Andre looked like a man trying very hard to pretend he didn’t care.

"Bah... it’ll do for now. Make use of it till I forge somethin’ better." Andre said as he sat down and began smoking from a pipe.

The pipe was probably more for his nerves than for pleasure. Smoke curled up and stained the dim air, mixing with soot and oil and that lingering metallic tang.

The dwarf leaned back on his bed like it was a throne, stump leg stretched out, eyes half-lidded but still sharp enough to cut Kael if he said something stupid again.

Kael held up the gauntlets up, they were far more pristine-looking and far sturdier. With sharp claws and a heavier-looking fist.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the articulated joints respond cleanly. No stiffness. No delayed movement. The claws didn’t catch on his own sleeve. The fist closed like it wanted to close, like it had been waiting for a reason.

The cylinders gave faint, satisfying clicks as he rotated one slightly, testing the marbles. It wasn’t loose. It wasn’t stubborn. It was the perfect kind of mechanical feedback, enough to know it moved, enough to know it locked.

"Inspect," Kael said to see the difference.

[Obsidian Rune Gauntlet]

Item Rarity: Epic Unique

Item Level: N/A

Category: Magical Equipment

Creator: Kael Ardent- Andre -

Condition of Use [Kael Ardent]

Passive

[Heat Control]: The composition of this gauntlet allows the wearer to use high-temperature runes and suffer highly reduced backlash.

[Catalyst Control]- Left and Right gauntlets each have their own catalyst cores, allowing for the execution of magical output in a seamless manner.

Lore: A unique item first created by Kael Ardent, then improved upon by the Dwarven Smith Andre of Isylium. It allows for the use of runes with an improved synergy and lessens the desync between runes to a decent degree.

Kael’s eyes skimmed it fast, but the words still hit. Epic Unique. Not "rare" like the axe he’d found, not "unique" in the Tower’s half-confused way like his first gauntlet. This was the Tower acknowledging the upgrade as something real, something that belonged in the system, whether it liked it or not.

The line that made Kael’s stomach unclench was the catalyst part. A proper output source. No more abusing the fire rune like it was an engine block. No more waiting for a fissure to turn into a fracture at the worst possible time. If the cores broke, he could replace cores. That was manageable. Runes were harder.

"This is really nice. Quite sturdier, too," Kael said.

"Aye. Had a few grams o’ Adamantium lyin’ about, not enough for a full forge, but ground it down, mixed it in. Makes for a stronger frame, better flow. Treated the obsidian leather too, now it’ll stand both heat and cold. Now quit gawkin’ and fit the runes." Andre said.

Kael’s eyebrows rose. A few grams of adamantium said casually like it was pocket change. On Earth, "adamantium" was comic-book bullshit. Here it was... scrap. A pinch of myth sprinkled into reality.

He nodded, swallowing his curiosity. There were a thousand questions, where Andre got it, how much it actually cost, what "better flow" really meant in runic conduction terms, but none of those questions mattered more than the most immediate one:

Would this keep him alive?

Kael nodded and began fitting the runes in the gauntlet, starting by the right one, as he fitted Anchor in it, then began placing the rest of his runes. [Heft]- [Fire]- [Excise] and [Darkness]

He moved slowly, not because it was difficult, but because he didn’t want to do something stupid out of excitement. The sockets accepted each rune with a snug, satisfying fit, no wobble, no awkward gaps. The press mechanism seated them cleanly, and the cylinders made it obvious when something was "on track" versus "disconnected."

Anchor went where it belonged, near the elbow, out of the way, like a stabilizing spine. Heft, Fire, Excise, Darkness, each found its place without forcing. He could already feel the difference in conduction just from the way the gauntlet "settled" when a rune locked in, like the internal pathways aligned and stopped fighting each other.

He left momentum as is in his currently repaired belt.

That rune still felt like a rabid dog on a leash. Useful, sure. But it didn’t belong anywhere it could accidentally bite him mid-breath.

"Ye can use runes proper now, but keep the fire rune on the side with the Ifrit core, and the darkness rune with its own. Though..." Andre trailed off.

Kael paused mid-motion, fingers hovering over a cylinder. Andre trailing off was rare. Andre either insulted you, ordered you, or ignored you. Hesitation meant something. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"With this new system, I could put both darkness and Fire rune on one gauntlet, right?"

"Aye... ye could. Won’t be on the same cylinder, but with the press-fit sockets, ye could force both into one hand. Might even make some twisted dark flame... but I wouldn’t recommend it." Andre said.

Kael’s mind immediately tried to sprint down that path anyway, darkness plus fire, hefted, anchored, excised, with catalyst output... the possibilities were intoxicating. The Tower loved synergy. The Tower also loved killing people who got greedy with it.

"I guess that’s the reason you hesitated early."

"Aye. It might work... or it might shatter one o’ yer cores n’ take yer arm with it. Till ye get somethin’ sturdier, don’t try it. And don’t go catchin’ blades with an open palm either, unless ye fancy replacin’ that core." Andre advised.

Kael glanced down at the palms. The cores sat there like eyes, like targets. He could already picture it, one desperate block, a sword edge clipping the core, glass-like fracture spreading, then suddenly he’s holding a dead socket while someone else keeps swinging.

"Thanks for the tip, I’ll take it to heart." Kael said.

"Bah, just don’t waste my work." Andre said as he took another puff of smoke. "Now off with ye, lad. Plenty o’ floors left t’ climb."

Kael exhaled. The workshop felt calmer now that the gauntlets were on and functional, like a storm had passed and left him with tools instead of prayers.

But leaving meant stepping back into a floor packed with hungry eyes. The bartender’s warning still echoed in his skull. And now, with gear like this, he’d stand out in a different way too: not "newbie," not "prey," but "walking profit."

He started to turn, then stopped.

"Before I go..." Kael hesitated leaving the old man in this dump, but he had his own life to take care of. "How much do I owe you?" Kael asked.

Andre didn’t look up immediately. He stared at the pipe bowl, tamped it once like he was hammering a nail into the conversation, then finally grunted.

"Don’t go fussin’ over it now."

"No, for real, how much? I have some spare cores that can probably-" Kael was thinking of alleviating his debt even for a little bit.

Andre’s gaze lifted, flat, tired, and sharp all at once, like Kael had just offered to pay for a ship using pocket lint.

"Ye’ve any idea what this costs?" Andre held up the bottle that the Fist King gave him.

Kael’s eyes flicked to it. The bottle looked ordinary in a nasty sort of way, dark glass, thick neck, a label half peeled. But "ordinary" meant nothing in the Tower. Some of the deadliest things were plain.

"No... I’m new to the tower."

"That there’s enough to buy a castle on this floor. Fist King paid that for a quick fix on his gloves. Don’t be askin’ what ye owe, ye won’t sleep right for days if ye knew."

Kael could only gulp at the absurd price that Andre charged. A castle. On this floor. He didn’t even know what "a castle" cost in cores, but he knew what the word implied: guards, walls, land, safety. Things that weren’t supposed to be easy here.

And Andre had taken that as payment for a quick fix.

Kael looked down at his gauntlets again, feeling the weight settle heavier, not physically, but mentally. Debt wasn’t just money in the Tower. Debt was leverage. Debt was a hook.

"I’ll probably dip out then," Kael said.

"Aye, off with ye. And don’t go dyin’." Andre said.

For a second Kael thought Andre cared. The words almost sounded like concern if you squinted hard enough and ignored the dwarf’s personality.

"’Fore ye pay me back? Drop dead if ye like after that, makes no difference t’ me." he turned his head away and continued smoking.

Kael huffed a breath that was half a laugh, half relief. That was more like Andre. Crude honesty wrapped around something that still, annoyingly, looked like help.

He adjusted his gauntlets one last time, feeling the cylinders click under his thumb like a promise. Then he stepped toward the door, letting the workshop’s dim warmth fall behind him. Outside was noise, guild banners, hungry eyes, and the Tower’s long climb.

But for the first time since he’d arrived, Kael didn’t feel like he was improvising with scraps.

Now he had something built to survive.