Chapter 109: Hammer, Maul, Mallet
Irwin lay on his back, breathing raggedly.
"Has anyone ever told you, you have cinderblock-sized balls, hot stuff?"
He didn't bother to reply, nor was he surprised someone had entered his room. Instead, he tried to focus on pushing away the painful memories, knowing he had to go through the next step. Would he even be able to? He knew he had lost control at least once. Was his card even at a hundred percent? A tiny part of him almost hoped it wasn't, so he could use that as an excuse to skip the next step for a while longer.
"I've heard about some archaic warrior tribes that reforge their cards like this, saying the pain tempers them. Is that it?"
Irwin shoved himself into an upright position, deciding getting up and talking might help him forget the pain sooner.
The door to his room was closed, and Scintilla and Balarn were sitting at the table, staring at him. A large jug of water stood in the center of the table, and the mere sight of it made Irwin thirsty.
He walked to the table, his gaze locked on the jug. Somehow, he felt like he should be stumbling, barely able to stand, but like the previous times, his body functioned as it should. He didn't bother speaking until he finished the entire jug, not bothering with the cup that had been standing beside it. Only then did he sit down, feeling marginally better?
"You could have warned us," Balarn said, looking at him worriedly.
Irwin noticed that the other smith's gaze kept moving toward his hand. Looking down at it, he saw the only card on his right hand was slightly clearer than it had been before. Should he summon it?
"Well, at least those two wannabe smiths got scared off," Scintilla said.
Irwin took a deep breath, then looked at the other two, wondering when they had even come in. Seeing their questioning eyes, he shrugged.
"I have to do another one," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.