Black on Black

Steven let out a low chuckle, catching Jorn’s eye mid-rattle of materials. “What’s so funny, lad?” the blacksmith asked, his gruff tone tinged with curiosity. Steven grinned, tapping the small pile of Kraken Fang on the counter. “This—barely any left, and that’s my kinda mentality. Expensive, rare, but worth it. Light and tough? Double win for me.” Jorn grunted, a smirk tugging his lip. “Aye, ye’ve got taste—kraken fang’s a beast o’ its own.”

Steven scanned the leathers, his D-rank flair locking in. “Pair it with Abyssal Octopus for the base—black on black, sleek as hell.” Jorn nodded, impressed. “Dark as the deep, tough as ye need—good call, lad.” Steven paused, then added, “Any way to toss in some golden accents?” Jorn rubbed his chin, thinking. “Could get the seamstress to weave gold thread—stitchin’ or a symbol, yer pick. She’s deft with a needle.” Steven’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got a symbol in mind, but I need to swing by the mage guild to grab a copy. How much’ll this run me?”

Jorn squinted, tallying in his head. “Kraken fang’s rare—steep stuff. Base gloves, abyssal leather, fang plates—say, 1 gold, 20 silver. Gold thread bumps it to 1 gold, 50 silver total—two, three days once ye bring the symbol, ‘cause o’ the detail. Worth it for somethin’ unique, eh?” Steven nodded, sold—this’d be armor-grade gloves for his Saiyan Fury. “Deal,” he said, digging into his pouch. “Here’s half now—75 silver—as a down payment, so ye know I’m not skippin’ out.” He slid three stacks of 25 silver across, proving his word. Jorn swept them up, grunting approval. “Fair man—bring that symbol, and I’ll forge ye a brawler’s dream.”

Steven stepped out of The Salty Hammer, his Stormgull Flyer swaying, the night still open for his next move—mage guild-bound for his crest.