Grand Saint Alloy

Tristan groaned. It was a happy groan, but also a hurt groan. The healing from the combination of growth and architect essence did in fact increase the effectiveness of his workout. Unfortunately, it also made him hungry faster. That hunger made him pause his experimentation and spit out a good forty architect alloy screws. Four silver parces were enough to buy the food he needed.

He might not have any memories of a childhood with Harp, but he was glad she was around. Every hour or so she would collect his products and exchange them. Tristan wondered if he was about to impact the economic viability of screws in the River Caldera. Maybe not, was tended to be expensive after all.

That evening Conni and the miners came back, surprised to find food in addition to all their children. It was also at that time that Tristan realized how spoiled the miners were. They had gotten used to eating Grace’s home cooked meals, and try as she might, Harp was not her equal.

”Can all tier three people monetize their abilities like this?” Conni asked.

Tristan could only shrug. He assumed there was a way, the ability to make something from essentially nothing had to be in demand. Well it was, the ability was reserved for war, whether against beasts or humans. A more stable environment would allow for invention to move away from violence. Tristan could see several uses for air pressure that he would not have thought of without the cannons.

A thought struck Tristan, “Conni you said you were part of the Agni Raja right? That was some kind of warrior cult right?”

Vulcan started laughing, “Grandma Conni is yelling at me for not raising you right.”

“A sect and a cult are different,” Conni explained, “A sect is built around a productive environment and a system of beliefs. We in the Agni Raja venerate our ancestors while gathering at the temple mountain.”

Vulcan explained, “They worshiped their dead ancestors like gods and had their religious services around the soul tool of their strongest ancestor. Most likely it is a scepter or crown as the name Agni Raja simply translates to Flame Kings.”

Oh, well that was weird. It was just as weird as the Caldera having temples dedicated to dead gods. At least Conni’s cult could still go talk to their founder, assuming the soul tool could speak.

Conni paused, looking like he was listening to someone. His eye twitched a little and he took a deep breath to push down his irritation, “Let’s step past labels, what do you need to know about my sect.”

“Can you teach me the martial arts you use?” Tristan asked, “They seem more efficient than the ones that Luke taught me.”

Luke had the tendency to just blitz his opponents with fast attacks. Normally one would associate fast with weak, as most of the time one would sacrifice form for speed. Not so with Luke, he would hit fast, and also discharge a ludicrous amount of lightning at impact.

He had taught Tristan this method of fighting and it worked for him. While Luke had speed, Tristan had mass and density, which meant they would hit just as hard at the same tier. Unfortunately, that was where the usefulness ended. Luke could easily evade a strike that Tristan had no hope of avoiding. Sure Tristan could take a heavier beating, but that was only a valid method when dealing with opponents of equal tier.

Conni on the other hand was taught a system of martial arts that incorporated a soul tool. It was based more on finesse, as his anima would not allow for extended bouts, he had to compensate for the lack of resources. If there was one thing Tristan was good at, it was dragging a fight out until he managed to pull out a win. Learning a martial arts designed to assist in that exact situation sounded perfect.

Conni thought about it for a few moments, “No, I can not teach you. I can show you some of the forms, but I do not have time to truly instruct you.”

“Why not,” Tristan asked, surprised. He had not expected the instruction to be free, but it was not as if money was an issue at the moment.

“Tristan, I can almost pardon your ignorance, due to your injury,” Conni said, “But not completely, as your ignorance stems from a place of selfishness.” That was offensive, and Tristan opened his mouth to say so, Conni held up a hand. “Let me finish. You released what is effectively a tier nine elemental that can control any metal except for tower steel. It grows its power every time someone dies with deep enough regrets, which a conflict with your family's remnant causes. The temple is split, half calling it the coming of the gods’ champion, half calling all people to a holy crusade. Food is limited, as the majority of the crops were left mostly unharvested and the only thing keeping us from starving is the fact that mythical beasts wiped out over a quarter of the Caldera’s population this summer. A draft has been called, forcing all able bodied men into service and all able bodied women above tier zero. There are very good reasons why no one has time for you.”

Tristan could only stare wide eyed at Conni, “Why haven’t I been drafted then?”

He was tier three and more importantly he would be able to regain his muscle mass in less than a month. His stamina would take far longer, but even with low stamina, he had a tier fifteen weapon, and he was sure he could face down anyone below tier four.

“Able bodied, you can barely walk,” Conni said, “They don’t want to just feed the elementals more recruits.”

The excitement Tristan had to learn a martial art waned. He felt bad about not paying attention and his first response was to throw the excuse of why should he care about an uncaring caldera at it. Only, that was no longer applicable. The man before him cared, each one of the missing sleeping roles was filled with miners who cared, and he had friends who cared in both the highest and lowest strata of the calderas classes.

He could not with good faith say that the caldera was uncaring when Eve, the heir to the position of Elder River challenged the temple to help him. It was just his father and uncle, like any child his parents were his world. Uncaring parents meant an uncaring world. However, Tristan was not a child anymore, the punishment of being sent to the mine was actually his greatest blessing.

“What can I do to help then,” Tristan was not sure how to change. The caldera as a whole still opposed silver devils, but he did not need to worry about what a bunch of strangers thought.

Conni gave Tristan a small smile, “Making screws is a good starting point, they are necessary for many of the war machines the warriors are building. I can also have Eve or Bruce send an engineer with the parts that are in the most demand. Until then get better, and if you can, go help Luke with the Stone Caldera.”

Conni patted Tristan on the shoulder before heading into the kitchen to talk with Harp. For some reason he felt pride at that motion, it was not something he had expected. He started copying the screw as fast as he could.

This was the beginning of a cycle, Tristan would empty the metal essence out of his kern using the architect alloy. The last screw was always done freeform, as he wanted to see if he could increase his control. It was never worth using, but it slowly became more recognizable as a screw. This was followed by a workout, with the only goal being to stress as many muscles as possible.

He would eat, and then use the accumulated essence to create a healing pulse. Micro tears did not take much essence to repair, it was simply exhausting and stimulated his hunger. This would be followed by a rest period where he would focus on siphoning as much essence out of the primordial realm.

Vulcan taught him ways to speed this up, surprisingly praying, chanting, and singing sped it up. Tristan was not sure why it worked that way, but Vulcan advocated for chanting as it did not require anything but willpower to accomplish. Before their deaths praying to the three gods would have resulted in faster recuperation for anyone with a flame, water, or wind kern. He was not sure why that was, but he was sure it was something he would discover at a higher tier.

This cycle only stopped after a few days when a stranger showed up. He was the engineer and he brought two objects, a spool of wire and gear.

“Will you be able to forge these?” The man asked, looking skeptically at the house. It clearly lacked a smithy. Tristan also still looked gaunt, so it was not surprising.

Tristan nodded, “How will I be paid for these?”

The engineer shrugged, “Money is losing value fast, so I assume you will be paid in food. Maybe at a ratio of three gears a meal or so. The wire is probably worth more. If you’re fast enough you can probably work out a deal for low tier artifacts or other valuables.”

“Food should be good for now,” Tristan said, “I won’t be able to make both screws and these, which is more necessary.”

“Some lady has been filling buckets with screws and delivering them almost daily, we should be good for a while,” The engineer said.

Tristan had to resist looking back at Harp, “Thank you, come back tomorrow and I will have some finished products for you.”

The man nodded and jogged off to his next task. Tristan continued his routine, swapping out screws for gears. He just had to hope the healer had access to something that would help with atrophy, and that gears would make him valuable enough to access it.