The Curator
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Chapter 134: More Crafting
🕑 Added 2024-12-19 10:59:47 +0000 UTCSteven could barely suppress the wave of relief that washed over him as the system shop appeard. For days, he had been fleeing the relentless pursuit of vampires since his arrival at the fifth stage. Every time he thought he’d lost them, their shadowy forms reappeared—silent silhouettes against the horizon, trailing him like bloodhounds on a scent.
The System Shop offered something he hadn't dared to hope for in days: sanctuary and respite. It was a rare chance to breathe and to plan his next move. Once inside its shimmering confines, the constant tension gripping his body began to ease. He browsed the glowing panels, his mind racing as he considered his options. He needed escape items—tools to finally shake his pursuers for good.
After spending the full duration allowed in the shop, he was unceremoniously expelled into the harsh, unforgiving jungle. The humid air struck him like a wall, but Steven had no time to linger. He clutched the teleportation token he'd purchased for 450,000 credits—a staggering sum, but one he gladly parted with for even a slim chance at freedom. Activating it, he felt a wrenching sensation tear through his body, pain lancing through every nerve as the world dissolved around him.
When he reappeared twenty kilometers away, Steven collapsed to his knees, gasping. The jungle here seemed eerily quiet, the thick canopy filtering the sunlight into a dim, green haze. He forced himself to stand, muscles screaming in protest, and began moving again.
He couldn’t afford to stop. The vampires were faster than him—swift and tireless, their predatory grace a terrifying contrast to his desperate flailing. Without the repeated upgrades he'd poured into his wing skill, he would’ve been a dead man long ago.
As the hours passed, the jungle’s oppressive heat weighed on him, and soon, he encountered its other inhabitants: beasts with red mist rising ominously from their skin. These creatures weren’t natural. The red mist hinted at corruption—dark magic that seeped into their very flesh, turning them into lethal weapons. They were more than a nuisance; their poisonous clouds could kill him if his armor failed.
Steven couldn’t help but marvel grimly at the vampires’ handiwork. To corrupt this many creatures, they must have been working tirelessly since their arrival on the fifth stage. Dead beasts littered the forest floor, evidence of the vampires’ relentless expansion. Despite the danger, Steven had no choice but to hunt. He needed experience—desperately.
At level 80, he was strong, but he still hesitated to evolve. Evolving too soon could lock him into a subpar class, and Steven was determined to aim higher. His lance impaled beasts with brutal precision, while white fire seared others to ash. The sun stood high in the sky, casting stark shadows through the jungle—a small mercy. Daylight was his ally; at night, his light-based skills would make him a beacon for enemies.
The vampires, he knew, were still hunting him. And somewhere deeper in this stage lurked their true masters—the ones he had no hope of outrunning.
<--
Thalion stood on the gravity array, his body trembling under the oppressive force, sweat dripping from his brow as he tempered his body. The weight was crushing, but it was nothing compared to the mental strain of recent days. The System Shop’s announcement ticked down in his mind, a reminder that he had only hours to make his purchases.
The council's endless debates still echoed in his thoughts—what to buy, where to allocate resources. For Thalion, the answer was obvious. Why waste time arguing when the System’s Voice had never steered him wrong?
Initially, he’d planned to start crafting his new armor, but the crystals in the black pillar weren’t ready yet. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, so he threw himself into body tempering instead. The gravity array was brutal, but it worked better than any elixir they’d managed to scavenge so far.
Thalion had handed off his precious elixirs to Maike and the small family he’d rescued from the spiders. They were helping Kaldrek investigate the mysterious murders plaguing the base. The deaths were baffling—tokens that should’ve tracked every soul in the base showed nothing near the victims. This was unsettling in more than one way as most targets were slaves and those people were clearly stealing the cuffs. Whoever was behind it was disturbingly skilled, and Thalion suspected divine interference.
Blessed individuals were becoming more common with each system shop, and with their god-given powers came complications. The gods had their own agendas, and their blessings often caused as much trouble as they solved. Thalion was no stranger to divine politics. The so-called “special quest” had set the gods scrambling, each trying to stack the deck in their favor.
For now, though, Thalion focused on his own plans. The system shop finally opened, and he wasted no time stepping inside.
“Greetings, Voice of the System. I have a few requests,” he said, addressing the golden statue. “First, I need security for my underground lab, something that seals the entrance automatically when triggered.”
The Voice offered him an array of options, and Thalion settled on an illusion array to hide the entrance completely. The price of 810,000 credits stung, but it was a small price for peace of mind.
The rest of his credits went toward fortifying the base: magical ballistas, catapults, reinforced wall-walks, and defensive vines that could drag enemies to their doom. Each purchase chipped away at his savings, but by the time he left the shop, he was assured that the base would become a true fortress.
The sun dipped low on the horizon as Thalion placed the last of the defenses. The sprawling base stretched over two kilometers, its walls bristling with new weapons. People crowded the streets, their movements a testament to the growing strength of the survivors.
Satisfied, Thalion turned back to his cultivation chamber. The crystals he’d placed in the black pillar gleamed ominously, their surfaces dark as night. They pulsed with power, and Thalion felt their weight pressing against his mind. Perfect.
As he examined the crystals, plans for upgrading his armor took shape in his thoughts. The runes required were intricate, far more complex than those on his blade. His mind lingered on the mask he wore—an artifact that left his head woefully unprotected.
“Why not turn it into a helmet?” he mused. A proper helm wouldn’t make him invincible, but it was better than leaving his head exposed.
For now, though, Thalion had done enough. He gazed out over the bustling base, a small smile playing on his lips. This place wasn’t perfect, but it was strong.
That particular task would have to wait at least a few more days. If he intended to craft a helmet, Thalion was determined to do it right. He had no experience with helmets thus far, and the thought of fusing such a vital piece with his prized mask filled him with unease. The mask was too precious to risk on an untested design, and failure was not an option.
Arriving at the smithy, he launched into a long discussion with Lucan, the resident blacksmith, about empowering the staff Lucan was currently refining. Lucan, who had recently ascended to E-grade and reached level 82, was in an unusually sour mood. His complaints stretched through the night, lamenting how unfair the system was—several of his skills had dropped drastically in rarity following his evolution. The adaptation process was notoriously brutal, with some of his abilities plummeting by two full rarities. Despite his grumbling, Lucan's hands moved with practiced precision, the glow of molten steel reflecting in his sharp, focused eyes.
Thalion found his rhythm and began his own work, first sketching runes onto a thick sheet of parchment. The lines had to be perfect, each placement meticulously documented to avoid disastrous errors later. The runes weren’t mere symbols; they were the foundation of the armor’s strength. Any mistake here could compromise the entire piece.
Once the designs were complete, he moved to the next step: destroying the initial test runes he’d crafted using his blood. Twenty crystals—painstakingly melted down over days—were now ready to be used as material for the final runes. Their molten glow was mesmerizing, the liquid shifting with an almost sentient fluidity. Thalion carved the runes into the armor itself, his blade as steady as his resolve, and filled the intricate lines with the molten crystal.
The process spanned nearly two days. He worked slowly, deliberately, each step requiring a level of precision that bordered on obsession. One mistake could ruin the final product, and Thalion refused to accept anything less than perfection—especially from himself.
The crystals he’d prepared earlier were finally embedded into the armor. Their placement was unconventional: not in a straight line, but arranged in a crescent, with each crystal set slightly higher than the last. The design wasn’t just for aesthetics; it channeled energy through the armor in a way that amplified its power. The hum of latent energy flowing through the hardened crystal runes was almost hypnotic.
Thalion performed the same upgrades on the mask, though the robe remained untouched. He had no clear idea yet how to refine its runes further and wasn’t willing to risk an uninformed experiment.
After bidding Lucan farewell, who was eagerly diving into a new skill he’d acquired from the system shop, Thalion mist-formed back to his tower. His arrival was swift and silent, the mist dissipating as he stepped onto solid ground. Only then did he remember the security measures he had yet to install.
With a few deft movements, Thalion activated the features he’d purchased. The entrance to his cultivation cave vanished, concealed by a seamless illusion array. From the outside, it appeared as though nothing was there at all. Thalion tested the door, his fingers brushing against invisible resistance. Only he, with the control crystal in hand, could access it without triggering an alarm—an alarm loud enough to wake the dead and undoubtedly irritate the living.
Descending into the cave, Thalion approached the ominous black pillar where his armor would rest for the comming days . He laid the almost-finished pieces before it: armor, mask, and robe. The pillar’s energy pulsed as he placed them inside, the dark power enveloping the items in an ethereal glow. Lucan’s recent discovery echoed in his mind—only when all pieces of a single armor set were fully connected would the true potential reveal itself.
For now, the armor would remain in the pillar, allowing it and the crystal runes to attune further. The longer it stayed, the more deeply infused it would become with the dark energies radiating from the pillar. Whether this process could truly make the armor “fear-attuned” was uncertain, but Thalion intended to push it as far as it would go.
With his immediate tasks completed, Thalion weighed his options. The dark affinity plants and beast corpses he’d collected whispered their potential, promising strength through devouring. Alternatively, the gravity array beckoned, a brutal but effective means of tempering his body. There was also the blood pool, enriched with thousands of liters of potent blood, waiting for him to submerge and absorb its power.
Another possibility piqued his interest: building a cultivation chamber for Eagly. Gaining a higher wind affinity as Eagly would be very important right now.
For now, he would continue his tempering on the gravity array until interrupted—whether by the council’s endless deliberations or the completion of the teleportation circle that would grant him access to the ocean. Either way, Thalion relished the thought of growing stronger, inching closer to the moment he would confront Kael.
He allowed himself a grim smile, imagining Kael’s expression when they finally met again. Letting someone live who wanted to strip his body of its secrets was a mistake he wouldn't make in the future.
Comments
DrifterMan
Es un poco desalentador ver qué Steve, que parecía ser el jefe final, es brutalmente arrasado por los soldados rasos de los vampiros
Daniel Hamilton
Here’s to him knocking body tempering out of the park. Excited for the day when you finally gains a bloodline.
Amazon Shopper
tftc
