[Obtained: [Blacksmithing Plans: The Stoppable Force]
Haldryn's heart leapt for a second—he thought it was the famous Unstoppable Force. Then he read the actual name and felt his soul leave his body.
[The Stoppable Force
Type: Warhammer
Standard item level: 0
Primary materials: Anything
Blacksmithing technique: Shape the material into a hammer
Description: A hammer
Additional notes: None]
That was the entire plan. Haldryn stared at it and felt ten thousand alpacas stampede through his heart.
In World of Warcraft the original Stoppable Force was useless, but at least it sold to vendors for a few coins and some collectors liked the joke items. This one looked completely worthless.
One Gift of Fate cost roughly a large gold coin—thousands in real money back on Earth—and he had pulled this.
Haldryn forced himself to calm down and bought another Gift of Fate.
[Obtained: [Thank You for Your Patronage]
"..."
He took a deep breath and bought again.
[Obtained: [0.48 Piety]
Keep going. He refused to believe he couldn't pull something good.
[Obtained: [1.57 Piety]
1.57 wasn't bad—at least a small profit. His mood improved a little. He kept buying.
[Thank You for Your Patronage]… [0.95 Piety]…
After several more pulls his Piety was shrinking fast and he still had nothing useful. His chest ached.
Damn it, you're supposed to be a holy artifact!
Could you stop being so materialistic?
He took one last deep breath and decided this would be the final pull.
[Obtained: [Holy Strike (Fragment)]
A spell fragment!
Haldryn's eyes lit up. He flipped the page immediately.
[Holy Strike (Fragment): Summon the power of the Holy Light to strengthen your attacks. If the target is burdened by sin, the strike grows stronger the deeper the sin. Requires Call of the Holy Light to cast. Upon use, this fragment is consumed… Master the basic spells and collect one hundred fragments to learn the full ability.]
Not bad. It roughly corresponded to a Retribution paladin's Crusader Strike. Unfortunately he had no weapon, no combat training, and no enemies to test it on.
Better focus on getting stronger first, he thought with a sigh.
His body was still thin and underage. At this pathetic level he might manage to bully ordinary humans on Midgard—provided they weren't particularly skilled.
A true disgrace to Asgard.
He stopped gambling for now and remembered the other items from the Guardian's Gift. He turned the pages.
[Alchemy Recipe: Flask of Talent]
Flask of Talent
Type: Flask
Standard item level: 7
Primary materials: Silverleaf, Briarthorn, Purple Lotus, Goldthorn, Lightning Core, Sands of Time, Arcanite (trace), Blood of the Mountain, Dragonling Blood.
Description: The Flask of Talent can significantly and positively reshape all of the drinker's talents—physique, strength, intellect, and more. Effect strength depends on alchemy completion grade and contains a degree of randomness. Chance to gain special talents.
Additional notes: The reshaping process duration depends on the drinker's race. Can be taken only once in a lifetime; further doses have no effect… From the moment the flask is completed until consumption, no more than seven days may pass…
Alchemy technique: … After brewing, the potion must be enchanted with [Enchantment: Awaken]. Without it there is a 50% chance the drinker will fall into permanent sleep and never wake.
Positive talent reshaping!
Haldryn's heart skipped.
If he drank this, could he obtain talent on the level of Thor himself? Intelligence excluded, of course.
The difficulty, however, looked extreme. Verigan's Fist—the classic starter hammer for paladins—was only ranked level 4. This flask was level 7. And because of the Awaken enchantment restriction, mass production was impossible unless he obtained more of the same enchantment from the Tome.
Even ignoring the enchantment, the materials alone were ridiculous: nine ingredients including Arcanite, Blood of the Mountain, and dragon blood.
Blood of the Mountain in particular carried heavy trauma. In WoW it was a key material for Sulfuron Hammers, scarce and expensive. He had run Molten Core more times than he could count just to gather ten of them and craft the legendary precursor to Sulfuras, Hand of Ragnaros.
Whether Asgard had viable substitutes for Blood of the Mountain was anyone's guess.
Dragonling blood would be no easier. He remembered the fire dragons from Thor: Ragnarok—their combat power far exceeded ordinary Asgardians.
Best not to think about it yet.
Compared to those, [Paladin Combat Arts – Novice] and [Call of the Holy Light] were immediately useful. He could learn them right now.
Call of the Holy Light was straightforward: it taught a paladin how to use the Tome as a medium to call upon the Holy Light. Without it, none of the spells would function.
The combat arts were split into two sections—unarmed techniques (fists and feet) and hammer techniques. A warhammer was the classic paladin weapon, though other weapons appeared occasionally.
The system was excellent—clear, progressive, illustrated, and nearly perfect as a complete fighting style. True to the paladin tradition of looking dramatic while being practical, every movement was both effective and stylish. From the diagrams alone it was obvious this was several levels above ordinary martial arts.
Haldryn started practicing in the room, throwing punches and kicks.
After a while he rested, found a mirror, and examined his reflection.
Asgardians were generally good-looking. His current face was genuinely handsome—thick, shining golden hair, deep features, sharp brows and bright eyes. In his previous life he would have been considered a first-tier pretty boy.
At least his appearance finally matched the soul inside.
…
The next afternoon.
"Haldryn!"
He was studying Call of the Holy Light when a shout came from outside the window.
A slightly chubby black-haired youth stood below, waving and smiling. "Heard you were awake. Came to check on you."
"Uh…"
Haldryn had inherited only fragments of the original owner's memories. He didn't recognize the boy.
Or rather, he had a vague impression but couldn't remember the name.
"What's wrong? Come down." The youth waved again.
"Oh, right." Haldryn turned to head downstairs.
"Where are you going?" the youth called quickly.
"Downstairs."
The boy's expression turned strange. He stayed silent for a long moment, apparently unsure what to say.
Then Haldryn remembered: the original body always jumped straight out the window. Stairs were almost never used. Asgardian physiques made a drop of several meters routine, especially for someone who loved climbing.
The current Haldryn was different. Jumping from a three-story building made him hesitate.
After a moment he gritted his teeth and leapt.
The Asgardian body didn't disappoint. His landing was awkward and he nearly face-planted, but there was no real pain.
"What's with you? Were you actually going to use the stairs?" The black-haired youth clapped him on the shoulder, teasing. "Don't tell me the fall scared you."
They were clearly close, yet Haldryn still couldn't recall the name. The embarrassment was acute.
"Sorry… what's your name?"
The youth's eyes widened. "You don't remember me?"
"I remember your face. Just forgot the name. Maybe a side effect of waking up. I've lost some memories."
The boy looked half-convinced. After a pause he said, "Sk—remember yet?"
"Sk what?"
"Skur—" Faced with a friend who couldn't recall his name, the youth clearly felt awkward about introducing himself like a stranger.
Skr? A random melody floated through Haldryn's mind.
"Skur what?"
"Skurge!"
^^^
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