The door to Room 202 clicked shut, locking out the noise of the tavern below.

  Gideon stood in the center of the small, drafty room. The red velvet cloak felt heavy on his shoulders, but the steel underneath felt heavier. He had been running on adrenaline and mana-fumes for hours. Now, in the safety of the inn, the adrenaline faded, leaving only the crushing weight of the day.

  "System," Gideon whispered. "Release."

  He didn't know if it would work. He had told Elara the suit was permanent, mostly because he was afraid to test it in the field. But here, he had to try. He couldn't sleep in a walking tank.

  The Flux-webbing visible at his neck pulsed. It didn't want to let go. It liked the steel. It liked the connection.

  Gideon focused his will, pushing a command through his mana channels. Disengage.

  HISSS.

  The sound was like a vacuum seal breaking. The grey webbing between the joints of his gauntlets retracted, sucking back into his skin like living ink. The heavy steel gloves clamored to the floor with a deafening CLANK.

  Next, the greaves. The connection severed, and the Gravity Anchors went dormant. Gideon stumbled as his legs suddenly felt light and unmoored.

  Finally, the chestplate.

  This was the hard part. The Magma-Glass and the Mana Geode were fused into the assembly.

  "Just the shell," Gideon gritted out. "Keep the core."

  The Flux obeyed, peeling back from the Iron-Hill breastplate. The heavy steel front-piece detached, leaving Gideon standing in his undershirt (now just a weave of grey Flux-matter) with the glowing blue Geode still embedded directly in his sternum.

  He caught the heavy breastplate before it hit the floor, setting it down gently.

  The moment the connection broke, the crash hit him.

  It wasn't physical exhaustion; it was a mana-shock. The armor had been acting as a secondary nervous system, processing the sensory input and stabilizing his flow. Without it, his own mana channels flared and spasmed.

  Gideon collapsed onto the straw mattress, the room spinning. He didn't even bother pulling the blanket up. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow

  Morning came with a rooster crow that sounded suspiciously like a dying pterodactyl.

  Gideon groaned, sitting up. His chest ached where the Geode sat, humming with a low, constant vibration.

  [ MANA: 2,250 / 2,250 ]

  "Full tank," Gideon muttered, rubbing his face. "This is going to get old fast."

  He stood up and looked at the pile of steel on the floor. It looked like the corpse of a robot.

  Ten minutes later, Gideon ducked his head to enter The Hammer & Tongs, Oakhaven’s only smithy.

  The heat inside was stifling, smelling of coal dust and sweat. A burly man with soot-stained skin was hammering a horseshoe on an anvil. He stopped when the sunlight from the door was blocked by a massive, red-cloaked silhouette.

  "We're closed for repairs," the smith grunted, not looking up. "Come back in an hour."

  "I'm not here for a repair," Gideon’s voice boomed, the helmet adding a metallic reverb. "I'm here for an upgrade."

  Gideon walked to the anvil. He drew the Reforged Iron Sword from his hip and laid it on the cooling rack. Then, he reached into his loot sack and pulled out three bars of High-Grade Dwarven Steel.

  THUD. THUD. THUD.

  The smith looked at the sword (trash), then at the ingots (treasure). His eyes went wide.

  "That's... that's Iron-Hill stock," the smith whispered, reaching out to touch the grey, rippled metal. "Where did you get this? That mine has been closed for fifty years."

  "Found it," Gideon said simply. "Can you work it?"

  The smith hesitated. "I can shape it. But to bind it to that iron core? I don't have a furnace hot enough. Dwarven steel needs magical heat to fuse properly."

  "I'll provide the heat," Gideon said. "You provide the hammer."

  The smith looked at the blue glow pulsing beneath Gideon’s cloak, then nodded slowly. "Aye. I can do that. Fifty gold for the labor."

  "Done."

  They got to work.

  The smith heated the billet, his muscles straining as he folded the dwarven steel around Gideon’s existing sword. It was a crude process, but effective.

  "Now!" the smith yelled, pulling the glowing blade from the coals. "It needs the temper!"

  Gideon stepped forward. He didn't use a spell. He just grabbed the red-hot blade with his gauntleted hand.

  His armor absorbed the damage. Gideon focused on his internal reserves.

  "Drink," Gideon commanded.

  He poured raw Mana directly into the metal structure of the blade. It wasn't a refined enchantment; it was a brute-force injection. He flooded the crystalline structure of the steel with pure energy, forcing the atoms to align.

  [ MANA DUMP: 800 MP ]

  The smith gasped and stepped back. The sword didn't just glow red; it turned a blinding, electric blue. Sparks arced from the anvil to the floor. The air in the shop smelled of ozone.

  "Hit it," Gideon ordered.

  The smith swung his hammer.

  CLANG.

  The sound wasn't a metallic ring; it was a thunderclap.

  For an hour, they worked. Heat. Mana. Hammer. Fold.

  When it was done, the weapon on the anvil had changed. It was no longer a simple arming sword. It was a broadsword—wider, heavier, with a dark grey center and a shimmering, silver edge that hummed with latent power.

  [ ITEM: CONDUCTIVE BASTION BLADE ] [ Rank: D (Unique) ] [ Durability: 120 / 120 ] [ Effect: Photonic Tempering. Deals +5% Radiant Damage on hit. Mana Conductivity: 100%. ] [ Description: A blend of dwarven metallurgy and brute-force science. It hums with a dangerous frequency. ]

  Gideon lifted the weapon. It was heavy, perfectly balanced for his enhanced strength.

  "A sword that hits harder the stronger I get," Gideon said, giving it a test swing. The air whistled, and a faint trail of blue light followed the edge. "Now that is proper engineering."

  "One last thing," Gideon said, looking at the widened, smoking blade. "I need a scabbard."

  The smith nodded, wiping soot from his brow. He rummaged through a dusty rack in the corner and pulled out a heavy, steel-reinforced sheath wrapped in dark cured leather.

  "Standard issue for a Guardian-class broadsword," the smith grunted, tossing it to him. "Lined with heat-treated wool to protect the finish. It’ll hold."

  Gideon caught it and slid the massive blade home. SHIIIK-THUD. It locked into place with a satisfying weight.

  He tossed the pouch of fifty gold to the stunned smith.

  "Pleasure doing business."

  Gideon sheathed the blade and stepped back out into the sunlight.

  "Elara is waiting."

  The Iron-Leaf Guild Hall was, as always, a riot of noise.

  It smelled of cheap ale, unwashed leather, and ozone. Dozens of adventurers were crowded around the mission boards, shouting over one another, boasting about goblin kills, or arguing with the overworked receptionists.

  Elara leaned against the main counter, looking bored. She was cleaning her fingernails with the tip of a poisoned dagger.

  "Elara," the Guild Master, a balding man named Kaelen with a permanent stress-vein throbbing in his forehead, sighed. "You can't just stand there occupying the Express Lane. Are you taking a contract or not?"

  "I'm waiting for my partner," Elara said, not looking up.

  "The partner?" Kaelen scoffed, shuffling a stack of papers. "The... what did the boys call him? The 'Potato Sack Druid'? Look, Elara, I know you have a soft spot for strays, but if you want to keep your senior privileges, you need a valid team composition. A Rogue and a sickly mage in rags isn't a team; it's a liability."

  "He's not sickly," Elara said, inspecting her dagger. "He was just... molting."

  "Molting," Kaelen repeated flatly. "Right. Well, tell him to hurry up. The Crimson Lions are due back any minute, and if Lord Valerius sees a beggar blocking the—"

  BOOM.

  The heavy oak double-doors of the Guild Hall didn't just open; they were shoved inward with enough force that the hinges groaned.

  The sunlight from the street poured in, blinding for a moment, silhouetting a massive figure standing in the threshold.

  The noise in the hall died. Instantly.

  Conversations mid-sentence were cut off. A tankard was set down with a soft clink.

  The figure stepped inside, and the sunlight faded, revealing the details.

  He was huge. Easily six-and-a-half feet tall, broad-shouldered, and draped in a heavy, blood-red velvet cloak that looked like it had been torn from a royal carriage. Underneath the cloak, thick plates of polished silver armor caught the torchlight.

  But it was the sound that held the room.

  THUD. CLANK.

  THUD. CLANK.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Every step was heavy, the sound of hundreds of pounds of dwarven steel hitting the floorboards. As he walked, a low, rhythmic thrumming sound—like a heavy machine powering up—vibrated through the air.

  He moved through the crowd like an icebreaker ship moving through pack ice. Adventurers, hardened warriors who fought orcs for a living, scrambled to get out of his way. They pressed themselves against tables and pillars, eyes wide, staring at the deep hood where a helmet should be.

  Deep within the shadows of that hood, two pinpricks of electric blue light burned like cold stars.

  "Inquisitor?" someone whispered in terror.

  "Paladin," another hissed. "Look at the plate. That's Iron-Hill stock. That guy is rich."

  Kaelen, the Guild Master, swallowed hard. He straightened his tunic, trying to look authoritative as the towering red-and-silver juggernaut stopped directly in front of the counter.

  The figure loomed over him. The heat-haze from the magma-glass in his chest made the air between them ripple. Kaelen felt sweat prickle on his forehead.

  "My Lord," Kaelen squeaked, his voice an octave higher than usual. "Welcome to the Iron-Leaf. H-how may we serve the Empire today?"

  The figure didn't answer Kaelen. Instead, the hooded head turned slowly to look at Elara.

  "Sorry I'm late," a deep, metallic voice resonated from the helm. "I had to get the sword fitted."

  Elara looked him up and down, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She sheathed her dagger.

  "A bit dramatic with the cloak, aren't we?" she teased.

  "It was on sale," Gideon deadpanned.

  The Guild Master looked between them, his brain short-circuiting. "Elara? You... you know this Knight?"

  "Knight?" Elara laughed, pushing off the counter. "Kaelen, you were just talking about him. This is the Potato Sack Druid."

  Kaelen’s jaw unhinged. He stared at Gideon. He looked for the rags. He looked for the starving, stumbling man who had come in a week ago asking for directions to the library.

  He looked at the glowing blue reactor in Gideon's chest.

  "Gideon?" Kaelen whispered.

  Gideon reached up and pulled back his red hood. The silver High-Guard helm glinted in the light, the T-visor glowing blue. He didn't take the helmet off.

  "We need a quest, Kaelen," Gideon said, his voice amplified by the sealed suit. "Something that pays well. And something with high physical resistance targets. I need to test the new blade."

  The room was still dead silent.

  Elara stepped up beside Gideon, enjoying the moment entirely too much. She reached over the counter and grabbed a request form from the "High Risk" board—the board usually reserved for full parties of six.

  "We'll take this one," Elara said, slamming the paper onto the wood.

  Kaelen looked at the paper. He paled.

  [ TARGET: THE OBSIDIAN BASILISK ] [ LOCATION: The Sunken Geode Mine ] [ RANK: D+ (Elite) ] [ NOTES: High Armor. Petrification Gas. Previous Party Status: MIA. ]

  "That..." Kaelen stammered. "That requires a full tank rotation. The armor penetration alone..."

  "I have the armor," Gideon said, tapping his chest plate. CLANG. "And she has the penetration."

  Gideon turned, his red cloak swirling around his boots.

  "Log it, Kaelen. We're burning daylight."

  He turned and walked toward the door. The crowd parted even faster this time.

  As Gideon passed a table of stunned adventurers, he paused. He looked at a warrior who was holding a half-eaten potato.

  "Eat your starch," Gideon advised gravely. "It's good for mass."

  He walked out.

  The doors swung shut.

  For three seconds, nobody moved. Then, the entire Guild Hall erupted into chaos.

  The entrance to the Sunken Geode Mine looked less like a mine and more like a wound in the earth. It was a jagged vertical shaft dropping into darkness, surrounded by warning signs that had been clawed to shreds.

  The air smelling of sulfur and wet stone drifted up from the deep.

  "D-Rank Plus," Elara muttered, checking her daggers. "Recommended Level: 60 to 75. Gideon, this is a massive jump. Usually, people grind E-Ranks until they hit Level 40."

  "Grinding is inefficient," Gideon said, standing at the edge of the pit. "We need high-density XP to catch up before the Academy evaluation. Besides, the briefing said these things have high physical armor."

  "Obsidian Basilisks," Elara confirmed. "Their scales are basically stone. Unless you have armor-piercing rounds or heavy blunt trauma, you just bounce off."

  "Perfect," Gideon said. "Let's bounce."

  He didn't climb the ladder. He stepped off the edge.

  "Gideon!" Elara shouted.

  Gideon fell forty feet. He didn't panic. He just stiffened his legs.

  GRAVITY ANCHORS: ACTIVE

  BOOM.

  He hit the floor of the cavern like a meteor. The impact didn't break his legs; the shockwave was absorbed by the boots and dispersed into the stone floor, cracking the bedrock in a ten-foot radius. Dust billowed up around his red cloak.

  Elara rappelled down a moment later, landing gracefully beside him. She looked at the crater he was standing in.

  "We really need to work on your stealth," she deadpanned.

  "I am the distraction," Gideon said, his blue eyes scanning the darkness. "You are the scalpel. Stick to the shadows. I'll ring the dinner bell."

  He drew the Conductive Bastion Blade. The dark grey steel hummed in the silence, heavy and reassuring.

  It didn't take long.

  The sound of grinding stone echoed from the tunnels ahead. Three shapes emerged from the gloom. They were massive lizards, low to the ground, covered in jagged, black crystalline scales. Their eyes glowed a sickly yellow.

  [ ENEMY: OBSIDIAN STALKER ] [ Level: 62 ] [ HP: 12,000 / 12,000 ]

  "Level 62," Elara whispered from the shadows. "Three of them. Gideon, pull back. We need to funnel them."

  "No," Gideon said, stepping forward. " I need to see how much juice this wiring can actually take."

  The lead lizard hissed—a sound like steam escaping a vent—and charged. It moved shockingly fast for something made of rock. It opened its maw, ready to crush Gideon’s leg.

  Gideon swung. No magic, just the raw weight of the dwarven steel.

  CLANG.

  The sword connected with the lizard's shoulder, but the obsidian scales held. The blade skidded off with a shower of sparks, leaving only a white scratch on the black stone. Gideon felt the impact shudder through his arms.

  "Solid," Gideon grunted, parrying a snap from the lizard's jaws. "Physical damage is negligible."

  "I told you!" Elara yelled, circling the flank. "They're tanks!"

  "Then we switch to energy," Gideon said.

  He planted his feet, blocking a tail-whip with his shield-arm. He focused on the mana circulating in his chest. He pushed the energy down his arm and into the hilt of the new sword.

  Unlike his old iron weapon, which resisted the flow, the Conductive Bastion Blade drank the mana greedily. There was no resistance, no heat loss. The grey steel lit up, the "Photonic Tempering" causing the edge to glow with a clean, white-hot radiance.

  "[Smite]," Gideon commanded.

  He stepped into the lizard's guard and thrust.

  This time, when the blade hit the obsidian, it didn't bounce. The radiant energy coating the edge acted like a holy plasma cutter.

  ZZZT-CRUNCH.

  The sword sank deep into the lizard's shoulder, melting through the natural armor. The creature shrieked, thrashing wildly.

  [ DAMAGE: 850 (Radiant) ]

  "Better," Gideon said, gritting his teeth as the lizard tried to bite his helm. "But it's not enough."

  He twisted the blade inside the wound.

  "[Smite]. [Smite]. [Smite]."

  He chain-cast the spell three times in rapid succession, pumping mana through the perfect conductor of the sword. The blade flashed like a strobe light.

  BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

  The lizard convulsed as holy fire detonated inside its chest cavity, bypassing the external armor entirely. The +5% Radiant Damage multiplier stacked with each hit, turning the internal organs to ash.

  The massive beast collapsed, smoke pouring from its mouth.

  [ ENEMY DEFEATED. ] [ XP GAINED: 4,500 ]

  Gideon wrenched his sword free, breathing heavy. It wasn't effortless—it had cost him a chunk of mana to chain-cast like that—but the weapon had held up perfectly.

  "Two left!" Elara shouted.

  She was dancing around the second lizard, her daggers flashing, but she was struggling to find purchase in the rock-hard hide.

  Gideon turned. The third lizard was rushing him.

  "Elara, drive yours toward me!" Gideon yelled.

  He raised his glowing sword, the "heat haze" from his chest distortion field making him look like a mirage. He channeled mana again, the blade humming with lethal potential.

  "Let's see if we can line them up."

  Ten minutes later, the cavern was silent, save for the crackling of cooling obsidian corpses.

  Gideon wiped black ichor from his red cloak. He checked his status.

  [ MP: 1,450 / 2,250 ]

  He had burned through a lot of mana, but the efficiency was undeniable. The sword didn't waste a single drop.

  Suddenly, a soft chime echoed in his ear. Then another. Then a cascade of them, like coins dropping into a metal bucket.

  Ding. Ding. Ding.

  [ EXPERIENCE THRESHOLD REACHED. ] [ LEVEL UP ]

  Gideon looked at the notification blinking in the corner of his vision. It wasn't just one level. The bar had wrapped around multiple times.

  "Gideon?" Elara asked, sheathing her daggers. She looked exhausted but exhilarated. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine," Gideon said, a smile hidden behind his visor. "I think the math works, Elara. We just jumped the curve."

  He looked deeper into the mine, where a massive, rhythmic thudding sound was beginning to echo.

  "But don't tally it yet," Gideon said, gripping his sword. "We have a Boss to kill."

  The tunnel exploded outward.

  It wasn't an entrance; it was a demolition. A massive head, the size of a carriage, smashed through the cavern wall, sending boulders flying like shrapnel.

  The Obsidian Basilisk pulled itself into the chamber. It was sixty feet of black, living rock. Its eyes burned with a malevolent yellow light, and green smog dripped from its jaws, hissing as it hit the floor.

  [ BOSS DETECTED: ANCIENT OBSIDIAN BASILISK ] [ Rank: D+ (Boss) ] [ Status: Enraged ]

  "That’s not a lizard," Gideon shouted over the roar of falling stone. "That’s a geological event!"

  "Gas!" Elara screamed, scrambling backward up a rock formation. "Don't breathe it! It turns lungs to stone instantly!"

  The Basilisk roared, unleashing a cloud of thick, heavy green fog that rolled across the floor.

  Gideon didn't have a filter. He didn't have a spell for this. He just had the stats of a man twice his level.

  "Constitution Check," Gideon muttered.

  He took a deep breath before the cloud hit him, expanding his enhanced lungs to their limit, and clamped his jaw shut. The green fog washed over him, burning his eyes, but he stood firm, his massive silver form disappearing into the mist.

  The Basilisk saw the lone figure standing in its gas. It lowered its head and charged. It was like a freight train made of boulders.

  Gideon didn't dodge. He dropped his center of gravity.

  GRAVITY ANCHORS: ACTIVE

  THOOM.

  The purple runes on his greaves flared, locking his boots to the bedrock. He raised his Dwarven Tower Shield.

  "[Divine Retribution]," Gideon mentally commanded, activating the shield's enchantment.

  The Basilisk rammed him.

  The impact was terrifying. The stone floor beneath Gideon shattered, spiderwebbing out for twenty feet. Gideon slid backward, his boots carving deep trenches through the solid rock, sparks flying from his heels.

  But when the Basilisk made contact, the shield flared white.

  CRACK.

  The kinetic energy reversed. The Basilisk roared in confusion as its own momentum rebounded, shattering the obsidian scales on its nose.

  "You want a bite?" Gideon thought, his lungs burning for air. "Chew on this."

  The beast bit down on Gideon’s shoulder, its teeth scraping against the Iron-Hill plate.

  MAGMA-GLASS AURA: ACTIVE

  The orange shards embedded in Gideon’s chest flared to life. The heat wasn't just warm; it was volcanic. The Basilisk screeched as its mouth was suddenly filled with searing, radiating heat. Smoke poured from between its teeth.

  It recoiled, shaking its head, leaving Gideon clear.

  "Elara! Now!" Gideon exhaled, finally sucking in a breath of semi-clean air as the gas dispersed.

  From the shadows above, Elara’s eyes glowed with a faint violet light.

  "[Vitals Sight]," she whispered.

  To her, the massive stone lizard wasn't just rock; it was a map of flowing mana. She saw the blockage in its throat where Gideon had reflected the damage. She saw the mana heart pulsing deep beneath the ribcage.

  The Basilisk thrashed, its tail sweeping the room blindly.

  "[Flow State]," Elara breathed.

  The world slowed down. The tail that was moving at breakneck speed seemed to float through the air like a feather. She saw the path.

  She didn't jump. She sank into the shadow of a stalactite.

  "[Shadow Step]."

  She vanished.

  Instantly, she erupted from the shadow cast by the Basilisk’s own dorsal fin, landing squarely on its back.

  "It's armored!" Elara yelled, her voice calm despite the chaos. "The scales are disrupting the mana flow! I can't reach the core!"

  "I'll open the door!" Gideon growled.

  He charged. He didn't slash; he thrust with the Conductive Bastion Blade.

  "[Smite]."

  He channeled a controlled burst of mana. The blade didn't explode; it just hummed with that terrifying 100% conductivity. The edge became a line of pure white plasma.

  Gideon drove the sword into the heavy plating protecting the creature's chest. The radiant energy melted the obsidian like wax. He didn't pull the sword out—he twisted it, wrenching the armor plate loose with a sickening crack, exposing the pulsing, fleshy sac beneath.

  "ELARA!"

  Gideon rolled away as the Basilisk snapped at him.

  Elara was already moving. She slid down the creature's flank, her daggers glowing with a dark, sinister energy that seemed to eat the light around them.

  "[Soul-Sever]."

  She didn't try to cut the remaining bone. She phased her blades through the physical matter, driving them straight into the exposed mana heart.

  SHINNK.

  The effect was instant. The Basilisk didn't bleed; it convulsed as its internal mana circuits were severed. The yellow light in its eyes shorted out.

  With a final, ground-shaking shudder, the massive beast collapsed.

  Gideon stood up, wiping basilisk slobber off his pauldron. He checked his mana.

  [ MP: 1,100 / 2,250 ]

  "Messy," Gideon critiqued. "But effective."

  Elara slid down from the corpse, breathing hard but looking exhilarated. She wiped black ichor from her cheek.

  "That," she said, pointing at the dead boss, "was a D+ Elite. And we treated it like a training dummy."

  Then, the sound came.

  DING. DING. DING.

  [ BOSS DEFEATED: OBSIDIAN BASILISK ] [ XP GAINED: 25,000 ] [ PARTY BONUS APPLIED ]

  Gideon watched his notifications scroll.

  [ NAME: GIDEON VANCE ] [ LEVEL: 30 -> 38 ]

  "Eight levels," Gideon nodded. "Acceptable."

  He looked at Elara. She was staring at her own screen, her mouth slightly open.

  "Elara?"

  "Two," she whispered, her eyes wide. "Gideon, I went up two levels."

  [ NAME: ELARA VANCE ] [ LEVEL: 50 -> 52 ]

  She paused, her eyes darting across the floating blue text only she could see. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the attribute pool.

  "Wait... class stats… that’s too many points," she breathed, the words barely a ghost of a whisper.

  "Do you know how long Level 51 usually takes?" she asked, looking at him with a mix of shock and awe.

  Gideon sheathed his sword. The blade was still hot, cooling with a faint hiss.

  "The curve is broken, Elara," Gideon said, turning toward the exit. "Now, let's carve up this rock and get back to town. I have a feeling the Guild Master is going to have a heart attack when he sees the trophy."