As Sam made her way home, she noticed something deeply unsettling. People were staring at her. Not casual glances. Not the polite "is that mud on her face?" kind of look. Full, committed stares. Men mid-step. Women mid-conversation. A child actually walked into a lamppost.
They'd look. Freeze. Blink. Then snap their eyes away like they'd just made prolonged eye contact with a noble they couldn't afford to offend.
Sam slowed.
What.
The.
Hell.
Surely the A.H.A. hadn't blasted out a city-wide announcement.
BREAKING NEWS: Local Woman Delivers Mercy Killing to Griffin, Still Somehow Single.
No. That seemed unlikely.
A man carrying cabbages locked eyes with her. His face went faintly pink. He dropped one. Didn't pick it up.
"…Okay."
She kept walking.
Two guards straightened when she passed. One of them swallowed like he'd just remembered he owed her money.
"Hey Jarvis," she muttered under her breath. "Why is everyone staring at me like I just walked out of a romance novel?"
{"There are several possibilities."}
"Fantastic."
{"Statistically speaking, you are a young, physically attractive woman."}
She rolled her eyes.
{"Additionally, your Charisma currently sits at two hundred and thirty-six."}
She stopped dead in the street.
"…shit..."
A woman nearby tripped over her own hem while trying not to look at Sam too obviously.
Sam hissed under her breath. "Dammit. I knew this would happen. I knew stacking Charisma would come back to haunt me."
{"To be fair, you did enjoy watching the numbers go up."}
"That's not the point!"
A teenage boy glanced at her, went pale, and immediately pretended to inspect a brick wall with intense scholarly interest.
"Oh no," Sam whispered. "Oh no no no. This is going to turn into a thing. I can't just walk down the street without people short-circuiting."
{"Short-circuiting may be an exaggeration."}
A woman fanned herself.
A man straight-up walked into a fruit cart.
"…It is not." Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm going to have to invent some kind of de-charisma device. A Cloak of Mild Disappointment. A Ring of Social Neutrality. Something."
{"Might I suggest 'Aura of Mediocrity'?"}
Her eyes twitched.
"Yes. Exactly. That. I need to be aggressively average. Beige. Approachable but forgettable."
She resumed walking, shoulders squared, trying very hard to look like someone with absolutely zero main-character energy.
It did not work.
A pair of merchants whispered as she passed.
"She's glowing."
"She's not glowing."
"She's glowing."
Sam exhaled slowly. "This is a disaster."
{"You are overreacting."}
"Jarvis, I cannot do grocery shopping like this."
{"On the bright side, your bartering success rate has likely increased."}
"…That's not a bright side. That's a temptation."
She paused outside the gate to her home and sighed.
"Great. I get reincarnated into a magical world, fight monsters, survive griffin killers with poor interior design, and my greatest challenge is going to be walking down the street without causing minor social riots."
{"Look at it this way."}
"Please don't."
{"At least they are staring for pleasant reasons."}
She stared at the gate handle.
"…Fair."
A beat.
Then she groaned.
"I swear, if someone tries to serenade me, I'm putting all future stat points into Intimidation."
{"That would also scale well."}
"If I can't lower Charisma, I'll brute-force a counter-stat into existence through pure spite and willpower. I'll invent one. I don't care if the system doesn't support it. I'll make it support it."
{"…I am detecting a non-zero probability that you might actually succeed in creating a new stat out of sheer stubbornness."}
"Good," she said grimly. "Call it 'Leave Me Alone.' And I'm putting all my future points into it."
She muttered darkly as she stepped inside.
"De-charisma thingamajig. First crafting priority. You know after all the other priorities I have going."
~~~
After a much needed nap and breakfast the next morning, Sam finished her daily quests and then made her way to the workshop.
Sam shut the shop door behind her and leaned against it for a moment.
The workshop was quiet unlike the store. No customers browsing the racks, no Fiona dropping by to chat, no hunters asking if she could "just add a little extra damage" to their weapons.
Just the forge, the worktables, and the faint glow of the rune lamps along the walls.
Jarvis flickered softly across her interface.
{"Enchanting progression recommended."}
Sam snorted.
"Yeah. I know."
Group teleport was a major enchantment. She'd barely stepped into standard tier work, which meant the system was politely informing her she wasn't ready yet.
So she needed practice.
A lot of practice.
"Alright," she said, pushing away from the door. "Let's make a mess."
The first step was always the ink.
Sam crossed to the alchemy bench and pulled down a small wooden box filled with crushed beast cores. The powder shimmered faintly in the light, each grain holding a whisper of stored mana.
She scooped some into a stone mortar.
Ink base first.
Then powdered core.
Ground iron flakes for stability.
A pinch of moonleaf powder to help mana binding.
She added a few drops of distilled mana-water and began grinding the mixture together.
Slow circles.
The paste darkened gradually until it became a deep violet-black. Sam dipped the tip of a metal stylus into the mixture and lifted it. The ink clung to the point like liquid shadow.
"Good enough."
The forge had already heated a few basic items earlier that morning.
Nothing fancy.
A pair of buckled bracers.
Two round shield plates.
A dagger and matching belt clasp.
Cheap items meant cheap mistakes.
She set one of the shields onto the runic table and dipped the stylus again.
The rune came first.
Careful strokes etched the arcane pattern across the metal surface, each line thin and precise. The ink soaked into the grooves, faintly glowing where mana traces from the beast core powder reacted with the steel.
Sam leaned back slightly to check the pattern.
"Looks right..."
She placed her palm against the center rune.
Mana flowed from her.
"Arcane Shielding."
The rune flared.
A faint barrier shimmered into existence over the shield.
Then it flickered.
Collapsed.
And died.
Sam stared at it.
"...Or not."
She sighed.
"Three seconds is technically a duration."
The second attempt lasted longer.
The third attempt held properly for the full twenty seconds before fading.
Sam nodded slowly.
"Better."
She made more ink.
More runes.
The workshop gradually filled with low caliber enchanted items. Items that may have worked perfectly fine, but weren't exactly high priced or containing outstanding enchantments. Though for newbies it was helpful.
Boots with agility runes.
Gloves with mana regulation marks.
Daggers with faint elemental edges that sparked briefly when activated. Each item forced her to adjust something.
More ink.
Less mana.
Straighter rune lines.
The system responded quietly in the background.
{Ding! Arcane Shielding has upgraded to Lv2}
Hours passed.
Sunlight shifted across the workshop floor while Sam moved between tables like a woman possessed. By mid-afternoon she had a pile of gear waiting for a more complicated test.
Two identical bracers.
She set them side by side and began drawing the runes. The ink lines mirrored each other perfectly this time.
Stat enhancement first.
Then mana regulation.
Then the linking rune.
Sam exhaled slowly.
"Let's try this."
Mana poured into the runes.
"Set Bonus Enchantments."
Both bracers flared simultaneously.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then a thin thread of mana connected them.
The runes pulsed.
Sam grinned.
"That's new."
The system chimed.
{Ding! Set Bonus Enchantments had upgraded to Lv2}
The thread of mana tightened, reinforcing both items.
Another notification followed.
{Ding! Harmony Weave has upgraded to Lv2}
Sam flexed her fingers.
"Alright."
Now it was getting interesting.
The next set came faster.
Boots and belt.
Twin daggers.
Matching gloves.
Each pair linked more cleanly than the last. The runes didn't just activate anymore. They settled.
Mana sank deeper into the materials, strengthening the enchantments instead of sitting on the surface.
Sam pressed her palm against a freshly enchanted cloak.
"Mana Imprint should kick in..."
The mana sank deeper into the cloth.
The system chimed again.
{Ding! Mana Imprint has upgraded to Lv2}
"Nice."
The breakthrough came near sunset.
Two shield plates rested on the crafting table. Sam mixed a fresh batch of ink, this time adding a heavier portion of crushed beast core powder. The ink glowed faintly before she even touched the stylus to it.
"Let's do this properly."
Rune lines formed quickly now. Her hands moved with practiced confidence.
Arcane shielding runes.
Mana stabilization.
The linking pattern.
Sam placed her hands over both shields.
Mana surged.
"Arcane Shielding."
Barriers flared into existence.
Then—
"Set Bonus Enchantments."
The two shields pulsed.
The barriers strengthened.
And held.
Sam laughed softly.
"There we go."
The system chimed repeatedly.
{Ding! Arcane Shielding has upgraded to Lv3}
{Ding! Set Bonus Enchantments had upgraded to Lv3}
{Ding! Harmony Weave has upgraded to Lv3}
{Ding! Mana Imprint has upgraded to Lv3}
Sam leaned back in her chair, exhausted but satisfied.
Her interface pulsed once more.
{Ding! Enchanting Class has upgraded to Lv5
New skills available.
Active:
Soul Binding – Binds an item to an individual. If the owner is murdered (directly or through sabotage) the item will have a red aura that will last until the original owner's natural lifespan (Approximately 100 years).
Mana: 20 | Cooldown: 1 min.
Potion Enchantment – Boosts potion effects.
Mana: 25 | Cooldown: 10s.
Passive:
Glyph Familiarity – Boosts high-tier enchantment success.
Mystic Residue – Gear slowly regenerates mana.}
She stared at the notification for a moment. She couldn't wait to try out the new skills, but first things first.
Her eyes drifted toward the unfinished pendant resting on the workbench.
Group teleport.
Major enchantment.
With a flick of her hand she opened her Enchant-opedia and there it was, group teleport was now available. It allowed up to five additional people aside from the pendant holder. Increasing the level increased the number of people.
Sam picked the pendant up, turning the wood slowly between her fingers.
The rune space waiting for her.
A slow smile spread across her face.
"Alright," she murmured.
"Now we try the fun one."
~~~
The Adventurer and Hunter Association headquarters was loud in the way only a building full of armed professionals could manage.
Metal rang softly against stone as people shifted in armor. Papers rustled behind the long counter where clerks worked with the weary efficiency of people who spent their days refereeing arguments between adventurers and their egos. The scent of leather, steel oil, dust, and cheap ale drifted through the wide hall.
Sam stepped inside and paused just long enough to get her bearings.
Same chaos. Same crowd.
A group of hunters were arguing loudly near the quest board about whether a gryphon counted as a "large aerial threat" or an "extremely large aerial threat," which apparently changed the payout.
Sam slipped past them and approached the counter.
The clerk behind it looked up from a ledger, quill still in hand. Ink stained one sleeve of his shirt and the smudge on his cheek suggested he'd forgotten about it hours ago.
"Name?"
"Sam."
His eyes flicked down to the small velvet pouch she placed on the counter, then to a note beside his ledger. His brows lifted slightly in recognition.
"Oh. Right. The beast tamer."
Sam gave a small nod.
The clerk picked up the pouch with careful fingers, turning it over once as if trying to guess what was inside without actually opening it.
"Lab expedition briefing is in Conference Room Three," he said. "Down the hall, second left."
"Thanks."
Sam stepped away from the counter. She had barely taken three steps when the front doors opened behind her. A group of adventurers walked in together.
They moved with the loose confidence of people who'd fought enough battles side by side that they no longer needed to coordinate every step. Armor creaked softly. Boots scuffed against the stone floor. Weapons rested in easy reach.
The clerk at the next desk looked up.
"Lab expedition party?"
One of them nodded.
The man was enormous.
Frosthaven steel armor covered a broad frame that made the doorway look slightly smaller by comparison. The tower shield strapped to his back was shaped like an inverted bell, black steel polished smooth from years of use.
The clerk pointed down the same hallway Sam had just been directed toward.
"Conference Room Three."
The group turned to head that way. Sam slowed slightly. So that was them. She let her eyes move over the group as they passed. The first thing she noticed wasn't the man.
It was the hand.
Bone-white metal fingers flexed softly as if testing the air. Faint runes crawled along the joints, disappearing beneath dark leather gloves that had clearly been modified to accommodate the thing. The rogue attached to the hand was lean and narrow-shouldered, soot and ink stains marking the edges of his gear.
The skeletal fingers tapped lightly against the wall as he walked.
"Relax," the man muttered under his breath. "I'm thinking."
Sam blinked.
She wasn't entirely sure which part of that sentence concerned her more.
Beside him walked a half-elf archer whose copper-red braids glowed faintly at the tips like banked coals. A hawk perched on her shoulder, feathers sleek and golden in the light streaming through the tall windows.
The bird looked bored. Its owner looked like the opposite. She spotted Sam immediately.
"WAIT—"
Half the hallway turned.
"—YOU'RE THE BEAST TAMER FROM THE SHOP!"
The sound bounced off the stone walls like a war horn.
The half-elf froze.
"Sorry," she said quickly.
Not quieter.
The rogue beside her reached over without looking and gently pressed the skeletal hand over her mouth.
"Indoor voice."
The hawk tilted its head, unimpressed.
Behind them walked the man with the shield.
Up close he looked less like an adventurer and more like a piece of moving fortification. His armor was worn but meticulously maintained, pale etchings along the steel softened by years of repair and polishing.
He slowed slightly as he passed Sam, eyes moving over her gear once with the calm focus of someone who judged equipment the way a carpenter judged wood grain.
"Beast tamer," he said simply.
Sam inclined her head.
The last man in the group was… unmistakable.
Dark curls framed a face that looked far too pleased with itself. His clothes were a shade too elegant for a practical adventurer, though the lute slung across his back had clearly seen plenty of travel.
His fingers never stopped moving. Tuning a string. Adjusting a ring. Flicking imaginary dust from his sleeve.
When he noticed Sam watching, his smile widened slightly.
"Ah," he said warmly. "The famous shopkeeper."
He gave a small bow as he walked past.
"Supplier of brave souls and poor decisions alike."
Sam snorted softly.
And then she saw the last member of the group.
Joren Vale.
He walked a step behind the others, relaxed but watchful, the kind of posture that came from years of letting other people rush into trouble first. Twin short swords crossed across his back, their wind-etched engravings catching the light when he shifted.
He held a small metal flask in one hand.
Tea.
He spotted her almost immediately.
"Well," he said with a small smile. "That's convenient."
Sam folded her arms.
"Depends who you ask."
Tali leaned forward instantly, the rogue's hand slipping away as she did.
"YOU KNOW EACH OTHER?"
Reza closed his eyes briefly.
"Please stop helping the acoustics."
Joren gestured between them.
"We met a few months ago."
Sam tilted her head slightly.
"You and your friend were buying supplies."
"The enthusiastic one," Joren said.
"That's a polite way to describe him. You two were my first customers." Sam smiled"
They started down the hallway together toward the conference rooms.
Sam glanced sideways.
"Is he with you?"
Joren hesitated for half a step.
"Not today."
Something in his tone made Sam look at him again.
"Everything alright?"
He lifted the flask for a small sip before answering.
"He lost an argument with a frost predator."
Sam stopped walking.
The others slowed with her.
She studied Joren for a moment.
"That sounds like the kind of argument where someone loses an arm."
Joren gave a faint, tired smile.
"Exactly that kind."
Tali gasped.
"WAIT WHAT—"
Reza's skeletal hand immediately clamped over her mouth again.
"Later."
The bard leaned forward with clear interest.
"Please tell me this story contains heroic sacrifice."
Bronn remained silent beside them, as immovable as the stone walls.
Sam looked at Joren for another moment, then nodded slowly.
"Alright."
She gestured toward the door marked Conference Room Three.
"Let's survive the briefing first."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the twin swords on his back.
"Then you can tell me the rest."
Joren raised the tea flask slightly.
"Deal."
He reached past her and pushed the door open.
"After you, Sam."
The meeting waited on the other side.