Reven woke the next morning with purpose.
The wind affinity was fading—down to maybe three hours remaining—but he could still feel it. The way air moved through his workshop. The subtle pressure differences that indicated drafts, weak points in the walls, the direction of prevailing winds.
He could use this.
Garrick came by with new work—a hunter's sword that had been damaged in a recent skirmish. The blade had a stress fracture running lengthwise, the kind that would propagate with each impact until the weapon shattered catastrophically.
"Can you fix it?" Garrick asked.
Reven examined the sword. It was a mess. Poor steel, worse tempering, and the fracture was deep enough that conventional repair would require reforging the entire blade.
But with Calamity Sight...
[MATERIAL: HUNTING SWORD (SEVERELY COMPROMISED)]
- QUALITY: BELOW AVERAGE
- ESSENCE: NONE (MUNDANE STEEL)
- HIDDEN PROPERTIES:
Steel composition includes trace wind-reactive metals (accidental, from ore source) Fracture follows natural grain boundary—can be reinforced rather than removed Original forging was rushed; blade contains unrealized potential
[ASSESSMENT: SALVAGEABLE WITH PROPER TECHNIQUE]
"I can fix it," Reven said. "But it'll take three days, and I'll need some of that material from storage."
"Which materials?"
"The Mist Serpent scales. The ones marked low-grade."
Garrick frowned. "Those are worthless. Discolored. No merchant will take them."
"Trust me."
The old smith studied him. "You see something in them."
"I see what they actually are, not what someone labeled them."
"That's a cryptic answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Garrick grunted. "Fine. Use what you need. But if you waste materials we could've sold—"
"You won't be able to sell them. Not as they are. But if I'm right, I can turn them into something worth selling." Reven met the old smith's eyes. "Give me three days."
Reven didn't sleep much or eat more than necessary. A side-benefit to his calamity blood, he rarely felt tradition food hunger or felt the need to sleep unless truly necessary.
A monster usually slept with one eye open after all.
He just continued working on the sword.
First, he had to address the fracture. Conventional wisdom said you couldn't repair a stress fracture—you had to remove the damaged section and reforge. But conventional wisdom couldn't see what Reven saw. The fracture followed the natural grain boundary of the steel. It wasn't a failure. It was the metal trying to tell you how it wanted to be structured.
He heated the blade carefully. Not to forging temperature—that would have made the fracture worse. Just hot enough to make the metal pliable.
Then, using techniques half-remembered from his training and half-invented on the spot, he compressed the fracture. Squeezed it closed using precise hammer blows and his enhanced perception of how the metal's grain structure flowed.
The fracture sealed.
Not perfectly. There was a visible line where it had been. But the structural integrity was restored.
Step two: reinforcement.
This was where the Mist Serpent scales came in. Reven grinded them into fine powder—careful, meticulous work that took hours. The mineral essence they'd absorbed was concentrated in the discoloration. That essence, when properly applied, would bond with the steel and create a reinforcement matrix.
He mixed the powder with oil. Heated the blade again. Applied the mixture along the old fracture line and several other stress points he could see developing.
The essence bonded.
Step three: refinement.
The blade's edge was a disaster. Reven had to reground it entirely, using the wind affinity he'd consumed to sense exactly how the edge should curve to move through air with minimal resistance.
Sharper. Lighter. Balanced differently than before.
By the third day, when he finally set down his tools and examined the finished product, Reven barely recognized the original sword.
[MATERIAL: HUNTING SWORD (REFORGED)]
- QUALITY: ABOVE AVERAGE → APPROACHING EXCEPTIONAL
- ESSENCE: MINOR WATER RESISTANCE (FROM SERPENT SCALES)
PROPERTIES:
34% increase in durability Enhanced edge retention Reduced weight (12% lighter than original) Minor enchantment compatibility boost
[ASSESSMENT: SIGNIFICANT IMPROVEMENT OVER BASE MATERIAL]
He'd turned a below-average weapon someone had given up on into something approaching exceptional.
From trash.
The hunter who'd brought the sword for repair was named Tomas. Young. Early twenties. Wore his desperation like everyone else in Haven's Reach—visible in the threadbare clothes, the hollow cheeks, the way he couldn't quite meet your eyes because disappointment was easier to bear if you didn't look directly at it.
Reven handed him the sword.
Tomas took it. His eyes widened slightly. "This feels... different."
"Test it."
The hunter took the sword outside and found a practice dummy that had seen better years.
He swung once.
The blade cut clean. Smooth. The kind of cut that came from proper balance and a perfect edge.
Tomas swung again. Harder. The blade didn't vibrate. Didn't catch. Just cut.
"What did you do?" The hunter's voice was quiet. Stunned.
"I fixed it."
"This is better than when I bought it. This is better than anything I've owned." Tomas looked at Reven, really looked at him for the first time. "How?"
"I saw what it could be. Then I made it that way."
Word spread fast in a settlement of fifty people.
By evening, three more hunters had brought Reven their damaged equipment.
By the next morning, five more arrived with materials they'd been told were worthless, asking if he could "see" anything in them.
Reven worked tirelessly. Identifying hidden properties to turn low-grade into mid-grade. He turned damaged into functional.
And turned trash into treasure.
With each piece, his reputation grew.
Not as a corrupted exile. Not as a contamination risk.
As the smith who could see value where everyone else saw junk.
Garrick stood in the doorway of Reven's workshop, watching him work on a set of leather bracers. Reven had been at it for hours, carefully treating supposedly low-grade Jaggi hide with compounds he'd created from other "worthless" materials.
"You're seeing something the rest of us can't," the old smith said finally. "Aren't you?"
Reven didn't look up from the leather he was treating. "Everyone sees the surface. I see what's underneath."
"That blood changed you."
"Yes."
"Should we be afraid?"
Reven's hands stilled. He looked at Garrick—really looked at him. The old smith stood in the doorway, one-armed, weathered, exhausted. But not hostile. Just... cautious. Waiting for an honest answer.
"I don't know," Reven said quietly. "I'm afraid sometimes. Of what I'm becoming. Of what I might lose if I keep changing. But I'm trying to use it for something good. That has to count for something."
Garrick was silent for a long moment.
"My arm," he said finally, gesturing at the stump. "Lost it five years ago. Fang Wyvern hunt gone wrong. I was the best smith Haven's Reach ever had. I could forge anything, fix anything, make miracles from scrap metal." He laughed bitterly. "Then one day I couldn't hold a hammer steady anymore, couldn't strike true, couldn't do the one thing I'd built my entire life around. Became useless overnight."
"You're not useless. You maintain the forges, you manage inventory, you—"
"I supervise. I don't create." Garrick met his eyes. "You know what the worst part is? Watching young smiths come through here with two good hands and no vision. They can hold a hammer, but they can't see potential. Can't see what materials want to become. Can't see what I used to see when I worked."
He stepped into the workshop. Picked up one of the bracers Reven had been treating.
"But you. You're seeing what I used to see. Maybe more." Garrick examined the leather carefully. "This is low-grade Jaggi hide. Should be good for maybe six months of use before it fails. But you've treated it somehow. The fibers are denser. Stronger."
"The scarring everyone said ruined it? That's where the hide reinforced itself while the creature was alive. The scars are the best part. I just had to process them correctly."
"And you saw that how?"
"I don't know. The blood changed me. I have new... Everything you could say." Reven took the bracer back. "I'm sorry you lost your arm. But you're still teaching me things. Every piece you bring me, every question you ask—you're helping me understand what I'm doing. That's not useless."
Garrick was quiet again.
Then he pulled something from his pocket. A small crystal, about the size of a thumbnail, with a faint blue glow.
"This came from a Thunderjaw. Mid-grade monster, dangerous as hell. My last solo kill before the accident." He held it out. "Worth maybe two hundred gold if you can find the right buyer. Which we can't, because no merchants come here anymore."
Reven took the crystal carefully. Activated Calamity Sight.
[MATERIAL: THUNDERJAW ESSENCE CRYSTAL]
- QUALITY: MID-GRADE
- ESSENCE: CONCENTRATED LIGHTNING AFFINITY
- HIDDEN PROPERTIES:
Crystal structure contains trapped storm essence from the creature's death moment Impurities in the crystal are actually micro-fractures that channel lightning more efficiently Potential output is 47% higher than standard mid-grade assessment
[ASSESSMENT: APPROACHING HIGH-GRADE IF PROPERLY UTILIZED]
"This is incredible," Reven breathed. "The impurities everyone would call flaws—they're actually making it better. This could power enchantments that would normally require high-grade materials."
"Can you use it?"
"For what?"
"Something that matters. Something that proves to the council—to Lysa specifically—that you're not just repairing junk. That you can actually help us survive." Garrick's expression was serious. "The heartstone is failing. We need materials to repair it, but we don't have the resources to hunt the monsters that drop what we need. But if you can make better equipment from what we do have... maybe we can punch above our weight. Maybe we can survive long enough to actually fix this place."
Reven looked at the crystal. At the trust Garrick was showing by giving him something this valuable. At the possibility of proving he belonged here.
"I'll need time. And access to more of the 'worthless' storage materials."
"Take what you need. And Reven?" Garrick turned to leave, then paused. "I was wrong about you. When you first showed up, I thought you were just another desperate exile looking for a temporary roof. But you're a craftsman. A real one. Maybe better than I ever was, even with both hands."
"I learned from the best."
"Then make your Master proud. Make something impossible."
The old smith left.
Reven sat in his cramped workshop, holding a mid-grade crystal that was secretly near-high-grade, surrounded by materials everyone else had dismissed as trash.
And he smiled.
Because impossible was exactly what he specialized in now.
Reven couldn't sleep. His mind was racing with possibilities. The Thunderjaw crystal. The dozens of mis-graded materials in storage. The potential to create something that would prove his worth not just to the council, but to himself.
He lit his candle and began sketching designs.
A weapon? No. Haven's Reach had enough barely-functional weapons. They needed something that would let them acquire better materials. Something that would improve their hunting efficiency.
Armor? Closer. But armor was defensive. What they needed was—
The door to his workshop slammed open.
Reven jumped, hand instinctively reaching for the hammer he kept nearby.
A hunter stood in the doorway. Not one of Haven's Reach residents. The clothes were too fine. The armor too well-maintained. The sword at his belt too expensive.
Behind him, two more figures in matching guild tabards.
The lead hunter looked around the workshop with obvious disdain. "This is the corrupted smith? The one everyone's talking about?"
Reven stood slowly. "Who are you?"
"Marcus Veld. C-Rank hunter from the Silverpeak Guild." He said it like it mattered. Like the name should make Reven bow. "I'm here investigating reports of illegal essence manipulation and fraudulent material assessment."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"No?" Marcus pulled out a piece of paper. "I have testimony from three merchants who've passed through this region in the last week. All of them report that Haven's Reach suddenly has mid-grade equipment appearing from nowhere. Equipment that wasn't here two weeks ago. Equipment that"—he sneered—"some corrupted exile is supposedly creating from trash materials."
Ah. So this was about that.
"I'm repairing equipment. That's not illegal."
"Falsely upgrading material quality to defraud buyers is illegal. And I'm betting that's exactly what you're doing. Taking low-grade junk, slapping some polish on it, claiming it's better than it is." Marcus stepped closer. "Here's how this works. You submit to a Guild Coalition inspection. We confiscate any materials you've 'upgraded.' You get cited for fraud, probably banned from practicing any craft. Haven's Reach gets fined for harboring you. Everyone walks away with their lives. Sound fair?"
"No."
"I wasn't asking." Marcus nodded to his companions. "Search the workshop. Bag anything that looks suspicious."
The two guild hunters moved forward.
Reven didn't move. "You don't have authority here."
"We have Guild Coalition authority. That supersedes any frontier settlement's autonomy." Marcus smiled. It wasn't friendly. "And frankly? A corrupted exile working in a dying settlement? Nobody's going to question what happens to you. So be smart. Don't resist."
One of the hunters reached for the Thunderjaw crystal on Reven's workbench.
Reven's hand shot out and grabbed the hunter's wrist.
The crimson veins flared.
The hunter gasped and tried to pull away. Couldn't. Reven's grip was iron.
"That's. Mine." Reven's voice was very quiet. Very calm. "Everything in this workshop is mine. You're not taking it."
"Let him go or we'll—"
"You'll what?" Reven looked at Marcus. "Attack me? In front of witnesses? In a settlement that's granted me sanctuary?" He released the hunter's wrist. "I haven't broken any laws. I'm repairing equipment using my own skills and legally acquired materials. If you have evidence of fraud, present it to the local council. Otherwise, get out of my workshop."
Marcus's hand went to his sword. "You're making a mistake, exile."
"The only mistake is you thinking you can walk in here and take what isn't yours." Reven's veins pulsed brighter. The temperature in the workshop rose. "I've been hunted. Exiled. Rejected. Threatened. And I'm still standing. You really think you're going to be the one who brings me down?"
For a moment, Marcus looked uncertain. He could feel the heat. Could see the glowing veins. Could sense that Reven was something other than a normal smith.
"This isn't over," Marcus said finally. "Silverpeak Guild will be filing a formal complaint. The Coalition will investigate. And when they do, they'll find out exactly what you are."
"Let them. I've got nothing to hide."
Marcus and his hunters left.
Reven stood in his workshop, hands trembling with adrenaline, and realized he'd just made an enemy.
A petty enemy. The kind who'd come from a mid-tier guild to a dying settlement specifically to shake down someone who couldn't fight back. The kind who'd probably been sent by someone higher up who'd heard about Haven's Reach's sudden quality improvement and decided it was cutting into their profit margins.
The kind of enemy who'd be back.
But Reven wasn't the same desperate exile who'd collapsed on the road two weeks ago.
He had skills now. Resources. A settlement that needed him.
And if some young lord from Silverpeak Guild thought he could intimidate him?
He'd learn otherwise.
Reven picked up the Thunderjaw crystal and got back to work.
He had something impossible to create.
And a point to prove.