Malcolm lifted the unnaturally slim hammer in his grip above his head with one hand, while the other held a piece of red-hot metal firmly in place via a pair of tongs. He positioned it carefully against the pitch black anvil underneath and, for the lack of a better word, took aim. The human took a deep breath, sharpened his focus, and then swung his tool downwards with all his might.

*CLANNNNG*

Metal clashed against metal, sending a deluge of sparks in every direction. They bounced harmlessly off the man’s protective clothing and mask before spilling onto the floor and disappearing. The rectangular plate that had been struck deformed unnaturally, as if ripples had been sent through it. Its wider axis arched upwards seemingly all on its own, causing the half-molten shard to adopt a smooth quarter-pipe shape.

Satisfied with the result, Malcolm lifted his creation off of the anvil and lowered it into the reddish murky fluid of a nearby metal vat. The liquid sizzled, bubbled and even slightly caught fire as it tried desperately to quench the metal’s heat. After precisely 17 seconds, the Blacksmith lifted the newly-forged component out of the liquid with his tongs. The mithril shard’s red glow had all but disappeared, leaving behind a pure white radiant glimmer that gave off copious amounts of steam.

At least until the liquid clinging to it completely evaporated, at which point it heated right back up again with the same intense red light as before. Malcolm then repositioned it on top of the anvil and repeated the process. His next swing hit the shard in just the right spot and with just the right amount of force to cause the metal to bend according to his will. In this instant, the mithril piece tightened one end of its bent shape, while the other splayed out as if trying to adopt a slightly conical shape.

This seemingly bizarre process was pretty much par for the course when it came to working with metals of a magical nature. Each of them had its own quirks and behaviors that differed greatly from mundane metals such as copper, bronze, or iron. Forging pure mithril in particular could be an incredibly tricky process, as the precious metal seemed to have a mind of its own. And a whimsical one, at that. Even something as simple as making it into an ingot took considerably more effort than a layman might expect.

Molten mithril deformed in various ways as it cooled, as if refusing to maintain the shape of the cast it was poured into. Almost as if each lump of it was ever-so-slightly different from the others, regardless of the level of purity. This curious behavior was why most Blacksmiths believed that, on some level, mithril was alive, and that working with the wondrous material was almost like a conversation. It was completely unlike the ‘monologue’ of endlessly hammering a piece of steel and beating it into shape, to say the least.

Unfortunately, as interesting as it was, forging mithril was also a time-consuming and delicate process that would be impossible without the supporting Skills of the Blacksmith Job. Heating it to the degree where it would become susceptible to the suggestions of Malcolm’s hammer was also a sticking point, as the humble smith’s personal forge was inadequate for the task. These two reasons were why he had to rent a space at the nearby communal foundry for a while. This was more or less common practice, as very few individuals had to work with stubborn metals like mithril on a regular basis, so it was usually cheaper than having to maintain a heavy-duty forge in their personal workshops.

What this meant for Fizzy was that there was going to be some overhead to her repair bill, to the tune of 300 GP for a 3-day rental period. She also had to provide an entire kilogram of mithril to serve as raw material. She still had the broken shards of her original arm, which covered most of her needs, but they were not going to be enough. Which was why she had to fork over a whopping 4,500 GP to buy the remainder off the market. Adding in the 1,200 GP for the 40 or so hours of skilled labor that Malcolm would need to put in, and her bill was projected to come out to a grand total of 6,000 GP. It was the sort of amount that would net an adventurer three or four pieces of heavily enchanted Masterwork-quality equipment. That or allow them to live a life of debauchery and relative luxury for about a year. Maybe less, depending on the individual. But Fizzy would gladly pay ten times this amount if it meant she could be made whole again.

A moment that was steadily approaching.

The golem was actually in the workshop with Malcolm. She wasn’t there just because she wanted to, but also because she had to. Much like making Moss’s prosthetic, replacing her arm involved having Malcolm assemble it directly onto her frame, rather than putting it together and then attaching it all at once. This left Fizzy, who was currently lying down on a large stone table near the anvil, with a limb that was only half done. The most difficult part - the ‘skeleton’ of the limb - was already done, so what Malcolm was currently working on was the ‘flesh.’

And by the look of things, he was done with the first part of that process. He approached the golem, his trusty tongs securely holding onto the heated mithril plate. He placed it on the area where Fizzy’s lower bicep would be, and gently tapped on it with his hammer. He wasn’t trying to nail it into place or anything like that, but merely positioning it and making sure it fit right. Once he was sure everything was in order, he placed the hammer back in his apron’s front pocket and took out the silver wand he used for enchanting purposes.

“Synchronize!”

With a chant and a tap, he invoked an Enchanter Skill that spurred Fizzy’s golem core into action. The magical sphere’s output rose momentarily as the newly forged plating was bonded with the bone-like tubing underneath. It twisted and turned with a low groan as it wrapped around Fizzy’s upper arm, becoming a permanent part of her body. After a minute or so, her new limb was left as a skeleton only from the elbow down, which she saw as quite encouraging.

“Huh, now that’s odd,” said the Blacksmith from behind his protective face mask.

“What? Is there a problem?” asked Fizzy while trying to remain as still as possible.

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just… I’ve never seen a golem assimilate ‘skin’ grafts so readily. This process should take a few hours, not a few minutes.”

Repairing a golem essentially boiled down to two steps that were repeated over and over. First, a Blacksmith created an appropriate graft, which was a compatible piece of metal or stone that had the general shape and dimensions of the part it was going to replace. An Enchanter - often times the same person - would then use their Mana Synchronization Skill to attune the new material with the magical signature given off by the golem’s core. Doing this essentially tricked it into believing that this foreign object was a part of its body. After that, it was simply a matter of waiting for the golem’s ‘heart’ to do its thing and finish shaping the new addition according to the design in its memory.

This also meant that the lovingly drawn up and excruciatingly detailed blueprints Fizzy had made were of very little practical use, but drawing them up was kind of fun so she didn’t mind.

“Then it’s a good thing, after all?” asked the golem with a hint of confusion in her voice.

Surely her ‘healing’ faster than expected was something to celebrate, not be wary of, no?

“No, actually. ‘Good’ is a gross understatement! It’s amazing! I’ve never heard let alone seen anything like it! Do you mind if I do a quick inspection?!”

“Of course not.”

“As if we’re going to pass up on getting confirmation on just how awesome we are!” said Plus triumphantly.

Malcolm lifted his metal plate of a mask, took off his gloves and grabbed hold of his hammer. He tentatively placed a finger on the part he’d just introduced to the mithril golem’s system, and was immediately surprised at how cold it had already become. He then proceeded to very lightly tap on it, using his eyes, ears and touch to feel out the condition of the metal. He then circled around Fizzy and did the same with her other, unbroken arm, before returning to the half-complete one on the golem’s left.

“How extraordinary!” he exclaimed after comparing the two. “There’s no deviation whatsoever!”

“Deviation? What?”

“Well, it’s just that… Parts or replacements introduced into a golem’s frame after their core is activated normally feel ‘off,’ or ‘dull.’ A Blacksmith like me can easily tell which components of a domestic golem are original and which are not. But with you… if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear this is your original arm!”

“Heh! You shouldn’t lump me in with those clumsy things you normally work on!”

“Yeah! You tell him!”

Her gloating had actually been quite close to the mark. Artificially created golems were, frankly speaking, inferior to the real deal. Even if Fizzy’s current situation was the byproduct of a powerful curse and the chaotic energies surrounding the Hero of Chaos, she was still a wild golem in body and, most importantly, soul. She was far more ‘alive’ than anything else Malcolm had ever worked on, and that wasn’t simply because she was made of mithril. Though that last bit probably had a lot to do with her abnormal vitality.

“Indeed! This is quite intriguing!” exclaimed the human smith. “It’s just a shame I can’t show you off to those stuck-up twats at the Hammer & Soul guild hall.”

“Why not?” asked Fizzy. “I wouldn’t mind getting some extra publicity, to be honest.”

“Bah, they’ll never listen to a ‘long-legs’ like me. Those stubborn old fools wouldn’t know a good golem-forger if he walked up to them and smashed them in the face with a mug of ale that was half-full!”

“… That’s an oddly specific example.”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh… *Ahem* Let’s just say allowing myself to be peer-pressured into drinking like a dwarf when I’m clearly not a dwarf had some… consequences.”

Malcolm coughed and laughed nervously as he explained. It would appear that his being somewhat ostracized by Gun Tarum’s smithing community wasn’t entirely because he was a human.

“Anyway! With this sort of healing rate, I think I can have the rest of your arm fixed up in only half the remaining time!”

“That’s great news! Just make sure you don’t rush too much and mess things up, though.”

“Believe me, I have no intention of doing so.”

If anything, Malcolm wanted to actually stall the job so he’d get to work on her a bit longer. He knew that the instant he was done, Fizzy would move on with her life and he would never see a construct as miraculous as her ever again. It was a slightly depressing thought, but he quickly chased it out of his head as he resumed focusing on her repairs. One by one, bit by bit the remainder of her arm was gradually being restored back to pristine condition.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

At least until Fizzy suddenly called out to Malcolm to stop and began getting off the stone table.

“W-what are you doing!?” half-shouted the human. “I still need to finish your hand!”

While the rest of the golem’s left arm was more or less identical to her right, the arguably most important part of it was still incomplete. Malcolm had only had the chance to apply a very thin layer of mithril onto the lowest end of the skeleton. Fingers were a lot more complex than a bicep or a forearm, so restoring those in one go was impossible. In Fizzy’s current state, she could still move her fingers, but her hand was left without its outermost shell.

In meatbag terms, this meant that she had bones and muscles, but was still missing her skin.

“No. You’re done here,” she said calmly while walking towards the workshop’s exit.

“But- but-!”

Malcolm tried to protest, but he couldn’t find the right words. Whoever heard of a patient that left the clinic after receiving only half the treatment? What could have caused this shiny woman to suddenly behave like this?

“Did I make a mistake? Are my skills not satisfactory?”

The only conclusion the human could reach was that the fault was somehow with himself. He had hoped it was some misunderstanding, as his professional pride was on the line. Not to mention his livelihood. This was the only job he’d gotten in over a month, so he quite literally could not afford to let it slip out of his fingers.

“Oh no, you did great,” said Fizzy over her shoulder. “Much better than I expected, to be honest.”

The work he did on Moss was already indicative of that much.

“Then why?!”

“Because I can handle the rest from here.”

Hearing the golem say that made Malcolm realize she wasn’t actually planning to leave, but was headed towards the hard leather Bag of Holding propped up against the wall next to the door. He watched on in confusion as Fizzy reached inside with her good hand and pulled out a mithril shield gauntlet that made the human recoil slightly. Being an Enchanter meant he was more in tune with the magical energy around him, and he could easily feel the foul energy radiate off that undoubtedly cursed item, even from a distance.

“Wait-!”

Fizzy thrust her incomplete left hand into the gauntlet before he could finish warning her. The cursed item shrank down and latched onto it immediately, affixing itself to her forearm. The metal glove then began distorting, subtly warping itself until the armored hand was an exact reflection of Fizzy’s right. It was at this point Malcolm realized something. Much like how his grafts had been easily swallowed up by his ‘patient,’ so too was this magic seamlessly become a part of Fizzy’s glorious frame.

“See?!” said Fizzy while turning around with a huge smile. “Good as new!”

Seeing her wave all ten of her fingers in a somewhat hypnotic manner instantly relieved Malcolm. He could do little but smile in a defeated manner and laugh dryly. He had realized that the only way this girl would have bonded with this item so completely without an Enchanter’s touch was if it was already attuned to her magical signature. And the only way he saw that happening was if this was her original hand. No wonder why the shattered remains of her old limb felt so strangely inadequate and incomplete. Almost like a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle that was missing a few pieces, which he assumed were simply lost.

He never could have imagined an outcome like this.

“I wish you would’ve showed me that thing sooner,” he commented finally. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have told you to get this much mithril.”

He still had about 270 grams left of the stuff and nothing to do with it.

“I’ll return it to you at once, of course.”

This gesture was only to be expected. After all, the white gold in question was rightfully Fizzy’s property, and he had no right to demand for the leftovers.

“I have a better idea,” interjected the golem. “Can you make bandages with that stuff?”

“… Pardon?”

“Turn the leftover material into small mithril squares and attune them to my core. Then I can apply them to my body in case I end up losing any more… body mass.”

“Hmm… Interesting… I’m not sure how well this will work though. I mean without the proper heat-”

“I’m not asking you,” she interrupted. “I’m telling you. You’re still on the clock, and I’m still paying, so get to work!”

“Heh. Whatever you say, miss customer!”

With a laugh and a shrug, Malcolm put his protective mask back on and got ready to start fulfilling his client’s new request.

“What about you?” he asked while stoking the flames of the massive furnace embedded in the wall.

“I’m just going to sit over there in the corner for a few hours and stay out of your way.”

“Fair enough!”

True to her word, Fizzy walked over to the corner of the stone chamber and sat down on the ground, covered by soot and metal shavings as it was. She leaned her head against the wall and placed her hands on the floor while stretching her legs out in an unladylike manner. She was naked, too, so her posture was definitely immoral on some levels, even if she was just a statue. But she didn’t care. With the reconstruction taken care of, she finally did the thing she’d been wanting to do ever since getting Level 35 of her Metal Golem Job inside that basilisk den.

Proficiency level increased. Shock Absorption is now Level 1. END +4. STR +2.

She had finally acquired the Skill she had been eyeing for the better part of the last 3 days. She wanted to wait until after her arm was fixed to get it, because she was worried the changes would not carry over to the new limb if she did so. That had proven to be an unnecessary worry, but it wasn’t the only reason she held off on it. After all, learning a new Metal Golem Skill that had a clearly physical component to it paralyzed her completely while her body made all the necessary changes. Advanced Joints had done it, and so had Engine of Destruction. They were almost like mini Rank Ups, come to think of it.

And she could easily tell this one was one of those cumbersome Skills.

Shock Absorption

Description: The golem becomes able to disperse physical force applied to it and maintain its footing even in the most dire of circumstances.

Requirements: Level 35 Metal Golem, END 300

Type: Passive

Activation Time: N/A

Cost: N/A

Range: Self

Effects: Reduces the amount of knockback suffered from incoming physical attacks by 6% per Level of this Skill.

Reduces the amount of recoil suffered from outgoing physical attacks by 4% per Level of this Skill.

Reduces incoming physical damage by 1% per Level of this Skill.

Back in that basilisk den, she had been made very much aware of just how dangerous it was to be knocked around so much. Heck, if she had this bad boy back when that Hero lashed out at her, she might not have lost her arm to begin with. It would also have been very useful in the fight immediately before meeting Drummir, but she didn’t want to risk picking the Skill under those conditions. Having her body become immobile and leaving her vulnerable amidst a mine full of monsters that dined on rock and metal? Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.

Thankfully the Level 40 Paladin Skill she got during that time was much more accommodating, and had been a good help throughout that last fight.

Pure Skill

Description: Those who claim that luck does not equal skill have simply never faced a follower of Chaos on the field of battle.

Requirements: Level 40 Paladin, Champion of Chaos

Type: Passive

Activation Time: N/A

Cost: N/A

Range: Self

Effects: All attacks and Spells gain a chance based on the Luck (LCK) Attribute to become a Skill Shot, dealing critical damage and/or healing.

Increases the chance of scoring a Skill Shot by 1% per Level of this Skill.

Increases the effects of the Champion of Chaos Skill by 5% per Level of this Skill.

Gain awareness of whether the next attack or Spell will be a Skill Shot at Level 10 of this Skill.

Fizzy had some complaints about the terminology used, but she felt she would be doing Garfield a disservice if she gave voice to them. Not to mention that these ‘Skill Shots’ were quite the tasty things whenever they appeared, dealing roughly double the amount of damage or healing she would have done otherwise.

As for the rate at which they appeared, it actually wasn’t all that great. Having the Skill at Level 2 and her LCK at 67 meant she was coring in an average of one Skill Shot every 20 or so hits. It felt lackluster, to say the least, and reminded Fizzy about why she didn’t like lotteries - they were just a tax on people who couldn't do math. However, the Skill itself granted her a total of +6 LCK whenever it Leveled Up, so it was inevitable that it would go up in consistency quite rapidly. Upon reaching Level 10, she would even be able to somewhat sidestep the ‘skillful’ nature of this ability and be allowed to maximize the potential impact on a fight, so she had a lot to look forward to.

Fizzy kept contemplating how to most effectively use her new chaos-attuned Skill for the next hour or so while her body finished incorporating the Shock Absorption Skill. The changes brought upon by it manifested themselves by dividing up the inner part of her armored hide into layers, presumably to help disperse the force of incoming impacts. Her ‘skin’ didn’t get any thicker, though. If anything, it actually seemed to lose a bit of volume, so by all accounts she felt like she would have become more fragile, not tougher. Then again, her body was made up of living white gold that had a shiny ball for a heart and magic instead of blood, so her knowledge of physics wasn’t really applicable to her bizarre anatomy.

After that was over with, she sort of just hung around and hummed under her nose while Malcolm continued to work on those mithril ‘bandages’ she requested. By the time he was done and Fizzy finally left the communal foundry workshop, the sun had already hid behind the wall of volcanic rock that surrounded Gun Tarum. An event the locals unofficially referred to ‘sundown,’ as opposed to the sunset that saw the giant orb of fire descend beyond the horizon and cause the sky to darken.

Fizzy walked through the now familiar streets with a spring in her step and a tune on her lips, reveling in the feeling of being made whole again. She felt so good that the goofy grin she wore threatened to become a permanent part of her face. It didn’t diminish in the slightest even when some clumsy elven bimbo dropped a pot of hot tar on her on accident, nor did the smile waver while the golem was breaking the girl’s kneecaps and wrists.

The mithril golem continued on her way after healing the unfortunate elf and magnanimously informing her she was forgiven for the crime of sullying her glorious frame. She then stopped by a random jewelry shop to have herself cleaned and polished, before eventually winding up back at the Mercenary Guild building. She opened the door and peeked inside, only to be made aware of how uncharacteristically noisy the place become in her absence.

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

What she saw was a group of about a dozen or so men huddled up in a semi-circle around the bar while chanting rhythmically. Overcome with curiosity, the golem casually walked into the tavern and approached the gathering, realizing that the dwarves were crowding around Moss and Drummir. The former was struggling to down a dwarf-sized shot of whiskey while the latter egged him on.

To his credit, the gnomish lad managed to polish off the last bit of Firebrand in his drinking glass, then slammed it against the counter. Whether it was because he was using his artificial arm or because he wasn’t regulating his strength, he ended up breaking the glass and causing pointy shards to fly all over the place. All while the small crowd around him cheered and clapped in an overtly boisterous fashion.

“Yeeah!” shouted the gnome, his voice cracking. “Told yous I could do the thing. With the stuff. And the… hey… where’s the cup gone… ? And will you people stop… spinning around? You’re making me…”

*BRAAARP*

Moss let out a disgusting fiery belch that momentarily lit up the surroundings, then fell off his barstool and collapsed to the ground while the others were having a laugh at his expense.

“Having fun boys?”

Hearing the metallic voice from behind them caused this little party to come to a screeching halt. They began immediately dispersing, offering nervous coughs or quiet apologies as they went around Fizzy, maintaining as much distance as reasonably possible. She didn’t know why though. It’s not like she came here specifically to interrupt their fun.

“Oh, hey angelface!” said Drummir with a wave. “Wow, congrats on the new arm! I must say, you look lovelier than ever!”

“Yeah, thanks. What’s going on here, Drummir?”

“Ah, the lad just managed to get past Level 25 of his Rogue Job, so I decided to treat the boy to a drink. He loudly said he’ll have what I was having, to which I replied he was just being cocky. We ended up causing something of a scene, which escalated a bit, and then here we are!”

“I see. You are aware that gnomes suck at holding their liquor, right?”

“Hey, the lad’s old enough to make his own mistakes,” offered the dwarf with a shrug.

“No, he’s not. He’s still a kid. Which, by the way, makes him even more susceptible to alcohol poisoning.”

She approached the unmoving boy on the ground and placed a hand upon his back.

“Cleanse!”

The all-purpose curative magic permeated his body doing its best to expel the toxic levels of alcohol from his system. The effect was immediate, as his pale complexion got significantly healthier while he continued to snore lightly. He’d still have the mother of all hangovers in the morning, but at least his life wouldn’t be in any danger.

“Ah… Sorry, angelface,” said the guilty dwarf. “I really didn’t think this one through.”

“I think I’m starting to understand why you got so many people killed,” mumbled Fizzy as she took a seat at the bar on the dwarf’s right side.

“Good evening, miss Rustblood,” said Grog from the other side of the counter. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good.”

“Same here,” echoed Drummir.

“Alright. Holler if you need anything. And congratulations on the new arm.”

“I will. And thanks.”

With that, the bartender moved away from the two of them and went to service the caped baldy in the yellow pajamas at the other end of the bar.

“So I take it the power-Leveling went okay?” asked Fizzy.

Moss had expressed concerns that he would only slow the golem down in his current state, and ended up asking Drummir to help him get stronger. As a Level 43 Shaman and Level 20 Bard, the dwarf was more than qualified to look over the boy and help him take down monsters way above his league. Fizzy didn’t mind since she’d be stuck with Malcolm for a while, allowing the gnome to go from Level 12 to 25 in just 3 days.

“Yeah. More or less,” responded Drummir. “I gotta say though, he’s not all that sharp when it comes to fighting. He’s squeamish and hesitates a lot, it’ll be a while before he can get past that. At least that arm of his served him well. That spring-loaded blade you put into his wrist is something else.”

“Just a shame I couldn’t assemble it myself,” lamented the golem. “I’m sure I could’ve done a better job than that Blackspring fellow.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Fizzy responded by tapping the shield on her left forearm against Drummir’s thick head.

“Heh. Right. Good point,” said the dwarf with a chuckle.

He then resumed nursing his drink while Moss continued to snore quietly in the background.

“Have you thought about how to get myself famous?” asked Fizzy after a small pause.

“I have. I gotta say, though, I don’t think your plan to make it big in the arena will work out. You got hundreds of people trying to do the same as you, so you’ll quickly be buried under the deluge of people, regardless of your shiny butt.”

“But it can still work, right?”

“Ah, yeah, sure it can. I guess. But let’s call that ‘Plan B’ for now, okay?”

“Why? You got a better idea?”

“Yeah. Typically speaking, if you wanna make a name for yourself, you need to do something big. Something that doesn’t boil down to ‘I smashed a bunch of things.’ Avert a crisis, uncover a lost relic of ancient power-”

“Unlock the Vault Beneath the Mountain?” interjected Fizzy.

“-unlock the Vault Beneath- Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I might be able to get it open.”

“Uh, no offense, but literally hundreds of thousands of people have tried. What makes you think you’ll succeed.”

“Because I’m a golem, a Paladin and an Artificer, all rolled up into one.”

“… Alright, yeah. That combination is definitely unique, and if you think you can do it then it’s definitely worth a shot. And even if it fails it won’t be too big of a deal. ”

It should be noted that Drummir was somewhat inexperienced, and was thus blissfully unaware of the rumors surrounding Malachai’s servants. He didn’t know that Disciples, Champions and Apostles of Chaos were considered bad omens. He had no idea that these people always seemed to be around whenever some huge disaster struck.

And Fizzy realized this, because if the dwarf did indeed know about such things, he would not have tempted fate by uttering his next words.

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, right?”

General Information Attributes Job Information Name Fizzy Rustblood Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress Species Metal Golem (Mithril) STR 435 PER 157 Arclight Artificer 59 35% Sex Female DEX 195 FTH 166 Paladin 40 81% Age 22 years AGI 159 LCK 67 Metal Golem 36 10% Guild Hammers of Horkensaft END 346 HP 2165/2165 (+3.4/sec) INT 238 MP 1190/1190 (+2.9/sec) WIS 210 Skill List Name Level Proficiency Name Level Proficiency Name Level Proficiency Clockwork Expertise 10 MAX Strength of Faith 10 MAX Shock Absorption 1 0% Explosives Handling 8 28% Holy Scripture 9 74% Metallopathy 7 35% Deconstruction 7 63% Divine Wrath 8 23% Mentor 3 88% Optics Expertise 5 8% Bonecrusher War Art 5 72% Meditation 4 44% Physics 7 34% Parallel Plot 3 47% Dagger Mastery 4 6% Component Forging 9 63% Pure Skill 2 34% Shield Mastery 10 28% Tick Counter 7 12% Heavy Metal 10 MAX Holy Mastery 12 35% Upgrade 5 30% Armored Charge 7 89% Mace Mastery 13 11% Electrical Expertise 4 4% Advanced Joints 7 72% Brawling Mastery 5 81% Champion of Chaos 10 MAX Magnetize 6 43% Toughness 10 MAX Engine of Destruction 4 41% Spell List Martial Arts List Holy Other Bonecrusher War Art Holy Light Parallel Zero Grand Slam Consecrate Parallel One Shield Wall Cleanse Heavy Gong Judgement Rebound Love Tap