Lorelei's expression remained grave as she kept the monocle over her eye, her gaze locked on the dark horn. The playful curiosity she'd shown moments before had vanished, replaced by the focused seriousness of a doctor diagnosing a terminal illness. The ambient sounds of the Winter Garden—the distant murmur of bartering, the gentle chime of luminous flora, the soft rush of the Whispering Stream—seemed to fade into a hushed backdrop.
"This one," she began, her voice low and measured, "Based on the aura of cold malice, the spiritual resonance of corruption, I believe it belongs to the Pathway of Devils."
She removed the monocle, the lens seeming to fog for a second before clearing, as if relieved to be free of the observation. She closed the case with a definitive snap, physically cutting off the characteristic's presence. The immediate area felt slightly warmer.
"The Devil's pathway," she continued, turning her full attention to Lutz, her green eyes intent. "I don't know much about the specifics—the true knowledge is gate-kept by the ancient devil families that possess and propagate it." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice further. "These Beyonders are not just criminals or opportunists. They are inherently twisted. Bloodthirsty is too simple a word. Their power seems to stem from and fuel acts of cruelty, betrayal, and a rejection of empathy. The orthodox churches—hunt them on sight, indiscriminately. They're considered a blight. And tellingly, even other organizations we might label 'evil' often want nothing to do with them."
Lutz listened, his face impassive, but his mind was coldly cataloging every word. Devil families. Hunted by all. Inherently twisted. This aligned with the little he'd gleaned from Yevgeny's papers—the "Abyss,".
"You really know a lot about the world of Beyonders" Lutz said, half-praising, half-probing.
"My br-, my partner is really knowledgeable and he shared his knowledge with me." Lorelei, a bit taken out by the blunt statement, muttered.
"Anyway, In short," Lorelei concluded, crossing her arms, "an item born from this characteristic would undoubtedly be problematic. Deeply so. The negative effects could be severe and insidious. It might carry a strong spiritual corruption, warping the wielder's mind over time. It could forcibly deprive you of your emotions—not just fear, but all of them. Joy, sorrow, connection." She held his gaze. "Sure, that might help you kill or do terrible things coldly, without hesitation or remorse. But it's a direct road to losing your sanity."
She paused, letting the warning sink into the damp, floral-scented air. "As for potential positive effects... they would likely be direct and brutal. A significant physical boost, perhaps. An instinctual skill for killing with any object, turning a spoon or a book into a lethal weapon, etc."
Lutz was silent for a long moment, his eyes on the closed case. His mind worked through the calculus. 'A physical boost? Creed and my Swindler enhancement provide that, the sailor pathway characteristic can provide it too. Skill to kill with any object? The emotion suppression...' He thought of the cold focus he needed to survive, the calculated lies. To him, emotions were a tool, a useful one that he needed to grasp the state of others. To lose the capacity for emotion entirely wasn't an advantage; it was a trap. It would erase the very core of his vow.
Furthermore, it was a direct link to Yevgeny and the Andariel family. Carrying or using an artifact from their pathway felt like waving a flag for them to find.
'Hmm, this sure seems troublesome.' He concluded internally. Its possible positive effects aren't that useful to me either—they overlap with my existing capabilities. The risks catastrophically outweigh any potential gain. Keeping it as a raw characteristic at least gave him options—it was a high-value bargaining chip, a potential ingredient for something else, or a weapon to be used in a very specific, deniable way.
"Alright," he said aloud, his voice breaking the thoughtful silence. He reached out and took the case containing the Dark Horn, returning it to his leather bag. "Let's not go ahead with that one, then."
Lorelei visibly relaxed, a subtle release of tension in her shoulders. She gave a small, approving nod and smile. "Some things are better left locked away."
"Now," Lutz said, refocusing on the blue crystal that lay gleaming on its velvet bed. "About the Sailor pathway characteristic." His mind turned to his arsenal. Creed, the eloquent stiletto, was in good condition, a perfect tool for precise, close-quarters violence. His parrying knife, however, was a simple, utilitarian piece of steel—reliable, but unexceptional. In a world where he was increasingly facing Beyonders with strange abilities, a mere piece of sharp metal felt inadequate. It could use an upgrade, honestly.
"What do you think about turning it into a short blade?" he asked, looking at Lorelei. "A fighting knife. Something that incorporates those effects—that anger-fueled boost, the scale-like resilience."
Lorelei's professional enthusiasm returned, the grim discussion of Devils set aside. "A blade is a classic and effective vessel for such properties," she agreed, her fingers tracing the air above the crystal as if already envisioning the process. "And reinforcing the metal could make it incredibly durable, resistant to corrosion, and yes, even grant that 'slippery-ness' to the blade itself, making it harder to parry or catch." She nodded, warming to the idea. "It's very possible. Do you already have a blade you want to use as a base?"
Lutz's gaze drifted past her, to the wall of her stall behind the workbench. It was a display of her craft, but also a practical arsenal. A dozen weapons were hung there with careful artistry, each illuminated by a small, softly glowing fungus nestled in a sconce beside it. They were not the gaudy, over-embellished pieces sometimes seen in the markets; these were tools, beautiful in their functionality.
There were elegant rapiers with complex basket hilts, their blades seeming to swallow the light. There were heavy, single-edged chopping swords with brutal, clean lines. There were daggers of every description: needle-like stilettos, broad-bladed misericordes, curved kukris with wicked cutting profiles.
His eyes scanned them, his observation and instinct for value assessing each one. He needed something versatile, something that complemented Creed rather than replaced it. Creed was a hidden thrust. This new blade needed to be for the messy, open conflict he often found himself in.
Then his eyes stopped.
It was a blade of a length between a long dagger and a short sword. The blade itself was broad and sturdy, with a sharp, single edge. But it was the spine of the blade that captivated him. Instead of being smooth or ridged, it was sculpted with a series of deep, hook-shaped dents or notches, creating a savage, serrated profile along the back. The hilt was a simple, robust cross-guard with a leather-wrapped grip, darkened by use. It looked functional and utterly unique.
"Tell me about that one," Lutz said, pointing a finger at the peculiar weapon.
Lorelei turned to look, and a small smile of professional pride touched her lips. She tiptoed and stretched her arms up, barely reaching up to the blade and carefully took it down from its pegs. Lutz found it a bit amusing. She held it out horizontally on her palms, presenting it to him.
"This," she said, "is called a swordbreaker. A less common design, but exceptionally useful in the right hands." She rotated it so he could see the full length. "It functions as a normal blade for cutting and slashing—the edge here is quite sharp and durable. But its true genius is here." She ran her thumb along the notched spine. "These deep dents, opposing the sharp edge, are designed to catch an opponent's blade. When you parry with this side, their sword or knife slides in... and gets trapped." She demonstrated with a subtle twisting motion of her wrist. "The hooks bite. For a critical moment, they cannot pull their weapon free. It disarms them, leaving them open for your counterattack."
She flipped it, showing the sharp edge. "Naturally, the design has a trade-off. It's not ideal for deep stabbing. If you thrust into a target and twist, these hooks on the spine can catch inside flesh or bone, making youthe one who has trouble retrieving your blade. It requires skill and timing, but in a duel against another blade-wielder, it can be life-saving, for you, of course."
Lutz listened, fascinated. It was perfect. It fit his asymmetrical and messy style of combat perfectly—he rarely sought a straightforward contest of strength. He used the environment, tricks, and misdirection. A weapon that could turn an opponent's attack into their vulnerability was ideal. It would make him far more dangerous in close quarters. The image of trapping a fiery blade or a gang enforcer's cutlass sent a thrill of cold anticipation through him.
'I'm sold,' he thought, his decision made.
"Alright," he said, his voice firm. "I want it. Use it as the base."
Lorelei nodded, hefting the swordbreaker in her hand with an appraising look. "A good choice. The steel is high-quality, and the form is already aligned with concepts of capture and reversal" She seemed to calculate something in her mind, her gaze flicking between the blade and the blue crystal. Her lips moved slightly, silently tallying costs.
"Very well. For the blade itself," she said, her tone shifting to that of a businesswoman, "one Hammer and six Silver Shields."
"And for the manufacturing—Since its just a Sequence 8 characteristic—the fee is fifteen Gold Hammers."
"Good," Lutz said without hesitation. He opened the thick leather coin purse at his belt and began counting out the money. The heavy, golden Hammers made a solid, satisfying clink as he stacked sixteen of them on the polished wood of the counter. He added six smaller, shimmering Silver Shields beside them, gleaming in the soft, magical light of the cavern.
"And this one's for your outstanding customer service" Lutz with a smile said as he slid another gold hammer separate to them through the counter.
Lorelei, with an imperceptible grin, swept the coins into a locked metal box beneath the counter with practiced efficiency as she avoided looking at him. "The process is delicate. I can have it ready for you in two or three days. You can return then."
"Thank you, then, 'Camille'," Lutz said, jokingly using her alias again and infusing the words with a genuine note of appreciation that went beyond mere courtesy.
She smiled, a warmer, less guarded expression than her professional demeanor. She carefully placed the swordbreaker and the case containing the blue crystal into a lined drawer on her workbench. "Now, is there anything else?"
The Garden's ambient noise, which had seemed to recede during their intense discussion, now filtered back in—the distant echo of a negotiation, the gentle plink of water from a stalactite into the stream. But the night in the Winter Garden was still young, and a Swindler with a purse still heavy with gold and a mind full of secrets had other business to consider.