The morning after The Split Vein smelled like metal and bad decisions.
Lucas woke to the distinct sound of hammering echoing through the Holdfast — not in his skull, though it might as well have been. His head pounded in rhythm with the forge two tunnels over.
He groaned and sat up. Across the room, Jeff was already awake, sipping from a tin mug and pretending not to smirk.
"Rough night?" Jeff asked.
"Define 'rough,'" Lucas said, rubbing his temples.
"Did you challenge Barek to arm wrestling again?"
Lucas blinked. "That wasn't a dream?"
Jeff chuckled. "You lost five marks."
"Of course I did." He sighed. "Remind me next time I try to celebrate survival that I'm still broke the morning after."
Jeff raised his mug. "Welcome to adulthood."
After splashing cold water on his face, Lucas made his way toward the forges. The air grew warmer with each corridor, thick with the scent of oil, smoke, and molten metal. Sparks danced through the air like fireflies.
Karn, the Holdfast's blacksmith, was right where Lucas expected him — hunched over an anvil, hammering a red-hot plate of veinsteel into submission. The man's arms looked carved from the same metal he worked with, his beard streaked with soot and faintly glowing ash.
He didn't look up as Lucas approached. "If you're here to buy, the price doubled since last night's drinking."
Lucas smirked. "What if I'm here to sell?"
That made the blacksmith pause. He set the hammer down and turned, one eye gleaming faintly blue from an embedded shard. "Sell what?"
Lucas reached into his pouch and pulled out three small crystal shards — faintly pulsing, irregular, but undeniably alive. "These."
Karn's expression darkened. "You picked those off a corpse, didn't you?"
Lucas hesitated. "I prefer the term salvaged."
Karn grunted, taking one between his fingers. "Corrupted core fragments. You're lucky you didn't melt your hands."
"Yeah, it's been that kind of week," Lucas said. "Any chance you can make something useful out of them? Maybe a charm? Or a, uh… veinlight nightlight?"
The blacksmith snorted. "You're not funny before noon." He studied the shard closely. "But this… this hums wrong. Not just corrupted — redirected. It's like the energy tried to flee its host before dying."
"That's… good?" Lucas asked hopefully.
Karn gave him a look. "That's unnatural."
"Still sounds like it could be jewelry."
Karn sighed and gestured for him to follow. They moved deeper into the forge where the walls pulsed with vein conduits and rune-etched plates. The air shimmered with heat.
"Most people bring me veinshards to sell," Karn said. "You bring me something that's half-dead and humming."
"I figured I'd stand out."
"You succeeded."
The blacksmith set the shards into a small crucible carved from obsidian-vein alloy. When he poured a silvery liquid over them, the forge lights dimmed, as if the air itself were holding its breath.
"Okay," Lucas said cautiously, "that seems normal."
Karn grunted. "Normal's overrated."
As the mixture heated, faint lines of gold threaded through the metal. The veins in the forge walls flickered in response — not blue, but gold, echoing the same color that haunted Lucas since the first collapse.
A chill crawled up his spine. "That's… not supposed to happen, right?"
Karn's face hardened. "No. And yet here we are."
The glow surged, then steadied. Karn moved quickly, pouring the molten metal into a narrow mold. Steam hissed as he cooled it with a vial of blue-tinted water.
When the smoke cleared, what remained wasn't a weapon or pendant — but a thin band of dark-steel alloy, no wider than two fingers. Faint seams of gold traced through it like veins beneath skin, pulsing gently in the forge light. The inside of the band was smooth and slightly curved, sized perfectly to clasp around a wrist without overlapping, light but sturdy — the kind of craftsmanship that felt deliberate rather than lucky.
Along its edge, three tiny runic grooves shimmered faintly blue, while the outer surface gleamed with an oily sheen, shifting from black to bronze to violet depending on the angle. When Karn lifted it, the bracer caught the light and refracted it like glass over water — alive in a way metal shouldn't be.
Karn held it up, squinting. "Never seen the energy settle like that."
He tossed it onto the counter toward Lucas. "Whatever that is, it's yours."
Lucas picked it up carefully. It was warm to the touch, pulsing faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat. A notification blinked before his eyes.
[Accessory Equipped: Vein-Link Bracer – Tier I]
Stores excess vein output. Prevents minor backlash.
Lucas frowned at the floating text.
"Stores excess vein output. Prevents minor backlash," he read aloud. "That's it? What does that even mean?"
The System chimed again — almost cheerfully.
[Ability Activated: Explain It to Me Like I'm 5]
Revised Description:
"This shiny wrist thingy keeps you from going boom when you overdo the magic juice. It holds extra energy so you don't fry yourself like last time. Don't fill it too fast, or it'll spill."
Lucas groaned. "Great. My gear talks down to me now."
Karn raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing," Lucas said quickly, waving it off. "Just the voices in my head being condescending again."
As Lucas adjusted the bracer, his eyes wandered to a side rack of spare gear — belts, gloves, and something folded neatly under a hanging hood. A dark half-face mask made of woven vein-thread cloth, with reinforced metal seams and faint blue stitching that pulsed like veins.
He picked it up. "What's this?"
Karn glanced over. "Filter mask. Good for dust, spores, and idiots wandering into tunnels they shouldn't."
"Guess I qualify for all three."
"Clearly."
Lucas turned it over in his hands. The mask felt sturdy yet light — the inner lining cool against his skin. When he put it on, the air suddenly felt cleaner, crisper. It even muffled the faint hum of the forge.
He looked at his reflection in a polished shield — dark jacket, glowing bracer, ducky pants, and now a half-face mask. "Alright," he said, nodding. "Now I look like a man who might know what he's doing."
Karn snorted. "Or a man trying very hard to fake it."
"Story of my life."
Lucas reached for his coin pouch. "What do I owe you?"
Karn waved him off. "For the mask? Consider it a bonus. If those crystals do what I think they will, I'll make enough off the scraps."
Lucas hesitated. "You sure?"
"Kid, if you die in those tunnels, at least my work'll go down with you. That's advertisement."
Lucas grinned beneath the mask. "Can't argue with that."
Outside, the tunnels were quieter. The veins along the corridor shimmered faintly, and the bracer on his wrist pulsed in sync. Every few seconds, it hummed — not unpleasantly, but insistently, like it wanted to speak.
Lucas rubbed the metal band thoughtfully. "You're not gonna start talking, are you?"
A faint warmth answered him.
He sighed. "That's not a no."
When he returned to the living quarters, Ryn was waiting near the lift with a datapad full of reports. "Vorn wants you at the next briefing."
"Am I in trouble?" Lucas asked.
"Always," Ryn said, smirking. Then her gaze caught on his wrist. "What's that?"
"Gift from Karn. Says it'll stop me from exploding."
"Useful feature."
"Top of the line," Lucas said. "Also matches the pajamas."
Ryn groaned. "Still with the ducks?"
"They're part of the brand."
She shook her head, hiding a smile. "Come on, hero. The captain's in a mood, and you're late."
Lucas followed her toward the central chambers, the bracer's gold pulse keeping perfect time with the hum of the veins.
And somewhere, faint and far below, the same pulse echoed back — slow, patient, waiting.