The pieces of the broken sword reformed into another sword. I mean what did I expect? Of course, the sword would become a sword as loot. Or would it? Would’ve been interesting to see an ax pop out from a sword. Last time this happened, it was a dagger from a snake so it doesn’t necessarily make any sense.

I picked it up with my left hand, as my right was on the other side of the room, and it burst into flames like the monster I had fought to get it. It was the same length as well, a fire longsword. Very cool looking and probably valuable it was. A pity I got it right as I’ve decided to retire from dungeon exploring as it’d be nice to use. On the other hand, such a valuable parting gift was very much welcome.

Rather than being painful, my wound felt weird and itchy. The fire blade had cauterized it so the wound was in no danger of bleeding and seemed to even be trying to heal with the power of the shield. It felt like I could still move my lower arm that wasn’t there if I tried and several times I caught myself trying to move it and being surprised it wasn’t moving or well, attached to me.

I couldn’t stop myself from cracking up and laughing out loud at the absurdity. It was either that or cry about it and I had already cried about home yesterday. What sort of man would I be if I cried as a result of every memory or bad thing to happen. Then again, losing an arm isn’t a normal bad thing.

First thing I did was to walk over to my arm and pick it up, setting the fire sword to the side. Perhaps I could reattach it and my shield will help fix it. Certainly be easier than trying to grow a new forearm and hand from scratch. As soon as I picked it up, I realized this wasn’t an option as I grabbed a chunk of flesh falling off my arm instead of the arm itself. It was rotting away like one of the defeated monsters in the dungeon.

This was to be my fate as well if I died here. Absorbed into the dungeon as my body deteriorates into nothing. The chunk of flesh slipped from my hand and fell onto the ground which quickly enveloped it. Nothing more that could be done about that.

While it was sitting on the ground outside of hands, the sword wasn’t covered in fire which was good to know as it burning constantly would be inconvenient. Hopefully, it was near impossible to break from the blade side like the monster it came from. Then again, that trait might come hand in lack of hand with the weakness on the back making it shatter instantly. Not that I would ever test if that weakness was still there. This sword was my retirement fund.

Some other adventurer can find out the hard way if the sword still does that. Preferably after getting some use out of it so they couldn’t complain to me for selling the sword to them for a fortune. It was somewhat understandable that the value of a divine item could be limited depending on the effect and the deity reigning over it, but an enchanted item should just be valuable no matter what and this was a fucking sword that had flames on it. The appearance alone should drive up the value to collectors, not even talking about adventurers wanting to use it as their main weapon.

Once my former dominant hand was fully gone, I picked up the sword and walked over to pick up my spear. Since I couldn’t hold both at once, I untied the cloth around my waist I used for the bludgeon and tied the spear to my back. It took me maybe twenty times to get it right. With only one hand, it was nearly impossible to steady the spear on my back and tie the cloth around it.

Normally I would’ve tried to put away the sword and keep out the spear in case I ran into any trouble on the way back, but I’d rather not burn my clothes off, especially since my shirt was covered in ale and would light straight up. I would need a sheath to keep the sword in that was fireproof for convenience. Or rather, I should consider having one made for it and that’ll raise the value of the sword and make it easier to transport to a city where it could be sold at a good price or auctioned off.

Or maybe this sword alone could be strong enough to allow me to continue dungeon exploring. Which was unlikely as it was in my offhand and was super awkward to swing. I couldn’t believe I was considering going back into the dungeon at all at this point. My body and mind still hadn’t fully registered what had happened. Felt like business as usual.

I dragged myself out of the dungeon, room by room, still hoping that the shield would start to regrow my arm. Instead, my stub started to scab over as the burnt flesh started to drop off. At this point, it was obvious that it would just heal the burnt part then have skin regrow over it. Which was better than a horribly burnt and cauterized wound just waiting to get infected.

No new enemies spawned on the way back and I made no attempts to try and do the fishing technique. It seemed a lot more promising than the wheat grind and I regretted not being able to try it out. However, I’d have to deal with living with one arm and figuring out what to do with the last year of my life.

With the dark dagger and fire sword, I could make a small fortune, pay off my debts, then retire in luxury. For a full year, I’d engage in debauchery and drink away all my problems until the reaper’s due. As for the shield, I’d obviously keep it at least until my arm healed. Then, I’d pass it on to someone else as it would keep me from becoming drunk enough to forget this.

Not the most satisfying life, but what a way to go. I could imagine it now, as I had already lived a life similar to that for years and for the first time I had been able to be normal with the dungeon. And that was something I’d have to give up.

At the entrance to the dungeon, I didn’t find anyone about. Jerry and his friends were probably still asleep or in the dungeon. Tom may have been smart but he’s not psychic and probably not even he would have predicted this or he’d be right there, sitting in the grass waiting for me so he could grant me guidance on what I needed to do.

Speaking of Tom, I still had that keg of ale from home in my room. It’d be nice to have a tall mug of that. Maybe consider going back home to see my relatives before I died, shame for how I’ve wasted away for years be damned. All that could just wait until later on, tomorrow when I have a clearer head or come to terms with what happened to my arm.

At Tom’s bar, I found myself in the breakfast crowd as people were just waking out of their drunken stupors from last night or going off to work in the fields. Everyone in the bar turned to look at me. It was hard not to when I was carrying a flaming sword and missing an arm. Nobody said a word as I walked past all of them and went upstairs to my room. There I went over to the keg on the table and went to pour myself a drink.

However, there was no stopper on top on the keg even though I made sure to put it back on. I lifted up the keg and found that only half of it was left even though I couldn’t have drunk that much in one night and I swore I only drank maybe an eighth to a quarter of the barrel. Which meant someone else went into the room and drank a bunch of it.

The first suspect that came to mind was Tom bringing it down to share with everyone, but he wouldn’t do that without permission. So who did it? There was an odd trail of liquid on the floor going towards the window, spilt ale. I walked over to the window and looked down to see three mugs lying on the ground right next to the wall of the bar. Yeah, it was pretty obvious who was behind this and it disgusted me.

Three people, three mugs.

Chris and Matt were the only ones who knew I brought this out of the dungeon other than Tom. And then Jerry was with them yesterday night when I got up and he was looking at me rather oddly with the others. They knew I had left and wouldn’t have been back for a while. I suppose they justified this theft in their minds as paying off my debts. To think that I would’ve willingly shared it with them if they just asked and planned to do so later today when they came back for lunch or dinner so I could drink with them.

Well, good thing I was cutting ties with them to retire anyway. Now they’re definitely not going to get any of my money. Just Tom’s debts would be paid and I could consider my debts to Jerry gone. I wouldn’t even bother getting Tom to ban them from the bar. Just settle things here and then leave for the city.

Despite being left to open air for what I assumed was hours, the ale still tasted good as I poured myself a mug and downed it. I had more things to do and Jerry’s crew sneaking in and drinking a bunch of my ale ruined my mood to drink. That and I sorta dumped a bunch more of the ale onto the floor while trying to pour it with one hand.

Around five minutes later, I found the stopper on the ground under the bed, probably dropped carelessly and rolled under there. The ale was sealed up and I closed the curtains even though that wouldn’t stop anyone from getting in, but the change would hopefully discourage Jerry and his gang from sneaking back in again. Then I picked up the fire sword, which I had left on the ground so it wouldn’t burn anything and so I’d have a free hand. Then went downstairs.

While leaving the bar a few people tried stopping me to ask me what had happened but I ignored them. Tom was too busy making breakfast to talk so I’d come back later during a low time. Instead, the best thing to do was go to the temple. Jeff’s smithy didn’t open until afternoon and I needed to let the goddess know that I’m giving up on the task. Perhaps I’d pass the task onto the new owner and that’d increase the shield’s value.

That would be a worthwhile question to ask Jeoffry if he was in. Who am I kidding, since he wasn’t grabbing a meal at Tom’s bar, he would be in. As I walked through town, I felt the gazes of pretty much everyone in town on me, on my new sword that is. That or the stub where my right arm once was. Thankfully, the trip was a short one and no tried to stop me or ask about things.

At the temple, I found Jeoffry standing outside staring at me with his mouth agape in shock. But he quickly hid his shock and ran into the temple as I entered. There he composed himself and smiled at me, trying his hardest not to stare and failing to do so.

“I need to pray for a bit and I might need to sell this shield later,” I said to him.

“That’s fine, just, is there a way to stop that. Like, extinguish the flames on the sword. It’s not really proper to have something like that happening in a temple,” said Jeoffry and I was more than happy to comply.

I set the sword down and Jeoffry relaxed as the fire dissipated and I held the shield close to me. Within a few seconds, I was connected to the divine and tried to convey my message. However, talking to a divine was a one-way thing, they talked and I listened, not the other way around. She already knew of my plight and everything else that had happened up until now.

There was a way to bring back my arm and it would appear the next time I entered the dungeon if I just went straight ahead as far as I could go, not trying any techniques like grinding nor leaving and coming back for an easier time. The next dungeon I went into would be one that I could handle even with my disability. It would all work out somehow.

Crazy talk it was, going back into the dungeon just as I lost my arm. On the other hand, I could bring back my arm if I did this. For such a short time I was armless and about to retire and now would receive divine help so I could continue on. Truly a case of Dea Ex Machina.

Why not try it out? I had nothing better to do with my life than drinking myself to a death faster than the liver failure could take me out. Throwing myself at the dungeon until I died even though I only had one arm was fine too.

“How was the guidance?” asked Jeoffry.

“Different from what I expected. Scratch trying to sell the shield, I’m keeping it for a bit longer,” I said while grabbing the fire sword and leaving the temple.

Once again, I made the trip across town and started to head towards the dungeon. On the way, Jeff opened the door to the blacksmiths and motioned towards me. The goddess never said I had to immediately enter the dungeon so I went over to see what Jeff wanted from me. He held out his hand and motioned towards me.

“Sword. Let me inspect,” Jeff said. He was blunt about wanting to see the sword and was seemingly oblivious to my missing arm.

I passed the sword over to him and it continued to burn in his hands as he brought it inside the blacksmith shop. He didn’t close the door so I took it as an invitation to come in and closed it behind me. The smoke and heat didn’t bother me too much anymore with what I had faced in the dungeon.

Jeff went over to his weapon display wall and rummaged about the cupboards below. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, a sheath large enough to accommodate the blade and slid the fire sword in. The sheath remained unharmed and it seemed like the fire went out while sheathed. Then he looked around another part of the shop and found a belt that the sheathed blade fit on nicely and passed it over to me. It was perfect for my needs.

“How much do I owe you for these and how did you know I needed these?” I asked him.

“Our divines are on good terms. I was told to give you these as a favor,” said Jeff in an oddly normal way. This was the first time I ever heard him go into such much detail. He usually preferred to be short and blunt in the way he spoke.

Whatever, the belt and sheath were free so I took it and put it on. With it, I was starting to look like a proper adventurer aside from my missing arm. Or did the missing arm make me look more like an adventurer who’s been through many battles? I left the blacksmiths shop satisfied with my new gear and headed towards the dungeon once again.

A lot fewer people stared at me now that I no longer had a flaming sword out. Which was nice as it was a bit uncomfortable with all the staring before. I could’ve made a pit stop by Tom’s bar as it was on the way to grab some breakfast or fill in Tom on events. Instead, I headed straight to the dungeon. It’d be nicer to tell everyone about me losing an arm as a fun drinking story after I get it back.

At the entrance of the dungeon, there was no one around. Which was good as I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold in my temper if I saw Jerry, Matt, or Chris. I could deal with them after I got my arm back. As nice as their advice was and as much as I was starting to see them as people I could be friends with, I had to cut my losses with them as soon as possible.

Right as I was about to walk into the dungeon, Jerry stepped out right in front of me. My remaining hand rested on the grip of my new sword and clenched hard. I really wanted to punch him in the face seeing him right at this moment. That or cut him down where he stood.

“Hey man, good timing we’ll get some loot out of this dungeon yet. Wait, what happened to your arm? Are you alright?” asked Jerry with what seemed like genuine concern. And it could be genuine, after all, he was a dirty thief, not a murderer. He didn’t want people to get hurt, he just didn’t respect their fucking property.

“Move,” I said, mustering every bit of resentment as I could in my voice as I stared at him. It was a way of letting him know I knew what he had done.

Without another word, he stepped off to the side with a scared yet confused face. Then I entered the dungeon because I had better things to do than stay and chat with him as he pretended to be my friend.