On the way back into the city, Kevin suggested stopping at the leatherworker’s shop before heading to the forge.

“She needs your measurements before she can start the base layer,” he explained. “I can shape the metal and carapace around the design, but she’s the one making sure you can actually move in it.”

“Good. The last thing I need is armor that stops me from dodging.”

Kevin pulled a small notepad from his inventory and began sketching as we walked. The rough outline of a torso appeared first, followed by overlapping plates across the chest and shoulders.

“I’m thinking leather underneath, spider carapace over the larger areas, then black iron around the vital points,” he said. “Chest, ribs, shoulders, forearms. Enough protection to matter without turning the armor into an oven.”

“What about the legs?”

“Mostly leather, with smaller plates around the knees and shins. You wanted to keep your mobility, right?”

“Definitely. I already learned what happens when I can’t dodge.” I glanced down at my shoes. “What about boots?”

Kevin’s pencil stopped. “Right. I forgot about the boots.”

“You forgot the part touching the ground?”

“I was focused on the armor.” He looked down at my shoes. “But yeah, you need something better. The leatherworker might have a pair of leather boots for sale.”

“Then we’ll ask.”

The leatherworker had rented a storefront near the Forum, where rows of small shops curved around the streets surrounding the central fountain. Most had stood empty on launch day, but players were already claiming them. Hand-painted signs hung above open doors, and display tables had appeared beneath the awnings.

One shop sold pastries and bottled drinks. Another had bolts of fabric stacked behind its windows, while farther down the row, a player arranged flowers and potted herbs across wooden shelves.

“Most of the cleaner professions are setting up around here,” Kevin said. “Food, tailoring, leatherworking—anything people can walk in and browse.”

“And blacksmithing?”

“Lower district. Nobody wants hammering, smoke, and hot metal next to a café. That’s where most of the heavy crafting professions are ending up. Blacksmithing, Toolcrafting, Gadgeteering.”

I looked over at him. “Gadgeteering?”

“Traps, mechanical tools, combat devices. Stuff like that. I don’t know much beyond that."

That profession immediately earned a place on my list of things to investigate.

Kevin glanced toward the occupied storefronts. “I’m planning to rent my own place soon. I finished the introductory quests with the old man, and business has been picking up fast. Give me a few days, and I should have enough.”

“You already have a forge.”

“His forge. I want one with my name on it.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

The leatherworker’s front windows were crowded with belts, gloves, boots, harnesses, and several half-finished pieces of armor. A small bell rang when Kevin pushed open the door, and the smell of treated hide, wax, and dye reached me immediately.

The shop was clearly new. Several crates remained stacked against the walls, and one shelf had not been fully assembled, but the work area was already organized. Rolled hides filled the shelves that were standing, while strips of leather hung from hooks along the ceiling. Buckles, needles, spools of heavy thread, cutting knives, and measuring tools covered two long worktables. A mannequin near the back held a half-finished leather cuirass from another commission.

Leaning against the rear wall was a greatsword nearly a meter and a half long. Its broad black blade curved forward near the tip, with deep serrations running along the cutting edge and a heavy grip built for two hands. It looked less like decoration and more like something designed to split a monster in half.

The woman working beside the mannequin looked up as we entered.

Her skin was dark brown, and thick blue hair had been tied back behind a pair of enormous ridged horns that swept over her head like those of an Alpine ibex. The ends of her hair faded into bright green, framing sharp yellow eyes behind purple half-rim glasses. A fitted leather apron crossed her torso, secured by heavy straps and buckles, leaving her muscular shoulders and arms bare.

She looked fully capable of lifting the greatsword, swinging it, and carrying home whatever she killed with it.

Her name tag identified her as Zamira.

“Cloud,” Kevin said, “this is the leatherworker I told you about.”

“Welcome.” Zamira gave me a quick inspection from head to toe. “So you’re the one I’m fitting?”

“That’s me.”

She picked up a measuring cord and pointed beside the mannequin. “Shirt off. Stand over there.”

The casual order caught me off guard. “Oh. All right.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “It’s armor, not a medical examination.”

Kevin suddenly found a rack of belts extremely interesting.

I removed my shirt and stood where Zamira had indicated. She worked quickly, using a marked cord to take each measurement the armor would need. She started with my chest and waist, then pulled the cord flat along my side and recorded the length before motioning for me to raise one arm.

“Other one.”

I switched arms.

She moved behind me and measured across my shoulders. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re standing like you expect me to stab you.”

“That happens surprisingly often in this game.”

Zamira gave a brief laugh. “Then hold still. I’d rather the armor fit before someone tries again.”

Once she had everything she needed, she stepped away and checked the measurements on her sheet. Kevin placed his notepad on the worktable and opened it to the armor design.

Zamira studied the sketch, then looked between it and me.

“You drew him wider than he is.”

“I was working from memory,” Kevin said.

“You remembered a refrigerator.”

“It’s a rough design.”

“Good. Rough designs are easier to fix.”

She pulled a large sheet of paper from beneath the table and spread it flat. Kevin’s sketch showed what he wanted the finished armor to look like. Zamira began turning it into something they could actually build.

Using my measurements, she drew the fitted leather foundation first, marking the shoulders, waist, and every point where the armor needed to bend. She then divided Kevin’s concept into individual components, drawing patterns for the carapace plates, iron reinforcements, straps, and attachment points.

Kevin leaned over the table as the design took shape.

“You’re using all three materials?” Zamira asked.

“Leather underneath, carapace for most of the protection, and black iron over the important areas.”

She examined the arrangement around the ribs and shoulders, then erased two of the larger plates.

“These are too wide. If they overlap this far, he won’t be able to twist.”

“What if I change the angle?” Kevin pointed toward the original sketch.

Zamira redrew the section and studied it. “That works. Shape the rigid pieces to these patterns and leave the final placement to me.”

She labeled each component and drew the matching templates beside the main design: chest, shoulder, forearm, hip, and knee. By the time she finished, Kevin’s rough concept had become a complete set of workable patterns covering the table.

“What about boots?” I asked.

“I don’t specialize in footwear,” Zamira said, “but I have a few pairs of basic leather boots already made. One of them should fit you.”

“Can you make them black to match the armor?”

“Sure.”

“It’ll still look like one set, right?” Kevin asked.

Zamira gave him a sideways glance. “It will when I’m finished with it.”

She set the pencil down and began gathering her tools.

“I can start the leather base now. It should take a few hours. Bring me the shaped carapace and iron pieces when they’re ready, and I can finish the assembly within an hour.”

“Perfect,” Kevin said. “I’ll head back to the forge and start smelting.”

He collected his notepad, but Zamira raised one finger before either of us could leave.

“Leather, fittings, and labor will be one thousand city credits.”

“One thousand?” I checked my balance again, hoping it had somehow increased while I wasn’t looking. “I only have about five hundred.”

No wonder she could afford rent inside the Forum.

“Payment is due when you pick it up,” Zamira said. “If Kevin gets the other pieces here on time, I should have everything finished by seven.”

“I’ll get them here,” Kevin promised. He turned to me. “We can sell your extra ore and stone to the old man when we get back. He’s cheap, but it should cover the difference.”

“That works.”

I looked back toward Zamira. “I’ll have the money ready. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She flicked the measuring cord onto the worktable. “Now go make yourselves useful. I have armor to build.”

Kevin headed for the door. As I followed him, Zamira called after me.

“Try not to get stabbed before seven, hotshot.”

I glanced back, but she had already turned toward the paper patterns.

After the forest, the spider, the laboratory, and an entire afternoon underground, my equipment was finally beginning to feel real.

I handed the spider materials over to Kevin, and he headed toward the lower district to begin smelting, leaving me with several hours before the armor would be ready.

I could have logged out or returned to the job board, but Gadgeteering was still sitting in the back of my mind.

I spent the next half hour browsing the player-run shops around the Forum. Most were barely more than rented rooms containing a worktable and a sign, but one shop named “Beginner Must-haves” had already filled its space with an impressive collection of traps, hooks, wires, folding tools, and devices whose purposes were not immediately obvious.

A spring-loaded snare hung from one wall. Nearby, small bells had been connected to thin tripwires, apparently to warn sleeping players when something approached their camp.

Then I found something labeled:

[Camouflage Mantle — 1,200 Credits]

It was a rough mesh cloak covered in strips of fabric and leaves.

I checked the price twice.

Apparently, one thousand credits for custom armor was not the only robbery happening around the Forum.

The base of the mantle looked like an ordinary fishing net. Most of the camouflage had been tied or glued onto it by hand.

I examined it for several seconds.

I could make that.

The general store sold everything I needed: a roll of fishing net, a small bottle of quick-setting adhesive, and several jars of paint. The entire purchase cost less than one hundred credits.

The leaves were free.

I gathered them from the trees bordering the Forum, along with a few strips of bark and thin branches, then carried everything to an empty bench near the fountain. Several locals watched me strip leaves from the lower branches with visible disapproval.

I might have lost a little reputation with the city’s gardeners.

I cut the fishing net into a rough cape shape, then painted the leaves in the deeper greens and browns I remembered from Viridian Basin. Once they dried, I glued them across the net, layering strips of bark and thin branches between them. After the adhesive set, I tied two cords near the neck and pulled the finished cape around my shoulders.

[Gadgeteering XP +10]

“That counts?”

I opened my equipment screen. The net had automatically moved into my cape slot, although the item name remained unchanged.

[Basic Fishing Net]

Apparently, the system acknowledged my craftsmanship without respecting it.

I turned toward the hedge behind the bench and crouched beside it. The cape was nowhere near true invisibility, but from a distance, someone glancing in my direction might mistake me for part of the shrubbery.

[Stealth XP +10]

A passing player slowed and stared at me.

“Are you wearing a bush?”

“Camouflage.”

He compared me to the hedge. “Sure.”

He continued walking.

I stored the cape in my inventory. It would only work where the colors matched the surrounding vegetation, but it worked. Better yet, I had gained Gadgeteering XP for less than one hundred credits.

Not bad for gluing leaves to a fishing net.

With the experiment finished, I checked the time. The old blacksmith’s forge would be closing soon, and I still needed to sell enough ore to pay Zamira.

I headed toward the lower district.

The area had changed noticeably since yesterday. Several newly opened smithing shops now lined the street leading toward the forge, their signs advertising different specialties. One displayed rows of swords and spears. Another had helmets and breastplates arranged behind its front window, while a shop farther down had bows and crossbows mounted across an entire wall.

I slowed as I passed it.

A compact crossbow with a folding stock caught my attention until I saw the price.

That could wait until much, much later.

For now, I still owed Zamira half the money for my armor.

When I reached the old blacksmith’s forge, Kevin was already working near the furnace. The old man stood behind the counter sorting metal scraps, wearing the same permanent scowl as before.

“I’ve got ore to sell,” I said.

His expression immediately improved. “How much?”

I opened my inventory and began placing everything I was willing to part with onto the counter. Common iron ore, copper, coal, several pale chunks Kevin had identified for me in the mine, and a considerable amount of ordinary stone followed one after another.

The old man picked up each piece, weighed it in his palm, then separated the materials into small piles.

“You kept samples?” he asked.

“A few pieces of each.”

“Good.” He tapped one of the darker stones with a fingernail. “Never sell everything before you know what it can become.”

That was unexpectedly helpful advice from someone Kevin had described as cheap.

Then he reached the pile of ordinary stone, and his brief enthusiasm faded.

“This is mostly rubble.”

“It came from a mine.”

“So did the dirt on your shoes.”

“Can you use it?”

“For furnace lining, repairs, grinding blocks. Maybe.” He examined the pile again. “I’ll buy it by weight.”

Which was apparently blacksmith language for not much.

Even so, the full haul earned me enough to cover what I still owed Zamira, with a little left over. Once the payment entered my balance, the old man began moving the purchased materials toward the storage shelves.

“Not bad for your first trip,” he said.

“Was that a compliment?”

“Yes.”

He turned away before I could make him repeat it.

I had no system notification telling me that his opinion of me had improved, but the fact that he had offered useful advice and spoken more than three words at a time felt like progress.

Kevin called me over to his workbench.

“Your shield and dagger are ready.”

The two finished pieces rested side by side across the table. Behind them, several curved sections of black iron and shaped carapace had been arranged for the helmet, waiting for Zamira to add the leather lining, straps, and flexible neck protection.

The shield was compact and round, built around one of the spider’s dark carapace plates. Black iron reinforced the rim and formed a raised crest across the upper front, while pale spider hair spread beneath the metal in rough, layered streaks. Leather framing and straps secured everything together without hiding the shell’s natural shape.

“What’s the crest supposed to be?” I asked.

Kevin grinned. “My initials. K.N.”

“So you signed my shield?”

“Every masterpiece needs the artist’s name.”

Beside it lay the dagger. Kevin had preserved the spider fang’s natural curve and needle-like point, but sharpened the outer edge so it could cut as well as pierce. A black-iron collar secured the base to a leather-wrapped handle, with a small flare of pale spider hair beneath the guard to match the shield.

For a few seconds, I forgot how much the armor was costing me.

“These look freaking awesome.”

Kevin grinned. “Try them.”

I equipped the shield first. It covered most of my torso when raised, but it was light enough to reposition quickly without dragging my arm down. The fang dagger felt even lighter. I tested several thrusts and short cuts, getting used to the natural curve of the point.

Kevin watched my grip.

“Keep the point forward when you thrust, but don’t forget the outer edge is sharpened,” he said. “Use short thrusts against anything armored, and let the curve carry through when you slash.”

I adjusted my grip and tested both motions. “That feels better.”

 

“The shield has mounting points on the back,” Kevin added. “Zamira can attach straps so you can carry it behind your shoulder when you’re not using it.”

I looked down at the shield on my left arm. “I’d rather keep it attached here.”

“All the time?”

“When I’m not blocking, I want my hand free without putting the shield away.”

Kevin examined the existing straps. “That should work. She can add a second support strap so it stays fixed to your forearm when you release the grip.”

“Perfect.”

We waited while Kevin finished shaping the remaining black-iron pieces and drilled attachment points into the carapace plates. Once everything had cooled enough to handle, he wrapped the pieces in heavy cloth and loaded them into a wooden crate.

Before leaving, we said goodbye to the old man.

He looked up from the furnace. “Bring back better ore next time.”

“I’ll take that as an invitation.”

He grunted, which was close enough.

Kevin and I carried the crate back toward the Forum. By the time we reached Zamira’s shop, the fitted black leather base was already displayed on the mannequin.

Zamira glanced at the crate. “You made it.”

“I said I would,” Kevin replied.

“Blacksmiths say a lot of things.”

She opened the crate, inspected the shaped carapace and iron pieces, then cleared a section of the main worktable. Kevin joined her immediately. He handled the rigid plates and metal fittings while Zamira positioned them against the leather foundation, checking how each section overlapped before securing anything permanently.

I pointed toward the shield. “I want it fixed to my left forearm when I’m not gripping it.”

Zamira examined the existing straps. “So you can let go without unequipping it?”

“Exactly.”

She tested the position against my arm, then marked a second strap near the elbow.

“I can do that. It’ll cost extra.”

I must have looked worried, because she smiled.

“I’ll let it go this time.”

“Appreciated. What about the dagger? I need somewhere to carry it.”

“Already handled.”

Zamira pointed toward the mannequin. Attached to the right hip was an open-sided leather holder shaped around the curve of the fang. It looked more like a pistol holster than a normal dagger sheath, leaving the handle exposed while securing the weapon along the thigh.

“A regular sheath would catch on the curve,” she explained. “This keeps it secure without slowing the draw.”

I tested the empty holder with the dagger. It slid into place cleanly and came free with one quick pull.

“That’s perfect.”

Once Kevin and Zamira returned to the armor, I transferred the payment.

[Payment Sent: 1,000 City Credits]

“Money well spent,” I said.

Zamira glanced at the notification. “You haven’t even seen the finished set yet.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

“Careful. Confidence like that gets expensive.”

“Do repeat customers get a discount?”

“The ones I like do.”

I looked at her, but she had already returned to the armor, leaving me to decide whether that was encouragement or a warning.

After another hour of cutting, fitting, and fastening, Zamira finally set down her tools.

Kevin helped her arrange every finished piece on the mannequin so I could see the full set before equipping it. For a moment, none of us spoke.

The helmet was shaped to evoke a spider’s face. Overlapping black-iron plates protected the crown, forehead, and cheeks, while several curved ridges swept back across the top like folded spider legs. The brow narrowed into sharp points around the open face, giving it a predatory look without obstructing my vision. Smaller sections of dark carapace protected the ears and extended down the back of the neck, overlapping into a flexible collar.

It looked intimidating without becoming bulky, with black iron guarding the skull and spider materials covering the areas that still needed to move.

The rest of the set had been constructed over a fitted black leather base. Layered carapace covered the torso, shoulders, forearms, and hips like overlapping sections of an exoskeleton, each plate shaped to follow the body rather than forming one rigid shell. Black iron reinforced the center of the chest, ribs, shoulders, elbows, and outer forearms, blending so naturally with the dark carapace that it was difficult to tell where one material ended and the other began.

Thick spider hair lined the collar and cuffs, softening the hard edges while giving the armor a rough, predatory appearance. The legs remained mostly leather to preserve mobility, with smaller plates protecting the knees and shins. A pair of basic leather boots, dyed black to match the rest of the set, completed the lower half. The shield hung securely along the left forearm, allowing the hand to release its grip without unequipping it, while the curved fang dagger rested inside its open-sided holder at the right hip.

It looked heavier than it actually was—part leather armor, part exoskeleton, with black iron protecting anything I couldn’t afford to have pierced.

Kevin folded his arms as he admired the mannequin. “Dude, this looks incredible.”

Zamira stepped back beside him. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? This is sick.”

A small smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Fine. It looks good.”

That was apparently the highest praise Kevin was going to receive.

I accepted the completed equipment into my inventory and equipped the entire set at once.

The leather tightened around my body before settling into place. The plates adjusted with it, locking over my chest, shoulders, and arms without pinching the joints. I raised both arms, twisted at the waist, crouched, and took several quick steps across the shop.

Nothing caught or shifted.

Despite all the metal and carapace, the weight remained balanced across my shoulders and hips. It felt protective without making me slow.

I drew the fang dagger from my hip and raised the shield with my left arm. The weapon came free in one smooth motion, while the shield remained secure even after I released the inner grip.

Kevin watched me test the set. “Well?”

I turned toward the mirror beside the fitting area.

The person staring back barely resembled the player who had entered Viridian Basin wearing ordinary clothes and carrying two laboratory knives. The black armor followed the shape of my body, and the overlapping carapace gave it the appearance of a second skin. With the iron plates and pale spider hair layered over it, the entire set looked as though it had been built from something that once hunted people.

There was no hiding my grin.

“I feel like I could fight a dragon.”

Kevin laughed. “Let’s start with the roaches.”

“A small dragon, then.”

Zamira’s attention shifted toward a notification only she could see. A satisfied expression crossed her face before she dismissed it.

“Leatherworking level?” I asked.

She nodded. “Two, actually.”

Kevin checked his own notifications and grinned. “Same for Blacksmithing.”

The rare materials and custom construction had given both of them far more experience than ordinary beginner equipment.

Kevin and Zamira gained their profession levels. I received a full set of custom armor, a new shield, and a dagger made from the fang of the first serious monster I had killed.

Everyone walked away with what they wanted.

I sheathed the dagger and looked at myself in the mirror one more time.

Now I was ready for the first dungeon.