"Hey, Ancestor Haedrig!"
Rumlow greeted Haedrig, who was swinging his smithing hammer, still busy replicating a car. Haedrig would eventually have to ask Bul-Kathos for some gems to use as a power source, as he rarely kept anything other than metal on hand.
"Ah, it's you! I told them when I was alive that washing your hands before meals could prevent a lot of sicknesses, but none of those fools believed me. Did you bring that textbook I asked for? I need to make those idiots understand how important hygiene is." Haedrig looked up at Rumlow, complaining loudly and casually.
Besides being a blacksmith, Haedrig was perhaps also an inventor.
Kvalkehk once remarked during a chat: "Haedrig is a skilled blacksmith, but his head is full of strange ideas. One day he came to me with a plan to break a siege. He wanted to fill a large tube with explosive powder and steel balls, and then—"
When Haedrig was alive, potions hadn't been invented in a reusable form. Then, well, he was sent to Aunt Mara after an unstable explosion, where he lay recuperating for two full weeks. If Haedrig hadn't died when Mount Arreat was flattened by Tyrael, he might have developed explosives, cannons, and hot air balloons, and achieved significant breakthroughs in the field of contagious diseases.
When Nilathak was still a Barbarian, he always doubted Haedrig's claim that "the good fortune of not catching the plague came from washing his hands before every meal," even thinking it was some kind of useless magic.
"That's something that science has already proven, perhaps classified under Immunology?" Rumlow shouted to Haedrig, pulling a piece of material from his pocket. He didn't care what field it was classified under; right now, he just needed a new weapon. As for the so-called textbook, Rumlow hadn't remembered it at all.
"I need a sturdy weapon, you know." He casually tossed the material to Haedrig, then stood nearby, watching intently.
"Why don't you go to Bul-Kathos? He's the best choice for forging weapons now." Haedrig caught the material, squinting at Rumlow. He didn't look particularly pleased.
"I go ask him to forge me what, to him, is a toy—what do you think he'll say?" Rumlow snapped irritably. He hadn't dared to tell Bul-Kathos that his weapon was ruined.
"Fine, bring me something interesting at the next festival. Don't forget this time. Though, I think if you went to him, you might get a weapon right away, which would save you the wait." Haedrig waved Rumlow away and turned back to his forging.
For Haedrig, forging an ordinary weapon didn't even count as trouble; it probably wouldn't take him an hour. After all, the weapons Rumlow could skillfully wield right now were quite weak.
Meanwhile, Matthew, who was training with Rakkis, felt uncomfortable. He felt constantly locked in a gaze that wasn't benevolent.
"Ancestor Rakkis? Is there something wrong with me?" Matthew asked awkwardly. That feeling of being scrutinized was never a pleasant experience for anyone, especially since his senses were sharper than average.
"You might have more talent than Luke and Rumlow. At least those two haven't ignited their Nephalem bloodline yet." Rakkis folded her arms, her head covered by a spiked helmet that obscured her entire face. Only a few strands of messy orange hair extended out from beneath the helmet.
Matthew didn't care about any of that; he couldn't see Rakkis regardless of how she looked.
"Perhaps they just haven't encountered a fight where they couldn't afford to think." Matthew set down his weapon, facing Rakkis.
"When can I try to take your trial?" After enduring an overwhelming danger, Matthew's desire for power was unprecedentedly strong. He spoke with a hint of eager anticipation.
"Wait until after tomorrow. Luke and Rumlow are going to test out the team Greater Rift then. You can go and get a feel for how difficult those named demons truly are." Rakkis glanced back at the somewhat sneaky Vedda, feeling as if someone had just spoken ill of her.
"Alright, Matthew, go find Madawc. He should be waiting to give Luke and Rumlow a pre-emptive warning. It won't hurt for you to listen." Rakkis took long strides toward Vedda. She wasn't particularly invested in Matthew.
"I want to see my Master!"
Clang!
As Kaecilius shouted, a block of black bread was severed on his axe. Kaecilius's movement didn't deform even slightly; he cleanly sliced the flying black bread in two. Under Kanuk's high-pressure training, Kaecilius had made considerable progress.
"Kid, you'd better forget about being a Wizard. That little bit of ability you have doesn't qualify as 'magic.'" Kanuk pulled another black bread from his pocket and threw it with some force.
This time, Kaecilius hit the ground with a solid thud.
"Who exactly are you people! My Master is the Sorcerer Supreme, how dare you treat me like this!" Kaecilius cried in a low voice, tears welling up in his eyes. Though he suspected his current predicament, he still wanted to test the waters.
"Your Master is the one who sent you here, saying you were trying to explore some dangerous power." Kanuk boredly scooped up a handful of snow, rolled it into a larger snowball, and tossed it away. "If you ask me, power is just power. What power isn't dangerous? That's just an excuse. You can throw out your back just by walking; what power is ever safe?"
Kanuk recalled the scene of himself smashing into Azmodan's stomach and felt a shiver of excitement. He genuinely wanted to experience that exhilarating charge again.
"If eating demon flesh would make me stronger, I'd have done it long ago." Kanuk was full of bluster. He was feeling agitated after leaving the Elder Sanctuary.
"Master, was Dormammu's existence a lie all along!?" Kaecilius finally couldn't hold back his tears, which streamed down his face onto the ground. He now understood the identity of the Dark Dimension Lord he had contacted, and his heart was filled with regret. Having been "deceived" by a "non-existent" monster for so many years, his resentment toward his Master was particularly intense.
"How strong can I become with this training! Can I defeat my Master!" Kaecilius rolled to his feet and asked Kanuk aggressively. Although he was resentful toward the Ancient One, he habitually still called her his Master.
"That's more like a Barbarian's spirit. Your Master? Her power is still slightly less than mine, and I'm dead. As long as you want to become stronger, no one can stop a Barbarian." Kanuk recalled the power he had seen from the Ancient One. Her power was, in fact, not too different from his own, in his deceased state. If he were alive, Kanuk was confident he could shatter a Wizard's fragile body with a single Furious Charge, just like he had charged into Azmodan.
--------------------------------
I've uploaded the early access chapters to Patreon—about 30 to 40 more.
If you're curious to know what happens next, you can
read them here: [pat*eon*com/DaoistRoeoNQ]
Thank you for your support.