Quinn sat still while the armorer looped a measuring tape around his body, the cool fabric brushing against his skin. This was apparently necessary, though his previous bronze armor had fit him perfectly and could have served as a reference. Despite that, the armorer had insisted, "Precision is key in custom orders." She'd been rather adamant about it, tugging the tape taut here and there. Rhosyn, meanwhile, was off with the leatherworker, arranging for something more practical to wear.
When the measuring finally ended, Quinn let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The armorer stepped back, eyes narrowing as she mulled things over.
"It should be done by the end of the week."
"Thank you… truly," Quinn replied. The armorer shrugged in response.
"Noble boy's got manners, huh?" she said, giving his bare back a playful slap.
***
Rhosyn browsed the racks of leather armor, fingers brushing over straps and seams as she passed. Nothing quite caught her eye—too bulky, too plain, too stiff. Then she saw it.
The base was a soft green silk, supple and well-kept. White accents traced its edges, subtle but elegant, while brown leather reinforced the vital points of the body. It was beautiful, balanced between form and function. The only problem was obvious at a glance.
It was made for high elves. They were slighter, shorter, and this armor had been cut for a smaller frame. With a quiet sigh, Rhosyn turned and approached the leatherworker.
"Hello. I was wondering if I could get armor like that," she said, pointing toward the display, "but fitted for my size?"
The leatherworker looked up from his work, his gaze settling on her.
"Sure. Do you know your measurements?"
Rhosyn shook her head. "I do not."
He sighed, though it sounded more habitual than annoyed, and reached for a measuring tape from the cabinet with practiced ease. "Alright. Take a seat."
***
The Razor—its proper designation—rested on a workbench in the capital's blacksmith, its frame partially disassembled. The blacksmith worked carefully, adjusting components and affixing new mechanisms with methodical precision. Gears, plates, and unfamiliar fittings lay arranged nearby. Soon, a tall man with a scruffy beard stepped inside.
"How was it?" he asked.
"It incurred damage," the blacksmith replied without looking up, "but both it and the party escaped successfully. The paladin sustained some injury—a nearly torn arm. Razor ensured nothing worse came of it."
The man nodded and handed her a letter. She accepted it, one eyebrow lifting.
"King's orders," he said. "Make it as versatile as possible. Details are in the letter."
"Yes, sir!" the blacksmith mocked, snapping into an exaggerated salute. The man scoffed.
"Do a good job, and you might even get a bonus."
Her expression hardened at once, all levity gone. The man nearly laughed at how sharply chiseled her face suddenly seemed.
"I'll do my best," she said.
He left, and she unfolded the letter, scanning its contents. A long sigh followed.
"They want durable metal, a reconfigurable core, and full mobility," she muttered. "These royal shits are trying to kill me."
***
Quinn stood beside Rhosyn as they surveyed the array of weapons on display. Heavy maces, nimble daggers, sharp spears, and polished longswords waited patiently on their racks. Nothing immediately called out to Quinn. After the encounter with the statue, he'd learned not to underestimate blunt force. Rhosyn, for her part, was determined to have something for self-defense—her first dungeon dive had taught her the value of a backup.
Eventually, she selected a short spear, testing its balance and standing it upright beside her. It reached her upper arms. Quinn had drifted toward a one-handed warhammer. The spike could serve well for thrusting if needed, and the head was light enough to handle comfortably. He gave it a few careful swings.
"I think I found it."
Rhosyn nodded, then returned the spear to its place. It wasn't quite right. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up a leaf-shaped shortsword, weighing it in her hand. She gave it a gentle test swing, watching how it cut through the air.
"I believe this will do."
They headed to the counter and paid for their new gear. It would be a week before their next dive. With the funds earned from selling off dungeon gems, they were comfortably well-off. The dungeon economy was booming, after all—anything pulled from its depths was in demand.
Quinn also had a surprise for Rhosyn. After they paid for their gear and stepped out.
"Rhosyn... I have found it appropriate to gift you for your deeds to me in the dungeon." He reached into his handbag and pulled out a silver bracelet with three gems adorning it. Two were white, and surrounding a dark green one.
Rhosyn raised an eyebrow. She took the bracelet and put it on her hand; it fit rather comfortably. "Thanks, I'll make sure it's put to good use."
Quinn smiled softly and nodded. Everything was turning out as expected, except the construct and the torn arm. Those two events Quinn had not accounted for. It let his mind wander to what other surprises awaited him.
***
Far off in a small town at the outskirts of Vireth stood a young, disheveled girl; her face was strained, and her veins were popping. The small alley she found herself in smelled of copper.
'Focus.'
She forced her mana paths to layer onto her blood. The mana clung to the blood; she could now control it. She willed it to slow down, then go faster. It listened to her every command.
"Yes!"
After mastering the elements of water and plasma. She tried her best to combine the two, to learn blood magic. She struggled to maintain it even now, but it was taking effect, allowing her blood to rush through her body wildly. Her face was redder than before
'I have a chance now... to join a diver party!'