Grand Saint Alloy

Shadow Fist pulled the large door open. It was the side with the silver demon lord’s head on it. The inside of the temple was well made, despite the fact that most of the wood was pine wood. Stained glass windows depicting the various activities that the gods got up to lined the walls. Some depicted Vent lifting heaven on his back. Others were various gifts that the gods gave humans. Things like fire and water.

Tristan was beginning to understand why Hadrid had such contempt for these beings. Even if they did exist, they were more likely to be people with exceptionally powerful kerns. After all, the grand ancestor most likely appeared as a demigod to the people around him, two or three more tiers and maybe people would start worshiping them. If they were people, then someday Tristan would surpass them. His gaze fell to the demon lord. It took three gods to stop him, which meant that even in legends there were powers greater than gods.

They took a step inside and Tristan was taken back to his childhood. Shadow Fist and Helen had occasionally brought him to temple gatherings, though not with any regularity. It was one of the things that caused friction between Shadow Fist and Elder Forest. The pews that lined the walls were currently empty, the only human was an acolyte cleaning the pews.

He was wearing the standard white robe with a three pointed hat in yellow, red, and blue. Currently, he was wielding a mop, and doing a good job cleaning the tiled floor. Shadow Fist headed straight for him, the acolyte did not even notice him until Shadow Fist had already arrived.

“Is Wise Guider Daphan in his office?” Shadow Fist asked.

The acolyte jumped, looking up in shock at the man who had seemingly appeared, “Yes, yes, he should be in. He is currently comparing the offerings to the attendance. So he should be there for the next hour or so.”

Shadow Fist nodded and beckoned for Tristan to follow him. The acolyte looked quizzically at the duo as they left. It was rare to have unscheduled visitors. He adjusted the irritating hat, trying to hide that he was staring. Something on the guest of the Elder’s brother-in-law caught the acolyte’s attention.

Two daggers sat at his hips, which on its own was not an issue, or even abnormal. The abnormal part was the two reservoirs attached to the daggers. Clearly, they had yet to be purified, and worse they had a metallic silver sheen. The acolyte’s eyes widened, the boy was a servant of the demon lord. Instantly dropping his mop, the acolyte ran off to get help.

Tristan was completely unaware of what was going on. He followed his father to the back of the temple. There was a room behind the raised podium. From the front door, the view of the back room was blocked by the alter and its three flames. Each fire was a different color, representing one of the three gods.

“The leader of this temple already knows about who you are,” Shadow Fist said, “Currently, you are protected by the Elder’s word, so don’t pretend to be something you are not.”

Tristan shrugged. It was kind of hard to hide his metallic golden eyes. It was possible to mistake them for a yellow flame or wind kern at a distance, but the neon yellow of flame and dull autumn yellow of wind were very different from gold. Tristan had to be glad he did not get something even more distinctive, like silver. To top it all off his kern had influenced his movements to be more direct, similar to an earth kern. The temple master would know what he was at a glance.

Shadow Fist knocked once before pushing open the door, an elderly man sat behind a desk counting out stacks of steel and copper parces. He looked up in surprise as the two of them strode in. Tristan was not sure what he was expecting, but the man looked like any other man in his mid-seventies. Maybe something holy or radiant. He had looked much more impressive in Tristan’s adolescent memories.

“Ah Shadow Fist,” Guider Daphan squinted at Tristan, “Ooh, is this your son? I’ve never met someone with a metal kern.”

That was not the reaction he had expected. Tristan half believed that the old guider would throw something sharp while yelling “Heretic!” Instead, the man inspected Tristan like he was a new toy.

Shadow Fist was evidently busy and got straight to the point, “Tristan here will be helping source the materials for our warriors, the price that he has requested was the orbs that the alchemist likes to use, and how to gather them.”

Daphan snorted, “That bastard, I don’t know how he figured it out, but it was the biggest hit our congregation ever took.”

Tristan frowned, “why would that be an issue?”

“Bah! All religions make their claims based on who gets to manipulate souls,” Daphan said, “we call everyone else evil because they are competing with us.”

That only confused him more. He had clearly heard Hadrid say that souls were the only things that lacked essence. The marbles that he himself made would contradict that if they were made of souls. Though on second thought, a cup could hold water without being water, it was the entire premise of containment after all. Were souls something that could be harvested?

“Bingo,” the old guider said grinning as he read Tristan’s changing expression, “now you owe me for leading you to that conclusion.”

“You're not saying that all these marbles are dead people?” Tristan asked horrified.

“Sure, though it is not too big an issue if you stop and think about it,” Daphan waved away, Tristans concern, “All artifacts are made of a soul, after all, it is nothing more than essence locked into a shape by soul. Even tier zero peasants have a soul, though they refer to it as their free will.”

Tristan was very unsettled, he did not want to craft essence reservoirs by killing people and stealing their souls. Then he really would be a silver devil in every sense of the word. The book had said he needed to find a soul revenant, so there was definitely another way. There was a monster out there somewhere that could be hunted for reservoirs.

Tristan nodded mind made up, “Now I need around ten of your essence reservoirs.”

“Kid, you already owe me, you should be paying me back,” Daphan shook his head.

“No, I don’t,” Tristan said, “I would have found out eventually in the same way Hadrid did. But, I do need the reservoirs, and no marbles means no metal for Forest’s men.”

Daphan seemed at a slight loss for words. Tristan thought it was shock, maybe a little fear. He was disappointed, “You are a rude young man,” Daphan glanced at Shadow Fist, “What did your parents teach you?”

Tristan was about to get riled up at the old man, but he realized that Daphan owed him nothing. Elder Forest probably held quite a few favors from Elder Daphan, but the man did not have to give Tristan anything. In fact, it was probably detrimental to his position, after all, he was the head of an organization that supposedly worshiped the three gods.

After taking a deep breath, Tristan stood and turned to the door, there was nothing more for him here. As he passed his father, Tristan said, “I still need those reservoirs.”

He opened the office door and stepped out. Daphan was waving goodbye with a smile on his face. The man was truly odd. Tristan was halfway across the sanctuary when Shadow Fist caught up and stood in his way.

“Tri-, young man, regardless of my ability to pay, thousands of people are counting on your ability to find a way to deal with the metal elemental,” Shadow Fist said, stopping Tristan with a palm, “You need to help, if only because you’re a man.”

Tristan gritted his teeth at Shadow Fist. The man could not even say his name, and he questioned Tristan's integrity? Pathetic. Then Tristan's mind caught on the words metal elemental, he realized that he had never asked why he was needed so badly at the mine. Sure his presence would massively speed things up, especially with an almost eighty-five foot range on his scanning ability. Thinking of releasing the metal elemental was stupid. It was made of metal, and its traits would scale with its tier.

“You people are all idiots,” Tristan fumed, “Why would you want to release that thing?”

“We need weapons and armor, that deposit has everything we need,” Shadow Fist said, “Without it, this will be a long, bloody war. With it, the Forrest Caldera is assured a smooth victory.”

Tristan stomped past his father, shoving him out of the way with his bulk. Despite them sharing genetics, their kerns had taken their development during their teen years in wildly different directions. Tristan was already half a head taller and much broader than his father.

“You people are idiots, who want to kill yourselves,” Tristan gritted his teeth, “I won’t be a part of that.”

He could not believe that Elder Forest would be dumb enough to ignore Siren’s warning. He knew for a fact that Siren should have his uncle's respect. Siren was everything was warrior of the Caldera should be, strong, brave, and with an unyielding sense of duty. Frankly, Siren was the man most boys dreamed of growing up to be someday.

Tristan reached the door and went to push it open. He did not get the chance, as someone opened it from the other side. Tristan blinked at the bright sunlight, then his eyes adjusted. The acolyte who had been cleaning the pews stood in front of Tristan along with three larger men and one woman.

The acolyte put his fists on his hips and called out loudly, “Yield, devil, your judgment has come.”