Chapitre 55: Micah - 5.2
I stared through the window of reality as the battle raged around them, the air thick with the acrid stench of smoke and blood. The Expulsors leaped from the ledge of our side of the gateway. They descended upon the dragon with deadly precision, their blades tearing through its wings, leaving trails of fire and lightning and other elemental forces gushing from the gashes.
Each one hooked the pommels of their weapons onto cords around their waists, hurling their blades over the dragon's beating wings. In a coordinated maneuver, each pair of fighters caught their opposite partner's weapon, quickly tossing it back to fully constrict the dragon within dozens of metal ropes.
Various magics flowed through the bindings, bringing the aerial dread crashing to the ground. The ground trembled under the impact, and the dragon let out a deafening roar, its massive form writhing in pain and fury. The killers embedded their blades into the stone around the site like climbing pitons securing a cliff.
The captain of the Expulsors climbed onto the back of the black-winged beast and plunged his blade into its spines. He severed the wings from the thorax, rendering the dragon incapable of flight. With a simultaneous gouge to each eye, he ended the terror, leaving the monster limp and lifeless.
The executioners scurried about, gathering their weapons and beginning to disassemble the beast for parts. They worked with a grim efficiency, their faces set in steely determination. The magicians channeling the portal each grabbed a teleportation amulet from a shelf and stepped through to Aetherhaven. They floated down on individual mana platforms, inspecting the dragon as the warriors dissected it.
Alone. Alone! I rushed over to the displays of artifacts. Rings, bracers, amulets, orbs, crystals! After marveling at the trinkets for several moments, I noticed a downward-spiraling staircase behind one of the shelves. Following the steps, I entered a tall cylindrical library almost as large as Grandfather's.
Pedestals displayed floating books. Flapping tomes and grimoires soared overhead, leaving particles of mana tracing their movements. After stepping onto the floor, the air inside felt off. The atmosphere hung heavy but also freeing, like a predator stepping into a bush to observe its quarry, like nothing outside this room mattered. In here, time seemed like imagination.
I lost track, maybe half an hour? Perhaps several. I rushed around like a peasant at a royal feast, grabbing every spine that caught my eye. Wolstenholme's Wyrd Writ, Alchemy Advanced, Artifice Advanced, Fine Tinkering, Arms and Armaments of the Bluesmiths, everything.
Contemporary research notes and experiment logs, evidence of a fourth and even fifth unknown element, dark rumblings from beneath the world! Artificially created imitation Thundersteel! The influx of knowledge inspired me. I used the simmering ember within my crystal to activate the storage bracelet. I assembled my workshop in the center of the library.
I copied the map painted onto the floor, each province and territory from the ones I recognized and new ones charted on the borders of the known. The world now shaped like a dented shovel head mounted onto the tail of a gryphon with its wings outstretched.
I withdrew the designs for my weapons and armor. I could be useful—would be helpful—for the next attack. A layer of protection to keep me from freezing or fleeing would enable me to fight alongside Master, Mister Magnar, the Wardens, everyone risking their lives for others. Too many children would wake tomorrow crying for their parents, for their fathers and grandfathers. Too many parents would have to grieve their progeny. Even if it was just one, I wished to spare any more that fate.
I lit my furnace and placed the purification balloon around its short smoke stack. Time for a prototype. I lined my materials on my workbench: vexcrystal, latex, brimstone, spear grass, iron, bird bones, mana crystals, oil, rosin, and tanned leather.
I crushed the brimstone into a powder, as well as the low-quality mana crystals I had picked up off the streets of Aune. I set the yellow powder and the lavender powder aside and finely minced the spear grass into a green aggregate. Then, I broke off a piece of the vexcrystal and hammered it into fine shards, creating a sparkling black dust.
The iron softened in the furnace, signified with a white-hot glow. I worked the metal on an anvil for a few minutes before needing to reheat the ingot. I folded the crystal powder and bone dust into the metal as I worked. Each piece finished with a proper quench in the oil. After what felt like days, a set of armor began to shape up.
I set the loose pieces off to the side and boiled the latex to condense the rubber and begin its vulcanization. I treated the natural rubber with the brimstone and spear grass to prevent any deformation from extreme hot or cold climates. I laboriously folded in the vex-dust before coating the armor pieces with the mixture.
I cut the leather into strips and laid together the separate metal entities into a useful pattern. I coated the straps with rosin before pressing them onto the interior of the pieces of armor. I fastened together the leather to the metal with rivets. I could afford no gap for magic to leak through.
As I worked, I thought of the children who would wake to a world without their parents, the parents who would grieve their lost children. I thought of the brave souls who fought to protect us, who risked everything to keep the darkness at bay. I would not let their sacrifice be in vain.
The furnace roared, the heat intense as I forged the final pieces of my armor. The iron glowed, the vexcrystal dust embedded within it shimmering like dark stars in a silver sky. I worked tirelessly, my hands steady despite the fatigue that threatened to overtake me.
Finally, the armor was complete. I stood back, admiring my handiwork. The pieces gleamed with a dull, dark luster, the black dust giving them an otherworldly sheen. The leather straps were sturdy, the rosin ensuring they would hold fast.
I donned the armor, feeling its weight settle around me. It was heavier than I had anticipated, but I welcomed the burden. It was a small price to pay for the protection it offered. I secured the straps, adjusting them until the armor fit snugly against my body.
As I moved, the armor creaked slightly, the metal and leather settling into place. I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. I had created something that would help me stand alongside those who fought to protect. I would not be a burden; I would be a warden.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone