Contrary to what he’d thought the night would be like, it was relatively warm, making the experience of sleeping in a stone shack far better than the one he had had in this town prior. For the most part, the blanket was entirely ineffective, and he could still feel the wind crisply against his skin, but it wasn’t that bad.

The house itself though, it was terrible.

After staying to see the sunset to its finale, Brock had parted ways with Fon and Harry, with the former having again promised to take him to see something he’ll ‘want to see’. From the expression on her face, it didn’t seem to be anything he wouldn’t want to see, but the man couldn’t help but be curious. And a little bit excited. It was always great to see something that was said to be awesome.

While he hadn’t slept like baby, Brock had awoken several hours later, fully rested and satisfied. He found it increasingly odd how his body needed less and less sleep, yet he could still do so every night regardless. He wasn’t complaining of course, as he very much enjoyed the act of slumber. It was pleasant, not having to worry or think about anything for eight or so hours.

It's when life is simple. You do fuck all.

Stretching until his body popped in all the right ways, Brock shrugged off his useless blanket and tapped down on the rough stone flooring. His regular, albeit worn, outfit was splayed across the end of his bed, and his combat boots were sat at the foot of it, one of them charred and falling apart.

A few minutes or so was all he needed to get his clothing in order, and as he sniffed his shirt, he wondered when the last time he had cleaned it had been. It was starting to smell… well… like shit. He noted to take a dip in a creek or something next time he came across one.

Taking a breath of the crisp morning air and hauling the stone of a door aside, Brock stepped out into the town proper, glancing around as people were already out and about, going about their days happily. No matter how many times he saw it, it still filled him with joy, and no small amount of pride at the freedom he had accomplished for these people.

Fon and Harry were already waiting a way away, chatting to each other idly until they noticed him and made a beeline directly for him. If not for the fact that his stomach was rumbling unpleasantly, he would have asked the woman to show him what she had mentioned the night before immediately.

Instead, much to his personal dissatisfaction, the cafeteria was destined to be the first stop of the day.

Surprisingly enough, breakfast was something new this time, something that looked half-way between porridge and mud from a swamp. According to the chef, it was softened and pulped carapace, and was somewhat like a pudding. While at first he was leery of eating it, he tried it and had to admit it wasn’t half bad.

The carapudding was rather bland, and it had an extremely weird texture in his mouth, but it was edible, nonetheless. It was quite a downgrade from the insect meats, however, even just the normal ones, although Brock supposed they couldn’t eat meat every day of the week. He had no idea what nutrient carapace could offer instead, however .

“You guys ready to go?” Brock spoke out to his teammates as Harry scoffed down his fourth bowl of the stuff. He was clueless as to how the kid could eat so much of something that tasted of nothing, but somehow, he managed it.

Fon brushed the hanging hair from her messy bun out of her eyes and nodded, “Yep. You ready to see what I was talking about last night?”

“God-fucking-right I am.”

It was another five minutes before they could leave, as Harry had a major stomach-ache from eating so much food in quick succession. After a puke from the boy back into one of his many bowls, they covertly slipped out of the place and Fon took the lead. Brock tried asking her what it was she wanted to show him, but she remained steadfast in her mystery, unwilling to share even a hint on the matter.

Of course, a few more people greeted them enthusiastically on the way, and Brock patiently shook their hands and heard their thanks. He had to admit, while being regarded by others as a hero was quite nice, it was also rather annoying. He wondered if this was how celebrities felt on pre-System Earth just walking down the street.

Extremely annoyed.

The walk took far longer than it should have, and smiling, Fon gestured to an unassuming stone structure stationed near the edge of the town, nestled right up against the earthen wall that surrounded the place.

He found the area to be oddly quiet, and Brock noticed the abundant piles of chitin plating and dismantled insect scythes strewn across the building’s exterior. There were six exceptionally humongous scythes that were actually propped up against the building itself, and he knew they had to have once belonged to the Tyrant of the Swarm.

“Welcome to Ivan’s smithery. Of sorts.” Fon said to them as she began to lead them through the piles of monster parts and toward the oddly enlarged doorway into the building.

Brock felt his excitement bubble as he anticipated what he would be shown, and Harry was looking around in awe, amazed by the sheer amount of resources the town had managed to gather here. He had been part of the gathering efforts, yet still, the boy seemed unable to contain his amazement.

As they crested the doorway, Brock laid his eyes upon the various armour sets and weaponry that had been crafted from the parts of the Swarm. Spears, swords, knives; there were only bladed weapons that he could see, but they were plentiful enough that the variety didn’t matter. In the same vein, he didn’t see any light armours either, only plate.

Ahead of them, he spotted a single man hunched over a workbench, the windowless window just above his head letting in the fresh rays of morning and illuminating his work. From where he was, Brock thought he could spot another suit of plate armour laid upon the bench, though he couldn’t be sure.

Fon coughed politely, and the man jolted, almost falling off his chair, “…Ivan?”

“Wha…! You’re here early.” The man, Ivan, quickly regained his balance and composure and spun around on his stool, idly stroking his greying beard in an attempt to hide his prior startlement.

It didn’t work.

Brock had to admit the whole thing was pretty amusing, but he kept both the smile off his face and the laughter in his mind. Fon cocked a brow and stepped forward as the man moved the suit of armour into his lap and continued to tweak at it, “It’s only seven. It’s not that early considering I know how little you sleep.”

He could hear the amusement in Fon’s voice.

Ivan grumbled under his breath and threw his hands up in the air, “At least give me a warning that you’re coming, woman! You know how easy it is to sneak up on me while I’m working.”

“It’s too easy…” Fon clicked her tongue and shook her head softly.

The craftsman seemed satisfied at that, and finally, he turned his eyes to regard Brock and Harry. He spared the latter a slight glance, but mostly, his focus was on Brock. Immediately, his face lit up and he stood, “You must be Brock. Our ‘saviour’.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ivan got up and leaned forward to shake Brock’s hand.

The man in question nodded a bit awkwardly and returned the shake, “Yeah… it was no big deal.”

Ivan heaved out a laugh, and behind him, the armour he had rested on the stool flopped to the ground. The man paid it no attention, “Humble, huh? Good. So, what can I do for you all today?”

Harry wandered away slightly to regard all the armaments hung around curiously, and Brock watched the idiot test a blade’s edge with his finger and get cut. He resisted the urge to slap his forehead as the kid wiped the leaking blood onto a suit of armour and wandered back over to them clutching his smaller appendage.

Brock sighed and Fon spoke up, “I brought Brock here to show him the ore; the one you found in the chasm.”

Ivan nodded slowly and licked his teeth as he thought on something. Eventually, he told them to wait a second and he dipped into a side room. Brock could hear the clutter of things being moved about, before finally, a dozen seconds later, he walked out holding an oversized stone box.

Idly, Brock recognised the aura traces on it, and pinned it as something that had been made by the handywork of Erin.

The older man’s muscular arms flexed wildly as he lowered the box to the ground, and with a huff, he stepped back and gestured at Brock with a grin, “You can open it. It’s more fun that way.”

Brock threw him a slight grin back and walked up to the box. It was probably around the size of his torso and judging from the veins that were still bulging on Ivan’s arm, weighed quite a bit. Getting down on his knees, Brock slipped his fingers under the lid and heaved, surprised at how heavy even just the lid was.

With a grunt, he managed to pry it off, and it fell backwards onto the ground with a resounding thump. Ivan jumped back and cursed, the edge of the lid missing his toes by only a few inches. Brock didn’t focus on that, however, and instead stared intently at the fist-sized item stored within.

It was some sort of ore, clearly, possessing all the rough edges of one and the clinging chunks of stone to prove how recently it was harvested. That was where the similarities to normal ore ended, however. The chunk was unlike anything Brock had ever seen before, looking to be something halfway between Onyx and Sapphire.

It glittered in a mix of deep blacks and dark blues, practically sparkling in the limited light. As he reached down and grasped it, he felt how cold not only the ore itself was, but how cold the air in the box had been, as though the ore had chilled it. He could sense complex energies worked into the chunk, clearly being something of a magical nature.

He had to admit, he was in awe as he studied it. Even more surprising was the fact that a description much the like one he’d seen at Donte’s Smithery appeared.

Aetherite (Epic)

A small chunk of an extremely rare variant of ore that is found sparsely in the most dimensionally unstable areas of the Multiverse. Possesses an immense durability and conductivity to energies. Quality of items produced with this ore depend significantly on the skill of the craftsman. Suitable crafting material for items of any Grade.

Brock whistled at the description. He had no idea why such a rare ore had appeared on their planet, especially since Earth seemed dimensionally stable, at least from what he could tell. While it was of a very high quality, and he was almost greedy to get his hands on this and give it to Donte before he finished making his weapon, he knew that the man would be nowhere near able to bring out its full potential.

Not as an F Grade being anyway. He frowned. Still… we can always get more, right? It’d be a waste to save it for some time far in the future.

“A beauty, right?” Ivan said, resting back in his stool and hauling the armour back onto the table from where it had fallen earlier, “Pity it took the only three metal pickaxes we had to dig it out.”

“It… took three pickaxes to get just this?” Brock furrowed his brows, disbelieving.

Ivan snorted, “Yep. All three; broken. It doesn’t say it’s ‘durable’ in its description for no reason.”

Brock licked his lips and delicately placed the ore back into the box. He thought it was quite a feat that a mere ore could overpower the durability of three pickaxes, and it definitely pointed to the chunk being something not from Earth prior to the System. Although, he supposed he really didn’t know much about pickaxes regardless.

“Was there any more of this stuff?” He asked, rather curious about the supply of it.

Ivan spun around on his stool and once again began working on his latest set of armour, “There was plenty. Massive veins of the stuff running through the walls. There were other ores too, all different looking ones. Too bad I broke my picks; can’t mine them and take a proper look.”

Brock hummed his agreement and managed to lift the lid back onto the box, albeit with quite a loud thud as it shut. Ivan’s top half turned to face him, and he nodded toward the box, “you can keep it, if you want. I can’t do much with it, and we’ll get more eventually. Not like the veins of it are going to disappear.”

“…I think.” He added shortly after.

Brock’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, and he glanced back down at the crude stone box. He was certain the item within was of a great value, “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah, take it. Consider it a thanks for saving our asses.” Ivan grinned warmly and Brock thanked him.

As he stored the item in his ring, Brock decided they should leave the craftsman alone to work. He seemed like a nice bloke, but Brock sure knew what it was like to be annoyed by people while you were trying to get something done.

The three of them bid him their goodbyes and walked out of the place. Quickly though, a thought flashed in his mind and Brock briefly ducked his head back in, “Uh… also, vote Margo.”

He heard Ivan say ‘what?’ as he continued his exit, and he chuckled to himself for no reason in particular.

As they walked through the town once more, Brock looked down at the ring around his neck, thinking about the ore within. He was somewhat curious about the place it had come from, and it wasn’t too long a walk from the town. Besides, the beckoning call of the darkness was still fresh in his mind from the day before, and he desperately wished to investigate it.

And so, Brock made up his mind. It was chasm time.