Chapter 179

The following hours passed in a blur. Shara cleared her schedule and immediately started experimenting.

Since she was working with an unknown ore, she started with small samples. Testing composition, melting point, other common properties. To her delight and relief, the ore yielded without struggle; it was an extremely easy material to work with. Nearly as much so as iron, the lowest tier and most common ore found in the dungeon.

She fell into a sort of fugue as the hours ticked by. First, smelting progressively larger samples as she became more comfortable with the task, separating the metal from its impurities, then refining it, purifying through both natural and alchemical means.

When she’d finished those preliminary stages of the process, six ingots of the lustrous pink metal laid in a row, refined to the best of Shara’s ability. Normally, she might have taken a moment to admire the results, especially the lustrous sheen of the novel material, but a trance had taken her over. She kept working without pause.

Natalie had suggested that Shara take liberties with forging the material, but had mentioned, specifically, a breastplate, should she lack an intuition for what the metal wanted to be molded into. And Shara did lack an intuition, but only because she got the sense that erotite was a versatile metal: something that could take any shape.

While most metals had specialties—iron for armor, silver and gold for accessories—there was nothing stopping a person from doing what they pleased with any given metal. Sure, golden armor might be weaker than its more durable counterparts, but it would manifest unique stats and associated effects in exchange. Likewise, iron trinkets and jewelry would probably take on fighter-type stats, such as tenacity and stability bonuses. Where erotite would fall on that spectrum, Shara had no idea; but regardless, she felt it was versatile.

As Shara worked, she fell deeper and deeper into her haze, almost losing her sense of self. She discerned quickly that her typical breastplate molds would be inappropriate; she needed to create something custom. She would make chest armor, yes, as Natalie had requested, but the metal—unique as it was—called for a specialized design.

It was as if the metal talked her through the process. This was a job far beyond her expertise; a material that deserved to be worked by a master, not her. But it was eager to guide Shara nonetheless. A part of her was unnerved by how deeply she lost herself in her work, how completely submerged she became, and how little conscious effort she put in. Her class, or the metal, or both in tandem, took control; Shara was simply a conduit.

Many hours later, Shara had finished. Her body was slick with sweat, despite night having arrived and cool air wafting through the forge. She looked down at her creation. While aware to some degree of what she’d been painstakingly forging, she had been so invested that it wasn’t until just then, gazing admiringly at the result of her hard work, that she realized what, exactly, she had created.

The deep, thrumming sense of harmony and connection with her class faded. The metal stopped singing to her. She stared down at...

At...

The armor she’d made.

If it could be called that.

Shara paled.

Her thoughts froze in disbelief. It was armor that belonged on a torso, yes. As Natalie had requested. But a breastplate designed for a heavily armored fighter?

No.

Not remotely.

A ... pink metal bra. That was a better description. Perhaps the least functional armor she had ever seen, much less one a tank would wield. Panic rose. This was what she had wasted her client’s enormously valuable resource on? This was the fruit of Shara’s once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

Had something gone wrong? She’d completely submerged herself in the will of her class and the ore itself, but had external ideas influenced her? Because surely this wasn’t what the ore had wanted to be forged into. Had Shara’s distracted thoughts corrupted the process? She would admit that her eyes had caught on Natalie more than a few times, however much she’d been doing her best to maintain her professionalism.