Chapter 1: The Last Runesmiths

“This is Vivi’s work?” Jonah asked.

The mithril longsword was fresh from the forge, still glimmering on the inside. A network of complex veins shone through the sword’s surface. Within flowed a current of ether, strengthening the sword far beyond mithril’s ordinary capabilities. Glyph-like runes on the sword’s hilt identified the weapon as a runesword.

Vivi kept her head low, heart thumping. Jonah had never taken Vivi’s work seriously. He praised her every time he visited, but that was because he saw her efforts as adorable. Vivi’s swords themselves had never been enough to spark real curiosity within her superiors. This time, however, something was different. Jonah’s carefree mood turned serious as he examined Vivi’s sword.

Jonah lowered the sword. He grinned. “You crazy imps. Since when could little Viv fit three runes into one sword?”

A rush of satisfaction flowed through Vivi. She let her smile out, forgetting the months of exhaustion and failed projects leading up to the success. Her runeswords were finally respectable products, not merely practice pieces to sink money into.

Three runes. She’d really done it. Historically, three-runed swords had defended humanity from the worst of ether storms. Legendary fighters had fought catastrophic monsters with nothing but swordsmanship and ether-fueled runeswords. Up until a hundred years ago, runeswords had been the ether hunters’ weapon of choice.

These days, a three-runed sword was barely worth anything at all. Runeswords were considered out-dated novelties, made obsolete by Ythar’s spirit blades—weapons that the hunters believed were more potent at killing monsters. Vivi’s new sword probably wouldn’t see any use at all. Still, Vivi felt good to finally succeed. The last time she hit a milestone of two runes was four years ago.

How long had she been runesmithing for now? Fifteen years?

Grandpa Thom laughed on the opposite end of the small smithy. He sat on an anvil next to the furnace. Smoldering coals crackled within. Beside him was a bucket receiving water droplets from a leaky ceiling. “She still has a long way to go,” Grandpa said with a deep voice beneath his beard. “Three runes is nothing these days. I managed five last year. I’m close to fitting six.”

Jonah rolled his eyes. “You’re on another level, Thom. We know that. The ancient dwarves themselves struggled to fit more than three runes. Vivi is on par with legends. I’d say that deserves a celebration.”

“Vivi’s swords are far better than the dwarves’ outside-carved crap,” Grandpa said. “At this pace, she’ll surpass your skills. How’s your smithy doing anyway?”

Jonah’s grin faded. He sat down on Grandpa’s creaky old couch and poured himself a cup of tea. Jonah appeared much more sophisticated than usual. He had arrived in Fellwater by a personal horse carriage, wearing a white woolen sweater and a fine leather coat. He didn’t appear rich by any means, but today’s runesmiths couldn’t afford horses or new clothes. Vivi and Grandpa could barely afford to leave their smithy at all, lest they risk going bankrupt. Jonah had earned ether somehow.

“Who is your buyer?” Grandpa asked. “I knew there was still money in the craft. Runesmithing is far from dead. If your lazy swords can sell well, so can mine.”

Jonah looked away awkwardly. “No, Thom. My swords aren’t selling at all. You’re stealing all of the business.”

“Bah,” Grandpa said. “I sell a sword a month for a few hundred ether. Does this shack look like the home of someone who earns a lot of money?”

“I don’t know how to put this, Thom,” Jonah said. “You’re the best runesmith still active on the surface. But you’re also the only runesmith still forging swords for a living. Ellandor is the last customer actively buying swords today, and he won’t work with anyone but you.”

“Nonsense,” Grandpa said. “I know you’re just as passionate about runesmithing. How are you riding around with horses and servants if I’m the one stealing business?”

Jonah sat still, clutching onto his teacup. “I quit runesmithing. I’m a merchant these days. Those aren’t servants; they’re my coworkers. We’re selling salts and spices.”

Grandpa blinked. Then he frowned, as if he’d been betrayed. Vivi paused as well. Jonah was one of the best runesmiths she knew next to Grandpa himself. Jonah used to visit often. He had been there from the start, pioneering the newly invented inside-carving technique.

“I’m still carving runes as a hobby,” Jonah said. “But the craft is no longer profitable. I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I have a daughter to support. Runesmithing doesn’t bring in the money. It just doesn’t. We joined the craft too late. Runesmithing died long ago.”

“I see,” Grandpa said far more calmly than what Vivi would have expected from his usual temper. “After we’ve worked so hard? All there is to do is prove the potential of our swords to one rich idiot, and we’re set for life. You’re still running away?”

“I’m rooting for you,” Jonah said. “But I can’t take the risk. Neither of us can live through another year of poverty.”

Jonah glanced at Vivi, and she knew exactly what was on his mind. Vivi and Grandpa needed money too. How exactly did Grandpa expect to earn a hundred thousand ether to pay Vivi out of debt? Her eighteenth birthday was looming ever so closer, while their smithy earned less and less by the year.

Grandpa took a deep breath. He glanced down, and shadows formed over his eyes. Vivi and Jonah stood in uncomfortable silence.

Suddenly, Grandpa slammed his fist at the wall behind him. The shack shook.

“You’re kidding, right?” Grandpa said. “There is no way Runesmithing has become such a joke. The ancient dwarves earned millions of ether selling their garbage swords, and humanity fought the surges with those damn things. My swords are five times more efficient; there is no way today’s hunters couldn’t use them.”

“The spirit blades can apparently—” Jonah was about to say.

“Screw the spirit blades!” Grandpa shouted. He stood up and took a step toward Jonah. “I’ve got a hundred thousand ether to make here. I’ll challenge one of those hunters to a duel if that’s what it takes. Maybe then the rich assholes will see the true potential of—”

“Grandpa!” Vivi called. She stood between her two idiotic role-models.

Grandpa bit his lip and sat back down, though he didn’t look any happier.

“I haven’t slept all day,” Vivi said. “Can I rest without thinking about dying for a minute? If you two want to argue about my curse, go ahead, but say it straight. I’m not so young and fragile that reminding me of my fate will suddenly turn me into a crying puddle.”

Both adults went silent. Jonah sipped his drink awkwardly, while Grandpa scowled at the ground. Grandpa wanted to earn ether more than anyone, to pay Vivi out of the debt she’d been born in.

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Ether was the currency of life itself, present in all living things from plants and insects to humans. Every human, from ordinary farmers to the legendary fighters of the underground, carried wisps of ether within their souls. For any magical beings, ether was the fuel that powered abilities. Runeswords, too, used ether to offer their wielders superhuman capabilities.

Non-magical beings, such as the boring humans present in the smithy now, used wisps of ether merely as a currency of money. A single wisp could purchase food for a small family for a day or two. The number of ether written in one’s soul was directly proportional to the worth they provided within their societies.

To fall anywhere near zero was considered a death sentence. An adolescent soul was allowed into debt to allow for growth, but once a human grew above eighteen years old and their soul developed into a full ether core, a negative number would starve the soul. A full core required ether much like a stomach required food.

Vivi’s soul hadn’t been in the positives a single time in her life. She was born as a cursed child, indebted well into the thousands.

“What day is it today?” Vivi asked. “The hunters are holding the examinations on the fifteenth, right?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Grandpa said. “The hunters are free to shove their spirits up their asses.”

Vivi gave him a look.

Jonah sighed. “Today’s the sixteenth. Townsfolk wore suits today. A lot of people were gathering in the chapel.”

“The hunters are late, then,” Grandpa said. “Fellwater never wears suits. Except when they have a chance to earn spirits.”

Vivi’s heart thumped. She quickly took off her smithing apron and put on her gray raincoat. “I might still have time.”

“You want to watch the event?” Grandpa asked. He sounded confused.

Of course not, Vivi thought. Examination day was one of the most miserable events to exist. The day was like a festival turned into a competition of whose kid could dress and act the most extravagantly. The richest teen had a small chance of earning a spirit, while the poor kids were buried with insults and shame.

Still, Vivi had something she wished to do. She grabbed a scabbard from Grandpa’s shelf. The scabbard wasn’t a perfect fit for her newly crafted sword, but it held the sword well enough. She put on her boots and opened the door, then said, “Something like that.”

Chill misty air waited outside. Vivi closed the door behind her and faced Fellwater’s endless dark clouds. The worn-down smithy stood atop a small hill half a mile from town. The view down was free of trees and obstacles, though obscured by fog. Lights from windows shone below. The brightest was Ythar’s church, with its reflective spire rising all the way to Vivi’s eye-level.

Vivi tightened the raincoat’s hood around her head and began the trot. The paths were muddy and covered with puddles, as always. The clouds weren’t currently pouring rain, but drizzles were so common on the surface that townsfolk wore raincoats as their everyday attire. The surface didn’t suffer from deadly ether storms and monsters like the lower levels of the underground, but surface dwellers loved to complain about the rain regardless.

Jonah’s carriage was parked at the bottom of the hill. A two-legged rain canopy had been hung up, one end connected to the carriage and the other on the ground. Inside, a man in a distinguished coat took a puff of a pipe. He frowned in Vivi’s direction as she passed.

Her eyes wandered down toward the muddy path. Outside the smithy, Vivi was no longer a hard-working runesmith who spent months upon months holed up to achieve results. Down here, Vivi was a cursed child. Fellwater’s biggest embarrassment. An orphan of a crazed runesmith who lived secluded on his little hill.

“Oh shit, look who that is,” a voice called. “Vivian goddamned Runeblessed?”

Vivi flinched. She lifted her head to see Bero and Jude. The twins looked even more self-serving than usual, wearing their ironed green suits. Jude carried a wide umbrella that spanned almost the entire path. Of course, they stood far to the side, where Vivi couldn’t use their shade. To share one’s umbrella with another was considered a gesture of respect and kindness. Fellwater’s teens had decided Vivi was allergic to receiving those.

“Yo, Viv,” Jude said. “How’s the smithy running?”

“Not fucking well, that’s for sure,” Bero said. He peered at her, as if pretending to look into her soul. “Yep, still a hundred thousand in debt. Or has she perhaps become rich? Is that why she’s walking toward the examinations?”

Jude let out a smirk. His left eye was hidden beneath freshly cleaned hair as he stared ahead. Jude had always been someone who left Vivi alone. He studied to become an ether scientist. A profession that runesmiths had always respected a lot. Jude had an insane amount of studies on his shoulders, and he was taking his future seriously. Vivi figured he didn’t have time to bully her along with everyone else.

But he still laughed whenever someone made a joke at Vivi’s expense.

“What about you two, then?” Vivi asked. “Are you planning to get chosen? Do you dress well because you seriously believe you’re going to earn a spirit this year?”

Bero grimaced. “Perhaps we will. Maybe we will not. What does it matter to you?”

“I’ll be rooting for you,” Vivi said. If you’re chosen, the hunters will take you to the underground. You’ll never come back.

“Sure you are,” Bero said. “You better be.”

“I doubt she meant it for real,” Jude said.

“I very much meant it,” Vivi said. “It’s a respectable dream, dying to some disgusting monster in the name of defending humanity.”

“Ah, really?” Bero asked with a frown. He lifted his sleeve, as if intending to grab Vivi.

Jude held a hand in front of him. “Stop. Remember what we’re wearing.”

Bero clicked his tongue, but kept his frown on Vivi. If he were to run after Vivi, mud would splash all over his suit. He and Jude had to walk slowly to only get their feet dirty. Boots were designed to be cleaned of mud. Suits and fabric less so.

Luckily, Vivi’s raincoat was immune to mud damage. She sped up the pace, deciding she’d talked enough with the two.

Nervousness remained in her head. In a world where monsters attacked humanity from underground, ether storms pillaging cities, every human needed to make themselves useful one way or another. The most honorable profession was, of course, to fight monsters directly; guardsmen were always needed, and the ether hunters were worshiped.

If one couldn’t fight, they were expected to earn ether and assist humanity through their professions. Vivi and Grandpa were runesmiths. This was how Vivi made herself useful—by spending night after night at the smithy, carving runes, forging metal to craft the most powerful weapon she possibly could.

But what use were runesmiths when the fighters believed her weapons to be jokes?

The muddy path turned to stone as Vivi entered the town centre. Fellwater’s infrastructure was far richer than Grandpa’s old smithy. Houses had sturdy brick foundations and tiled roofs; at the very least steel plates to protect the insides from rain. Canopies and patios were spread all across for rain cover. Some streets were protected with a roof all-throughout. Fellwater almost had more patios than houses.

The town’s name came directly from God Emperor Ythar. Fellwater was one of his many blessed towns; so long as the name was kept, Fellwater would retain a decent level of wealth no matter how lazy the citizens became.

The blessing also ensured frequent visitors from the examiners and ether hunters. Every few years, Ythar’s cities and towns were scouted for potential candidates. Chosen candidates would earn one of Ythar’s spirits, and thus a spirit blade. The chosen one would then descend down to the lower levels of the underground, where they defended humanity from deadly monsters for a living. The underground was where ether was earned directly from the source, by defeating endless hordes of ethereal monsters.

Most of everyone dreamed of being chosen by the hunters. Boys in Fellwater practiced the sword alongside their real careers in hopes of one day being chosen by the legends. Girls read and memorized spell books as a common hobby.

Of course, the hunters were rich. Certainly rich enough to buy Vivi out of debt.

Ythar’s church loomed ahead. Boys in fresh suits and girls in dresses were wiping their boots free of mud on the terrace. The younger children wore nervous expressions. Those near Vivi’s age walked in with smiles, treating the event more as an opportunity to show off their best outfits. After being declined the first few times, most teens accepted that being chosen wasn’t as simple as dreaming really hard.

Vivi took a deep breath outside the terrace. She wasn’t dressed well like the others; the raincoat was the best outfit she owned. Her hands smelled of metal, and she hadn’t bathed in days. Her ether reserves read well into the negatives. A cursed child such as her had absolutely zero chance of being chosen.

She wasn’t intending to be chosen. Vivi had other qualities to make herself valuable to the richest hunters in all of the underground.

She clutched the handle of her runesword hidden beneath her raincoat, then stepped onto the terrace, fully intending to clear her debt once and for all.