Victor did not sleep. Not properly, at least.
The smithy glowed day and night, firelight bleeding through its narrow windows, smoke rising in a steady column that never quite faded. The villagers learned quickly that if the forge was roaring, Victor was inside, hammer ringing, mind buried somewhere between metallurgy, madness, and inspiration.
The first thing he did was test everything.
Every exoskeleton fragment was cleaned, stripped, weighed, struck, heated, cooled, bent, and broken on purpose. He didn't trust the theory. He trusted what cracked, what held, and what screamed when forced too far.
The desert scorpion remains didn't last long.
"Garbage," Victor muttered, tossing a cracked plate aside. "Too brittle. Too porous. Might as well be sun-dried pottery."
Those were discarded without ceremony.
The black scorpion exoskeletons, however—
Victor slowed.
He tested one plate three times, heating it gradually, hammering lightly, then harder. It absorbed force without splintering, flexed just enough to redistribute impact, and cooled into a surface harder than black iron.
Then one day, Rasir arrived.
He didn't bring words. Just a wrapped bundle, heavy and intact.
"Here, you guys can keep this," Rasir said. "Consider it a gift for Mina reaching Captain Rank."
Victor unwrapped it carefully.
A near-complete section of captain-rank black scorpion exoskeleton, thick, layered, untouched by the worst of the battle damage.
Victor swallowed.
"…This is a big deal," he said quietly.
Rasir nodded once. "Nahh, it really isn't."
And just like that, Victor had no excuse left.
Mina's armor came first.
He worked slowly, obsessively.
The breastplate became the core, curved plates from the captain-rank exoskeleton, shaped with heat just shy of structural compromise. He layered the inner side with treated leather for shock absorption, leaving the exterior raw and dark, faint natural ridges preserved rather than polished away.
"Don't fight the material," he muttered. "Let it be what it is."
The joints, shoulders, elbows, and waist were done in high-grade leather reinforced with thin metal lattices, allowing flexibility without sacrificing coverage. Gauntlets were forged from black iron steel, heavier than Mina's previous ones but balanced carefully so her spear grip wouldn't suffer.
Her boots stayed leather, toughened, layered, light.
When he stepped back, the armor didn't scream power. It suggested it.
Next came Midnight Flash.
Victor studied the spear for a long time before touching it.
"Alright," he said softly. "Let's see if you're worthy."
He didn't simply attach the scorpion claws.
He broke them down.
Filed them into thin, razor-edged reinforcements, fused along the spearhead's core using his Blackforge technique, controlled heat pulses that bonded organic material to metal without destroying either. The result wasn't jagged or monstrous.
It was elegant.
The spearhead gleamed darker now, edges sharper, weight unchanged.
Her shield followed.
A reinforced rim using captain-rank exoskeleton plates, layered into the outer curve, distributing impact outward rather than inward. Strikes would glance. Force would bleed off.
When Victor was done, he sat down hard on a crate and laughed weakly.
"…She will be terrifying now."
Raul's gear was different.
Ghost scorpion exoskeletons were light, semi-translucent, and infuriatingly fragile when mishandled. Victor ruined three plates before understanding how they wanted to be shaped.
"They don't like force," he muttered. "They like persuasion."
Raul's light armor was rebuilt with overlapping ghost plates layered beneath cloth and leather, thin, flexible, and surprisingly resilient. It didn't stop a blow.
It redirected it.
Perfect for someone who never stood still.
His twin daggers, Midnight Whistles, were reinforced with ghost scorpion pincers, split, honed, and fused along the inner edge. They hummed faintly when swung, air whistling along the modified grooves.
Raul was going to love them.
Arin's gear came next.
Victor kept him mobile, ghost scorpion reinforcement again, lighter plates integrated into the armor's core. Midnight Howl's blade was sharpened and reinforced along the spine using ghost pincers, increasing cutting precision without throwing off balance.
Then came Victor's own work.
He used what remained of the captain-rank black scorpion exoskeleton sparingly, reinforcing vital points in his armor. The rest was black iron steel and soldier-rank black scorpion plates layered intelligently.
Midnight Thunder couldn't be reinforced without ruining its balance.
Victor accepted that.
Midnight Lake, however—
The shield took captain-rank plating along its center and rim, layered thick, solid, unyielding.
When he finally stepped away from the forge, days later, his hands shook.
His status flickered.
Soldier — 90%
Victor smiled tiredly.
"Worth it."
___________________________
While Victor worked, Raul suffered.
Repeatedly.
Every day, he sparred with Mina.
Sometimes twice.
Sometimes, until he couldn't lift his arms.
Mina never went easy on him, not out of cruelty, but respect. Her speed pushed his reactions beyond comfort. His sixth sense screamed warnings constantly, Martial Kinesthesia struggling to keep up.
He lost.
He fell.
He got bruised, bloodied, and frustrated.
And every time doubt crept in—I'm too slow. I'm not catching up. She's already beyond me—
Enduring Heart surged. Not numbing the feeling. But refusing to let it root.
Stand up.
So he did.
Again.
And again.
His body adapted. His reactions sharpened. His instincts are refined.
By the time he collapsed one evening, laughing breathlessly into the dirt, his status quietly ticked upward.
Soldier — 94%
Arin trained too.
Not recklessly or obsessively.
He refined his swordsmanship, footwork, timing, and transitions. Sparring with Mina at a controlled pace forced him to abandon bad habits and sharpen fundamentals.
One morning, his blade moved differently. It was cleaner and surer.
The status update came without fanfare.
Basic Swordsmanship > Advanced Swordsmanship
Arin stared at it for a long time.
"…About time."
When Victor finally returned, carrying their equipment, the mood shifted instantly.
They tested everything. The difference was immediate.
Sharper blades. Lighter armor. Better balance.
Raul spun his daggers, eyes shining. "These are beautiful."
Mina lifted her spear, feeling its weight. "It responds faster."
Victor grinned weakly. "Told you."
They laughed like kids with new toys.
Arin stretched, energized. "Alright."
He grinned.
"We're completely prepared now."
He looked at them.
"Shall we do another run at the mine?"
Three pairs of eyes stared back at him.
Unblinking.
"…You're insane," Raul said flatly.
Victor rubbed his face. "I just finished crawling out of forge hell."
Mina sighed. "We nearly died last time."
Arin shrugged. "But now we won't."
Silence.
Then Raul smirked. "With Mina, it'd be easier."
Victor exhaled slowly. "It's…Feasible."
Mina nodded. "And it might push Raul to Captain, also, I'd love some Captain Rank Undead too."
Victor chuckled. "Might as well clear the mines completely."
He didn't notice the way the others exchanged looks.
Because in their minds—
That joke had already turned into a plan.