Chapter 72: Acting


    Master Arenev! A young, upbeat voice cut through the early morning chaos of the main street as dungeoneers bustled about their supply runs in preparation for a new delve.


    A man with rugged brown hair responded to the call, casually ncing over his shoulder with some intrigue.


    Dorn, Tom acknowledged after a pause, his expression easing back into a mask of nonchnce as he continued walking forward, albeit at a slower pace.


    Although Tom had expected Arenevs acquaintances to reach out to him while he maintained this guise, it was still a little disconcerting to be called upon in public like that.


    Doing his best to maintain a carefree expression, Tom kept his gaze pointed forward as the sandy-brown haired man he ced in Arenevs memories as a young, boisterous dungeoneer that was talented enough to survive multiple delves quickened his pace to catch up with him.


    Ironically, Dorns budding talent was matched only by his recklessness and it was also the reason why he frequently required Arenevs services.


    Im surprised to see you around this early, Dorn cheerfully greeted, an energetic smile resting on his features as he walked in lockstep with him.


    I have some personal affairs to deal with, Tom sinctly exined. He didnt like the way Dorn was eyeing him, as if encountering him here was a serendipitous encounter for the young dungeoneer.


    Master Arenev, Dorn began, his tone almost excessively polite as he used the prefix attributed to craftsmen in the Nameless District. Could you take a look at my sword? I ran into some particrly tough Crypt Demons on myst delve.


    Whats the damage like? Is the sword chipped or dented? Tom asked, his thoughtful expression an emtion of Arenevs own when thetter lost himself in his craft.


    Only dented, though its quite banged up, Dorn sheepishly replied, clearly a little embarrassed.


    Id like to help you, but, Tom gestured to his belt, as you can see, I dont have my tools with me.


    I can borrow some, Dorn immediately offered, the enthusiasm in his gaze almost infectious.


    An exasperated sigh was the response Tom settled on, after thinking back on some of Arenevs interactions with the young dungeoneer.


    Fine. Fine, but youre going to have to wait until Im done with my shopping, Tom assented, though he did so without masking the grumpiness in his tone. Arenev had a bit of a soft spot for the dungeoneer, though he would never admit it, not in a thousand years.


    Thank you! Dorn offered him a quick bow and then hurriedly departed in search of recement tools.


    Tom had debated outright refusing Dorns request, but not only would that have been out of character, part of him still wanted to test out his [Basic Weapon Repair Proficiency]. If the weapon had been chipped, the damage would have been impossible to repair without a reforge. But a few dents? Thatfortably fell under the umbre of his newly acquired skills.


    And his acting had been convincing enough topletely deceive an acquaintance of Arenev, which had been his primary goal while adopting this disguise.


    Three Smoke Mixes, Tom told the likely self-taught alchemist as his gaze swept through the dozen or so concoctions that had been arrayed on a simple wooden table for the second time.


    The Alchemist gave Tom an odd look, before turning his gaze to the three ss vials that were stoppered to hold back a condensed gray fog.


    What does a cksmith like you want with smoke bombs? He asked, clearly a little confused by the order.


    For a moment, Toms heart dropped.


    Then, he regainedposure and pressed on with his act,


    What I want, Tom began, doing his best to sound as holier-than-thou as he could manage, is none of your business.


    Alright, alright, just making some small talk, The alchemist grumbled under his breath as he began to pack the order,


    The next hour or so proceeded in this manner. Tom didnt hesitate as he purchased items that could aid his mission in the Noble District. He was nice enough not to put it on Arenevs tab the cksmith hadnt done anything to warrant such treatment. That didnt change the fact that Arenevs stature helped the trades go through without much friction. Tom doubted that a man cloaked in robes furtively trying to make the same purchases would have gone nearly as well.


    Tom was almost done by the time a panting Dorn found his way back to him.


    Amused, he took the hammer the Dungeoneer had gone to such lengths to procure, starting to see why Arenev was fond of the youngd.


    Resonant ngs echoed out as Toms carefully timed hammer strikes impacted against the distorted metal. The insight from [Basic Weapon Repair Proficiency] guided him to precisely target the unevenness in the des linear ne while deftly avoiding the edges so as to avoid dulling the de.


    It was more a function of his high Physical and Proprioception stats that allowed him to conduct such a precise repair without requiring a re-temper. But Dorn didnt need to know that.


    Leaving behind a satisfied customer, Tom slipped away from the main street not long after.


    Aleph, An unfamiliar man dressed in a cksmiths attire called out her name with a vexing familiarity that sent chills down her spine. Its me, he said with an ent and inflectionpletely unlike the odd, almost broken dialect the man she knew as Synrak Veralis employed. If anything, it was too native, too effortless to be something that could be emted.


    Her first instinct was to retreat first it didnt matter if Tom had been captured by the Nobles or if hed sold her secret out- that deliberation couldeter. Except, that didnt exin why only a single cksmith had showed up looking for her.


    And even if Tom had been defeated by a Noble hunting squad, someone as powerful as him wouldnt have gone down without a fight one that would have been loud enough for her to hear from miles away.


    After one final sweep of her surroundings, Aleph confirmed that there were no signs or traces of a group from her vantage point.


    Then, she decided to fire off three crystal shards at the unknown man, blunting the edge sufficiently so as to avoid lethal damage.


    Whoa, whoa whats the big idea here! The cksmith protested in a thick North-Syrelorian ent as he rapidly evaded the projectiles.


    Synrak? Aleph asked, seconds after she deftlynded behind him.


    Already having sensed her presence, the cksmith pivoted to face her.


    Yeah, thats what Ive been saying, The cksmith replied, a little annoyance seeping into his tone. Remember, I told you that Id be back in a day.


    You told me that <em>you, </em>Aleph paused for emphasis, would be back in a day. Not another person entirely! Aleph didnt raise her voice, but the shock in her tone was all but evident. She had heard of Cards that could change the inflection of ones voice. Alter ones appearance marginally. Change their skin tone. And indeed, if all those deck cards were used in tandem, one could theoretically be another person.


    Except those cards had severe limitations and if one looked closely enough, the disguise would fall apart. Not to mention that there were multiple ways of guarding against appearance altering cards.


    But if the person before him was truly Synrak, then it meant that he had found a way to alter his height, weight, skin tone, hair color and ent, among other things. Could so many Deck Cards even be activated at once?


    Or was it.


    Alephs eyes widened at the implication as she thought of an even more intimidating realization.


    . a single card.


    Look, I-, Tom began to exin, only to trail off as Aleph materialized a crystal sword into her right hand.


    Not liking the turn the situation had taken, Tom reached into his inventory and pulled out arge ss jug full of viscous red blood and then simply let it fall to the ground.


    The cacophony of shattering ss seemed to serve as the catalyst for Alephs furious charge. Momentster, the spilled blood that had been mixed with small, almost imperceptible motes of ss dust rose to the air.


    Before Aleph had even covered half the distance separating them, the pool of blood had reshaped itself into a thick, two-handed spear; an almost exact replica of the spear Jayce wielded.


    [Titans Sequitur- Bulwark]


    One moment, Aleph was staring down a defensive spear stance that was unlike anything she had seen Tom use before, her sword drawn back in preparation for a testing sh meant to disarm.


    The next, she found her sword sh intercepted mid-swing, as Tom shifted from a defensive stance to an offensive one with surprising, almost practiced ease.


    Strength.


    Overwhelming strength crashed against her sword arm, almost instantly blowing her backwards. Her boots skidded against the ground, but the friction generated was far from enough to contain the sheer momentum that had been transferred to her upon impact.


    Only after she materialized her crystal armor did her weight counterbnce the momentum behind Toms odd, unconventional defensive spear sh.


    You, Aleph pointed at Tom with her index finger as her crystal armor began to dissolve into nothingness, have a <em>lot </em>of exining to do.