Threads of glowing, pale light spanned the room, connecting Kingsbane, the strange loom on the wall of the cave, and me. The silk, if it could be called that, was cold to the touch as it wrapped around the wrist of my sword arm, which made me yelp out in surprise.

“What...?“ I cried out, as the thread wandered across my body. [Breaker of Chains] did not activate on its own, which made me think that the threads were not considered a constraint or a harmful Skill. I calmed down in the knowledge that I most likely could break free whenever I wanted, between [Breaker of Chains] and [Contortioniers Trick].

Images, well the ghosts of images and memories flashed through the thread, the web really, flashing brightly as they reached Belen in the middle of his weavings. He threw his head back, moaning and shaking in intense pleasure, mumbling nonsense as the information assaulted him - or so it seemed.

“So rich, so tasteful...“ He murmured, grabbing the threads and knotting them in front of him. “There is a difference in knowing a story and feeling the memories flash by as if I lived them myself.“ He gasped. “Humans!“ he cried out. “So much drama, so many emotions. It is always worth it to let a human ripen until he is thickly flavored with the emotions of his life.“ Now he was hissing, detached, and riding the waves of his own experience, addressing no one in particular.

Out of the rags of the creature that was Belen more tender arms appeared, more hairy limbs, and they began manipulating the threads around him with astounding speed, now playing them like a many threaded fiddle, raising a faint thrumming sound which echoed through the small chamber.

“I can see it now,“ Belen said amongst the music, “The sword that can cut everything, Kingsbane, the sword that betrayed a brother and a king. And now the sword was given as a prize for competition in the arena, but also the sword of a man too stubborn to die. Struggle, competition, strife, contest...“ Belen pronounced every syllable of the words, tasting them, smacking his lips as if to find the right one, the best-tasting name.

“Strife. It is the least I can do. The rune of strife, woven out of the purest story of struggle I ever did hear. The more dire the situation, the more blood on the sands of the arena, the stronger the sword in your hand, dear Raven. That is my gift to you, the work of Belen, the Storysmith.“

I could see Kingsbane being lifted up into the air, carried by the glowing threads, and a rune, a complicated fractal in the same hue of color as the threads, indicating a sword and a drop of blood surrounded by perfectly symmetrical lines and shapes, appeared on the base of the blade.

“A rune for a story.“ Belen said, slowly calming down. “It is done, my work complete. But now...now, let us seek to awaken the artifact.“

I was stunned into silence as I watched forces beyond my understanding working miracles in every sense of the word. Nothing made much sense to me, but my emotions had been curiously pulled in the moment of ecstasy that Belen apparently had lived through, as if my own emotions had been taken away for him to work with...or consume.

Belen lifted himself up on many legs, a fact that...did not really surprise me anymore, as I was expecting strange and even stranger by now. He was arachnoid, somewhat, walking on spider legs that jutted out from under his robes. He climbed and walked the web he had woven in the chamber with natural ease and alien grace.

It was difficult for me to hold my revulsion back. I forced my rational brain to take over, to shut the primal fear up and take over the moment so that I would not ruin it. Just ride it out. The wave of chaos that so often has taken over your life. Ride it out as best as you can. Survive now, think later.

Belen had reached Kingsbane, suspended in the air by the threads, and walked around it, inspecting every inch of the dark steel.

“Now, awakening an artifact is as complicated and nebulous as it is simple. I do not have to create it, after all. Destiny, luck, or circumstance has done all the work. I just need to tickle the right spot to call forth the power sleeping within.“

He grabbed the handle of Kingsbane and immediately revulsed as if hit by lightning, steam rose from his body, hisses, and screeches of pain emerging from his veil of cut cloth.

“I defy you!“ He hissed. “You do not get to keep your secrets, many faced gods! You do not get to keep them from the world.“ His limbs started to burn, but still he gripped the sword, tearing it free. It fell to the ground, steaming and clattering.

Then it was still. Nothing but the ragged breath of Belen, hissing under his breath and cradling the arms of his that had been burning under his rags.

He spoke to me. “They are hiding them. Always are. They do not understand how simple things and beings, through no fault of their own, through no meddling of the system, can acquire a force more potent than they can wield. Narrative weight. It has nothing to do with the system. Nothing to do with the greater gods. When they find an artifact, they veil it. Protect it. Because they fear what they do not understand. This sword was looked at by a being high and mighty alright. It is too strong for me to touch.“

“So we have failed?“

Belen sounded as if he was grinning with great relief. “No, Raven, no. We have not. It is an artifact, and it is awake. Just that the gods tried to protect the secret. I cannot touch it. But it is your sword, now. They cannot take that away from you. You will feel the pain of their ward, but you will endure. And once you lift it up, they will have lost.“

I threw the smith a thoughtful glance. He had literally caught fire from touching the blade, not a second ago. Could it be true? Artifacts outside of the system? It made sense. The gods, or whoever created the system and the levels, could not meddle with the narrative weight and declared items heavy with it to be too dangerous to be left alone.

There was no decision to make. Kingsbane was mine. I walked forward and grabbed it.

One moment I stood in the center of the glowing web in a small chamber in the Fulcrum, a pocket in the nothingness that was the Limbo, the plane of the gods, the next I stood on a mountain of corpses in a firestorm of apocalyptic proportions, staring into a burning eye, one of many, towering above me, around me, overwhelming me with the sheer size and might of the being it belonged to.

I felt wrung out, scrutinized, read, and...acknowledged. Just a second, but I was in flames the second I returned to the cave.

Cool threads immediately smothered me from all sides - well, not me but the fire - but it felt all the same to me. I emerged burned and blackened, peeling the cocoon of spider silk away from me, looking at Belen wringing his hands above me.

“You saw it?“ He asked nervously.

“A warning would have been nice.“ I said hoarsely. “What was that?“

“That is the level of godhood one must achieve to meddle with the system, it seems. I know neither his name nor anything but the eye and the flames. I came to feel like cheating an artifact out from him as a victory as it does not always happen like this. But the intense reaction you just had...made me think that he did not really like letting the sword go.“

“Could he not just...take the sword for himself?“

Belen laughed. “He could not take the sword from you. It is yours! Not every artifact is subject to his scrutiny, only those he finds and those too dangerous to be left alone. Those get the ward. But you defied him!“ He grinned. “You defied him! It is yours, and there was nothing he could do!“

“Wait, you did not know that would happen?“

“How often do you think I stumble upon an artifact like that? I am old, but not that old.“

“You risked my life?“ I asked.

“I risked mine first and tested the waters. And judged correctly. Stop the glooming and start the celebrations, Raven. You own an artifact! Kingsbane, the betrayer, the sword that can cut everything!“

I did calm down quickly. And yes, I could not stop grinning wildly once I realized what I held in my hands. I felt it, the thrumming of the sheer weight in the blade, power waiting to be used. But how?

“How does one use an artifact?“ Belen shrugged awkwardly. “Use it of course, in the way it works. Hang the noose around the victim to be, snuff your tobacco from the pouch...use the sword? You will figure it out, you and no one else.“

That was fine with me. What a day! I returned to the reality of the moist cave, Kara and Grim sleeping at the dying fire, and marveled at the new rune in the blade I laid on my knees, not getting tired of touching the cool steel.

[New Title gained! Pinnacle!

You looked into the burning eye of the highest and mightiest of them all and not only survived the moment, you took what he wanted not to be touched. You made yourself not quite an enemy - because he is above such things - but you earned yourself a furrowed brow from the mightiest being known and that pleased others, reveling in your success and eager to be a part of it.

Skill Unlocked: [Anathema]

Reward: 300 Essence]

Oh, now that was interesting. There seemed to be factions among the highest of the gods, or different interests at least, even going so far as to use titles to express their glee and satisfaction about selling another short? The system wasn't ruled by a singular entity, but by many, it appeared. Better yet, the title pretty much had told me not to worry about the being I had seen, as he was so far above me that my little act of defiance would not invite consequences from him, which was a relief.

But [Anathema]? Now that was an ominous Skill if ever I saw one. Was it a sign of me being cast out of something? I was not the most learned man, I would have to ask around what that could mean.

It had been a long night, one of the longest and most exciting of my life, but for the first time I felt ready. Ready for the day ahead, armed with more than just pure stubbornness. I had allies. I had a sword.

Was there more I could have asked for in a situation as bleak as mine?