Adrenaline Junkie [Book 2 Complete]

Archie's brows furrowed as his nose twitched. The hell? He sniffed, irritated, then glanced around. A crumpled paper wrapper – leftover from the sandwich he'd eaten hours ago, prior to him roasting the Thornback Render – shot up into his free left hand with a quick application of Spatial Pull, and he used it to wipe his nose like a makeshift tissue.

Am I getting sick? he wondered, frowning. He balled up the greasy wrapper and flicked it toward the dying campfire, watching it hiss and curl in the embers. The fire pit was framed by two Y-shaped steel rods jammed into the dirt, holding up a steel skewer blackened with charred meat bits still resting across its length.

Divine retribution for eating that Thornback Render? he mused, stifling a snort as he turned back toward the reddish-orange green glow of his Inchoate Titansteel Forge.

He twisted the tongs in his grip at a 27-degree angle, lifting the Deepiron bar from the heart of the forge. A faint shimmer of impurity still clung to one end – an imperfection he would not normally be able to see with a naked eye, but to Gaze of the Forgefather, it was as noticeable as a full moon in the countryside.

Archie narrowed his eyes, drawing in a steady breath as he raised the intensity of Forgesmith's Flame and used it to target the stubborn impurity that clung to the Deepiron bar. The now crimson metal hissed in defiance, a sliver of slag peeling away from the surface like old skin.

Got you, he cheekily thought, rotating the bar as the Forge's heat kept it pliable but solid. He set it atop the Obsidiansteel Anvil, which shifted under his will, raising a flat surface angled just enough to accommodate the contour he intended for the breastplate section of the chestpiece.

Raising his Reinforced Hammer, Archie let out a breath and brought it down.

Clang!

With each steady strike, he guided a thin current of nature mana through the hammer and into the heated Deepiron. The bar slowly began to spread under the repeated blows, edges flattening as the metal responded – stiff at first, but gradually giving way like thick, hot clay with every other strike; typical behavior for Deepiron that he'd become accustomed to after using it to plate his Reinforced Deepiron Thornback Boots.

The shape started to form, stretching outward as the center held firm and the sides thinned with each pass.

Sweat trickled down his back as he struck again, then again, rotating the plate, re-heating colder sections by poking it back into the forge, and switching to his Reinforced Steel Precision Hammer where he needed to shape the inner ends of the plate to curl inwards by a few millimeters.

With a final strike and a hiss of his sweat hitting the now dark crimson Deepiron plate, Archie let the freshly shaped Deepiron plate rest for a second on the face of the Obsidiansteel Anvil.

Then, gripping the glowing piece with his tongs, he turned and lowered it into the nearby vat of faintly bubbling oil. The moment the Deepiron hit the surface, the oil bubbled violently and hissed as waves of steam rolled off the iron container, the scent of scorched oil and Deepiron mixed in the air as he repeatedly took out and dunked the Deepiron plate inside the vat of oil.

But before he could steady his grip for the final submersion, a sharp pulse arced across his temple and the middle of his face. His head snapped to the side, and his left hand flew to his face, gripping it tight as spikes of pressure bored into his head, forcing him to stagger half a step back.

The tongs in his right hand jerked instinctively, yanking the Deepiron plate out of the oil at mid-temper. Searing droplets flung out in a sizzling arc, spattering across the stone floor and scattering off the nearby, floating tool rack construct with sharp metallic pings. A few even landed on the edge of the forge, hissing as they struck its already-heated surface.

Archie gritted his teeth, the sensation still stabbing behind his eye like someone was trying to jam hundreds of nails from the inside of his head outwards.

Fuck! Archie groaned as his grip on his skull tightened.

Then came the whispers.

Muffled, warbled – like they were echoing up from the bottom of a deep well, distorted through layers of water and… static for god knows what reason.

His breathing grew shallow, jaw tight as his knuckles dug into his temple. The world felt like it had drawn inward, the forge's light dimming around the edges of his vision as the whispers slithered just beneath his hearing.

BUMP!

He was back to hearing the noises of the early morning forest with his heart beating a hundred miles a second – threatening to burst out of his chest.

The pressure in his head released like a valve being undone. The pain that arced across his face evaporated, the static that flooded his mind faded, and the world snapped back into focus.

Archie stood there in the quiet of his workshop, chest rising and falling, the Deepiron plate still held loosely in his tongs. A few trails of oil still hissed on the floor where they'd landed.

His eyes, now bloodshot, snapped open.

He blinked once, twice – then his hands clamped over his mouth as his stomach turned. A sharp surge of bile rose up his throat. He clenched his jaw tight, but it wasn't enough. His fingernails tearing into the sides of his mouth, knuckles whitening as he fought the wave of nausea down.

What the fuck was that? he gasped, scanning the forest around him as if expecting someone or something to answer as to what just happened to him, Vital Sight activating within a heartbeat.

He couldn't make out any of the words being said, if they were even words to begin with. The sounds didn't follow any rhythm or structure that felt familiar, neither USL nor English.

But they sure as hell sounded like some sort of conversation being said, he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his palm, uncaring of the wet snot he smeared atop it – he was overdue for a bath anyway.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Gathering his bearings, Archie dragged his calloused hand across his scarred chest and held it above his heart, where he could feel it smack against his corded muscles beneath his fingertips.

He let the intense rush of Adrenaline run its course around his body as he slowly leaned and walked backwards and leaned against the side of his Inchoate Titansteel Forge.

Whatever it was that happened to him, his bloodline; Adrenaline Junkie, pulled him out of it.

Was this due to the curses that were placed upon him?

He wasn't sure. He hadn't fallen asleep the same way as before.

Is it because I've been cursed for so long without being cured that other effects are starting to show? he wondered. Or are the curses mutating… or some crap like that?

The only curses he knew of were Hex of Enfeeblement, Shatter Spirit, and that rot curse the goblin shaman hit him with. Maybe it was a stretch, but Hex of Enfeeblement weakened his resistance to other hex effects - so maybe one of the four curses on him had a similar property.

Or maybe they all had the ability to do that.

With his heart now calm and his stomach no longer threatening to vomit all the Thornback Render meat he'd eaten, Archie pushed himself off the side of his Inchoate Titansteel Forge and walked toward the dye vat where his Legguards were submerged in.

As he passed by the table, Archie dropped the tempered Deepiron plate onto the pile of others he had forged earlier. His gaze drifted to the large vat filled with the Charcoal Black Alchemical Dye he purchased from the Alchemist he'd visited back in Neo-Eden while checking if she had any more Vials of Fatigue Relief left in stock.

She hadn't. In fact, none of the alchemy shops across Neo-Eden had any left; most of their inventory had been bought out by the local army.

But that had nothing to do with him. Of that, he was certain.

Once he evolved, he'd be off-planet, searching for his brother, his niece, and, if she'd also been released from stasis, his sister-in-law. Whatever war was brewing down here, he had no intention of getting swept up in it.

Tim would probably be whisked away by his mother to evolve somewhere off planet sometime soon, according to him, and Aoife… He paused, a bit lost in thought. I'd ask if she'd want to join me in my search.

Taking out his Water Tin from his spatial storage, Archie spilled its contents into his mouth before gargling and spitting out a blood-tinged stream onto the grass beside his table.

Note to self: Don't stab your fingers into your mouth, that makes you bleed, he darkly chuckled to himself.

Catching a peek of his Legguards that were submerged in the Alchemical Dye within the vat, he identified it to see if anything had changed – It hadn't.

Plated Legguards of Fortitude (Rare):
A pair of Legguards crafted from thin, supple yet resilient hide belonging to a peak E-Grade Reedbuck, tanned, dyed, and treated by Vess Grak'th, a D-Grade Expert Seamweaver of Neo-Eden, then plated with Nature-Attuned Deepiron and three Thornback Render Beastcores by Archie Gracefield, an E-Grade Novice Forgesmith. The hide beneath the legguards retains its flexibility, while the runic plating atop it offers exceptional physical defense and offense with a multifaceted set of abilities. Effects: Soul-Bound (Lesser – Lesser), Self-Repair (Lesser – Lesser), Impact Absorption (High – Low), Thermal Regulator (High – Low), Physical Reinforcement (High – Moderate), Greater Physical Resistance (High – Moderate), Spatial Storage (Minor) (Lesser – Low) & Atmospheric Shielding, (Moderate – Low). Provides: +100 End, +80 Agi & +50 Str. Status: Excellent. Requirements: Lv 95+, Humanoid Race & Nature Affinity.

Nothing's changed, that's good, Archie noted as Gaze of the Forgefather traced the runes on the inside of his Legguards.

Impact Absorption, Physical Reinforcement, and Greater Physical Resistance were what he suspected to be the major reasons for why his legguards were named the way they were,

I really need to find a way to combine Impact Absorption, Physical Reinforcement, and Greater Physical Resistance into one runic script, so I don't have to create three separate ones and use Elastic Sizing to make them not take up an entire leg's worth of space, he noted to himself.

His attention shifted to the newest rune and runic script he'd added into his arsenal of runic knowledge – Spatial Storage (Minor) and Atmospheric Shielding.

True to its name and the Minor tag that came with it, the rune created a small Spatial Pocket – just large enough to hold three potion bottles. Archie had already decided which: a Potion of Health, Mana, and Stamina – all emergency-use only. It was a feature he planned to add to every pair of legguards and leggings he crafted from now on.

After all, there might come a time when he couldn't access the Spatial Rings or the Livingwood Propagator. The chance wasn't zero.

And why place Spatial Storage (Minor) on his legguards specifically? Simple. They were always the last piece of gear to get destroyed. Even his old Frostiron Fur Leggings, the ones he got just before meeting Thalindra, were still in decent condition, tucked away in his spatial storage.

Turning back to the table covered in materials for his new chestpiece he planned on assembling, Archie took a quick glance to make sure he had everything he needed: four activated Thornback Render Beastcores, tempered Nature-Attuned Deepiron plates, a Long-Sleeved Leather Shirt of Mobility he'd purchased from Synth & Stitch, and a tray full of rivets.

Everything is all here, he noted before pulling out his chair and scooting himself closer to the table.

From the top of the pile of tempered, Nature-Attuned Deepiron plates, he picked out the first breastplate segment, he lined it over the sternum and lower-middle chest, where he then began underlapping it with the other Nature-Attuned Deepiron plates. Each one had slight downward slopes and beveled edges that he meticulously hammered into shape using his Reinforced Steel Precision Hammer.

Reaching for the rivets he prepared earlier and making sure that the holes of the leather shirt and the Nature-Attuned Deepiron plates were properly aligned, he pressed them together with a satisfying pop.

After securing the Nature-Attuned Deepiron plates that formed the breastplate, he moved on to the upper chest guards – arched pieces designed to rest over the pectorals and extend toward the collarbone, each one riveted to the leather shirt beneath.

Scratching his chin, Archin turned to the pair of shoulder guards, each composed of three slanted, trapezoidal plates shaped to fit the contours of his shoulders.
He held the edges of the plates by their connector tips, designed to attach to the chestplate that would preserve his range of motion while still protecting the entirety of his shoulders.

The holes he had punched were elongated and set diagonally, allowing for flexibility. When riveting them in place, he stopped just short of driving the mandrel all the way through, ensuring the plates could still rotate freely and his shoulders remained fully mobile.

After testing the shoulder guards' mobility – moving them up, down, and side to side – he flipped the half-completed chestpiece onto its backside.

He reached for the heavier, broader Nature-Attuned Deepiron plates, subtly curved to match the shape of his back, and began layering and aligning them with the charcoal markings atop the leather shirt. Designed to ensure that they would be able to guard his entire back while still allowing enough room for flexibility – a much-needed improvement compared to what he currently wore.

With a final press, he secured the last rivet on the back plate that went over his C7 cervical vertebra and brushed away the mandrel that popped free from it.

Flipping the nearly completed chestpiece back over to its front, he picked up the last few Nature-Attuned Deepiron plates off to the side of the table and began aligning them with the marked areas that would cover his outer biceps, triceps, and elbows.

Rotating each plate to ensure they layered properly, he connected the bicep and tricep guards to the inner plates of his pauldrons.

Then, reaching into his spatial storage, he retrieved the smaller leather belts and riveted them into place, tightening them around his arms to keep the plating secure.
He wasn't about to let the plates that protected his upper arms float loosely like most superhero costumes in movies.