Accidental Reaver

Escorted into the Fasa VIP room as once done before, Luke sat on a luxurious couch.

A gold and red theme outlined all the furniture, paintings, flooring, and even the inviting soft light within this particular room—the crystal table screamed gaudy. Room temperature air ensured maximum comfort. Exquisite docile plants were placed upon raised, small tables. Orbs placed within the baseboards appeared to be constantly cleaning the reddish gold carpet.

Two monic maids attended to him, setting mango flavored juice onto the table in front of him. He waved off any attempt for further conversation. He happened to come in as Edric made deals with another guest. His business needed to be postponed for a short period until current obligations were handled.

Most of what remained in Luke's Inventory were rare items, crafting materials, and everyday use items. He'd Disenchanted all the uncommon items he happened upon in his short trip to the Ruined Realm. By chance, Disenchant, his other professional skill, upgraded to Tier 1, Rank 4, reaching the current maximum without another feat forcing it up again.

As much as Wayfinder and his other artifacts helped in that department, going for another feat remained elusive. He'd try but anticipated the chances of success were against him. Whispering Tome happened through a confluence of factors in his favor. Wayfinder elevated his abilities, and Rising West did so further. Xera pushed out essence beyond normal, Annika stabilized his earlier mistakes, and Tanniv perfected the environment. Materials tailored to the envisioned job. The trance he entered also played a key part. Despite his skill being better than ever, he knew expecting a similar result would be pure hubris—not to mention incredibly dangerous.

The Reaver planned another crafting session, the last action he'd take before the day ended. Ghost Blade retained a property that helped with crafting. The inner child within demanded to test it out. Before that, business with the Fasa House needed to be resolved today. With the auction taking place in about a day from now, Luke planned to amass all the gold he could.

A man with well-kept, combed brown hair and thin glasses entered the room. His green and amber formal clothes were well-fitted to a moderately muscled frame. Purveyor Edric bowed in greeting to Luke, white gloves flaring out toward the air, "We meet once more, Defier Luke. How could this humble servant assist you today?"

Turning his eyes to the two rather scantily clad woman attendants behind Edric, Luke said, "To start, have them leave. The only thing on my mind should be business."

Without skipping a beat, Edric waved off the others in the room, each exiting in a practiced manner. Pushing up his glasses through the ridge of his nose, Edric said, "Would you require anything else, Defier?"

"No, that should handle the baseline. Your appraisal skills can do the rest. I've got items I wish to sell off. The auction you invited me to sounds appealing. I am counting on an object or two of interest, pointless to see if I fail to have the gold, so I'm here, scrambling like most the city is."

Tightening his face, Edric said, "Yes, the scraps of news about this particular Tide are grim. Everyone with sway is using it to better their chances or leave entirely. Relatively speaking, Sylen is only moderately more dangerous compared to the other five cities."

"Why not evacuate every civilian before it's here? Most those who are leaving seem to be refugees from the portion of the Duchy before reaching Sylen."

"The interior cannot hold everyone safely, and a portion of the support classes must stay behind by mandate. Logistics cannot be neglected, especially in these times. Most who are able to leave already have, or are confident to survive the Tide."

Switching off the somber topic, Luke laid the rare Scythe, Wand, and Amarok's hood and leftover Vampire Smith Armor Tokens onto the spacious table, "Take a look, Edric, tell me what you think of these."

Sitting on a couch on the other end of the table, Edric leaned in, his eyes scrutinizing every detail of the presented valuables. He lightly brushes his gloves fingers over each one, occasionally picking one up. Mana lines etched his glasses. Finished about five minutes later, he admired, "This is quite the haul, Defier Luke. Aren's Scythe and Wand could be squeezed in as starter items in tomorrow's auction. Do you have anything else to present me before I make you an offer?"

Thinking on it, Luke put out piles of crafting materials and anything else he deemed sellable, keeping a suitable sub-set of the highest quality ones for himself. They landed, covering half the table, which activated brands upon its surface, separating the haphazard mess neatly. Edric skillfully sifted through the various materials, "Plenty of backbone materials to crucial professions. Unfortunately, they don't make the cut for the auction, but the Fasa House would gladly take them off your person for a fair price."

"I expected as much." The Reaver gently paced the Soul Cloak skill book onto the edge of the appraisal table, "This is the crowning piece. A skill book I recently picked up."

Edric cautiously picked up the skill book. Judging by the activity of his eyes, he must've been reading its description. Handing the tome back to Luke, he said, "I can say without a doubt that this item deserves to stand among the mid-tier lineup in tomorrow's auction. Lease this skill book to us. We will get you an optimal price minus the industry standard fee of five percent afterward."

"Can I apply whatever it sells for to another item later in the auction?"

"Absolutely, you'll be credited immediately. This also will apply to Aren's Scythe and Wand. Amarok's Hood isn't suitable for our auction—nonetheless—we are interested in procuring it today."

"Correct me if I'm wrong. I'm going to entrust the Scythe, Wand, and skill book to your organization for tomorrow's auction, and the rest I've set out can be sold to you immediately?"

"Precisely, Defier Luke, are you amiable to hearing my offer?"

"Go on."

"The Fasa House is prepared to offer twelve hundred gold for all items deemed immediately purchasable. We would be delighted to be the intermediary to sell the three previously mentioned items for tomorrow's public auction."

Edric drew up a contract detailing the terms. In short, if Luke agreed, all valuables would be sold to the Fasa House, while the three objects of profound interest, Aren's Scythe, Wand, and the Soul Cloak skill book, would be auctioned on Luke's behalf. Finishing the drink beside him, Luke signed the contract, twelve hundred gold richer, and many items lighter. Edric called for an attendant, who stored away all objects in the transaction. Done with business, Edric said, "I'm afraid these times demand my presence in multiple places at once, Defier Luke. I must depart first, please, leave at your leisure."

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Luke nodded, leaning back onto the couch, "You're a busy man, Edric. I'll be out soon myself."

"A pleasure as always, the Fasa House appreciates your patronage." The mild-mannered man left out the exit, off to attend other clients.

Huddled over the enchanting forge in the Defier's guild, Luke slipped on the Black Metal Mask after asking all the nearby servants to leave. When they insisted on staying in case of any needs of his that arose, he pointed to the humanoid golems wandering down the black cloth path.

"They'll handle whatever else I could want. My current need is privacy."

The mix of butlers, servants, and maids on hand bowed out, assuring Luke they'd be a floor away should he change his mind. Walking the perimeter, Luke finally became relieved. His only company on the enchanter's floor the two golems that mechanically oversaw the premise.

Using some of his recent bounty of gold, Luke purchased piles of plain, unenchanted rings, necklaces, and capes. Xera formed into a wand, and Whispering Tome into a floating ethereal Ghost Blade. Runes began to swirl in a cyclone around Ghost Blade, passively drawing essence to its Reaver while calming the atmosphere.

Raw Essence channeled into Xera's wand tip as Luke etched runes onto the prepared unenchanted items. He'd use Polar South when a limitation came up, often learning the adjustments needed to make an enchant a success. It wasn't a cure all, though; some items, especially the cloaks, turned to dust when Luke applied one too many runes. For one ring in particular, he'd work on it when fed by insight from Polar South, then set it aside once the state settled down, returning to other projects.

Delving into concentration, Luke's stockpile of materials slowly dwindled, and runes glowed brilliantly onto various cloaks and jewelry. Luke attempted to create a few trinkets that would fall under the special item equipment slot but failed spectacularly, the difficulty level on a different plane compared to the other equipment slots. The majority of what he ended up enchanting ended up as uncommon in quality. A minority stood within the rare classification. Item levels ranged from as low as twenty-five to as high as fifty.

Breathing in, Luke sensed his concentration at its peak, best suited to handle the most demanding task. He slipped off the Blood Weaver Ring from his right index finger, placing it beside the other ring he'd poured runes into while only under Polar South's influence. Storing away the now used-up practice items, Luke brought out a vial.

[Coven Lord's Progenitor Blood]

Quality: Rare
Type: Crafting Liquid Agent

Coveted by all crafters due to its versatile uses, blood like this—and similar agents—are always in high demand but low supply. Too difficult to work with unless already an ascended crafter.

Uncapping the top, he trailed the substance from the two rings, connecting them. Taking the remaining materials he envisioned for the task, they flanked the rings. Ghost Blade created a circle of runes around the two rings, and Xera conducted essence in the air. A low hum rang around the Reaver. He wanted to use Aren's Outer Soul Shell, but his instincts told him otherwise. Trusting his intuition, Luke kept the crafting material in the inventory; it's time yet to come.

Etching runes in an arc between the two rings, Luke stopped each time either he ran into staunch resistance or Polar South ran its course. Ghost Blade became key in these moments, often stabilizing the product for him, its rune cyclone always active. Xera also played her role, dutifully channeling the essence needed for raw rune creation.

Wall after wall placed itself here, nothing compared to Whisper Tome's birth, but still a confounding setback. The Reaver shattered them time and again, often with the assistance of the three artifacts. Blue wisps came from the black metal mask, and swirling arctic winds subconsciously enclosed the crafting area.

The Progenitor Blood bubbled, and the prepared materials all consumed. Luke threw caution to the wind, activating Rising West. Two eclipsed suns formed themselves, setting behind Luke's shoulders—the light around him died to their desire. The metaphysical chains preventing the fusion rune lifted. A familiar hiss echoed around the enchanting platform. Temperatures fell further. Luke teetered against a law, but this creation failed to challenge it. Instead, a disembodied gaze cautiously awaited the Reaver.

Nor would that be his intent. This time lacked the material quality to step into that crafting realm. Under the fusion rune's influence, the two rings merged into one, all strands of ether used to their fullest potential. The silver rings expanded and contracted, blinding blue runes rotated on their surface. The tension died just as it began, the two rings successfully became one. All mystical activity—right outside of Luke's perception—sputtered out like it'd never been there.

Xera wheezed, the black essence at her tip returning to the world's fold. Ghost Blade dropped down, the rune cyclone thinning. Wayfinder appeared unscathed, "Lad, you fancy provoking pacts more ancient than me shiny exterior. Par the course for you lately."

"It worked out this time and the last time."

"Aye, but expectin' it to work out every time is how fools end up in the gallows."

"What can I say? I've got this Runic Enchanting skill and intend to use it to its fullest extent. You three will back me up if it's too far gone."

Wayfinder coughed a few times. Eventually, the compass allowed the subject to settle. Unable to find the proper words.

Taking off the black metal mask, the illusions surrounding the artifacts and the Reaver returned to nothingness. In a low energy state, Whispering Tome stopped floating, settling upon the arcane forge. Luke sheathed Xera, and sweat droplets froze as they attempted to escape his face.

The forge appeared dim, now bare of anything but Whispering Tome and a five rune etched black and silver ring. The usual mystical energies surrounding its orb were consumed for now. Luke picked up the ring, hoping he'd improved it or prevented its ruin at the minimum. He'd taken a tremendous risk, putting his healing source at stake. Luke's foresight told him it'd be riskier in the end to go the safe route. Hence his presence here.

A black and silver border hologram-like screen appeared, revealing the ring's properties.

[Risen Blood Weaver Ring]

Quality: Unique

Stats: +40 Strength +20 Intellect

Passive - Blood Weave Artisan: Heal for 3% of damage dealt.

Passive - Crimson Vein: Bleeding targets take 5% additional damage.

Passive - Sanguinary Glutton: Connected to its most recent owner, this ring can evolve up to two times if superior blood from a blood weaving race is consumed.

Requirements: Tier 1, Level 50

A product of perfect Runic Enchanting technique and twisted greed, helped along by a Numbered. This ring desires to taste all blood under the sun.

Grinning, Luke thought, A success if I ever saw one.

He pushed the ring down his right index finger. It resized itself to fit snugly against the digit. Picking up the exhausted Whispering Tome and holding it to his chest, Luke finally felt fatigued. His bed sure sounded appetizing right now.

Descending the spiral stairway, Luke alerted the previously dismissed servants that they could return to their station. Poking his head into the illusion realm to check on Sooty, he saw the bird tearing apart multiple slimes. Supported by Lulu, brown rot seemed to drip from Sooty's attacks with greater ferocity. Assured his corvid handled herself well while growing Vorpal Touch, Luke ate at the cafeteria.

Jovan was there, the red-orange tail a dead giveaway. Without it and a condensed tier three aura, Luke wouldn't have recognized the tora Defier. The full plate was gone, replaced by padded cloth that covered most of his chest and legs, with weaved sandals containing bestial feet. The short lance and shield were also absent, normal, considering this was a place to eat, not battle. Most people had weapons that would go into the Inventory.

Luke stole a glance at Xera.

The Reaver thought he should mention the sun kissed elf sitting next to Jovan, an easygoing smile on his face, complimented by handsome features—Eldacar. Most of his presence was stolen away by the mutilating scars slicing into Jovan's eyes.

Jovan is blind? Luke learned, surprised.