Forged Legacy

“What a rush. It used to hurt, but I’ve learned to love it.” Harvey sighed. “Did you get any essence from the session?”

“Nope, I didn’t get any notifications,” Elena replied.

“That’s too bad.” Harvey lamented. It would’ve been nice if The System counted her skill contribution since she could keep levelling without him needing to drag her on hunts. She was falling behind already, and with how yesterday went, he wasn’t sure she’d ever leave the walls again. He put two free points into both Strength and Dexterity before closing his Status screen.

“I can get my first profession skill. Want to come with me?” Harvey asked.

“No, I’ll stay here and clean up.” She replied.

“You don’t have to do that. I can clean up when I get back.” Harvey replied.

“Just go, I don’t mind. If I’m going to be your assistant, I have to actually help out.” Elena encouraged.

He felt uncomfortable. It was like when he and Cleo first started dating, and she would rush to do the dishes as soon as they finished eating. He was a “leave that mess for future Harvey” kind of guy, but also didn’t expect anyone else to clean up after him.

“You’ve helped out a ton already, but I appreciate it.” He finally settled. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Leaving the smithy, the outpost was still empty. It wasn’t quite dinner time yet, and most people were still out doing their daily tasks. Once the wall was done, people would have more time to focus on other things, like leveling up a profession.

As far as he knew, he was the first Veilstrider to get one. That needed to change fast.

In two days, he’d gotten an additional 72 stat points from 5 profession levels and the 2 race levels that came with them. Compared to the 8 attributes gained from each class level, a rare profession offering 12 like his was the fast track to power.

Entering the church, he picked his way to the loom. The orb flared to life as his weave connected with the unfathomable consciousness behind the simple wooden frame.

He honestly had no idea what direction he wanted his first profession skill to take. His main issues stemmed from a lack of resources and proper tools. It would be great to get a skill that lets him conjure good molds or state-of-the-art hammers, but he had no idea what qualities to look for other than the obvious benefit of being less than 200 years old.

The System valued experience, and he basically had none in those areas. He’d melted some metal and pounded it into pointy sticks, but really hadn’t pushed the boundaries of the profession yet. Any kid with a pocket knife could whittle a stick into a shiv to poke his friends. It took an artist to carve a figurine.

Understanding how the loom worked was important. If all his skills became were shortcuts to doing things he’d already done faster, he’d never really grow. Considering The System was all about building an impressive legacy, there had to be a way to direct the process.

Thinking back to his class skill, one piece of the puzzle snapped into place.

He’d never created a shield out of essence before, but his fangbreaker skill did exactly that. It was like he presented The Loom with his problem and his meager attempts at solving it. He’d wanted a fireball or lightning bolt that could kill his enemies before they ever got close, but The Loom knew what he really needed in each of those moments was a shield.

He tried putting himself in The System’s shoes. If he were a god, and some random mortal came up to him and screamed, “I’m level 5, give me something!” he’d have no idea what to do. Even if he wanted to help, it was like a toddler screaming without telling their parents what was wrong. Until he understood the problem, he was stuck.

The Loom was the same. It recognized he’d earned the right to a new skill through his level and asked him to share experiences so it could get an idea of what he needed. The light behind each combination was how good a solution The System could offer, which is why the memories needed to be correlated.

It wasn’t giving him shortcuts. It was helping him solve problems.

He might be way off course, but if he was right, he could approach The System with a plan and shape his skillset in the direction he wanted it to go. It wasn’t some random exchange, but a negotiation between his legacy and the Loom’s power.

With that in mind, he thought about his problems in the forge. The guide had taught him the melting point of Iron, but he had no way to tell how hot the forge was. He knew there were imperfections in his raw materials, but he couldn’t fix what he couldn’t see.

A modern blacksmith would have tools to test temperatures, magnify their metal to see its flaws, and measure the quality of their work.

He didn’t have any of that, and he never would while he was stuck in Veil’s End. He couldn’t build a thermometer. Maybe he could buy one, but why would he? He didn’t have a magnifying glass, a scale, or any of the other high-tech instruments that would turn his blacksmithing from swinging a hammer hard into the art form he knew it could be.

None of the memories around him specifically characterized that issue, but he hoped The Loom would take his ideas into account.

One by one, he added his ingredients into the mix. A vision of him anxiously staring into the fire, looking at the crucible as he wondered whether the ore had melted yet. Struggling to hammer his terrible first pour into a workable rod, knowing gaps and cracks were almost certainly hiding under the surface.

Five visions of time in the forge floated in front of him, and when he felt certain he’d found his brightest future skill, they floated into the Loom.

Silver, yellow, orange, and blue thread swirled down, and he was surprised to see two sigils taking shape. He wondered if he’d somehow created two skills at once, but when two rings looking like tempered steel floated towards him, he understood.

They burned into place around his eye sockets, ringing his eyes like when he’d let his sister do his makeup when they were kids. He couldn’t see them on his face, but the image of the tattoo on the screen confirmed it.