Absolute Craft

Chapter 20: One Horned Demon (3)

"What should I do?"

Blake was the guild leader who had taken his team to the top. Yet he'd always been more of a skilled player than a strategist. He excelled at following his advisors' plans—or even outperforming them—but he rarely came up with those plans himself.

With a clear path before him, he could accomplish a lot. But dealing with people was a different story. Sure, he had a presence that drew others in, and many admired his talent, but his past showed he wasn't good at fostering those relationships.

Vargar looked at the young man, startled that Blake had opened up so candidly. His initial surprise softened into a warm smile.

"Yer old wounds must still ache," Vargar said. "Ye did well, Blake. Really well. I would've done the same in yer position. A week-long friendship can't stand against somethin' that might change yer fate. Even close dwarven friends might betray each other for the piece ye've obtained."

"Then… there's no problem?" Blake asked, still uncertain.

The old dwarf stroked his beard. "Every life has its troubles. But ye promised to visit my home. That's more than I ever asked for. I trust yer word is stronger than diamond."

Though still unsure, Blake felt much better. He had finally offered Vargar something in return for all his help. He would keep that promise and someday visit the dwarven kingdom as a more capable blacksmith, able to forge items the world had never seen. As he thought it over, he realized just how much Vargar stood to gain. The dwarf had invested in Blake's future, and if it all turned out well, his kingdom would gain a powerful ally—someone who could help bridge dwarves and elves.

"Take yer time with the fragment. I'll check over the gatekeepers' armor," Vargar said.

"All right." Blake nodded and returned to the golden chamber.

There, he picked up the radiant fragment of the Lost King's first crown and examined its details:

Suddenly, the white stone beneath him heated up. In an instant, the black box atop it dissolved into a hazy mist. New system messages appeared:

This strange, magical forging method caught Blake off guard. He hadn't expected to use such a furnace so soon, but he wasn't about to back down. It seemed the quest wanted to test his limits right now.

As he absorbed more details on The White Obsidian Furnace, Blake removed his helmet and gently placed it on the white stone. It didn't melt—he could control exactly what would melt on its surface. The furnace offered such fine precision that returning to a normal smithy would feel disappointing.

He set the crown shard near the demonic mask and whispered, "I'll melt it into my helmet and shape it into a horn."

He glanced at Sol, who perched nearby, enjoying the furnace's warmth. Behind him, Beatrix emerged from his shadow, watching the sealed doors. She stood ready to strike down anyone who dared interfere.

With these two at his side, Blake smiled softly. "Don't be surprised," he said.

Gripping his hammer, he swung it.

"BLAKE!"

Sol froze, his tiny eyes wide. Beatrix turned her head, likely just as stunned. Their master's forging reverberated through the chamber, sounding more unusual than ever.

–

A few hours later, the grand doors opened. A small, glowing orb shone brighter as it drew near. Soon, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows, the orb perched atop him.

Clad in black armor, Blake emerged. The room's glow had dimmed now that he'd forged the shard into an item—the horn on his helmet. Sol clung to it like a prized treasure.

Having finished examining the gatekeepers' armor, Vargar greeted him and noticed the horn. It matched the demonic mask perfectly.

He smiled. "A fine spot for the first fragment. It's lost its rainbow shine, so I guess it's an item now, eh? What's its name?"

Blake nodded. "Hubris."

His gear now matched Beatrix's armor as it gained a new skill. Hubris reflected his chosen name—Superbia, the sin of pride. His katana and equipment embodied that pride. Unsheathing the blade meant fighting as he always had, reveling in a thrill he could never entirely abandon.

His armor, Pride's Second Coming, concealed his identity, letting him savor this world's excitement. And Hubris? It made him The Hollow King.