The portal pulsed with soft light, its edges blazing as teams stepped through. Robert planted himself nearby, watching each group prep for the unknown. His gaze was steady, but his mind churned with strategies and risks. Jackson's bark cut through the clan's chatter. "Team Two, check your supplies one more time. I don't want anyone slowing us down because they forgot a mana potion!"
He paced before his crew, a sturdy mix of fighters and mages, his blade strapped across his back. "Remember, the Cu Sith are quick and ruthless. If they catch your scent, scatter their attention. Don't let them pin you down. We stay together, and we move fast. If we lose our rhythm, people die. Understood?"
"Understood!" came the sharp reply.
Jackson nodded. "Good. Let's show them what we're made of." Nearby, Clan Chief Ewan MacEwan rallied his team. Rauri tightened his bracers as Sorcha murmured, her voice like a song, casting a protective enchantment. "This will shield you from decay magic," she explained, stepping back to admire her work. Rauri flashed a cheeky grin. "It takes more than mangy mutts to stop me, Sorcha!"
Lillia, silent as ever, handed him a dagger, her green eyes flashing a warning. She turned to Ewan, her delicate hands adjusting his chest plate. Ewan chuckled, the deep sound reassuring. "You're a wonder, lass. With you watching our backs, we've nothing to fear."
Lillia's smile was enough. She joined Sorcha, who fastened a shimmering cloak around her shoulders. "Rauri," Sorcha said, adjusting the clasp, "stay close to Lillia. Her magic is strongest when she's protected." Rauri rolled his eyes. "I'm not a child, Sorcha." "No," Ewan said with a wry grin, "but you're as reckless as one."
His tone carried a father's warning. He turned to Sorcha and Lillia. "We move as one. Watch each other's backs, and keep your wits sharp." Meanwhile, Robert pulled Snow, Hamish, and Chaucer aside. "We've got time before the portal teams are ready," he said, his voice low and firm.
"We're heading to the Arcane Crafters Tower. If we're walking into hell, we're not going in empty-handed." Hamish adjusted his shield strap and nodded. "Lead the way." Before they left, Robert touched Lillia's arm lightly. When she turned, he kissed her cheek. "Stay safe," he said softly. "Good luck." Her eyes softened as she nodded, her hand brushing his briefly before joining her team.
As Robert led his group toward the tower, Chaucer's voice broke the silence. "I assume this tower of wonders has something suitably poetic for me? Perhaps a blade that sings its own sonnet with every strike?" Snow rolled her eyes. "Or maybe just a sword that doesn't break when you try to be clever with it."
Hamish laughed, clapping Chaucer on the shoulder. "Don't worry, bard. If there's a weapon that suits your flair, Robert will find it." Robert smirked as the tower loomed, its spire glowing softly in the dim light. "Let's see what we can make of the donations. STEVE's been hoarding the best for moments like this."
Inside, the air was cool and smelled strongly of spent magic, a flat electrical aroma. Shelves lined the walls, packed with rare and peculiar items: gleaming metals that seemed to ripple like liquid when touched, enchanted stones pulsing with inner light, and powders that shimmered in hues shifting between gold and violet.
Strange objects filled the corners: a crystal hourglass where the sand flowed upward, a twisted staff that whispered to anyone who held it, and a set of floating quills writing endlessly on blank scrolls. Overhead, an intricate chandelier made of crystals and glowing orbs lit the room, casting shadows that danced as though alive.
The atmosphere hummed, the room alive with latent powers, a workshop designed to push the limits of magical creation. STEVE's hologram flickered by the workbench, his voice sharp as a blade. "Robert. Efficient as always. What do you need?" Robert cracked his knuckles, eyes on the workbench.
"Stand back. I'm going to stretch my creation skills here. I haven't done it since Moira helped me create my eye's core." Snow's eyes widened. "Is THAT why your eye glows now?" Robert smiled ruefully. "Aye, that's why. It started as a magical marble infused with fire, earth, air, water, and light to bind them.
Now, I can see magical traces, zoom in like a sniper scope, and detect magic's flow, even its color. It itches, but it's bloody useful." He flashed his eye at Snow, its glow shifting through five colors. "I circulate mana through it, and it recharges. It'll get stronger as I feed it M-Power."
His friends stared, silent for a beat. Hamish blurted, "Mate... Whit?!" Robert chuckled, easing the awkwardness. "Just stuff. Hamish, what do you want? A new sword? A protective shield? The rest of you, think about it too. I love this part of my skill set, though I'm always rushed. Even now, I'm in a hurry." Hamish didn't hesitate. "If I'm to be some warrior o' light, savin' the day wi' my shield an' blade, I want the tools tae do it! A shield to replace this old wooden one."
Robert glanced at Hamish's battered shield. "Give it here." Hamish handed it over eagerly. "Here you go." Turning to the workbench, Robert set the shield down, his Crystal Core glowing as he fed M-Power into it, unfiltered energy from tasks, monsters, and Moira's rewards. "STEVE, give me access to the rare material inventory." STEVE's voice echoed. "Granted. Think of the object, and it's yours. May statistics fall in your favor."
Chaucer whispered to Snow, "...It means good luck. He said, Good luck." Snow nodded. "I thought so, but what a mathematical way to say it." Robert selected a rare metal from the kobold mines, gold-hued but strong as titanium. With thin beams of light magic, he dissolved it into powder, infusing it into the shield with fire magic. The shield took on a pale golden hue.
His left eye scanned for flaws, and he poured energy into fixing them. The shield became more metal than wood, its core flexible to absorb kinetic force and resist magical attacks. He imagined a shield deflecting physical and magical damage, generating a wind gust to push enemies back.
His mana flowed, translating intent into reality. When his M-Power dipped, he reinforced its durability, willing it unbreakable. The shield emitted a soft gust, pushing Robert's hands away. His eye read its name: "Hamish's Shield of the Warden." He spoke it aloud, sealing its creation. Stats appeared: doubled armor, wind-push ability, forty percent elemental resistance, and fifty percent frontal damage reduction.
Its pale gold surface gleamed, wood grain visible beneath. Hamish stepped forward, eyes wide. "Holy hell... I feel invincible! How'd you make it so light?" He tested its weight, admiration clear in his gaze. Robert smiled. "Next up, Chaucer. What'll it be?" Chaucer stepped forward, his twin wakizashi swords glinting, throwing stars strapped across his chest.
His eyes wandered, contemplative. "Ah, decisions," he mused, poetic and thoughtful. "A blade that whispers through the night, silent and sure. Stars that cut the air like a painter's brush on a blank canvas. Or the clever toolkit, my silent conspirator in traps and tricks.
Each a verse in my song." Hamish smirked. "Aye, just pick something, bard. You're taking' longer than a story with' no end." Chaucer ignored him, holding a star to the light, catching the chandelier's glow. "These stars have served me well, silent messengers of swift judgment.
Perhaps it's time to give them a sharper voice, a melody that bites deeper." Snow rolled her eyes. "Translation: You're picking the stars." With a flourish, Chaucer unhooked the brace and extended it. "Indeed, my dear Snow, you've captured the essence of my intent. Stars that shine brighter and fly farther. Robert, I leave them in your capable hands."
Robert took the stars, examining their worn metal and etched patterns. "I'll make them sing for you, Chaucer." "Ah, music to my ears," Chaucer grinned, stepping back. Robert infused the stars with M-Power, their edges shimmering with potential. He pictured the stars cutting cleanly through the air, their edges honed to a microscopic fineness, reducing resistance and boosting speed.
He reinforced their integrity to withstand repeated use without dulling or breaking. Each star glowed, alive with unspoken purpose. The energy swirled, responding to his desires, the stars humming with lethal potential. He reached for jewels from the Brutes' cavern: sapphires, rubies, and diamonds.
He placed a gem in each star, reshaping them into flat, coin-shaped cores: sapphires for water, rubies for fire, and diamonds for air. The gems pulsed, fusing with the metal, their elemental energies sparking. Robert bound each jewel's element to its star, imagining them trailing vivid lines of fire, water, or air.
The room filled with sounds. The crackling fire, some rushing water, and whispering wind, as the magic took hold. He willed the stars to return to their place when their motion stopped, ensuring endless ammunition.
The magic pulsed, sealing the stars' aura. The stars hovered briefly, then aligned in their brace, spinning gently with trails of light. Their polished surfaces gleamed with elemental power. "Chaucer," Robert said, holding out the brace, "your stars are ready. They're sharper, faster, and they'll always come back." Chaucer took the brace reverently, testing a star's weight. "Magnificent," he murmured. "A weapon worthy of song." Hamish clapped Chaucer's back. "Now those are something to be proud of. They'll save our necks more times than I can count. Robert, you've outdone yourself!"
Chaucer flicked his wrist, sending three stars streaking into the far wall with sharp cracks! Each was imbued with elements: fire, air, and water. Then they vanished to return to his brace instantly. Chaucer held the brace close, eyes glistening. "They are like the words of poets," he said reverently. "Magic shot forth, to forever change where they land, only to return for the poet to send them singing to new targets. Is there anything more divine?" Snow watched pensively. "They are beautiful in form and flight, Chaucer.
I hope your throwing skill grows to meet their potential." Robert wiped sweat from his brow and turned to Snow. "Snow, I feel like we haven't spent much time together in weeks, but I see your hard work. The marketplace thrives because of your grit and spark. You're a treasure, and, selfishly, to keep my arse alive, what can I craft for you?" Snow hesitated, her pale blue eyes reflecting the light of the chandeliers.
"I want something that grows with me. An item, not a weapon, that evolves, channeling my magic and strengthening as I do. Something tied to my Sapphire Core and frost magic." Robert nodded, mind racing. "An evolving item... tied to your mana core. Alright, Snow. Let's make something extraordinary." He selected a cobalt-blue crystal from the Brutes' cavern, pulsing with Snow's aura.
He placed it on the workbench, channeling M-Power in steady waves, creating mana circuits to grow within the crystal. "This will be the heart of the item," Robert said, the crystal's glow intensifying. "It'll link to your Sapphire Core, sharing its energy and growing with your magic." He envisioned a crystalline construct, a small, turret-like satellite orbiting Snow like a sentinel.
He molded it into a sleek, circular body with crystalline spires, elegant yet efficient, like a tiny space station from a '90s sci-fi show. Robert imbued it with intelligence, crafting a psychic link for Snow to command it with thoughts. "This construct will float above your shoulder, leaving your hands free to weave spells.
It'll fire frost and water blasts, protecting you while you heal or attack." He infused elemental circuits, letting it channel Snow's Sapphire Core M-Power to shoot icy projectiles or create water barriers. The turret rotated gently, testing its balance. "It'll weave around you, but its purpose is to protect and assist," Robert said.
"Think of it as an extension of your magic." The construct floated upward, glowing blue, orbiting Snow's shoulder like a guardian. Snow touched it, feeling its cool, calming energy and a quiet hum in her mind. "It's incredible," Snow whispered, awed. "It feels... alive. Thank you, Robert."
Snow smiled, her gaze fixed on the construct as it settled into orbit. "I'll make sure it serves us well." From the orbital's perspective, it in fact did resonate with its own meager form of intelligence.
It hovered, bobbing occasionally, tethered by a cool thread of icy mana glittering between it and Snow, like a pet on a leash carrying fuel and messages. It weaved around her, driven by duty.
It loved hovering, twirling, bobbing, and especially spinning. Robert, however, was nearly spent, with no time—or energy—to craft for himself.
He needed a battlesuit; his presence was a target, and hope wouldn't shield him. Exhaling, he downed a mana potion presented by Snow. Restoring his energy.
Mana shone from his aura in an intimidating burst. "Alright, mates. Let's follow our friends to Edinburgh and put our knuckles to the Nuck."