Rise of the Living Forge-Chapter 403: The Last

Arwin’s eyes widened.

“You mean that you—”

“No,” Necrohammer said. “I was born within the Kingdom of Lian. It was a great deal of time ago, but in the kingdom still.”

“Someone you know, then?”

That could explain some things.

Necrohammer had met someone else that had gotten summoned. Questions swirled through Arwin’s head faster than he could try to think of ways to voice them. If he wasn’t the only one that had gotten called here, then there had to be a reason for it. A reason that even the Mesh had hinted at during their very brief conversation.

If he could—

“Almost none that I know, but many that I know of.”

Arwin blinked. “What?”

“It wasn’t one or two people,” Necrohammer said. “It was an entire race… and perhaps even more than that.”

And just like that, Arwin’s confusion returned. It had been so long since Arwin had been brought to this world that he’d nearly given up hope entirely on getting any information about what had called him here.

It would have been wrong to say he wanted to return to Earth. That was nothing but the distant past, now. The Kingdom of Lian was his home, now. But that didn’t mean he could just up and ignore the information that Necrohammer had just revealed to him.

But this wasn’t what Arwin had been expecting. He’d thought there might have been others who were summoned, sure, but an entire race? Even more than that? The thought had never even crossed his mind.

But Necrohammer doesn’t sound like he’s theorizing. He’s got information that I don’t. But how would a whole race get summoned and not a single one of them say anything about it? There are some secrets that are way too large to keep.

“What are you saying? Who? You know something about the summonings the Adventurer’s Guild has done — and why they did it?”

“I know that there have been a great number summoned, and many of them do not even realize it.”

Even more confusion seeped into Arwin’s thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“The dwarves,” Necrohammer said with a shrug. “In fact, the ones that were not summoned are a more recent exception.”

Arwin stared at the dwarf. “Are… you implying that dwarves were all summoned to this world? All of them?”

“Many of them,” the other smith corrected. “And a great deal of time ago. Most of the dwarves that live today are born naturally within this world. But the dwarves keep very good care of their dead… and the dead keep very good records.”

“Necromancer,” Arwin realized, his eyes widening. “You’re telling me that the entire dwarven race got sent to this world a long time ago, and you managed to figure out by reanimating their corpses?”

“Roughly accurate,” Necrohammer said with a nod. “I was an ambitious youth. It lit a fire within me. I was determined to find out why we had been summoned, and so I climbed the ranks of the dwarves until I stood amongst the council itself.”

Wait. Holy shit.

“You’re part of the Dwarven Council?” Arwin asked.

“Not anymore.” Necrohammer let out a distant chuckle that bore years of memory upon it. “I am no longer young. The dwarves in the council are aware of our past. They simply do not care. They turn a blind eye to this world as it dies. The only thing they care about is power and keeping things as they are. I did not take well to that. Thus, I arranged for my death. It was simple enough to prepare equipment that would re-animate my own corpse. It has kept me going for quite some time. Long enough to roam the kingdom in search of knowledge — and long enough to meet Elias and Maeve. To discover truths that this kingdom has done everything it could to hide.”

Arwin could barely even manage to organize the questions in his head at this point. The magnitude of the information Necrohammer was dumping on him was enormous, and he could barely even tell which parts of it he wanted to start at.

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“You’re dead, then,” Arwin managed.

Necrohammer chuckled again. “My body and soul are not attached in the same way yours are. My heart does not beat and my lungs do not fill — but I have long since realized that dying is not so simple as drawing your last breath. But yes. By the terms you would use, I am dead.”

“Then… no. It doesn’t matter right now. You said we’re short on time. What are you doing all this for? Why are you at this tournament? Why make those power-stealing daggers and why seek me out? There has to be a reason.”

“Don’t rush me. I’m not used to speaking like this. It is… surprisingly difficult. You will understand if you get to my age. And of course there’s a reason I made the daggers and sought you out.” Necrohammer said. He stared at Arwin as if he’d been asked the dumbest question in the world. “I was finishing my creation. Would you leave one of your works incomplete?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You will,” Necrohammer said. The dwarf chuckled and shook his head. “I’m getting distracted again. For the time, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is you. You are not the first hero to be summoned to this world. I suspect you have already gathered as much… and I would imagine that the former Demon Queen has been similarly enlightened.”

Arwin nearly choked on his own saliva.

Shit. I need to focus. How much does Necrohammer know? It feels like he’s somehow read about my entire life.

“I’d guessed that I wasn’t the first one to be in the cycle,” Arwin said, his efforts to choose his words carefully starting to feel entirely wasted. “You know more? Tell me. Please.”

Necrohammer sucked on his teeth. “You know so little and I know enough to know that I, too, know little. The Guild is not what the world thinks they are.”

Arwin’s eye nearly twitched.

“I know that. They’re orchestrating the war. Can you even imagine how many people have died because of them? They need to be stopped. You clearly came to that conclusion as well. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To make sure they can’t do anything like what they did to me and Lillia ever again,” Arwin said, finally finding his verbal footing. Then a frown crossed his features. Something about Necrohammer’s timeline wasn’t adding up. Unless the Guild had kept Hein’s dagger for a very long time, it had been made recently. “Wait. Did you know they were summoning people before you made that dagger for them?”

Necrohammer’s features tightened. He blew out a heavy sigh and inclined his head.

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“Yes.”

A spike of anger drove through Arwin’s chest.

“Why? Why would you work for them? Knowing what they do? This whole war—”

“Is anything ever so simple?” Necrohammer raised a hand to forestall Arwin. “This is not when we will address my many failures. You don’t have the time.”

“I don’t? What do you—”

“Enough!” Necrohammer thundered. His word fell on the room like the decree of a king. “You are only steps onto your path, smith. Early enough to know that you know nothing. What do you think the first years of a normal Dwarven Smith’s life is?”

Arwin paused at the unexpected question. “Uh… training?”

“Training,” Necrohammer said with a nod. “With normal smithing tools. The ones used by smiths unaided by magic. And that training continues until they are masters of those tools, better than any normal human could ever hope to be. How many of those tools do you think Dwarven Smiths use they grow into their own abilities?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Arwin admitted. “But does this matter? You keep saying we’re short on—”

“None,” Necrohammer said. “Almost every single Dwarven Smith will never use a typical tool after they deepen their understanding of their path. And yet, all of them keep their old tools with them for one reason alone. Would you like to hazard a guess as to why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“They are a reminder. A reminder of how little we know. Whenever you believe you have reached the peak of the mountain, you will realize that you are only at the base of another. Never forget that. You do not know anything about this world. It screams in pain beneath our feet and you cannot even hear it.” Necrohammer paused to take a deep breath. He let it out in a sharp huff and shook his head. “But I am not your teacher. You will learn. What matters is that you do not repeat too many of my mistakes. Continue on your path, but do not block out the truth to protect the truth you have built within your mind.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Anger burned deep in Arwin’s chest, but he kept it restrained. It was clear Necrohammer was trying to make a point. “Are you saying the Guild isn’t evil?”

“No. They are most certainly vile. I have spent enough time among their number to know that. Enough to see a number of heroes summoned. Enough to see a number of heroes fall… and enough to grow weary of it.”

Arwin stared at Necrohammer for a long second. Then he swallowed as realization settled in. “To see them summoned? You mean…”

“I was not there when you were brought to this world,” Necrohammer said, taking a step toward Arwin until they stood only a foot away from each other. “But this is not the first time our paths have crossed. It is the second.”

“When was the first?” Arwin asked. His mouth suddenly felt dry — and the gemstone that Necrohammer had given him felt heavier in his hand.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen a magical gemstone.

“I think you already know the answer to that, but I will answer your question to dispel any remaining doubts. This, at least, I can do for you,” Necrohammer said. The corner of his scarred mouth pulled up into a smile and he pressed a finger into Arwin’s chest. “We first crossed paths rather recently. You may even remember it.”

“Just say it already!” Arwin snapped.

Yelling at an old, dead man is probably rude, but I don’t give a shit anymore.

Necrohammer reached into his pocket and pulled something free in a clenched fist. He turned his hand over and his fingers opened one by one to reveal a pitch black gemstone sitting in the very center of his palm.

“I had hoped you might remember.” Necrohammer’s smile pulled wider. “The last time we crossed paths was the day I placed a certain black gemstone in your armor.”