After finishing our meal, I decided to head to the workshop situated on the outskirts of the settlement.
For reasons I didn't bother to question, Zeera insisted on tagging along.
The workshop sat near the settlement's entrance, its structure weathered and worn by time, half-buried beneath an assortment of rocks.
Opposite it, a crumbling statue stood.
I wasn't holding my breath about finding anything useful here—least of all a decent weapon.
I couldn't help but wonder why a place like this was allowed to remain near the entrance of the settlement, seemingly ignored by everyone passing by.
The doorway, though weathered and uneven, was still large enough to allow us inside.
Suddenly, I felt Zeera's arms wrap around me from behind, catching me off guard.
I froze at the unexpected gesture, her arms tightening slightly around my waist.
"Zeera," I began, my voice uncertain, "what are you—"
"Just… let me stay like this for a moment," she interrupted softly, her voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.
I stood there, unsure of what to do. The weight of her head rested lightly against my back, and for a moment, the world outside the workshop felt distant, like it didn't matter.
I turned to look at her finally, and her usual sharp, confident demeanor was replaced with a rare softness. She gave me a small, almost shy smile before crossing her arms, as if trying to rebuild her usual walls.
"Come on," she said, her voice returning to its usual tone, though it wavered slightly. "We've got a workshop to explore, right?"
I nodded, unsure of what else to do.
Just like the mess outside, the inside of the workshop wasn't such an eye candy. Though instead of rocks, weapons, tools, material such as bones, gems, steel.
The workshop's interior was just as chaotic as the mess outside, though instead of rocks and debris, the floor was strewn with weapons, tools, and raw materials—bones, gems, and, most notably, steel.
I frowned, unease curling in my chest. 'This isn't right.'
Steel was more valuable than diamonds in this world, a treasure few settlements could afford to waste. Its rarity stemmed from the challenges of forging it within the confines of a cave.
The Echoren had solved part of that problem by engineering a hybrid of trees and glowing mushrooms—a marvel of bioengineering that provided wood and light in the dark. These self-sustaining trees allowed for cooking and basic crafting without the risk of carbon dioxide poisoning.
But that system wasn't enough for forging steel.
And yet, here it was, scattered like discarded junk.
I crouched, picking up a steel sword from the pile. Its weight was perfect, its edge sharp—a testament to masterful craftsmanship. There was only one explanation: a Tricrown skilled in Creation had been at work here.
Behind me, I heard the faint shuffle of movement. Veera had picked up a dagger, testing its balance with one hand while gripping the back of my shirt with the other.
"This place," she murmured, her voice low, "doesn't feel right."
I smirked, glancing over my shoulder at her. "Oh, so that's why you hugged me the moment we walked in? Needed a strong, fearless protector, huh?"
She rolled her eyes, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just...steadying myself."
"Steadying yourself?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. "Sure didn't feel like steadying when you nearly squeezed the air out of my lungs. Or maybe you just wanted an excuse to hold onto me?"
Her cheeks tinted with a faint blush, and she gave me a light shove. "Oh, please. If I were scared, I'd have left you here to fend for yourself."
Steeling ourselves, we advanced cautiously to the back of the workshop.
On the cold, stone floor lay the skeletal remains of a Tricrown. The fragile bones, bleached white by time, were arranged as though the smith had fallen mid-task, one bony hand still gripping a hammer tightly.
Atop the central workbench rested a lone bow, unmistakably crafted from chitin. Its surface was dark and glossy, rippling faintly under the dim light like a living organism. Embedded along its length were eyes—dozens of them. Each one wept thick, viscous tears that glimmered like molten silver. Rage boiled within them, their gaze fixed yet shifting, as though judging all who dared approach.
Behind me, I heard Veera collapse, her dagger clattering to the ground. I turned, finding her crumpled against a wall, her face pale and her breaths shallow. The bow's killing intent was suffocating, its oppressive aura a silent scream that threatened to crush weaker wills.
Yet my attention was stolen by something else entirely—the bow's soul.
It shimmered faintly above the weapon, an amorphous, otherworldly form pulsating like a slow heartbeat. Its color was a kaleidoscope of deep crimson and blinding gold, as though the very essence of rage and anguish had been bound together. The soul writhed, its edges fraying and re-knitting like an endless storm. At its center, a single, disembodied eye floated, larger and more vivid than those on the bow itself. It stared directly at me, unblinking, and I could feel its raw, searing hatred burrowing into my mind.
The air felt heavier with each passing moment, and the room seemed to dim, shadows creeping closer as the soul's presence grew more oppressive. This wasn't just a weapon; it was a being of fury and torment, sealed within the bow's chitinous frame.
Trapped in the liminal space between life and death, all it could do was hate. Its very essence seethed with unending fury, coiling and writhing in its eternal torment.
And it was watching me.
The weight of its gaze pressed against my soul, daring me to flinch, to turn away. But I didn't. Slowly, deliberately, I stepped closer
Finally, I stood before the bow, its soul pulsating like a wounded heartbeat. I extended my hand and placed it on the weapon's cold, chitinous surface. The rage surged, a tidal wave of raw emotion crashing over me, but I held firm.
**Soul Absorption**
A faint hum vibrated through my body, and then—
**[YOU HAVE RECEIVED THE SOUL OF...]**