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Chapter 11: The Armory Upgrade
POV: Adam
The castle armory smelled of steel and ambition, its stone walls lined with weapons that spoke of wars won and enemies buried. Morning light slanted through narrow windows, illuminating racks of swords and shields that had been forged by craftsmen who understood that quality meant the difference between victory and an unmarked grave.
Real equipment. Finally.
Adam pushed through the heavy oak door, feeling the weight of royal approval like armor around his shoulders. The past week had blurred together in a haze of training and preparation, but this morning promised concrete progress—steel and leather that might keep him alive when the black banners appeared on the horizon.
"So you're the rat killer turned nekker slayer."
The voice emerged from behind a workbench cluttered with half-finished projects and tools that looked like they could reshape reality given sufficient application. Master Armorer Tomas proved to be exactly what Adam had expected—a dwarf whose hands bore the permanent stains of someone who'd spent decades convincing metal to behave, his beard braided with small charms that clinked softly as he worked.
"Queen says you get equipment access," Tomas continued, setting down a hammer that looked heavy enough to cave in skulls. "Heard you took her granddaughter monster hunting and brought her back in one piece."
Word travels fast in places where everyone knows everyone else's business.
"I'd like something that doesn't break when I look at it wrong," Adam said, approaching the workbench with the careful respect of someone who understood that craftsmen held power over quality and availability.
Tomas chuckled, the sound rich with professional amusement. "Show me your coin."
Adam counted out his accumulated wealth—sixty crowns from the nekker hunt, plus his inheritance and various rewards that had slowly built his resources to respectable levels. One hundred forty-seven crowns total, more money than he'd ever possessed in either life.
Enough for real equipment. Maybe even some upgrades.
Tomas led him through the armory like a tour guide in a museum of controlled violence. Each piece of equipment came with explanations that revealed the dwarf's deep understanding of how weapons and armor functioned in the hands of people who needed them to work perfectly when everything else was falling apart.
"Quality steel sword," Tomas said, lifting a blade that caught the morning light like captured lightning. "Eighty crowns. Thirty-five damage base, balanced for speed and cutting power. Five percent bonus to critical strikes."
The sword felt perfect in Adam's hand—balanced, responsive, deadly. But eighty crowns was more than half his available wealth.
Worth it. A good weapon saves your life. A cheap weapon gets you killed.
"Hunting knife," Tomas continued, showing him a blade designed for precision work. "Twenty-five crowns. Twenty damage base, but it's got a bonus for harvest success. Ten percent better chance of extracting useful materials from whatever you kill."
Practical. Monster parts are valuable, and better harvesting means more income.
"Reinforced leather armor. Sixty crowns. Twenty-five points of defense, plus one point of agility bonus. Won't stop everything, but it'll keep you breathing longer than bare skin."
Adam studied the armor, noting the quality of the leather and the strategic placement of metal reinforcement. Good protection without sacrificing mobility—exactly what someone who relied on speed and positioning would need.
But I can't afford everything. Choices.
"Werewolf oil," Tomas added, holding up a small vial that contained liquid darkness. "Forty-five crowns. Apply to weapons before fighting lycanthropes. Doubles damage and prevents regeneration. One-time use per application."
Expensive insurance against something I hope never to fight.
Adam made his decisions with the cold calculation of someone who understood that survival often came down to having the right tool at the right moment. Steel sword and hunting knife—offense and utility combined, leaving him with forty-two crowns for unexpected necessities.
Armor would be nice. But I need to be able to hurt things more than I need to tank damage I can dodge.
"Good choices," Tomas said, wrapping the weapons in oiled cloth. "Steel that'll hold an edge, and a knife that'll serve you well when you're elbow-deep in monster guts. Come back when you've got more coin—I'll have that armor waiting."
The training grounds had become Adam's second home over the past week, its packed earth bearing the scars of countless practice sessions that pushed bodies and abilities to their breaking points. Morning training focused on solo development—airbending practice that grew more ambitious with each session.
Time to see what Level 5 stats can accomplish.
Adam positioned himself at the center of the training ground, feeling the familiar warmth build in his chest as power flowed through channels that grew more responsive each day. The air around him stirred without conscious direction, responding to his presence like an extension of his will.
More power. More control. Push the boundaries.
He reached out with senses that had nothing to do with sight or sound, feeling the air currents that moved through the courtyard like invisible rivers. The technique was becoming natural—expanding his awareness until the atmosphere itself became a source of information about wind patterns, temperature variations, and the movement of objects through three-dimensional space.
Air Sense. Not an official ability, but it's getting stronger.
The practice dummy stood twenty meters away, its wooden frame scarred by weeks of abuse from various weapons and techniques. Adam focused on it with the intensity of someone whose life might depend on accuracy under pressure.
Air Blade. But bigger. More concentrated.
Power flowed through him like liquid lightning, building pressure in his chest until release became inevitable. The cutting wind that emerged was different than before—sharper, more focused, carrying enough force to split the practice dummy cleanly in half.
Better. But still not enough.
Afternoon training with Ciri had evolved into something approaching actual combat preparation. Her sword work was improving daily, refined technique combining with growing experience to create someone who could hold her own against threats that would kill untrained civilians.
She's getting dangerous. Good.
"Ready?" Ciri asked, settling into guard position with her practice sword held in perfect form.
"Always."
They moved together like dancers who'd rehearsed the same routine countless times, steel meeting air magic in combinations that grew more sophisticated with each session. Ciri's charge, boosted by Adam's Air Gust, had become their signature move—a devastating attack that combined royal sword training with physics-defying magical enhancement.
[Linked Combat Bonus: +10% effectiveness confirmed]
[Training XP: 30 points]
[Airbending Usage XP: +15 points]
Getting stronger. Both of us.
But the real breakthrough came during solo practice, when Adam attempted something that had been building in his mind for days. Instead of focusing air into discrete attacks, what if he could manipulate larger volumes? Create something visible, dramatic, undeniably powerful?
All the air in the courtyard. Focus it. Shape it. Make it mine.
The technique began as warmth in his chest, but quickly became something more intense. Power flowed through him with increasing urgency, demanding expression through channels that felt stretched beyond their normal limits. Air began moving in patterns that had nothing to do with natural wind, spiraling inward toward a central point twenty meters from where Adam stood.
More. Push harder.
The vortex that formed was small at first—barely visible distortion that made the air shimmer like heat waves. But it grew larger as Adam fed more power into the technique, spinning faster until dust and loose debris began spiraling upward in defiance of gravity.
It's working. It's actually working.
The practice dummy caught in the vortex's edge disintegrated with spectacular violence, wooden pieces launching in all directions as concentrated wind pressure exceeded the structural limits of anything designed for normal weapon testing.
[AIRBENDING LEVEL UP! Level 1 → Level 2]
[New Abilities Unlocked:]
Air Blade (Improved) - 40 damage base, 15 MP cost
Wind Barrier - 25 MP, blocks projectiles for 10 seconds
[Passive Bonuses Gained:]
+10% movement speed
+5% dodge chance
[MILESTONE ACHIEVEMENT: First Element Level 2]
[Bonus Rewards: +50 XP, Title "Adept Airbender" (+5% air damage)]
Adam staggered as the vortex dissipated, power draining from him like water from a broken bucket. But underneath the exhaustion was satisfaction that went bone-deep—the certainty that he'd crossed a threshold from fumbling amateur to someone who could legitimately claim competence.
Level 2. Real abilities now, not just party tricks.
The difference was immediately apparent. Air responded to his will like an extension of his body, flowing and shaping itself with precision that made his earlier efforts look clumsy by comparison. Wind Barrier manifested as visible distortion that surrounded him in protective force, strong enough to deflect arrows and small projectiles.
Eighteen days until invasion. Getting stronger every day.
But even as satisfaction warmed his chest, Adam knew that Level 2 airbending was still pathetically weak compared to what was coming. Nilfgaardian mages, professional soldiers, siege engines that could level castle walls—the invasion would bring threats that required more than clever air tricks and determination.
Time to learn about the monsters. Time to understand what I'm really fighting.
The castle's evening bells chimed the hour, their bronze voices echoing off stone walls that had stood for centuries and would fall in just over two weeks unless he could find a way to prevent it.
Mousesack. Time to see what a druid can teach about survival in a world where magic and monsters are equally real.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
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