored demons instead of a tiny, leather ball, so he’d have to use the same kinetic absorption and burst array combo. He already had all the ink he needed to fortify the silver, add the healing bursts, and inscribe the self-repair function, so the weapon would likely be ready in the morning.

That only left his dad’s shield, and Steve was being frustratingly patient about it.

“Don’t worry about me. The one I picked up is fine for now,” Steve assured them.

Harvey dropped his hammer on the anvil, letting it clatter loudly as he sighed. “Dad, just tell me what you want!”

“You’ve got enough on your plate already. Finish your own armor and get to work on that bat. Better you guys gear up than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tyler asked, giving a sideways glance across the workbench.

“Nothing! Really, I’m fine,” Steve chuckled. “I was just saying that you guys need it more than I do. That’s all. You both have special classes that need special equipment. I’m just a regular old sentinel.”

“No. You’re our regular old Dad, and we want to keep you safe,” Harvey pushed.

“Listen. I can barely believe the things I’ve seen over the last two days. My job is to protect you kids, and honestly, it’s killing me that I’m not strong enough to do that.”

“You’re working on it!” Harvey refuted. “Pretty damn hard, I might add.”

“Language,” Steve grumbled. “I know, but right now the best I can do is to take a step back and make sure you guys have everything you need to succeed out there.”

“I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation,” Harvey complained. “It’s a question of when, not if, we make your shield. Now quit dodging the question and help me with the design.”

Steve looked surprised to hear Harvey talk back to him. They’d always had a respectful relationship, and Harvey knew his father valued his opinion, but the old him hadn’t always been willing to share it. He was the type of kid who did what he was told, so to hear him be so insistent must have been a shock. Steve let out a long breath, leaning onto the workbench and picking up a pencil Harvey had placed atop a sheet of paper.

“Alrighty then,” Steve said.

In the end, they went with a large tower shield that was similar to his new skill sigil. It sacrificed maneuverability for better coverage. A few quick tests proved that channeling his skill through a larger shield would also increase the size of the barrier, and it appeared his skill took the equipment's quality into account. Instead of adding any sort of retributive damage like Julian or his own shield had, they’d use all the essence conductivity they could to reinforce the metal. The offensive inscriptions could come with his sword, but that was pretty low on the totem pole for now.

With his father’s absolute focus on defense, they actually had a pretty balanced group. Tyler was their frontline offense, moving fast and hitting hard while still being able to defend himself in a pinch. Steve was their tank, with a nice bit of support and suppression peppered in. Cash was their healer and pre-fight buff machine, and Harvey was their ranged strategist.

Their coordination could still use a lot of work, especially since the level difference made most fights either a Steve-and-Tyler or a Cash-and-Harvey affair. But that would come with time.

“Don’t stay up all night,” Steve yawned as he pushed the garage door open. “We can’t have you falling asleep on the job.”

“I won’t,” Harvey lied as he cracked open another can of monster. That feeling of creation was addictive. Seeing your hands bring ideas from your mind into the real world. It was what got him into software development in the first place, but magic blacksmithing was even better. The possibilities were endless, and he’d barely scratched the surface of what the System had in store.

It was three o’clock in the morning by the time he finally stepped into the kitchen. He’d never know looking outside, but the tiny display on the microwave confirmed it. His armor was done. Fully inscribed and ready to be taken to the leatherworker. The feat had helped him finally push his profession to Level 45 and his race to Level 46. He had a few ideas for what he wanted his new profession skill to be, but figured that was a problem for tomorrow Harvey.

The bat was cast and had already endured two rounds of hammering, but he decided to wait until morning to finish it off after he’d nodded off, lost his grip on the tongs, and let a red-hot hunk of metal clatter to the floor.

Practically crawling, he pulled himself up the stairs, ambled to his room, and collapsed into bed. The blackout curtains weren’t closed, but he couldn’t be bothered getting up again. Holding his pillow tight, Harvey drifted off into a dreamless sleep.