Chapter 74 - New Equipment… Check!

<p>If anything, the old man was certainly a Dwarf of his word. After only 6 hours of hanging around the shop, the door swings open, slamming into the wall with a bang.<br/><br/> Clouds of sweat rise from him, and my jaw gapes open at the sight.<br/><br/> Instead of the supposedly frail man under heavy clothes, his back was straightened, giving him a few vital inches. Every muscle on the small man was extremely shredded, his build akin to a bodybuilder's. Beads of sweat pour down his bare chest, and the baggy pants have stains all over them from sweat, water, and other materials alike. "It's done," he says with a completely different demeanor, gesturing into the room as he lifts the small burgundy square cap upon his head to wipe the sweat from his hairy brows. <br/><br/> I step into the dark area, the only glow from the dimmed fire at the firepit. Upon it sat three items: What looked like neatly folded clothes, a hollow cylinder-shaped tusk that looked like it would fit on my hip, and a simple handle, with a sharp oval shape at one end. 'The eye.'<br/><br/> But… It was just a handle. "Is that it?" I ask in confusion, contemplating whether or not he was actually unwilling to work for free. But, at my words, the tiny mound of muscle roars in laughter. "I told you! Something you've never seen before."<br/><br/> "More like there's not much to see…"<br/><br/> "Enough, enough. Pick up that handle there. You'll see."<br/><br/> Slowly, I reach down and pick up the handle, so that the partially closed eyeball is facing towards the ground. The second it is tightly gripped in my hand, the 'lids' of the eye open wide, the sharp oval shifting into a bulging ball as waves of Dark Magic emanate from the other end of the handle, pouring out like a fog machine. The Dwarf raises his arm to protect his eyes against the rising force of the waves, and I'm forced to grab it with both hands. "Old man! You sure this is safe?!"<br/><br/> "Just wait!" He shouts back, digging his toes into the ground to hold himself forward and prevent from flying back.<br/><br/> A few nearly unbearable seconds later, the waves of Magic coalesce up into a straight black line silently. "Uh…"<br/><br/> "This is it!" the Dwarf squealed, sounding like a certain girly and picky Sword Saint.<br/><br/> With a few ripples, the black Mana spreads, sharpens, and solidifies into a simple, thin blade. It was dense, and thus slightly small, almost like a straight sword, but slightly flatter, with a wider tip. A hilt extended, simply a flat piece of metal that did a 180° twist right past my fingers. The entire weapon was a deep black, and it seemed to absorb light itself as it reflected only a few tiny rays back out. "Woah."<br/><br/> Old man proudly puffs his toned chest out. "Told you." <br/><br/> I nod in agreement. "So, what, this blade only comes out for me? Is it some kind of laser weapon type deal, and I'm gonna end up with a black life support suit and cape after falling in lava or something?"<br/><br/> The smith gives me a strange look. "It's an ingrained Skill of the weapon. I was only able to draw out one Skill, but it merged with an innate ability of the demon, and evolved. The Skill is called 'Reform.' Here, I'll show you."<br/><br/> He takes the handle straight out of my hand, and the blade whirls and collapses on itself, reforming into a stout hammer. "See? Everyone's base form is different, but with enough concentration…" He furrows his white eyebrows, and the hammer splits into three short claws, slipping around the side of the handle to rest on top of his knuckles. "You can change the shape however you'd like. Here, try again."<br/><br/> The hammer reshapes as he holds it out, and I ponder if I'm truly worthy before grabbing the handle decisively. With a forceful gush of energy, the long blade returns, small tendrils of purple Mana trailing from it like thin trails of smoke. <br/><br/> The maker of the handle huffs in frustration. "I'm sure it's due to your Affinity, but that weapon sure seems to prefer when you handle it," he grumbles. I ignore him, concentrating on the blade. It takes surprisingly little effort before the blade warps, the shape of it becoming less solid as it thins out, extending the handle a few feet and procuring a long, curved blade perpendicular to it at the end.<br/><br/> "… A scythe? That's quite dark, boy."<br/><br/> I shrug. "It was just the first thing to come to mind, I guess."<br/><br/> He sighs. "If you weren't so proficient with swordsmanship, I'd think you were Yamistro's Servant, Reaper, incarnate."<br/><br/> "I'm not sure whether or not I should be offended," I reply as I allow the weapon to slowly reform back into a sword, then just the handle. 'Ah, I get the name now.'<br/><br/> He doesn't respond, instead grabbing the armor and short sheath and shoving them in my hands. "That's one way to say I should…" I mutter, but he speaks as if I hadn't said anything.<br/><br/> "There's a fitting room in the front. Go, put it on. I even made it in a similar style to your previous armor."<br/><br/> I awkwardly tote the three items to the small door, opening it to see enough space for a walk-in closet, complete with a wooden bench with a warm brown that complements the stark white walls and trim of the body mirror on the wall across from it.<br/><br/> "Huh," I note as I lock the door. Taisha was tagging along, offering to help me change or hold Panko, but I politely declined. I had a feeling that not only was it uncomfortable and strange, no matter how innocent her intention, but even if I was sick enough to do so, the Dwarven grandpa would not take kindly to it. <br/><br/> Also, if I was disgusting enough to be into that, I would behead both of my heads from my body myself.<br/><br/> Once I finished putting on the armor, I gave it a lookover, Panko peering at me and himself in the mirror in interest as he sits on the bench.<br/><br/> The dark fibers of the bodysuit sat tightly against my skin, revealing how toned my own body had become. It was nowhere near the Dwarf's, but for starting out as skinny as I had been, the muscle definition was incredible. <br/><br/> The way the material was woven together gave it a tight thread look, just like the demon's muscles originally. Just like my last armor set, there are hard plates, probably made from the remaining tusks, and spaced accordingly. There are two curved plates sitting on each side of my chest, three thinner curved pieces tracing along my ribs, and two plates wrapped around each side of my waist for my torso. <br/><br/> My arms had a plate on my right shoulder, broken up into several pieces for full movement of my joint, and two connected straight pieces lining along the bones of my forearm. They split from, but were close to the plates on the back of my hands, providing maximum protection with maximum mobility. There was also three odd bent plates on my left shoulder, the ones on the front and back of it slitted with small holes.<br/><br/> Similarly, my legs had lined plates along the side of my outer thighs, and two plates guarding both sides of the front of my lower leg. There was a thin plate protecting my Achilles' heel, as well as a hard, treaded soles, pieces lining both sides of my feet, and two pieces on top — one over my toes, and one at the top of my feet.<br/><br/> Every piece is woven into the fabric, with a thin layer on top that looks glossed or something of the like to be a light, almost pastel purple.<br/><br/> "Can't believe he did all this in 6 hours," I marvel, getting closer to inspect the intricacy of the design. "He even got MOST of my measurements right."<br/><br/> The armor fit perfectly, everywhere except my groin, which was so tight that it showed more than I was comfortable showing.<br/><br/> "This is more than just underestimating me, this is straight mocking," I groan, unable to properly stand or even walk due to the deathgrip my family jewels found themselves in. I barely manage to slip my pants on, waddling out of the fitting room. Taisha jumps up, waving her arms. "Mister Klum! You look so cool! But why are you wearing pants?" <br/><br/> I give her a forced smile, patting her head. "Thanks. So cool," I say on autopilot, making my way to her grandpa, who's now back to his frail form, wrapped in several layers of old clothing. "How does it feel? Pretty amazing, huh?"<br/><br/> "My pleasure," I respond automatically through gritted teeth. "By the way, do you think you could loosen—"<br/><br/> "It's got all the features you could need! There's a clip on your hip that attaches anywhere you like, and it's for the holder for your weapon I made! Also, those plates on your left shoulder are specifically crafted to allow your pet, Dank-oh, to rest there easily! Of course, it'll protect you even if he's not there. Also, the outer plates are two thin plates meshed with the demon fiber—"<br/><br/> I cut him off by grabbing him by the collar, pulling his face closer. "Too. Tight."<br/><br/> He gives me a wide grin, showing many gaps. "Sorry, did you say tighter?"<br/><br/> I'm about to bitch-slap him so hard he sees Earth when holds up his hands in surrender. "Woah there, alright? I thought it would fit you perfectly, but I prepared just in case my hunch was wrong."<br/><br/> He pulls the waistband of my pants back, slicing at a piece of fabric right next to the hip plate. The fabric snaps open with extra material spreading it out, widening enough to have significantly more breathing room. I gasp in relief, releasing his collar and gripping his rock-hard shoulder tightly.<br/><br/> "So… Tell me about those features again."</p>