Gray followed directions drawn roughly on a piece of paper and made his way to the eastern district. The northern district was supported by the Southern Seas Trading Company and was the wealthiest. The western district contained the lord’s castle as well as families and businesses closely tied to the lord. The eastern and southern districts were where the common people resided.

As he crossed the town, he couldn't help but wonder at its size and scale. The town was too large, far larger than what the population needed, which numbered around five or six thousand. The walls were laid in a roughly square shape except for a few wiggles here and there. The entire length spanned about ten thousand paces and enclosed a tremendous area.

Land in the town was cheap but houses weren't. Ordinary townsfolk could not afford large, elaborate homes so entire families lived in small huts made of bricks and mud. This combined with the oversized scale of the town created plenty of empty space. These were put to use and converted vegetable gardens, creating seas of leafy greens that were striking in contrast with the dirt and sand colors that surrounded them from all sides.

Gray arrived in front of a small unassuming shop. He wouldn’t have known if he was in the right place if it were not for the sign containing an anvil, the universal sign for a smithy.

The doorbell rang as he entered and an elderly voice called out tiredly.

“Who is it…”

Gray looked around but he couldn’t see anyone. The shop’s interior was just as small as it looked from the outside. The walls were bare. The large wooden counter at the end was also empty. The shop didn’t seem to have anything worthwhile but he knew that this was not true.

“Grandpa Kapoor.” He called out.

A head popped up from behind the counter. It was an elderly man with a mostly bald head that held a few strands of white hair and an equally white beard. Apparently, he had been lounging in a low chair.

He glanced at Gray before disappearing from view with a grunt, “I don’t have a grandson as fat as you. Go away!”

Gray was indignant, not because he was insecure about his figure but because the old man was also quite portly. It was obvious he was well fed and lived a decent life in his old age.

“Grandpa Kapoor, your grandson Basu told me to find you and that you can help me.”

“That disobedient flying chicken… He scampered off to chase the lord and left me alone. I don’t take customers from him, go away!”

Gray snorted, “Your grandson told me that he sends most of his income back home and even hired a servant to take care of you. You look like you’re living a little too comfortably. Perhaps I should tell him how you spoke about him?”

A choking cough came from behind the counter and the old man popped back up again. He glared at Gray and then sat up straighter.

“Fine, what you want?”

“I would like a new pickaxe. I was told you had the best in town.” Gray said.

Grandpa Kapoor clambered to his feet, hefted his belly in a vain attempt to make it smaller, and walked up. He silently looked Gray up and down a few times before grunting.

“I guess you’ll do.” He muttered and shuffled into the backroom.

A few moments later, he emerged with an ordinary-looking iron pickaxe that had a slight tinge of gold on the tip.

“Here.” He said and held it out.

Gray grabbed the handle in confusion but quickly realized something was different.

“Woah… nice!” He said and hefted it with both hands.

It was much heavier than an ordinary pickaxe. In fact, it was so heavy it felt like he had a large chunk of metal attached to the shaft instead of a slim pickaxe head.

The old smith nodded sagely, “This is the standard pickaxe upgrade for miners around here. It’s called the foreman’s pickaxe, usually used by the foreman of mining companies, folks that are at the middle-stage of Spiritual Strengthening. I didn’t think you were ready for it but it seems you are pretty strong.”

Gray swung the pickaxe around a few times. The additional weight needed some time to get used to but it was manageable.

“I think I can handle it, what’s it made of?” He asked.

“Heavy gold, a small amount of it. It’s been forged into the tip as you can see here.” He pointed to the noticeable golden hue.

“Wow! Heavy gold, the spiritual metal?”

“Yes.” The old smith said, "Only about the size of a bean, but it's enough."

Gray tested the pickaxe some more until his muscles started to get sore. It was good, it would certainly do a lot of damage but he didn't feel it was enough His strength had progressed a level since he last mined and he would continue to grow. He feared he would need another pickaxe in a short while.  

“It’s really nice… but I think it’s not enough for me.” He said finally, “Do you have anything heavier?”

“…” The old shop owner became silent.

He studied Gray for much longer this time before nodding.

“Since Basu sent you... Fine, follow me.”

Gray went into the storeroom after him. The inside walls were lined with the metalsmith's finished works of all shapes and sizes. There were pickaxes, shovels, and hammers. There were also piles of sword blades, axe heads, and spearheads. Along one wall were bundles of arrows without their fletching, their broadheads giving off a soft cyan light. His eyes paused on them for only a moment before he was drawn to the bright yellow glow coming from the corner.

It was a single pickaxe. Its head and shaft were a dull gold color like someone had mixed steel with gold. Aside from the distinctive physical color, it also let out a robust radiance, indicative of a profound source of spiritual energy!

“Try to pick that up.” Grandpa Kapoor said.

Gray nodded and went over to the golden pickaxe. He stooped down, grabbed the handle, and instantly felt something was wrong.

It was heavy!

He squeezed his muscles and summoned the spiritual strength within him. He managed to pull the handle upright. He then tried to lift the pickaxe head but it would not budge. It was impossibly heavy.

He refused to be defeated and doubled down. With a throaty growl, he called upon everything he had. Golden spiritual energy surged from his spiritual sea, bathing his body with the strength of the earth. His hands glowed gold and so did his feet. It started at his toes but then spread slowly until it encompassed the bottom of his feet all the way to the heels.

“Haaaa!” He gave a fearsome shout and lifted.

The pickaxe head rose off the ground, just barely.

Boom!

The pickaxe dropped back down and shook the small room. Several tools hanging from the walls fell down and the piles of swords collapsed.

Gray fell to his knees, exhausted but with a smile on his face. He had tried his absolute best and he was satisfied with the result. If he could lift it slightly now, it would only get better as he got stronger.

This pickaxe was the one for him. He had to have it.

“I love it!” Gray said, “How much?”

Grandpa Kapoor stood at the doorway, his mouth agape like he had seen a strange beast.

“… You do? Well… It costs two thousand gold!”

Gray leaped up, “What! How much?”

The price was way beyond anything he had expected. Two thousand gold was the price for an upper-stage expert. Two thousand gold was way more than he could spend on a pickaxe!

“You sure? That’s a lot of money. How about a thousand gold?” Gray asked hopefully.

“Wretched boy! You dare haggle with me!” The old man shouted, his great belly jiggly furiously, “This is a true heavy gold pickaxe, the head is made entirely of heavy gold, the handle is half heavy gold and half steel. It’s a true spiritual treasure! You won’t find another like it in the whole town!

Gray didn’t give up, “Peh! Everything in the world is negotiable. The price of land, the price of water, the price of the sky, it’s all negotiable. This hunk of metal was sitting in your tool shed collecting dust. I like it but I don’t think it’s worth that price. So, gramps, what are you doing to do about it?”

“Me? Nothing! If I’m your gramps, then you should listen to your elders and pay full price! If not, you can get the hell out!”

Neither side backed down. They argued back and forth for no result until Gray finally gave up. He really wanted the heavy gold pickaxe but he didn’t have the money anyway. He could only afford the lesser version.

“Fine, I give up.” Gray said, “How much is the other pickaxe?”

“Fifty gold…”

“Best I can do is thirty.” Gray shot back.

“…”

The two haggled some more before Gray was kicked out. His money pouch was now empty but he held a shiny foreman's pickaxe in his hands.

He couldn't wait to try it out.