Chapter 58: I Left Greyhaven to Hunt the First Part of My Rifle

The organs intended for FORGE needed to reach wherever Raven could work with them intact.

It wasn’t enough to cut out a gland and throw it into a bag.

Predation had already shown him that biological integrity, mana saturation, and deterioration affected compatibility.

FORGE was even more demanding.

They found a shop specializing in monster-material preservation.

The owner was a small man with thick glasses named Borren, who initially spoke to Valeria.

Until Raven started asking questions.

"How long does it preserve magical activity?"

Borren held up a cylindrical container filled with bluish liquid.

"Common tissue, twenty days. Awakened, twelve to fifteen depending on density. Elite—"

"I don’t need Elite yet."

Borren looked at him.

"Most people ask how long it lasts before asking why."

"I already know why."

Raven took the cylinder.

"Does it reduce the integrity of electro-magical organs?"

The merchant blinked.

"What kind?"

"A gland that generates short impulses."

"Depends on the internal conductivity. If it uses organic crystals, this liquid could depolarize them."

Raven put the container down.

"Another."

Borren started looking at him with more respect.

He pulled out a rectangular case.

"Neutral-mana saline suspension. More expensive. Preserves discharge structures better."

"How much?"

"Twenty-six crowns."

Raven immediately handed it back.

"Another."

Valeria laughed.

Borren smiled.

"Fifteen."

"Keep going."

"Ten, but only seven days."

Raven calculated.

They could reach Sablewood, hunt the creature, and transport the organ before degradation if everything went well.

Everything wasn’t going to go well.

"The fifteen-crown one."

"I thought it was too expensive."

"It’s cheaper than repeating the hunt."

Borren nodded.

"That’s true."

Valeria watched Raven pay.

"You’re learning how to spend money."

"I don’t like it."

"The pain fades with practice."

"I’d prefer it didn’t."

He also bought instruments.

Fine knives.

Forceps.

Needles.

Two simple preservation bags.

A small saw.

Valeria looked over everything on the counter.

"You’re starting to look like a surgeon."

"No."

"Butcher?"

"Closer."

"That doesn’t improve the image either."

Raven packed the tools.

"I don’t need to improve it."

Then came the problem of money.

Raven counted what remained.

More than he’d had when he first arrived in Greyhaven.

Far less than he would need by the time they reached the Black Mithril.

Valeria looked at the coins.

"How much?"

"Enough to reach Mirevale."

"I can—"

"No."

She hadn’t even finished.

"You don’t know what I was going to say."

"Yes, I do."

"I could offer you a loan."

"Exactly what I thought."

"At reasonable interest."

"Worse."

"Or finance the weapon in exchange for a share."

Raven looked at her.

"No."

"You didn’t even ask how much."

"No."

"Twenty percent."

"No."

"Ten."

"No."

"Five."

"Valeria."

She smiled.

"Negotiating with you is relaxing."

"Because you ignore the answers."

"Because I always know what the first one will be."

Raven put the money away.

"I’ll take contracts along the way."

"That’ll slow down the trip."

"I need Levels too."

Valeria stopped joking.

That was true.

Raven was still Level Eight.

Common.

He had killed an Elite, but no sane person should look at that and conclude he could now regularly fight Level Thirty creatures.

The Blackmaw had required specific circumstances.

Information.

Terrain.

Valeria.

An exploitable weakness.

And it had nearly killed him anyway.

Sablewood contained Awakened creatures.

So did Mirevale.

Kharad could contain Elites.

If Raven was going to cross Asteria gathering components, he needed to become stronger along the way.

The rifle wasn’t the only project.

Raven was one too.

---

They left the inn shortly after noon.

Raven had considered staying another night.

Predatory Regeneration changed his mind.

He tested his shoulder.

Full rotation.

Minor pain.

His ribs were still sensitive, but he could breathe deeply without his body trying to remind him of the Blackmaw.

Good enough.

Roland was waiting with three horses and a packhorse.

Raven stopped.

"I don’t have a horse."

Valeria was adjusting a strap.

"Now you do."

"I didn’t buy it."

"I did."

"Then it’s yours."

"We have four."

"You have four."

Valeria looked up.

"Raven."

"Valeria."

Roland decided to become intensely focused on a buckle.

"You can walk if that protects your financial independence."

Raven looked at the road outside Greyhaven.

Then at the horse.

Then back at Valeria.

"How much?"

"Do you seriously want to buy the horse from me?"

"Yes."

"One hundred and twenty crowns."

Raven looked at the animal.

It was an ordinary horse.

A nice one.

But ordinary.

"You’re trying to rob me."

"It’s trained for light combat."

"One hundred and twenty."

"Saddle included."

"Generous."

Valeria smiled.

"You can use it for free."

"That creates debt."

"No."

"Yes."

"Then consider it shared transportation."

"It’s still yours."

"You can give it back when we’re finished."

Raven remained silent.

Valeria crossed her arms.

"You’re going to walk, aren’t you?"

Raven put one foot in the stirrup.

"I’m temporarily utilizing an available logistical resource."

She closed her eyes.

"One day I’m going to get you to say ’thank you’ normally."

Raven mounted.

"Thank you."

Valeria opened her eyes.

Raven adjusted the reins.

"Temporarily."

"I hate you a little."

"That seems healthy."

Roland coughed.

Probably to hide a laugh.

They left.

Greyhaven’s gates fell behind them.

Raven didn’t immediately look back.

For less than two weeks, that city had been practically everything he knew of civilized Veyr.

He had entered without money, without documents, Level Three, and wearing Earth clothes covered in blood.

He was leaving as an Iron.

Level Eight.

With six integrated Traits or Skills.

A secondary Authority.

Money.

A goal.

And a noblewoman who had apparently attached herself to his expedition without asking permission.

Progress.

Strange.

But progress.

The eastern road was crowded for the first few hours.

Farm carts.

Merchants.

Pilgrims.

Mercenaries.

Soldiers.

Gradually, the traffic thinned.

Greyhaven became a gray shape behind them.

Then disappeared.

Valeria rode on his right.

Roland stayed several yards ahead.

The packhorse behind them carried provisions and several Blackmaw materials Raven had refused to sell.

Raven opened FORGE one last time.

«"PROJECT: PROTOTYPE RIFLE"

Completion: 0.8%

Required Core Systems: 5

Functional Components Acquired: 0

Next identified compatible component:

"Impulse Spark"

Probable Source:

Arc Needle Wasp

Known Habitat:

Sablewood»

Raven closed the interface.

Valeria glanced at him.

"Still zero point eight?"

"Yes."

"Maybe tomorrow it’ll be zero point nine."

Raven looked at her.

"Don’t be excessively optimistic."

"Sorry."

They continued.

The terrain changed gradually.

Farms gave way to low hills.

The trees became more numerous.

Some leaves began showing bluish shades Raven hadn’t seen around Greyhaven.

The air changed too.

More humid.

Sweeter.

A floral scent reached them even from miles away.

Valeria breathed deeply.

"Sablewood begins beyond those hills."

Raven studied the dark green line on the horizon.

"How long until the forest?"

"Two days if we maintain pace. Maybe three."

"I thought it was closer."

"It is relatively close."

Raven looked at her.

"We have different definitions of ’close.’"

"You designed a weapon that requires visiting five regions. You’re going to have to expand yours."

Raven looked back toward the horizon.

Fair.

He mentally reviewed the route.

Sablewood.

Mirevale.

Dunvar.

Velis.

Kharad.

Then, if everything worked, a workbench.

A collection of organs.

Magical metal.

A design that was still incomplete.

And probably multiple failures.

He didn’t know what the finished rifle would look like.

Maybe it would resemble something from Earth.

Maybe FORGE would force him to abandon so much of the original design that it became something entirely different.

That didn’t matter.

Function was what mattered.

Raven had spent years watching distance decide fights before the enemy even knew they’d begun.

In Veyr, the powerful relied on Levels, Bloodlines, barriers, mana perception, and physical durability.

He wanted another variable.

Valeria broke the silence.

"What are you thinking about?"

Raven looked toward the distant forest.

"That all of this only exists right now because the system said it could."

"Are you worried it’s wrong?"

"No."

"Then?"

Raven thought about the notification.

Theoretical construction possible.

Theoretically.

In his experience, a lot of bad ideas started with that word.

Some of them also changed wars.

"I want to see what happens when it stops being theoretical."

Valeria smiled.

"Now you sound excited."

Raven didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

The road continued east.

Greyhaven lay behind them.

Ahead waited a forest full of venomous creatures and the first organ required to build a weapon this world had never seen.

Raven watched the horizon.

Zero point eight percent.

He’d had worse beginnings.