Crafting Souls: The Master Artisan's Mark

Vulcan was more cautious than ever. He focused intently, his mind racing through countless thoughts. It was because he'd grasped the knack for crafting Epic-grade items to some degree.

Infusing a narrative into an item wasn't something you could just will into existence with a simple trick. But he clearly understood that having a solid concept produced far superior results than muddling through without one.

As part of that, and to glean hints for even better gear, his mind whirred busily.

'What it means to be a true master craftsman.'

Among his deepest ponderings was the reason he'd been able to complete his level 200 class quest so swiftly.

He hadn't completed the level 200 class quest in one go just because of Tud's generosity. It was because he'd already met every success condition.

If he'd had the luxury, he might've whined and tacked on a few more requirements. But since crafting was something he took more seriously than anyone, he'd probably allowed the retroactive application.

'Infuse soul, huh...'

But the level 200 class quest was just the entry threshold—the bare minimum qualification. He didn't forget that. And he clearly recognized that its contents ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hinted at his future growth potential.

'The previous class quests urged honing the artisan's soul, for sure.'

So Vulcan didn't fixate solely on this quest's description. He pulled up past quest info, racking his brain to discern what Tud—and the system—expected of his growth.

There was some fixation on "heeding the anvil's song," but linking it to the level 200 quest, the key phrase was undoubtedly "infuse soul."

It especially nagged at him because he'd used Weapon Soul Memory from the Lord of All Weapons skill. He'd experienced firsthand how potent a weapon's soul and spirit could be, empowering the user.

'It doesn't have to be the craftsman's own soul. Connect it to the narrative structure...'

He concentrated without obsessing. The prior quests' call to hone the artisan's soul could easily narrow it to infusing the maker's essence, but Vulcan thought broader.

Ultimately, the artisan imparts the narrative, but it doesn't have to be their own lived story, right? So instead of transplanting his own essence, he approached it as sculpting characters within the tale.

'A light assassin who hunts through shadows, devouring darkness.'

Using that sensation, he first turned to the Secret Society Badge. Remarkably, the temple had shipped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Saint Era ore via mail, so he already had the material.

He wove a narrative into it. One might think the more intense and epic the story, the better, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠balance was paramount. Slapping a hero's saga onto a mundane iron sword just made it hot air.

Thus, Vulcan granted abilities fitting the material's nature, power, and intended form: the image of a light assassin.

'Assassin fits better than hero or judge.'

The Secret Society operated in the shadows, hunting and crushing darkness—like assassins. They'd infiltrate for intel, wield light against the dark. And it aligned with his own needs.

Since form didn't matter, making the first badge for himself with what he needed made sense.

So he chose stealth enhancements and dark resistance, areas where he lacked.

- Alchemy next. Grind the Saint Era to powder and sprinkle it into the furnace. Use your wrist to spread it evenly without clumping.

- Yes. As it melts in the divine flames, the sanctity seeps deep.

Narrative mattered, but so did the crafting method. He'd already checked via Dragon Eye, but Tud fine-tuned the details, making it smooth.

- Focus! Tiny differences breed instability!

Form: badge. He debated materials but settled on one attachable to undergarments under heavy armor. Its effects would dilute, but it freed a slot—crucial for gear-maxing Vulcan. Divine power wasn't his main focus anyway; support sufficed.

- Selfish bastard.

'Nah, come on. Most users aren't divine casters anyway. It's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠good for everyone.'

The engraving was pre-decided. For mutual recognition, he'd received blueprints blending symbols of Roona, Kabura, Jatan, and Radin. On the back, he added a spell fitting the light assassin—and his needs.

"Nice!"

The result was exactly as desired.

For an Epic, the options were middling at best, but considering the form, it was outstanding. Slot-free 30% dark resistance was huge, and above all, he'd gotten Light Refraction as hoped.

A light-based stealth skill—essentially the light version of Shadow Assimilation. Its limit was proper function only in light, but darkness already hindered vision without sight skills anyway. Hiding in light was far more useful.

'Still, infusing soul... honestly, no clue yet.'

- Hmph. Think you'd grasp it in one shot?

Yet Vulcan couldn't fully rejoice. Epic was just below Legendary—impressive—but it fell short of "infusing soul."

"The real issue is mass-producing these... ugh."

And there was more. He couldn't keep this single badge; as the society's artisan, he had to craft multiples, and even this Epic might not stay his.

- Simple fix.

"...Huh?"

But Tud brushed it off. Even standardizing grades for mass production? No sweat.

- You've got blueprints, right? With an Epic recipe locked in, you guarantee minimum grades. What's the worry?

"Ah...!"

Tud meant the Blueprint skill. Beyond easy recipe sharing, blueprints guaranteed two grades below the original's quality.

Register this Epic as a blueprint, and recreations would be Rare-to-Epic guaranteed.

"That works great. No Light Refraction, though."

Of course, flawless adherence was required, and unique skills wouldn't copy—but the value remained sky-high. Without it, Epic odds plummeted, Unique was rare, but Rare badges? They'd draw recruits eager to join.

Not that they'd take just anyone.

- You can still aim Epic on your direct crafts, boosting your worth. Plus indirect perks: publicize this, and your value skyrockets. Epic crafters aren't common.

It held meaning itself, but if only Vulcan pulled Epic/Unique from the recipe, his relative value soared. Tud meant that; Vulcan agreed.

"Then we need a mark. A symbol."

So he added one to the badge via Symbol skill: his personal stamp. D for Dragon. Simple, since perfect duplicates were system-blocked. It symbolized his origins, hid his identity, and built his brand.

'Might buy momentary confusion too.'

It veiled him until ready. Once selling started, he'd be spotlighted—New Age might notice. But if "D" drew more eyes than his name, he'd buy time.

'Just a bit longer. Then I'll devour them.'

Unhindered growth to a point, and he'd handle New Age's full assault. Confidence surged.

Item size made it tiny—no extra options—but it certified Vulcan's handiwork. The first piece heralding a legendary smith who would shake the continent.

"Alright, hands warmed up. Time for the real work?"

But it was just the start. More badges from remaining materials, personal armor, remaking Shatter Arrows from adamantium—not scraps. Much left.

Clinging to that sensation, he crafted planned items relentlessly. Draconic Circle or placebo, energy surged with each piece—no fatigue, no hesitation.

He paused badges to craft his new personal armor set. Using hoarded premium ores like agapite he'd lacked skill for before, he meticulously shaped them into satisfying pieces.

Sets could've added effects, but he skipped it. With his LegendaryLegendary Craftsman's Work Gloves, swapping for set bonuses was inefficient.

"Lord Tud?"

- What.

- Why that uneasy look?

But Vulcan's power-up from level 200 and quest completion wasn't over. Eyes gleaming post-crafting, he stared at Tud, who edged away uncomfortably.

"Time to spill, right?"

- Spill what?

"Your next contingency. You said my caliber wasn't enough before—now it is, isn't it?"

- ...Feels like you're getting it too easy. Unfair. Fine. Here.

Whether he could claim it was another matter.

Tud's contingency—the one granting two Legendary items. Now time. And after dangling "low caliber," this promised something stronger. Maybe one of the Divine Swords from the Divine Sword Age?

Heart pounding, Vulcan leaned in for Tud's words.