Chương 47: The last ingredient

Ethan sat in the Broken Dawns workshop. Donovan was moving around behind the building, muttering to himself as he worked. Every now and again, a sharp clang or the scrape of metal drifted through the open space, followed by a string of half-audible commentary. Ethan leaned back slightly in his chair, letting out a slow breath. He had put off leaving Highrocks today. After everything that had happened last night, he needed time to recalibrate. The weight of it hadn't left him.

It lingered in the back of his mind, pressing in whenever he let his thoughts wander too far. For a long time, Ethan had wondered why he had been brought back. Every time he tried to answer that question, he came up empty. All he knew was that there were powers far beyond anything he could comprehend. Even at the height of humanity's strength—when the Sage himself had been brushing against something close to divinity—he still hadn't been able to leave the trials. That alone said enough.

So, Ethan had accepted his return for what it was. A chance, nothing more, nothing less. Last night had shaken that belief, if only for a moment. The idea that he might have uncovered the reason behind it, that everything had been orchestrated just because he was so close to influential figures, had unsettled him more than he expected. But after a sleepless night, he had come to a conclusion. It didn't matter. He had no hope of understanding the intentions of whatever forces sat above all of this. Not now.

Maybe not ever. Trying to reason through it was pointless. And even if he had been brought back for something as specific as altering the future of humanity's strongest. So what? He was still here. His goals hadn't changed. If anything, his resolve had only strengthened. If the Sage's path had been altered, then Ethan would make sure the boy still reached the same heights—or higher. If he had taken away the hardships that forged him, then he would find another way to temper that steel. The kid would need it.

Ethan exhaled slowly and shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. That was a problem for the future. Right now, he was enjoying the rare break. The past week had been relentless. Taking a day to reset was necessary. And it had already paid off. Just after breakfast, a messenger had tracked him down with a simple message. Donovan wanted to see him. After that, Ethan hadn't wasted any time.

He had pushed everything else aside and headed straight for the workshop, a quiet excitement building in his chest the entire way. Now he sat there, waiting. Donovan had told him to take a seat before disappearing out back without another word. Ethan tapped his foot idly against the floor, the faint rhythm echoing in the otherwise quiet space. His gaze drifted around the workshop, taking in the tools, the half-finished pieces, the racks of materials. Until he heard the sound of wheels scraping across the floor.

It pulled his attention up, and when he saw what was coming through the doorway, he shot to his feet. His armor was getting pulled out. It rested on a mannequin, so he could see the finished product perfectly.

"It's done?" he asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. Donovan grinned.

"It's done, boy. Come on, let's get you strapped up and see if anything needs adjusting." Ethan was already moving before he finished speaking. He stopped in front of the armor, eyes locked onto it as Donovan stepped aside. For a moment, he didn't touch it. He just stood there, taking it in. The first thing that stood out was the color. It wasn't steel like a standard set. Instead, it carried a pale gold-white sheen, almost like polished bone mixed with metal.

It looked similar to the colossus they had taken it from. Which was far tougher than anything forged from normal materials. The chestplate was smooth and slightly curved, built to turn blows away. It flowed down into layered plates around the waist, each one sitting over the other. The gaps between them were small, but enough to let air pass through without leaving him exposed. The shoulders were protected by broad plates that sat over the top, while the arms and legs were fully covered in fitted sections.

Ethan reached out and ran a hand across the chest. The surface was smooth.

"Holy shit…" he muttered. Donovan chuckled behind him.

"Yeah. That's about the reaction I was hoping for."

"Let's get it on," he said. Donovan stepped forward. At the bottom of the trolley rested some clothes. He grabbed them and handed them over.

"I asked Hanna to drop off your under armor here. She came by a few days ago when you were out. Thought it would be fitting for you to get both items at once." Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Ethan took the clothes. They were reminiscent of a wetsuit, with pants that covered the feet and a long sleeve top. Ethan quickly moved to get changed, before returning to Donovan, who had begun getting the armor ready.

Then, one piece at a time, he fitted it onto Ethan, tightening straps and adjusting placements as he went. Ethan didn't interrupt him. The design was advanced enough that he could have done it himself, but he let Donovan work. There was a certain pride in the way the man handled it, like a craftsman finishing his masterpiece. Once the final piece was secured, Donovan stepped back. Ethan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, testing the balance. He rolled his shoulders slowly.

Then he flexed his arms, drawing them back and forward, testing the range. There was no resistance, no awkward pulling or locking. At every joint, the armor transitioned into overlapping, scale-like segments that folded into each other smoothly. It allowed full movement without exposing anything important. Ethan couldn't help the faint grin that spread across his face. This was years of experience. Refined into something near perfect. He turned his head toward Donovan, who now held the helm in both hands.

"You've outdone yourself," Ethan said. Donovan chuckled as he stepped forward.

"It was your design," he replied, lifting the helm and lowering it over Ethan's head. For a brief moment, everything went dark. Ethan's breath echoed softly against the inside of the metal as the helm settled into place. Then light returned through the narrow visor slit, his vision sharpening into a focused line ahead of him. A second later, he felt a subtle click as the helm locked into the chest piece, sealing the suit together. Ethan stood still for a moment, letting himself adjust, then it hit.

A surge of power as the armor's stats added to his own. Ethan let out a short laugh.

"Shit, Donovan… what kind of stats did you get out of this thing?" Donovan stepped back, dusting his hands off with a satisfied look.

"Here," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

"I'll read you the description." Rupture Armor (Uncommon) A heavy set of armor created by an intermediate crafter who got their hands on some powerful material. +10 Endurance, +3 Strength Ethan let out a short laugh, the sound slightly dulled beneath the helm as it echoed back at him.

"That's perfect," he said. An uncommon-ranked set of armor on the first floor was quite rare. Even knowing what he knew, even having worn far better in the past, Ethan couldn't ignore the significance of it. Most people would spend months scraping together gear half as good. Donovan had not only followed his design, he had somehow created it at an uncommon rank. Ethan hadn't been expecting that. He was almost certain the man would have gained more than a few levels from the process.

"That's my first uncommon rank gear. And I have a feeling it was more to do with you than me. That design elevated it." Ethan nodded. He wouldn't be surprised. The design for air ventilation and full body movement, while keeping your entire body protected, was the result of countless craftsmen adding to his ideas over the years. His gaze drifted to the greatsword resting against the wall, still sheathed.

Without hesitation, Ethan stepped forward and grabbed it, lifting the weapon easily before securing it across his back. The familiar weight settled into place, now complemented by the solid, encompassing presence of his armor. It felt right. He gave Donovan a final nod, offering his thanks again before turning and heading out. Donovan had asked if he wanted to take the armor off, which made Ethan laugh and wave him off. Like hell that was happening. He only just put it on.

So he left, telling Donovan he would let him know how it goes. He exited the guild hall and entered the streets of Highrocks. He got a few funny looks as he walked out of the settlement. Full plate wasn't common here. Most opted for lighter gear, leather, partial armor, anything that wouldn't slow them down in a fight. Ethan, however, walked through the settlement fully encased, golden-white plates catching the light with every step. The armor was sleek, sticking close to his body.

By the time he reached the gates and stepped out into the desert, the heat rolled over him like a wave. Even so, it wasn't nearly as oppressive as it should have been. The vents built into the overlapping plates allowed air to pass through, and the chitin-like material didn't hold heat the same way steel would. Instead of baking him alive, it seemed to deflect much of the sun's intensity. Sure, it was still hot. But manageable. Ethan moved forward into the desert.

Over the past week, he had been methodically gathering what he needed. Venom from various creatures scattered across the desert. Now he was close. Close enough that only one piece remained. One final creature. And it wasn't something that wandered the open dunes. This one preferred shade. Ethan adjusted his path as the terrain shifted beneath his feet. Highrocks gave way to jagged rock formations, forcing him to climb.

The higher he went, the more the environment changed, as he slowly left any remnants of sand behind. Eventually, he reached a plateau. Ethan slowed as his eyes scanned the ground. It didn't take long before he spotted a long strip of shed skin lying partially curled against the rock. He crouched, reaching down to touch it. It was dry, brittle in places, but still fresh enough to hold its shape.

"There must be one close," he muttered. His blade slid free with a quiet metallic sound, the weight of it settling comfortably into his hands. His senses extended outward, sharpening his awareness of the environment. Every shift of grit, every subtle movement of air, it all fed into his perception. He moved toward the edge of the plateau and looked down. Highrocks sat far below, carved into the cliffs, distant enough that individual people were no more than specks. Ethan turned away from the edge.

His focus shifted upward. The cliff face above him stretched further, broken by narrow paths and uneven ledges. Without hesitation, he continued climbing, boots scraping against stone as he worked his way higher. It was a great test for the armor. After a few minutes, a sound rolled across the rock. A rattle. Ethan stopped immediately, his body going still as his head turned toward the source. There, off to his right, movement caught his eye.

A large snake slid into view, its body coiling smoothly as it climbed onto a flat rock. Its scales shimmered faintly under the light, blending with the dusty tones of the environment. The creature lifted its head, tongue flicking out in quick, deliberate motions as it tasted the air. It was massive. Far longer than Ethan was tall, with a thick, muscular body that spoke of power and speed. He had found it. The last ingredient. For a moment, the two simply watched each other.

Then the rattle came again, as it lifted its head higher off the rock. Ethan adjusted his grip on the sword, his stance lowering slightly as he centered himself. The snake pulled its head back, and then pounced. Ethan's sword came down in an arc, excitement bubbling in his veins.