Axl approached the sharp, branching tendrils of lunar fulger, outstretched hand trembling. As he crossed the boundary of the protective array around it, like slipping through an oily bubble, the air felt hostile and tense, as if struggling against him. When he was about to touch the familiar metal, a small electrical arc bridged his finger and the nearest branch, a searing pain cutting down his body.

  His mind blanked for a moment, but then he kept going, finally resting a tentative finger on the jagged edge that cut into his skin, a streak of blood joining the ore's deeper redness. The Mana emanating from the metal felt familiar, sharp and cutting, yet now bearing a ferocity he'd never encountered before. He narrowed the focus of [Mana Shroud] onto the branching ore and almost reeled back at how powerful it felt, as if it were seeking to imprint itself onto the very fabric of reality. It formed a tearing presence he'd only felt faintly from the most dangerous glyphs of his alchemy, an echo of a powerful, unrestrained will.

  The G-Grade metal bars that Olkan left behind in his pack had been reassuring to the touch, comforting in the faint Mana that wafted about them, and Axl even sometimes took a few out to hold as he slept in the past few days. It felt like an idle reassurance, but nothing more, barely more than a useful hint that he was drawn to metal, and thus a good candidate for the attunement to try to give his core. The ore in the smith's garden was entirely different, a certain density to them that far surpassed what the lower-grade metal could provide.

  Lunar fulger was fundamentally different from even those, somehow. There was a wildness to it, a latent potency reeling forward, even compared to the other miraculous F-Grade ores. When he was but a miner back in Luna, the ore was never as elaborate or developed as this, never as dense, perhaps due to it just being in the G-Grade, or even a lower grade available only at the relatively Mana-deprived environment of Sol. Lunar fulger's F-Grade counterpart was an entirely different beast, the difference between an underfed puppy scavenging at the fringes of Ost and a pit creeper hunting at night.

  Suddenly, Axl was looking at Sprout's corpse in his arms, mutilated beyond recognition by creeper claws as he threw her into the smiling Pit.

  He stumbled back, desperately escaping from the fulger's influence as he gripped his paralyzed hand. His soul groaned, the dulled pain of his previous injury flared into a vicious cut, as if a rusted knife severed him from head to groin to toe.

  Eyes wide in terror, Axl scanned around him for pit creepers, his breath heavy, mind reeling. A few seconds of flailing and he regained his sanity, remembering where he was, the reassuring weight of the metallic Mana in the air slowly returning to him, gingerly. As if the lesser metal was careful not to offend the lunar fulger's supremacy. The protective boundary of [Mind-Soul Bulwark] around his soul was gone, blasted apart.

  Sitting cross-legged, Axl took a few calming breaths, releasing [Mana Shroud] and simply letting the undifferentiated mix of metallic Mana pool at the pit of his stomach. The act itself felt like a relief against the stabbing pain in his soul, and when he lifted the fistful of it to his soul and infused it, the effect increased.

  It was nighttime when Axl opened his eyes again, his soul not quite at the state it was before he touched the damnable ore, but the searing, paralyzing pain was reduced to only a vicious headache. He now fully understood why the lunar fulger was kept separate and isolated, and frankly he felt like more than an idiot at just crossing an obvious safety perimeter without first asking what it was there for. Why was this kind of ore even here, if even touching it risked soul damage?

  Then Axl got it—the sense of heft and will he got from lunar fulger was reminiscent of something else. If the grey tungsten he'd gravitated to before felt like the solid bunker of his Dao vision, lunar fulger felt like the tendril rising from the bunker to meet the lightning strike from above, what he initially thought of as a tree, but now in his memory seemed more like the branching edges of the lunar fulger as it cut into the air.

  Even thinking of the vision deepened his soul's wound, so Axl set the thought aside, instead slowly moving back to the hefty tungsten. Away from the lunar fulger, he sat cross-legged under the dense metal's reassuring bulk and focused on meditative cultivation. He could think about the experience later. First he needed to heal his soul's recently reopened—and exacerbated—wound.

  The heavy, dense metal Mana of the tungsten at his back was stubborn and unyielding, but still could be drawn in by [Mana Shroud], settling with a reassuring heft at the pit of Axl's stomach. It was the space that would eventually condense to form a Cultivator's Core, according to the [Oocile Cultivation Manual]. The more cycles of condensation and purification before turning the Mana into a self-sustaining organ, the better. The text also implied that all elves were born with such a spiritual cavity at the root of their unformed meridians, an ideal space to form a Core. Axl wondered if humans would have it too, since that felt more like a property of the soul than of the body itself. Unfortunately, the crappy G-Grade manual didn't delve more into the issue.

  Instead of focusing on any of this Core business, Axl simply filled up the spiritual cavity then channeled it into his soul, each a balm to his newly acquired injury and a small blip of Karmic Energy. He even tried a single round of compressing the Mana and removing some of the other attunements to purify it, then sending that to his soul, and while the gain of Karmic Energy increased slightly, it didn't help any more with the healing, so he kept to the simpler version, which was faster.

  After a few dozen rounds of this, he tried again, this time compressing the Mana, and holding it to one side of his cavity, then refilling it, to keep compressing it until the whole space was filled with compressed tungsten Mana, each round also removing the few impurities [Mana Shroud] brought in with it. The gain of Karmic Energy that time was much better, almost rivaling killing one of the lesser centipedes, but still, the soul-healing effect wasn't any better than what he figured the simpler rounds of that same amount of Mana would've done. Plus, the compression and purification was straining his concentration, a genuine effort that would mentally wear him out soon enough if he kept doing it, compared to the almost rote ability to perform the simpler form of meditative cultivation.

  The injury in his soul slowly, laboriously reached its previous state, then finally something resembling being healthy, the small divot now a blemish of light red on the otherwise uniform dull grey surface of his spherical soul. At that point, pumping more Mana in seemed not to do anything, and Axl figured he just needed to rest for any remnants of that injury to fully heal.

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  Opening his eyes, he saw Aliferen sitting cross-legged in front of him, her bow on her lap. She was also meditating, her eyes softly focused on her weapon. [Mana Shroud] revealed none of the ambient Mana was being drawn into her, so her cultivation didn't use Mana. Maybe she was fostering Intent, and simply didn't need Mana? It was at least convenient not to have to rely on a location rich in the specific attunement of Mana you wanted to cultivate.

  The orcish girl blinked and looked up at him, smiling in relief. "Oh, finally, you're done. I've heard that Mana cultivators can spend a lot of time focused on meditation, but didn't think it would be so much in the G-Grade."

  Axl noticed the nighttime gloom was slowly receding to the rising sun. "I guess I got carried away by finding such a rich source and accidentally spent all night here."

  Aliferen chuckled. "I bet, and for the two additional nights as well. I was worried the blacksmith killed you since you were gone for so long."

  Axl brought up his Terrania quest that served as his improvised clock, and indeed noticed he'd been healing his soul not for a single night, but the next two full days as well, and quietly cursed the lost time. "I guess this also explains why I'm so hungry."

  The orc took out a carefully wrapped package, one of the takeaway options from the mess hall. "I figured this would be the case after my first six hours waiting for you, so I brought you some food."

  "Thanks," he said, taking the package and setting it aside, slowly gearing up his Charisma. "But why were you waiting for me all this time? Is Folom out of my healing potions? I promised him not to undercut his pricing by selling directly just yet."

  "That’s not it," Aliferen paused. "I want to ask you to join the party I set up to head towards the eastern mountains. You know, to collect some natural resources, see what we can find."

  Axl nodded, "I haven't been out yet for that, so I'd be open to it. But how big is the party? What would be my split?"

  A subtle tension in Aliferen's eyes relaxed in relief. "You would be the sixth—but we decided you can have an entire series of any natural treasure set we find, of your choice. Just having somebody that could heal us would be worth that, not to mention that you're stronger than all of us, except maybe our scout, so you'd get a larger cut of anything else we find."

  That was indeed a generous offer, such an outing usually passing by five or six areas where different treasures could be in, and with his ability to find them, they could likely find even more. And getting treasures well suited to helping him form a Cultivator's Core attuned to Metal would be a massive windfall. For all he knew, there was a better option out there than the tungsten, even if his gut feeling didn't really think so. But just as he thought this, he couldn't help but think of lunar fulger, his soul's wound making itself felt again, as if trying to remind him of what a bad idea that would be.

  "I need another two days," Axl said, not bluffing on this point—he needed to make sure he was fully recovered before fighting again. "Is that set for when you'd want to leave?"

  Aliferen nodded vigorously. "Not a problem! We leave at sunrise in two days! Thank you, Roken, I really appreciate your joining us. When this is over, I will even give you an extra payment in Burrils, for your troubles."

  Of course, since she wouldn't need them anymore. Axl slowly got up, expecting his body to be aching and sore, but if anything, he felt better, only a barely noticeable sluggishness in his reaction time from the soul damage. Aliferen shot up quickly, her bow now at her back and her body suddenly very close to him.

  "You must want some refreshment," she said, her large grey eyes intent on his. "Should we bathe together?"

  Both her hands were on him, one on his shoulder, another on his hip, and he didn't need Charisma to sense the desire emanating from her.

  "Thank you for the offer," he said, gently stepping to the side, her grasp falling away. "But I need to prepare, and catch up on some potions I promised to make that I'm now behind on delivering."

  Axl turned away from her disappointment, the awkwardness of the situation almost more painful than the soul damage. In retrospect, he should've been expecting this, the orc often bathing at the same time he did, a very transparent non-coincidence. Certainly, her attractive, finely toned body would be tempting to many, and he imagined his brother would have a field day on the left side of the bathhouse. But there was too much at stake for him to afford thinking of that right now.

  "Of course," she said with a pained smile. "I will introduce you to the rest of the party later."

  At that, he left, the two of them walking in strained silence before he went into the smith's hut. He took a deep breath in relief when she was gone, and hoped that before they left, the tension of this rejection would be smoothed out.

  But now Axl's pulse started racing in excitement, since it was time for him to get the weapon he'd been promised. The blast of hot metallic Mana on his face was refreshing as he opened the door, this time able to better savor the specific attunement of the Mana, which was to one of the metals in the garden, condensed and purified, even if it was mingled with other crafting-related Mana attunements.

  "Finally," Gildear grumbled as his hammer slammed into a largely finished shortsword. "I go out of my way to prioritize your order, and you go comatose. Why any of you elvenkin bother with Mana cultivation is just beyond me."

  Axl shrugged. "We all work with what we have."

  A dome of steam filled the room as the short sword was plunged into a bubbling orange liquid, the misting Mana feeling entirely foreign and novel—hardness? No, it felt more intangible, perhaps something more akin to perseverance?

  "A weak excuse for the lazy." The smith turned to a small table next to where Axl stood, and unfurled a bundle of rough cloth, within which were twelve stark white throwing daggers.

  "A full set of throwing daggers, made of Helkan metal alloyed with two other components I will not discuss, raising the quality of the metal from early to the boundary between middle and upper F-Grade. Flattened rhomboidal blade for better accuracy and stability, tip and upper edges serrated, with beveled edges containing a hollow lumen leading to an internal compartment at the base of the blade for liquid injection. I hope you appreciate how difficult it was to make this, boy. This is precision work, the only reason I agreed to make something as ridiculously wasteful as throwing daggers with this kind of metal."

  Axl only half-listened, mesmerized by the elegance of his new weapons. "I have plans to get them back to me in battle or shortly after, don't worry. I certainly don’t want to waste these."

  He held one in his hands, the handle easy on his grip, the blade that extended just over a palm's length having a satisfying heft to it. The handle would allow him to attach talismans onto it, which he and Moxlin had plans for, and the small ring at the handle's base would let him attach fine thread, for a variety of flexible options. Most importantly, Axl could feel in his palm the small opening that he could use to fill the internal compartment of the weapon with poison, and barely see the many needle-like protrusions along the upper half of the weapon's edges, with a larger one at the very tip. The perfect vehicle to deliver his newly acquired ability to make poison, based on kunai that he’d seen occasionally in fragments of animated ancient flatvids, his [Venombite Fang].

  There was also a simple leather holster for all twelve of the weapons, so that he could have them strapped across his body in a bandolier, but Axl put all of this in his dimensional pouch, to try out later what was the best way to handle to weapons. Hopefully, this set of tools would help alleviate his lack of long-range options in a battle.