Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

"Starbreaking Kick!"

Seth appeared behind the lower half of Dragos and kicked it in the crotch. It was the dreadful attack that had once felled even the hero. However, the kick itself, albeit devastating, was unable to face the pair of legs, aside from catapulting them off in the distance.

Monique, Tekar, and the others looked at the situation a little embarrassed. Seeing the blacksmith deal with the situation the moment he appeared to put a scratch in their confidence. It had been a hard fight for them, but it ended almost anticlimactic.

"What in the world is this thing?" Seth asked when he finally got the chance to talk with them.

"That is...was Dragos Cernat, the dude you told us about," Monique answered unsure.

"Really? I feel like he was a more difficult opponent the last time. What did you guys do to him, to turn him into such a deranged monster?"

"He was deranged from the start," Alison commented calmly.

"Well, that's true..." Seth admitted.

It was uncertain whether the bard had managed to read their mood and try to cheer them up, but through their talk, they realized that Seth only had an easy time, because Dragos was deranged enough to try and face Seth in a direct confrontation, when he barely managed to escape the last time they met.

Even if he had dozens of skills from the people he killed and hearts he had absorbed, maybe even skills of monsters, who knew? Even with all that, it wasn't worth much if he couldn't take advantage of all of them. Seth had a similar problem taking the skills of his items into account.

When he tried to take advantage of everything he had, his awareness was spread thin. In that sense, his experience in the canyon dungeon was a blessing. He seldom had the chance to explore the fighting styles based on his skills and legendary items to their full extent. The time in the dungeon helped him consolidate many of his skills into several tactics to use them effectively and decide on which he was going to pursue in the future.

At the on of the day one had to choose their preferred fighting style, like Dragos with his claws. What became clear to the blacksmith was that he preferred staying at home and making items over fighting. However, when it came to fighting there were three paths he preferred. The first was obviously his fire, but he had reached already the peak of this path. At least he didn't know how he could become any stronger than being a Kin of Fire.

What he decided to pursue in the future was the mastery of his items and his skills as a bard. On the other hand, he was not going to waste any more of his time trying to learn earth magic. He was not cut out for <Earth Magic>, even less than he was for music.

The undeniable proof was the fact that <Earth Affinity> had barely leveled up after he got it through the blessing of Hades. He would still use it when the situation called for it, but he wouldn't bother trying to level <Earth Magic> in the foreseeable future.

Despite this decision, Seth pulled now out the Giant's Meteor Rod. This was for one simple reason. It was clear that Dragos had somehow used a version of Cromwel's immortal serum, implying that he actually had a connection to the Scene.

The reason Seth brought out the staff, was because he managed to master the best way to deal with these things while fighting on the bridges. Covered in the spear's passive sandstorm skill, he swung his staff and used <Quick Cast>.

"Petrifying Winds!" he shouted the spell's name and a whirlwind of desert sands enveloped the lower half of Dragos.

The experience and insights he gained in the dungeon over the past few days helped him to complete the desert spell. This time it could really petrify the targets, instead of just covering them in a layer of stone. Seth relied on the power of the legendary item to overcome the high magic resistance of Cromwels undead, however-

<Ding! Target has resisted your spell Petrifying Winds. Petrification will last 5 minutes.>

It seemed that easy to petrify and immortalized Dragos. The creature he had turned into still had all the powers he had when he was alive, even with his connection to the system lost. However, 5 minutes, was a long time.

"Alright everyone, get into Legion. I will call you when I finished him;" he said without waiting for their response.

There was no knowing what other skills Dragos had he could use to aim at them if they stayed outside. The bard just wanted to know them in safety. For once, he decided to ignore their opinion on the matter.

...

"Urgh. Ugh," Dragos whimpered covered in the devilish flame.

It wasn't the pain that drove him to insanity. He could deal with the flames eating away at his grotesque body. What really gnawed at him was regret. His mind was in chaos. He had lost his connection to Ammit. He had lost his connection to the system. He had stepped on the path of legends, but now he couldn't even feel that power anymore. He lost everything...

Not everything. He could still feel the powers of dozens of skills in his changed body, but he had a hard time grasping them with his mind. The weird power of existence was also there, somewhere, but it was a concept out of his reach. Where had he gone wrong? He had underestimated his prey, but this was not how it was supposed to be!

This was not what he was promised when they gave him the syringe. He was supposed to be given a perfect immortal body! Instead, he was imprisoned in the body of an abomination, with all the terrifying wounds and pains he suffered, irreversibly branded onto his body.

He was supposed to gain unlimited power and growth potential, but all he felt was... fragmented. He had a hard time concentrating and keeping a single thought. He should have never taken the serum... No, he shouldn't have underestimated the little birdies.

This damn demon gave him the wrong intel. He had started waiting and searching when Payne Indias told him they would come, but they didn't come from any place the demon gave him. It took days to find a single party. He had been impatient to have his revenge, to get new skills, to grow stronger.

He was excited to see their faces of despair. He wanted to trample on the man who made him suffer his first loss after becoming chosen. With his strength, he had become negligent. Burning and healing and just lay there, lamenting his fate.

Suddenly, a heavy stone was thrown on his chest and the flames slowly extinguished. Looming over him was the man in the armor, the tower master of Minas Mar, his nemesis. Between his fingers, he was twirling the injector Dragos had used to take the serum.

"Kill me. I don't want to live like this," Dragos muttered

"I'm sure you would want that, or maybe you are bluffing? Well, I'm not Santa nor your fairy godmother. I have something else planned for you."

With a wave of his hand, a massive metal cube appeared on the plain.

"I can't gift you death but look at this sweet one-room apartment that will be your home for the rest of your life. And it is completely free."

Dragos looked one last time at the dungeon's sky before his half-burned torso and petrified legs were shoved in the box, unable to resist.

"Don't blame me for being cruel, I just have some use for you."