Tave stepped out of the house just monts after their father had departed, and after Lily had headed off to attend matters at the Knight Academy. The midday air felt sharper than usual, like the world itself was bracing for sothing.
There was sothing important he needed to do. Sothing that couldn’t wait, no matter how scattered and chaotic his thoughts had beco. His mind felt like a storm, with waves of realization crashing one after another.
First, the delay of the forest elves of Vensalor. Allegedly due to heightened monster activity in the sea.
Second, the disturbing possibility that demons were already beginning to stir within the Dissidia Kingdom.
Third, the arrival of Princess Baneth in Deadbay City.
Each of these events, on their own, might have seed like separate concerns. But not to Tave. Not now.
It all felt connected. Interwoven in a way that made the truth impossible to ignore.
A war was coming.
He paused on the path, his breath catching. No... calling it a "war" didn’t feel right anymore.
Because the Dissidia Kingdom wasn’t going to fight the demons. There would be no back-and-forth. No grand standoff of armies. They weren’t prepared, not even close. The demons were just too strong. Far too strong.
Even in the original story, the fall of Dissidia wasn’t a drawn-out campaign. It was annihilation.
The capital... reduced to nothing. Entire regions swallowed in fla and ruin.
All of it happened in a single night.
Yes, just one night!
Fuck, seriously. In a world like this, where everything felt like it could collapse at any mont, nothing felt safe anymore. War, disaster, destruction. They weren’t rare. They were normal. And now, everything was happening faster than expected. Much faster.
And Tave? He wasn’t just a writer watching from afar. Not anymore. He wasn’t the reader turning pages in suspense.
He was in it.
A part of it.
What the hell could he even do to make a difference in sothing this massive, when he was still just a Gaia Apprentice. Barely more than a rookie?
Fuck.
He walked through the city, but the world around him lted into the background. His mind was overloaded with thoughts, theories, panic, and a flicker of urgency that kept pulsing harder with every step.
There was soone he needed to see today.
Soone who might just hold the key to helping him power up faster, and smarter. Soone who could help him craft sothing crucial. Not just any upgrade, but a piece of his future. Sothing vital to his growth.
Eventually, he stopped.
He was standing in front of a small building nestled in the busier quarter of Deadbay. It didn’t look like much from a distance, but as he stepped closer, the air around it was already thick with heat, an oppressive wave of temperature that clung to the skin before you even touched the door.
It was a Smithy.
A blacksmith’s workshop. Unassuming at first glance, stone base, reinforced tal doors, vents on the side pouring out thin smoke that gave the scent of burning coal and molten iron to the street. The roof sagged slightly from age, but the thick structure scread durability. No frills. No aesthetics. Just function.
But this place was no ordinary forge.
This smithy belonged to soone crucial. A character that, later in the story, would beco an important cornerstone in the plot. A forger of legendary items, a key player. Though for now... he was nothing more than a grumpy, dismissive figure that most people saw as annoying. Insignificant.
And yet, in this mont, Tave knew better.
Because inside this smithy lived soone who shouldn’t even be here. In a human kingdom, surrounded by humans. An outsider. An anomaly.
A dwarf.
Living alone, in a city ruled by humans. Quiet. Unbothered. Powerful.
The heavy door creaked open, and from behind the veil of smoke and heat, a stocky figure erged. Broad-chested, arms thick with muscle, his head only reaching up to Tave’s neck. His black hair was tied back, his face grim and serious, coated in sweat and soot. The scent of tal and smoke clung to him like armor.
He glared.
"What do you want here?" he barked, his voice rough and loud.
The dwarf standing before Tave wasn’t just any smith. This was Fokil. A na unknown to most, forgotten even by those who should’ve rembered. But to Tave, and... Theo, the original protagonist, this dwarf was a hidden legend.
The Master-rank Blacksmith of the entire Dissidia Kingdom. The only one.
Roughly 400 years old, Fokil had seen more ages pass than anyone around him could ever guess. His presence in this city, far from the mountains of his kin, buried deep in a human kingdom, was no accident. But the reasons for his exile, his hiding, his silence... those wouldn’t beco relevant until much later in the story.
Still, if soone ever needed a piece of gear that truly mattered. Sothing forged with legendary craftsmanship, sothing that could turn tides in battle. This was the man to find. Fokil could craft anything, and when he did, the results were unmatched.
But that didn’t make things easy.
He was reclusive. Temperantal. Impossible to deal with.
Fokil didn’t care for the world around him. He forged what he wanted, when he wanted. If you asked for a commission, he’d charge an absurdly high price. Not because he needed the coin, but simply to drive people away.
He was, in short, even more difficult to deal with than Orion.
At least on the surface.
Before Tave could even answer his barked question, Fokil began stepping back into his forge, clearly ready to slam the door shut and return to his work.
But Tave moved quickly.
Without hesitation, he activated his storage ring and pulled out two items, gripping them firmly in both hands.
"Sir," he called out. "I’ve brought the carcass of a Shade-Tail Scorpinox, and its monster core. I need your help to craft sothing from it."
The heavy door paused halfway.
Fokil didn’t say a word, but his eyes locked on the Scorpinox remains.
Tave held his ground, resisting the urge to say more. He was certain, absolutely certain, that these two items would be enough to catch the dwarf’s attention. The Shade-Tail Scorpinox carcass and its core weren’t just rare, they were valuable. High-grade. Full of crafting potential.
And if anyone would recognize that, it was Fokil.
He didn’t need to explain the materials. Fokil’s knowledge of monsters and their crafting properties was encyclopedic. Surely, surely he knew what he was looking at.
Tave waited. Just a mont.
But that mont stretched, dragging on like an eternity, even if it was only a breath.
Please... he begged inwardly, gripping the items tighter.
And then. Slam!
The door shut.
Just like that.
"Fucking hell!" Tave hissed under his breath.
It was exactly what Fokil had done to Theo, in the original story. He rembered writing this mont, rembering how Theo had been turned away the first ti.
And now Tave was tasting that sa cold rejection firsthand.
So this was what it felt like.
Damn it!
He should’ve brought sothing more. Sothing that would’ve made even Fokil’s stubborn pride pause.
And then...
Click.
The door creaked open again. Fokil appeared in the fra.
Tave’s heart jumped. He t the dwarf’s gaze, filled with raw hope.
But Fokil wasn’t looking at him.
He looked down.
Tave blinked, then followed his gaze.
"Shadow wolf?" Fokil asked.
Tave’s eyes lit up. Yes!
"Yes, sir! My tad beast. Shadow wolf with Dark and Shadow elental affinity!"
That was it. That was the hook.
He did better than Theo.
Fokil stared for a heartbeat longer, then finally muttered, "Co inside."
Tave nearly laughed. He’d done it.
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