(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

Sifting through the mound of artifacts they had stolen, Kaius rapidly picked out everything he recognised.

With the clock ticking down, their full accompaniment of smaller rings and amulets would have to wait. It was a decision that would hit Porkchop the hardest, but luckily his brother was the least reliant on external items to function in their role.

That, and Porkchop’s doorsized greatshield had been bloody easy to find.

Ianmus and Kenva were clustered around the same table as him—pulling out items to sort out what they recognised, and what looked like it could likely be usable. Each had a growing pile behind them—though Kenva’s was currently the smallest at a set of boots and leather reinforced pants.

Without access to an analysis skill, or the ability to easily sort items, Porkchop had taken to keeping watch by the door—his AutonomousGreatshield pressed up tight across the frame to act as an oversized bar.

Pulling a roundshield out of the pile, Kaius spotted a leather cuirass. With a grey dense grain, and thin metal plates reinforcing the chest and back, and chain covering everything else, it looked like a well made piece. One that he suspected to be fairly valuable, considering the dense whorls of inscriptions that had been embossed directly onto the leather itself.

That, and he had yet to find an artifact in the collection that was lower than Rare, other than their own gear—something he suspected was only because of the lack of visitors the compound had had since their arrival.

“Kenva, what sort of armour do you use?” he asked, nearly sending an arming sword clattering to the floor as he tugged the armour free.

The ranger looked up from her end of the pile, still smiling from her most recent find—a quiver. She sat it down in an empty section of the far end of the table. “Light armour, why?”

Kaius nodded, and took a moment to investigate the armour’s status—lightly flexing his will to truncate it to just the information he needed.

Swift Strider’s Cuirass:

Rare - Tier I

Designed for those who need to be fleet of foot, this cuirass provides decent protection without hampering mobility, while its inscription quickens its bearer’s movements.

Artisan-wrought Artefact

Light Armour (Cuirass)

Durability III, Hastened Steps II, Self Repair I, Resizing I

While it wasn’t the most phenomenal piece of gear he’d ever seen, he could still see it would be useful for the ranger—as their backline attacker, she was almost as reliant on her mobility as he was.

“Here, this should suit you well.” Kaius said, tossing it to Kenva. “Did you have anything with you when you were captured that they might have stashed?”

“Just that,” Kenva said, tilting her head towards the quiver she had set aside as she held up the cuirass to inspect. “And my bow—everything else I had were simple Common’s. It is good I found the quiver, if the bow is still here it will be hard to use without it.”

Kaius nodded, and got to digging—he remembered seeing a reasonably ornate longbow inside of the ring, so even if it wasn’t her one specifically, she’d still have a weapon.

Tugging aside a heavy breastplate, he came across Ianmus’s eon stone nestled softly in a wad of quilted and layered cotton. Snatching them both out, he tossed the stone to Ianmus before unfurling the cream coloured tunic—a hint of excitement bubbling away at his suspicions of its purpose.

It unraveled into a long coat—simple leather ties secured to its front to hold it closed. A gambeson, and one that had been stitched with a complex sequence of runes on its back.

He tossed it to the other table, onto a growing pile of his own gear. He’d check what its exact enchantments were later—regardless of what they were, they were bound to be an upgrade from the traveling clothes his father had gifted him.

“Is it important to you? You looked pretty happy when you found the quiver.” Kaius asked.

Pausing for a moment with her hands still wrapped around an axe’s haft, Kenva eventually nodded. “They were maturation gifts from my parents, the most they could give me for starting my journey on the Path of Wisdom. The quiver is alright—it summons some decent arrows with a little mana that can last a few days, but the bow was special. They got yelled at for a week about it being inappropriate for a path-taker.”

Kaius looked up, quizzical. While the Hiwiann were ubiquitous on Vaastivar—their caravans went everywhere—he actually knew relatively little of their customs.

Though, that wasn’t all that surprising. His life hadn’t exactly been the most cosmopolitan, and the only Hiwiann that he knew well was Ro, and that relationship was largely on a professional basis thanks to her station.

He knew a few anecdotes thanks to Father—like the fact that anyone could join a clan if they were willing to take a bloodoath—but little else.

“You’re taking the Path?” Ianmus asked curiously. “I thought that it had fallen somewhat out of favour.”

Kenva shrugged. “My clan, Zhdan, is traditional. I do not mind it—I see the wisdom in exploring without the burden of expectations, and without the boon of the resources and acclaim that comes with dynastic backing.”

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“What do you mean?” Kaius asked. “I’m not all that familiar with Hiwiann customs.”

Kenva nodded, though she returned to digging through artefacts. “It is an old tradition. The clans, though more open and flexible than most thanks to the Bloodstones, saw that the trappings of power were not a wholly positive thing for the youngest generation. Once we have gained our class—and passed the most pivotal point for needing our clan’s assistance—we journey alone. On the Path, we cannot rely on our clan-name, and we cannot bring with us more than a single pouch of gold, and an appropriate weapon to defend ourselves.”

That was interesting. It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him considering his own upbringing—and considering the picture his father had painted of most pampered scions, he could see how it would temper some of the worst entitlements.

“Ianmus mentioned it’s less common now?” Kaius prompted, wondering why that had happened.

“It’s not so much that it’s uncommon, more that it has morphed from its original purpose.” Kenva replied.

“You will not see many true Path takers out of the steppe now, so I understand Ianmus’s misconception. Mostly, you see scions joining a trade route, company, or squad that is not attached to their family—gaining experience. Some say it is the same, but when everyone still knows of your blood and pedigree, and you have access to credit secured by your clan-name, I find it hard to agree. Especially when they treat the Path as a finite year or two long thing.”

“Fascinating,” Ianmus said, wholly absorbed by the ranger’s words. “So when does your Path end? I was under the assumption that it was just a year.”

“It has been that way for a while, but no, there is no set end. I will return to my clan when it calls to me—some never return. I have my doubts if I will—none of Zhdan’s honoured ancestors did, and I intend to rest amongst their numbers.”

Seeing the gleam of a familiar set of scale cuisses, Kaius set his armour aside before he passed a wand that had been lying underneath it to Ianmus.

He glanced at Kenva, taking in the piercing solid blue of her eyes.

Another wayward vagrant with lofty ambitions. Judging by her strength, and the honours she had gained, she had the potential to be a fantastic asset. That conversation could wait though—she’d mentioned sharing more in-depth under oath.

Returning to fereting through the gear, Kaius slowly retrieved the last of his stolen artefacts—he didn’t find all that much that was helpful to him, though he wouldn’t know for sure until they took the time to investigate the dozens of smaller rings and amulets that lounged in the pile.

There had been a few swords of usable enough size, but he was reticent to abandon A Father’s Gift so soon into retrieving it. He’d make the switch if his blade’s eventual upgrade seemed too far on the horizon, but it was still serviceable enough for now.

Despite each of them having almost all they needed—Kenva had found a pair of mismatched shortswords to add to her stack—they had yet to find the bow he had seen earlier, so they kept looking.

Apparently, he’d managed to dump it right on the bottom of the stack.

Across the table from him, Ianmus grunted as he pulled free the long-bow that he had seen inside the ring. It was, frankly, a beautiful piece. Gleaming dark wood, engraved with raised depictions of vines and grasses, with what looked like threads of polished silver worming their way through the limbs.

Kaius analysed it reflexively.

Farstrider Longbow:

Heroic - Tier I

History forgotten, replaced by a heritage of journey and wonder.

Carved from rare Antwark heartwood that had been infected with silver-worm, this bow imparts incredible stability, power and distance to its shots. Carefully enchanted, each arrow violently fragments after penetrating a target—worsening wounds and recovery.

Depths-wrought Artefact.

Weapon - Longbow

Durability I, Self Repair I, Stable Flight V, Powershot III, Fragmenting Arrows III

Kaius held back from whistling in appreciation as he read the item’s description. No wonder Kenva was so eager to get it back—and no wonder having a quiver that could summon its own arrows was so vital.

“Is this your bow?” Ianmus asked, offering it to Kenva.

Her face brightened, a wide smile spilling across it.

“It is!” she said, all but leaping over the table to grab it with reverent hands. “It has been in my family for generations—my ancestor retrieved it from the depths on his own Path.”

Kaius grinned at her, before he cleared his throat.

“Right! I think we should call it here—I’ll store the rest of this, and see if I can find us a few restoratives in the stash of tonics while you two get ready—I want to be out of here in five more minutes at most.”

His companions nodded, bursting into motion as they moved to change into their gear—thankfully, the tough canvas clothes they had scavenged from the guards were thin enough to wear under armour, so Kaius didn’t have to deal with Ianmus’s sense of embarrassment.

Threading mana into the storage ring on his finger, Kaius swept up the remaining artefacts. Air brushed over his face as it moved to fill the void left behind as the equipment vanished.

Honestly, it was astonishing how little a dent they’d made in the pile. Despite the sheer volume they’d pulled out, they’d only reduced the pile by a third. Even if most of the gear was no higher than Rare, it would easily be worth a sack of Platinum when sold—something he intended to do with anything they couldn’t use when they returned to Deadacre.

Smiling at the thought of their newfound riches, Kaius grabbed Porkchop’s underarmour from where he’d left it on the table next to his own gear.

Wandering over to his brother, he unceremoniously hurled it onto Porkchop’s back before he started buckling straps with practiced haste.

“Find anything interesting?” Porkchop asked, slightly glum.

Kaius grinned, scratching his brother’s ribs as he cinched the waist belt of his leather armour tight.

“Nothing phenomenal—most of it is weapons and armour no better than what we already have. I’m sure that’ll change when we go through the accessories.” he replied.

“We better—I miss my ghost hand. It was so useful! I get that we can’t exactly spend an hour picking through them though.”

Buckling the last strap, Kaius stood up.

“Chin up, we’ll get some time soon—and there’ll be plenty of battle in the meantime to keep you occupied until then.”

Leaving Porkchop to guard the door, Kaius quickly made his way to his own gear—all the while trying to sort through the confusing mess of alchemical scents that emanated from the tonics stored in one of the rings.

If he could find some restoratives, they’d be in a much better position to deal with what lay ahead.