36: Precipice

[Year 21 Month 6: 1 month has passed]

[Blessed: 6096 + 182 – 43]

[Marked: 12 + 2]

Winter was coming to a close, with all of the frosty mana retreating from the southern continent. It was a warning of what was to shortly follow.

I had given the ‘Marked’ blessing to both Fal’el and Dain; neither hesitated to accept. Dain felt indebted to the city and me for the help we had provided, and considering that the incoming army was coming in part because of him, I understood his mindset.

He had rapidly leveled, and he explained that each death of a compatriot Chosen gave him a boost in power. While it would have more of an impact on his power earlier on, it still gave him the equivalent level of seventy, officially making him the most powerful individual in the city. The bonus would supposedly cap at level one hundred, once every other Chosen had died.

Even with their short lifespan, their power scaling is incredible. The last survivor would probably be one of, if not the most powerful, creatures on the planet. If they were to turn on those they protect, the damage could be irreparable.

I wasn’t worried with Dain, though, as he had grown quite attached to the city over the last several months and had a reason to help me.

There was a shift in his mindset since he came here. At first, he had been hesitant to partake in the burgeoning cultures within Runehold and the Burrow, but as he grew used to the people around him, they welcomed him.

That waitress at Kilton’s Plaza certainly caught his fancy. I laughed to myself. Sometimes, all a man needs to feel at home is a bright woman.

Fal’el’s experience was far different from Dain’s, not just because of the difference in race, but also in his motivation.

Once he’d shaken off the last of the hibernation fog, the dwarf threw himself into work with a stubborn passion. I suspect that he was trying to hide his pain under the work, but one way or another, his attitude was viral, and lit a flame under the aspiring craftsman in the Ebonguard.

With steady hands and a rekindled spark in both his eyes and voice, he had returned to what he wished to do most, reunited with, and I quote, “A beaut of a forge.”

He freely shared whatever he was able to, but there was much he couldn’t teach; that much was evident after some simple questioning.

Despite the thousands of years that had passed, a type of magic clung to the dwarf’s skin, according to Fal’el. It was an oath that all Loreforgers had to take before they were told of the Engarian secrets, and he was no exception.

These oaths would manifest as invisible chains, constricting around his throat when creeping too close to the boundaries. He could demonstrate alloys, hammer techniques, and even some of the fundamentals of dwarven metallurgy, but anything that drifted too close to the deeper and more complex topics was off-limits, including runes.

“Ther’ are many restric’ions tha’ I cannot break,” he told me once, voice gravelly but firm as he forged a steel chestplate. “Mundane smith’n I can teach. Yet thos’ of magic are forbidden by my packs.”

He said it with regretfulness, in his mind, the secrets were no longer his to keep, but alas, he couldn’t speak of them.

Still, what he could share was invaluable. Elezium alone was a breakthrough, a lost alloy that sat just below mana steel in conductivity. Codex nearly felt his first emotion when informed.

Fal’el even asked for students, three humans and two beastkin, and threw himself into teaching them with the same intensity he applied to everything else. Codex gave him a crash course in the local dialect, which the smith quickly picked up, likely due to some class passives, smoothing out most of his accent, and soon enough the workshop was filled with the rhythmic clang of hammers and the occasional dwarven curse.

But even in those moments of progress, there was a shadow hanging over him, like a heavy blanket was constantly trying to snuff the flame inside.

Fal’el spoke rarely of his people’s fall, but when he did, his eyes went distant, as if staring at the faces of his brethren.

“Mine people were sladth by a being unliketh any of the past,” he warned me once, voice low. “Invisible fiends, hidd’n from the eyes. They slew millions.”

It sounds like a plague, some sort of viral disease perhaps?

I wanted to press him for more, but the oaths bound his throat, and he fell silent. I sighed. Anything that seemed like important knowledge was hidden away behind those restrictions.

And unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on ancient horrors. I had a one marching toward my doorstep at this very moment.

Even if I couldn’t directly see the approaching army, I knew they were getting closer. There was an almost imperceptible increase in ambient mana. Considering that all living beings leaked a small portion of their mana regeneration, if you gathered enough into a small area, it would slowly but surely increase the quantity of mana in the surroundings.

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Such accumulation wasn’t noticeable in Runehold, as a great deal were non-combatants without high levels, but buildings such as Guild Halls or the guard barracks had a much higher ambient mana level compared to other parts of the city.

Theoretically, monsters and beasts that consume more mana should be able to live in high population regions more easily than in the open wilderness. However, that’s if there isn’t an environment like the Wildlands nearby.