Chapter 12: Threads in the Dark (1)

Ryazania POV:

After a few days of rest, I found myself outside again, standing across from Fein in the courtyard behind Vengir's home. The forge's heat still wafted in the air, mixing with the scent of ash and cold iron.

"Again," Fein said, raising his hand, his fingers laced with dark energy. "You're too stiff with your follow-through."

I gritted my teeth and lunged forward, the sword pulsing faintly in my hand. The blade flowed through the air, clean and sharp, a dance I was just starting to learn.

"Better," he muttered. "Now, focus on your presence. Dark energy isn't about brute force. It's like pulling a shadow through your veins. Don't force it...feel it."

He showed me something new...something he said only skilled users of dark energy ever mastered. He called it Veilstep, a technique that let you briefly phase with the dark, slipping through a strike or appearing behind an enemy. Fein demonstrated it once, disappearing in a blur of smoke and reappearing behind me.

I stared, wide-eyed. "How do you even…? "

"You don't learn it," he said, "you surrender yourself to it. Your will doesn't command your negative emotions...it becomes part of it."

My grip on the sword tightened. "Then show me how to surrender."

Fein gave me a long, unreadable look. "You don't want to just learn this," he said quietly. "You want to own it. That's dangerous.

[System Suggestion: Dangerous and Unpredictable]

[Use of Dark Energy is unstable.]

[Recommendation: Switch to Aether-Infused Power]

I didn't blink. "So is everything else we've done."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Fair."

He stepped closer, the air around us thickening. "Close your eyes," he said, his voice low and steady. "Block out everything...sight, sound, smell. Let the world fall away."

I obeyed.

"All that pain you carry? The guilt. The fear. The things you don't say out loud… don't fight them. Let them wrap around you."

I breathed in slowly.

The sword felt colder now, almost like it wasn't forged of metal but of shadow in solid form. I focused on the quiet rage under my skin, the helplessness when I fell, the weight of Tinsel's death, and the burning ache of not knowing where my cousin Ryuu was.

Fein's voice, softer now, echoed through the silence. "The Veil is in that space between what you feel and what you hide. Let it swallow you, but only for a moment."

The wind shifted. My heart slowed. Time narrowed into a single, quiet point.

I moved.

The world blinked.

I reappeared behind Fein.

He turned his head slightly, eyes flicking over his shoulder. "There it is," he said. "Took you less time than most."

I stumbled a little, disoriented, but still on my feet. "I didn't even feel my feet move."

"You didn't," he said. "You weren't here."

I looked down at my hand.

The one still clutching the sword. My knuckles were white. My breath came sharp and fast. But I was whole.

"Will it always feel like that? " I asked.

"The first few times, yes. After that... It gets easier. Too easy." His tone grew darker. "Just remember where you are. Some who use Veilstep forget."

I nodded, swallowing the chill in my throat. "I'll remember."

He lowered his stance and leaned his polearm against the wall. "That's enough for today. You've earned it."

We stood there in silence for a while.

Something inside me had changed..not just strength, but clarity. Like I'd finally touched a piece of myself I had buried long ago.

I turned to Fein. "Thank you."

He shrugged. "You're going to need it."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward the house.

I stood there alone, the sword at my side humming quietly.

Like it had been listening the entire time.

[System Update: Use of "Dark Energy" detected]

[Possible Augmentation Path Detected

[Displaying Affinity Types…]

A flicker appeared in the corner of my vision, an interface that only I could see.

[Power Affinity Paths]

Aether = Pure creation energy. High synergy with order, structure, light. Compatible with healing, restoration, and divine relics.

Dark Energy = Manifestation of negative emotion. Suited for deception, teleportation, shadowcraft, and damage over time. Dangerous if overused.

Mana = Neutral baseline energy. Versatile, but limited in extreme conditions. Compatible with elemental magic and basic spellcasting.

Each had a branching chart- lines, abilities, theoretical evolutions, applications.

My eyes drifted toward Dark Energy.

So much of it felt like instinct. The Veilstep. The emotion behind the motion. It wasn't just power... it was raw, personal. Tied to every scar I carried inside.

Still, I wondered. Could I balance it? Could I carry the darkness and not let it consume me?

I focused on the sword, feeling it pulse once in response.

[Recommended: Multi-path Affinity]

[Current Sync: 37% - Dark Energy]

[Aether Sync Possible with Prolonged Exposure to Aether-infused items / users.]

I breathed in, absorbing the words like scripture etched across my mind.

So there was a path forward.

A way to grow stronger.

Not just to fight...

But to find him.

I closed the system's display with a thought, the glowing paths vanishing from my sight like fading stars.

VENGIR POV:

The clang of hammers echoed behind me as I left the house.

The streets of Eldenforve were quieter today, heavy clouds veiling the sun as I made my way toward the smithing quarter. I had a job to finish.

Aether-infused metal wasn't easy to come by, but there was one man who dealt in that kind of work. Gallant Tawl. A bastard with a nose too high and prices to match...but reliable.

I turned the corner and found him leaning against his stall, polishing a dagger that glowed faintly with aether.

"Vengir!" he called, grinning. "Still dragging relics out of that hole in the earth?"

"Still dragging, still breathing," I grunted. "Got something for me? 

He nodded, reaching under the counter. "Aether-forged, triple tempered. Pulled straight from my private reserve.."

"Cut the sell," I said. "You know what I'm here for."

Before he could reply, another voice cut through the market.

"Fraud," the man growled. "You're a fraud and a coward."

I turned.

A tall figure stood just across the street..leather coat weathered, eyes cold as ice. I didn't recognize him, not really, but something about his voice twisted in my gut.

Gallant Tawl stiffened, then laughed nervously. "Garret Halven… didn't expect to see you crawling back from the gutter."

Garret didn't flinch. "Are you still selling broken dreams to fools?" Small man, small hands, smaller heart."

Tawl's smirk cracked. "You want something, or are you just here to bark? 

Garret stepped forward, ignoring me entirely. "You sold my brother a cursed blade and lied about its origin. I buried him last winter."

Silence spread like frost.

I clenched my jaw. I hated this kind of drama, but something told me this wasn't just some grudge. It was something older.

Garret glanced at me. "You buying from him? Careful. He sells steel that sings with death."

Then he walked away, coat swaying like the tail of a wolf leaving a ruined carcass.

Tawl said nothing.

Neither did I.

But I made a note to keep my eyes open. Because in Eldenforve, old grudges didn't die easy and the kind of metal I was here for had a way of attracting ghosts.

The deal with Gallant Tawl left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I got what I needed. Aether infused metal wasn't easy to come by, and despite his theatrics and old ghosts clawing at his doorstep, Tawl delivered. That was enough for today.

I trudged back to the forge, the sky gray and brooding over Eldenforve's rooftops. The cold bit through my coat, but I ignored it. My hands were already itching to get to work.

Inside, the warmth of the hearth welcomed me, the smell of iron and oil like an old companion. Fein was seated at the window, half lost in thought, while Mal was chatting softly with Elara, who had just returned from the market.

Ryazania stood near the table, the sword still strapped to her back like it belonged there, like it always had.

"Kid," I called out, brushing snow from my shoulders. "Need a favor."

She turned, curious. "What kind?"

"I need a specialized tuning clamp for the press frame. Can't finish the alignment without it. There's a merchant who keeps odd tools, goes by Ascertain. Name rings a bell?"

Her expression brightened a bit. "We bought our gear from him before entering the labyrinth. I know the place."

Mal leaned in from the couch. "Then good luck, soldier."

Fein pushed himself off the wall. "I can go with her."

I shook my head. "No. This one's for her to do."

Fein raised a brow. "Why?"

I scratched my beard, unsure how to explain it. "I don't know. Just a feeling. There's something she needs to figure out. Might not be about the tool. But it's part of this, whatever it is she's building toward."

Ryazania gave a small nod and grabbed her cloak from the hook. "I'll head there now."

I watched her leave, boots tapping against the stone as she disappeared into the gray street beyond.

Then I turned to the chest in the corner of the room, the one I had placed all the gathered materials in. I knelt, unlocked it, and began carefully placing the items on the table: the coiled Moonsteel wire, the sealed crystal container holding Iron Core Crystaphite, the slabs of Clockroot, the jagged sheets of Smokeglass.

Elara returned with a pot of tea and three cups, her smile soft as she poured. "You're quiet today," she said, handing one to Mal, who accepted it with a grateful nod.

"Ran into someone odd at the market," I muttered, not looking up.

Mal sipped, his eyes flicking toward me. "Trouble?"

"Not sure yet. Man named Garret Halven. Don't remember him, but he remembered Tawl. Called me a fraud. Said he lost his brother to a cursed weapon Tawl sold him."

Elara's expression darkened slightly. "That kind of thing happens more often than people admit."

I nodded. "Yeah, but something about him gave me a feeling I haven't had in a while. Like ghosts were waking up."

Mal sat back, his cup in hand. "Think it'll come back to bite us?"

"Everything does eventually," I said, setting the last of the materials down. "But right now, we've got work to do."

The fire crackled, the tea steamed, and the weight of what we were building hung heavy in the air.

Not just a machine.

Something more.

Something that might change the world.

________

Mal's hand froze around the teacup.

Garret Halven.

The name stirred something dark in his mind...faint, but sharp enough to cut. He'd seen it before. On the purchase log back in the apothecary, stamped next to the vial that matched Elara's toxin.

It couldn't be coincidence.

He set his cup down with a soft clink, eyes narrowing as pieces started falling into place.

Fein noticed first. "Something wrong?"

Mal stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "I need some fresh air."

Elara tilted her head. "This late?"

"I won't go far," he said, already stepping toward the door. "There's something I need to confirm."

Fein stood as well. "You sure you don't want company?"

Mal paused at the threshold, glancing back. "If I'm right, it's better if I go alone."

The door clicked shut behind him, and the chill of Eldenforve's twilight air hit his face. Snow drifted lazily across the cobbled streets, the world growing quiet as night fell.

He made his way through the winding lanes to a general merchant's stall still open under a flickering lantern. The merchant, an old man with sharp eyes and a frayed coat, nodded as Mal approached.

"I need a sealed water bottle," Mal said. "And something clean..freshly filled."

The merchant grunted and handed one over.

Mal dropped a few coins without another word, then turned and left the walls of Eldenforve behind.

The cold outside the city bit deeper. He found a quiet spot near the frozen treeline where the snow had melted slightly over a rocky patch.

He knelt and unfastened his satchel, carefully drawing out the small vial of toxin, the one he'd taken from the potion seller days ago.

His fingers moved with caution, every motion precise. He uncorked the vial and let a single drop fall onto the surface of the water.

Nothing happened..at first.

Then the water hissed, bubbled, and turned murky gray. Mal's eyes narrowed. A contact-based reaction. The toxin corrupted the substance instantly.

He dipped a stick into the tainted water, then touched it gently to a patch of exposed skin on his wrist.

The skin reddened. Burned. His heart thudded faster.

"So it doesn't need to be swallowed," he muttered. "Just exposure is enough…"

Which meant Elara could've been poisoned without ingesting anything directly. A hand on a rail. A touch on her skin. Even a contaminated cloth.

His breath fogged in the air.

Garret Halven.

He was the buyer. But how did he know Elara? What grudge did he have?

Or worse…

Who sent him?

Mal recorded the vial and stood, his eyes drifting toward the stars barely visible through the clouds.

Answers would come later.

But tonight, he had a name.

And it was time to start digging.

It wasn't just the name...it was the timing.

The fact that Vengir saw him today, just after Elara's recovery, tightly coiled like a trap waiting to snap.

Mal muttered to himself, "Was it revenge? Coincidence? Or was he watching the whole time?"

He returned to the city gates, quietly slipping past the watchmen with a nod and a few short words.

They barely acknowledged him.

Northern guards didn't ask many questions when you looked like you knew where you were going.

As he made his way back through the dimly lit streets of Eldenforve, Mal's mind turned over everything he knew about Garret. There wasn't much. He wasn't in any official records...no major affiliations, no guild emblems, no merchant ties. A ghost.

But now… he had a trail.

He stopped near the same potion seller he visited before. Closed, shutters drawn. Of course it was. But there was still a chance. He circled to the side of the building, his eyes scanning for signs of movement any clue that the shopkeeper was still within.

A flicker of candlelight.

He knocked lightly on the wooden panel beside the door.

A few moments passed. Then a cautious voice, muffled behind the wall, called out, "We're closed!"

"I know. I'm not here for potions," Mal said calmly. "I'm here about the toxin."

The door opened a sliver.

An old man's eye appeared behind it. Recognition followed, and then unease.

"You again?"

"You sold a bottle to Garret Halven a few weeks ago," Mal said. "I need everything you have on that transaction. Date. Time. Description."

The Potion seller opened the door slightly more. "I already told you, I don't keep paper records for individual customers...just a log of sales and purchases."

"You keep names," Mal said, stepping closer. "And that one nearly killed someone. You can cooperate, or I come back with a guild enforcer."

The old man paled. "Fine… give me a moment."

Mal waited, arms crossed, as the seller shuffled behind the counter. Eventually, he returned with a dusty ledger, flipping through the pages with a tremble in his fingers.

"There," he said, tapping a line. "Garret Halven. Bought a vial of black nightshade toxin...and asked for something that could 'linger in the blood.' I assumed he meant a hunting job."

"Did he say who it was for?" Mal asked.

"No." The seller hesitated. "But he mentioned a name Vengir's. Said he was 'tired of being lied to.' Whatever that meant."

Mal's jaw tensed. "And you still sold it to him."

"I don't ask questions I don't want answers to," the seller said, not unkindly. "Especially in this city."

Mal said nothing else.

He turned and walked back into the cold night, the stars overhead like scattered shards of glass. The quiet hum of danger thrummed beneath the snow.

It wasn't random.

It never was.

Whoever Garret Halven really was, he'd poisoned Elara for a reason. And Mal was going to find out what it was, no matter how deep he had to dig into the shadows of Eldenforve.

Ryazania POV:

I pushed open the heavy oak door of Ascertain's Shop [Steel & Thread] and stepped inside. The air was warm, scented with oiled leather and heated steel.

Rows of weapons lined the walls; swords, daggers, even a few exotic polearms...all resting on polished racks.

A bell chimed overhead as I crossed the marble threshold. Ascertain, a lean man with sharp eyes and streaks of silver in his dark hair, looked up from behind the counter. "Back so soon?" he asked, voice smooth as velvet.

"I need a tuning clamp for a printing press," I said, scanning the room. "And maybe something new for my blade."

He nodded and tapped a small rune-carved tablet at his belt. A faint glow spread through the shop.

[System Analysis Engaged]

[Scanning all weaponry…]

[Displaying key attributes]

[Analysis Complete]

_______________________________

Moonsteel Shortsword

Durability: 9

Composition: Blade: Moonsteel alloy; Hilt: Clockroot wood

Strength Bonus: +2

Enchantment: +1 to precision cuts

_______________________________

Aetherium Dagger

Durability: 7

Composition: Core: Aether-infused metal; Pommel: Iron Core Crystaphite

Strength Bonus: +1

Enchantment: Emits faint light in darkness

_________________________________

Smokeglass Poleaxe

Durability: 8

Composition: Head: Tempered Smokeglass; Shaft: Threaded Moonsteel wire

Strength Bonus: +3

Enchantment: Shards can blind on impact

____________________________________

Mithral Light Bow

Durability: 8

Composition: Limbs: Hardened Mithral plates; String: Aether-Infused fiber

Strength Bonus: +2

Enchantment: Arrows fly straighter under moonlight

______________________________________

I raised an eyebrow at the Smokeglass Poleaxe..blinding shards could be interesting..but reminded myself of Ascertain's face. "The clamp," I said.

He slid around the counter and produced a small metal device etched with dwarven runes. "This will hold the frame taut while you forge the rollers. Precision built."

I took it, feeling its weight. "Perfect."

Ascertain dipped his head. "Anything else?"

I shook my head. "That's all for today."

"Thank you for your purchase" Ascertain says as I hand over a silver coin and a few copper coins as a bonus.

As I left Ascertain's shop, the door clicking shut behind me.

I exhaled slowly.

The air outside felt clearer somehow, like the weight of the forge smoke had lifted from my shoulders.

I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd just seen.

How easily the system had scanned and broken down every item, every material. It wasn't just useful. It was powerful.

I walked down the cobbled streets of Eldenforve, my boots echoing with each step. The sword at my side pulsed faintly, like it too had sensed the energy in that place.

"System," I asked under my breath, "do you have a name?"

There was a faint chime in my head, like crystal striking metal.

[SYSTEM RESPONSE: DESIGNATION: SYSTEM. NO PERSONAL NAME ASSIGNED.]

"None at all?"

[SYSTEM CLARIFICATION: THIS UNIT HAS NO INDIVIDUAL IDENTITY. FUNCTION: SUPPORT. ANALYSIS. GUIDANCE. IF DESIGNATION IS REQUIRED, USER MAY ASSIGN TEMPORARY ALIAS.]

I gave a small laugh. "Alright… maybe later."

The display flickered softly in the corner of my vision as I walked. The system's presence felt more... aware now. Not intrusive, just there. Like it was always watching..processing.

[ACTIVATING: LOCAL MAP OVERLAY]

A translucent image unfolded in front of my eyes...an aerial view of Eldenforve, glowing softly with pulse points.

[LOCATIONS OF INTEREST HIGHLIGHTED: BLACKSMITH DISTRICT - FORGE CORE - ADVENTURER'S GUILD - USER BASE (VENGIR HOME)]

I blinked the map away and continued forward, my pace steady, mind turning over what I'd seen.

Then came another blink.

[INITIATING: ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN]

[NEARBY MATERIALS: DETECTED]

[SMALL SCRAP IRON (JUNK QUALITY)]

[THREADS OF MANA-CONDUCTIVE WOOL – 5 METERS SOUTH]

[NO HAZARDS DETECTED]

It really was scanning everything. Every little detail. Not just items, but energy, movement, even my vitals. I hadn't asked, but I was grateful.

"This is insane," I whispered.

[CLARIFICATION: CURRENT FUNCTIONALITY IS OPERATING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS.]

I smiled again, shaking my head. "Of course it is."

The forge district thinned behind me. I could already see Vengir's house at the edge of the rise. A plume of smoke curled from its chimney, and the scent of smelted ore drifted faintly on the breeze.

Whatever this system was... it had chosen me.

And somehow, that didn't scare me anymore.

I pushed open the door to Vengir's house, the scent of iron and warm oil greeting me like an old friend. The air inside still carried the rhythm of the forge, metal clashing against stone, steam hissing from the nearby pipes.

Vengir looked up from his workbench, goggles pushed to his forehead, his beard streaked with ash.

"You're back," he said, brushing his hands on a rag. "Did you get it?"

I held out the wrapped item; an arcane-calibrated gear clamp. "Ascertain said this would hold under prolonged pressure. He threw in a few extra bolts too."

Vengir took it from me carefully, examining the precision notches like a jeweler studying a rare gem. "Perfect. This is the last piece I needed."

He set it down next to the nearly completed frame of the printing press, a towering blend of dwarven steel and arcane wiring.

"I'll have it assembled by tonight," he said, confidence thick in his voice. "Give me a week, and this thing'll be churning out more truth than the council knows how to bury."

I couldn't help but grin. "Then let's shake the world."

Later…

The press clattered, whirred, and then..after a few sparks, a snapped gear, and some very colorful dwarven cursing, spat out its first page.

My hands trembled as I lifted it. A clean, sharp black-and-white image stared back at me. My cousin's portrait. Lines etched with memory. Shadows filled with longing.

Fein leaned over my shoulder. "That's him?"

I nodded. "The last time I saw him... he looked just like this."

Mal squinted. "That's more than a drawing. It's... alive."

We printed three more before running out of scrolls and paper entirely.

"Well," Fein said, rubbing the back of his neck, "guess it's time to post 'em."

Mal nodded. "We split up. Cover more ground."

Elara, who had been watching from the corner of the room, stepped forward. "I want to help."

Vengir glanced at her. "You sure? This isn't exactly a quiet day at temple."

She smiled. "If this cousin of hers is out there... someone needs to help bring him home. I can heal, I can speak, and people trust me."

Vengir hesitated, then looked to me. "Is that alright with you?"

I met Elara's eyes. "We'd be lucky to have you."

Outside, as we gathered scrolls, ropes, and ink

Mal stood a little apart, his gaze distant. I caught the way his fingers tapped against the side of his satchel, slow and deliberate. He wasn't thinking about the posters anymore. Not really.

"What's on your mind?" I asked.

He blinked and looked at me, then glanced at Fein.

"I didn't say it earlier," he began quietly, "but when I bought the potion supplies... the shopkeeper showed me a log."

Fein raised a brow. "What kind of log?"

Mal's voice dropped. "A purchase log. For the toxin that poisoned Elara. I cross-checked it. The buyer's name was Garret Halven."

Fein's brow furrowed. "The guy who messed with Vengir? That shit?"

Mal nodded. "He knew what Tawl was. That wasn't a coincidence. He bought that toxin weeks ago. I don't know if he used it, or passed it on. But he's connected. And if he knows something, we need to find out."

Fein cursed under his breath. "And you've been sitting on this?"

"I needed confirmation," Mal replied. "Now I have it."

I watched them both, eyes narrowed. "So... the flyers?"

Mal turned to me. "The flyers are our bait. We spread Ryuu's portrait everywhere. We make it seem like a normal search...a girl desperate to find her cousin. The city watches us chase a name."

Fein tilted his head. "And while they watch…"

"We trace Garret," Mal finished. "Quietly. He won't see it coming."

I looked down at the rolled portrait in my hand, the ink still fresh. My cousin's face stared up at me with a quiet intensity.

"My cousin's face will draw eyes," I murmured.

"Then let's make sure they're looking in the right direction," Mal said.

Fein gave a nod, his earlier irritation fading. "Alright. I'm in."

And just like that, our mission wasn't just about finding Ryuu anymore.

It was about pulling on every thread wrapped around his name until the Elara is safe.