𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖀𝖓𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓

The Weaponsmith

He heard the clicking in his head constantly now. The hallucinations that he saw out of the corner of his eye got worse too, but that did not distract him while he worked. Currently, he was working on a Huntsman commission, a weapon that could shift between a bow that fired Dust arrows and a dual-headed spear. 

The project some semblance, heh, semblance, of a challenge, and he was somebody who liked challenges. He was setting up the heavy metal alloy cable from which dust arrows could be formed and fired, when the bell above the shop door rang. He was in the workshop, just behind the counter, so he did not know who it was.

He felt on edge all of a sudden, his heart suddenly beginning to pound violently. His nerves were electrified, and his hands, on instinct, grabbed his old weapon, Lady Luck, that was leaning against the workshop table. The saber, despite years of not having seen combat, still shined brightly in the light, its owner still taking his time to care for his old Huntsman weapon.

The weaponsmith shifted his weapon to its repeater rifle form and pointed it towards the door to his workshop.

He heard ringing, the sound of the bell above the shop door that indicated a customer's arrival, and heavy footfalls. 'Only one from what I can tell. A big man from the sound of his footsteps,' a voice spoke to him. The weaponsmith grit his teeth, stepped up to the door, and listened closer. Whoever was on the other side of the door did not talk, and was busy inspecting the shop front and tossing things around.

'A customer then,' he concluded and made to open the door. He activated his Semblance a second later, as the door he was supposed to open was torn to shreds by a machine gun. He teleported to a dark corner in the shop and watched as the bastard continued to fire his weapon. The shopfront was a mess. Weapons were on the ground, displays were broken, crystals and rounds were strewn about.

The culprit was the son of a bitch that continued to fire his rotary gun into the workshop room, probably destroying whatever was in there as well. All that progress... 

The weaponsmith's Semblance, he called Dark Dance. It allowed him to move between dark areas with almost no consequence. He managed to get behind the attacker, who was wearing a strange dirtied robe, accompanied with equally dirtied trousers and boots. Underneath the man's hood was a metal helm that reminded the weaponsmith of an errant knight. The weaponsmith waited until the guy ran out of ammo, for it looked like that was the only weapon the attacker had.

'Ya Har Gulian. Armed with a rotary gun made by Powder Kegs. No other noticeable weapons in sight. An easy kill by all standards.'

The weaponsmith was surprised at himself. That was completely new information to him, but he would use it. He stepped out of the dark corner, deactivating the Semblance that kept him there.

He ran forward, closing the gap in the small shop in a second, and before the weaponsmith could even think, he jammed the blade into the back of the Ya Har Gulian's skull. He twisted the saber, causing the blood to spray into his face and around the shop front. The body fell forward, vanishing into blue light and smoke.

He looked down at his hands, coated in the attacker's blood, then at his shop, the walls, ceilings, and floor covered in it. He felt his face, moist and sticky from being covered in the attacker's sweet sweet blood.

He felt nothing, merely disappointment that the attacker did not put up a better fight and annoyance that he would have to clean up the shop and repair everything. He wanted to cry, he wanted to feel guilty. He had murdered someone after all. But the feelings of disappointment and annoyance were stronger.

He turned the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed', shut the blinds, and began clean-up. He had the shopfront to repair, and the workshop to fix and recover anything that was still intact.