Chapter 1821

Chapter 1821

Samuel Hoss woke with the first inkling of the sun reaching over the horizon. The pale gloom spread through the slight opening left by the curtains and softened the harsh shadows of his bedroom. Despite his high Vitality and Endurance, he still found it relaxing to sleep for an hour or two each night, right before dawn. It cleansed his mind, helped him overcome the burden of frustration that he carried for so long.

His attempts yesterday had ended in failure, just like always. But he had an inkling of the path forward.

Groaning, he sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. The System had empowered all their physiques, but there were some old aches that never seemed to fade. He glanced sideways. The other side of the bed was empty; Regina was already up. Which, at least, meant that there would be some breakfast already made.

Groaning again, he got up and went to the bathroom. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he stumped down to the kitchen and rapidly shoveled the cold fried eggs into his mouth. He leaned over the sink and took a gulp directly from the faucet. Wiping off his mouth, he walked down to his workshop.

“Today...” Sam mumbled. “Today I’ll try and make something simple. Maybe a spear, for old time’s sake.”

However, when Sam reached his workshop, there was his problem: his favorite hammer was nowhere to be seen. He scratched his stubble-covered chin in irritation.

He quickly circled the workshop, his eyes roving past the still furnace, the anvil, the piles of raw materials, and the scorched wooden worktable. Sam scratched his chin again when he was unable to find his Blazing Dawnmist Hammer. And it wasn’t like it was an item that could be stolen. Not only did the hammer weigh almost a half ton, but Sam had managed to forge it with the special quality of not being able to be stored in an interspatial space. “Maybe I left it in my outside workspace...?”

But no, Sam had sensed that he had been close to developing a new hammering method after forging the Wolf Bracer and had spent the last mouth holed up in his workshop, trying to capture the elusive feeling he had sensed during that making. Not only had he been hammering the materials, but Sam had felt like there was a bit of extra substance to his strikes. Like he had tempering some inner, ephemeral portion of the equipment with each blow. Perhaps if he could do that more reliably, he would be able to make it past the VIII barrier.

His obsession had netted him nothing thus far, but he felt very close to breakthrough.

Sam moved his search from his workshop to the rest of the house. However, he quickly became so aggravated in his failures that he stubbed his toe on one of the stools in the kitchen. Of course, his toe was so pointlessly robust that not only did his toe sting from the impact, but his kick snapped off the bottom portion of the leg. Which left him with an uneven stool and still no hammer.

Sam growled quietly to himself and then headed to the other end of the house, opposite his workshop. It was time to consult an expert.

He knocked once and then barged into the examination room. “Regina? Have you seen my-”

Sam instantly felt awkward as he stopped speaking; he really should have waited after knocking. One of the few things both of them took very seriously is another barging into workspace without an invitation. Regina, wearing blood spattered scrubs and pressing her lips together in a way that informed Sam that they would have a talk about this later, leaned back from the grey cadaver on the table in front of her. Behind her were two ogres, a human woman, a frogperson, and one of the Lizakh, all also in scrubs and carrying clipboards. The corpse Sam recognized as one of the unpredictable Chimera’s that infested the most desolate places on Expira.

“Yes? You had something important to say?” Regina said with faux sweetness.

“Eating out again?” Sunan grumbled and shook his head in such a perfect mimicking of Sam’s disappointment to Regina’s suggestion last week that Sam snorted. “No. The church of Arbor... is having a potluck. I’ll help with the gardening and eat there.”

Sunan’s idea of ‘helping with the garden’ was waiting next to the garden and then carrying the baskets of freshly picked produce back to the kitchens. Still, the men and women who ran the garden were part of Donnyton’s core group. They of course thought his firm dedication to being a beast of burden was adorable.

They probably also think he will grow out of it someday. But that little fool is just as stubborn as Regina.

Sam returned to his workshop. He picked up another hammer and began to swing it lightly through the air. His lips twitched; the hammer was far too light in his hand, to the point that it didn’t feel like he was swinging a hammer at all. He simply had a handful of cotton fluff that he was waving around. However, he ignored the discomfort and continued to swing.

When he finally felt like he was growing comfortable with the way the tool felt in his hand, he walked over to the pile of materials in his workshop and pulled out some of the newest refined metal bars from Kharon. He raised the hammer above his head and brought it crashing down.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

He didn’t even bother with starting the furnace. He produced passive heat with his Skills, rapidly turning the metal a dull red and throwing off sparks with every strike. Sam hammered that bit of metal for almost an hour, but during the whole experience he didn’t feel that sense of incorporeal hammering that he received. Although the spearhead he made gleamed with a dangerous light, he tossed it into his rubbish pile, to be sold in bulk to the discard weapon store in Donnyton.

Sam then tapped his chin. His hammer steamed as it began to cool. Huuuuuu, that sensation I felt was only at the end, after I started to understand what I was making. Maybe I need to have a sharper vision...

Sam began to work again. He hammered three more spear heads, each time having a more elaborate and details vision for how the weapon would turn out in its final form. However, the feeling of impacting more than the physical was barely present, and even then it was only sporadic. Sam was unable to recreate it.

Dumping these attempts into the rubbish pile, Sam released a long sigh. Difficult, as expected. But I am starting to feel that sensation more frequently. And I think I’m finally starting to understand. Its vaguely similar to the process of imbuing a Skill into equipment, but the arrangement is much more profound.

This... then likely what I’m actually influencing is the weapon’s Nether... Sam mused. Through interactions with the Alpha Cosmos world through the archways, Expira had steadily learned more about Nether. However, their knowledge was still extremely shallow. Most of their initial theories proved incorrect, leading to a relatively new assertion that was gaining traction.

The Nether in Expira was steadily increasing. So the possibilities of what they could do changed every day-

“Sunan! Stop for lunch!” Regina’s shout cut through Sam’s focus, bringing him back to himself. He set the hammer down and brushed some metal shavings off of his vest. Then he headed back into the house.

He hadn’t been invited, but Sam was also hungry for lunch. And he needed to do a little groundwork groveling so the dinner tonight would be pleasant.