Within the warmth of Clarik's smithy, I worked. Laid out before me were my four weapons: One longsword, one curved short sword, a spear, and a mace. I had had them since the break-out at Qordos and each had served me well. But these weapons were made in haste, using scrounged up materials that were not of the highest quality. I wished to improve on them, as I had improved my body.

  I held an enchanted arrowhead between my porcelain fingers, one of the bunch that I had taken from the elven archer Mallie had killed. My non-existent eyes observed the wedge-like shape, studying the faint magical glow that still lingered within the metal. The elf's arrows had pierced my previous combat frame with ease, their enchantments bypassing my defenses. Such power would make an excellent addition to my arsenal.

  But as I attempted to break down the arrowhead with Assembly, the metal resisted. The material remained stubbornly whole, refusing to separate into its base components. I had tried melting it as I had with other steel, but Assembly rejected the action.

  I set the arrowhead down with a frustrated click against the workbench. The sound echoed through my porcelain fingers.

  "Something wrong?" Clarik wiped sweat from his brow, the heat from his forge casting dancing shadows across his face.

  These arrowheads. Assembly should work on them. But they resist. I picked up another from the pile, turning it in the firelight. Every material I've encountered. Steel. Iron. Wood. Bone. Even flesh. All break down into components. But these...

  Clarik stroked his beard, leaning closer to examine the arrowhead. "Might be the enchantments. Magic's funny that way; tends to interfere with other magics. Like oil and water, they don't mix right."

  I hadn't considered that possibility. The magical nature of the arrowheads could be preventing Assembly from taking hold. It made sense. Assembly itself had to be some form of magic as well, albeit one I didn't fully understand.

  "If you're looking to work with enchanted items, you'd need an Enchanter," Clarik said. "Someone who knows how to handle magical materials proper-like. Nearest one would be in Millbrook though."

  Could I learn enchanting? I wondered aloud through Mind Speech. My Wisdom stat is quite high. Perhaps I could...

  "Aye." Clarik nodded. "High Wisdom's good for magic, from what I hear. Though I wouldn't know myself, I'm just a simple blacksmith."

  I examined my porcelain hand, remembering how naturally Assembly had come to me. Perhaps enchanting wouldn't be so different. But without someone to teach me...

  I was distracted from my thoughts when two system prompts suddenly popped up in front of my sight.

  The system just gave me two titles, I informed Clarik through Mind Speech.

  He set down his hammer, wiping his hands on his soot-stained apron. "Did it now? What titles?"

  Vanquisher of Qordos and Defender of Weath. I touched my porcelain mask. The second one came with the attribute called Weath Defense.

  "Ah." Clarik's beard twitched with a knowing smile. "That'll be Marshes and his lot, spreading word about you in Millbrook. They must've told the Baron how you drove off Gomka's raiders. And I'd wager folk are still talking about what happened at Qordos too."

  But I received these titles just now. The events happened weeks ago.

  "That's how most titles work," Clarik explained, leaning against his workbench. "System doesn't just hand them out when you do something. Takes time for word to spread, for your deeds to become known. Once enough people hear about what you've done..." He spread his hands. "The system recognizes it."

  So because people are talking about me...

  "Aye. Your fame's growing. Both as the one who brought down Qordos and as Weath's protector." He chuckled. "Though I suspect Marshes might've embellished the tales a bit. He's got a way with stories, that one."

  I pondered this new information. The system seemed to care not just about actions, but about how those actions were perceived by others. An interesting mechanism, though I couldn't fathom its purpose.

  I called up my status page, curious to see how these new titles appeared.

  I focused on the new attribute, and another window appeared:

  "What's it say?" Clarik asked, peering over my shoulder at where I stared, though he couldn't see the status windows only visible to me.

  The Weath Defense attribute. Increases my Strength and Endurance by three points when I'm in the village, I explained through Mind Speech. It seems the system recognizes me. As one of the village's protectors now.

  "Makes sense." Clarik nodded. "You've been keeping watch over us for weeks now. Between that and driving off Gomka's lot, you've more than earned it."

  I examined my stats again. The Intelligence and Wisdom scores stood out as they had grown considerably since my first awakening. This was primarily due to my frequent application of Assembly, which had earned me a level in that skill during my stay in the village. I also noticed that my Strength and Endurance scores had gone up by three points, just as the entry for my new attribute had stated. It should remain so as long as I stay within the boundary of Weath, regardless of whether I was in my porcelain body or combat form. Weath Defense would definitely help keep the village safe.

  The smithy door burst open, letting in a gust of cool air that made Clarik's forge flicker. Mallie bounded in, her face flushed with excitement.

  "No Eyes! I got a title!" She skipped across the floor, dodging around Clarik's workbench.

  You did? I turned from my workbench, setting down the enchanted arrowhead.

  "Yes! 'Defender of Weath!' Just now!" Her freckled face beamed. "I was practicing archery when the blue box appeared. My first title, I can't believe it! Mother wasn't happy about it, but father said he was proud."

  Clarik laughed. "Two defenders in one day. Marshes must've talked us up proper in Millbrook."

  It made sense. Marshes had seen Mallie's skill with the bow firsthand during his stay. A level 5 Archer at twelve years old was remarkable since most children didn't even receive their first level up until thirteen or fourteen. Add to that her War Academy invitation, and it was no wonder word had spread.

  "You got the title as well? Neat!" Mallie bounced on her toes. "What about the attribute? The one that makes you stronger in the village?"

  Yes. Three points to Strength and Endurance while within Weath's borders.

  "Same here!" She flexed her skinny arms. "Though I don't feel much stronger."

  "That's because you're already plenty strong," Clarik said, ruffling her hair. "Don't need no system telling you that."

  Have you checked your status page? I asked. The attribute should show up there.

  Mallie's face scrunched in concentration. "Oh! There it is. Right under my Archery attribute." She grinned. "We match now, No Eyes! Both defenders of the village."

  I felt an odd warmth at her words. Despite my monstrous nature, the system had recognized me as a protector of humans. And now Mallie shared that recognition with me.

  "Better watch out, raiders," Mallie declared, pretending to draw her bow. "Weath's got two defenders now!"

  My chime-like laughter filled the room.

  The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the smithy windows when Antos's stocky frame appeared in the doorway. He nodded to Clarik, who was hammering out a plow blade.

  "Need a word, No Eyes," he said, gesturing outside.

  I set down the arrowhead I'd been examining and followed him into the yard. The mayor's weathered face was creased with worry lines.

  "Got reports from the Hunters this morning." He scratched his white beard. "Found some strange tracks out in the eastern woods. Big ones. Signs of something feeding on deer carcasses too."

  What kind of tracks? I asked through Mind Speech.

  "That's just it, they ain't sure. Whatever made them is large though, larger than a bear." He shook his head. "Being so close to the Lodrik Hellzone, we get monsters wandering in sometimes. Regular ones, mind you, not intelligent folk like yourself."

  I nodded, understanding the distinction. The mindless beasts that attacked anything living were different from sapient creatures like myself.

  "Problem is," Antos continued, "these things get stronger if they feed enough. Each kill gives them experience, lets them to level up. We need to take care of them quick before they become real threats."

  He looked at me directly, despite my blank porcelain mask. "None of our folk can handle something this size. Marshes and his lot just left, and who knows when the next group of adventurers will come by."

  You want me to hunt it down?

  "Aye." He shifted his weight. "You're the strongest we've got now. That new title of yours proves it. Defender of Weath."

  I considered this. With my combat frame and enhanced abilities within the village borders, I was likely better equipped than most to deal with such a threat.

  I'll do it, I replied. The village has given me. A home. It's only right I help protect it.

  "Thank you." Relief flooded his features. "The tracks were found northeast of Henrik's farm, heading deeper into the woods. Best start there."

  I returned to the smithy and began to open up the chest cavity for my combat form, which was slightly covered in dust from weeks of disuse. The mechanical body stood in the corner where I'd left it after creating my more human-looking porcelain form. Its four arms and reinforced plating had served me well during our escape from Qordos, but I'd hoped not to need it again.

  "Going hunting for that monster, then?" Clarik asked, setting down his hammer. Despite spending all day loudly hammering in his smithy, the man had remarkable hearing it seems.

  Yes. The mayor believes it could be dangerous. If left unchecked.

  Clarik wiped his hands on his apron. "I'll come with you. Another pair of eyes couldn't hurt."

  I shook my head. You're not a combat class, Clarik. The village needs their only blacksmith here.

  "Look, I may not be a fighter, but I know these woods." He seemed torn, looking between me and his unfinished work. "You sure you'll be alright alone?"

  I will be fine. This is what I was made for. The words felt strange as they formed in my mind. Was this truly what I was made for? Hunting monsters?

  No. Not hunting monsters. Protecting people. I was a protector, of that I was certain.

  "Well, if you're sure..." He finally agreed. "At least let me help you transfer over."

  I nodded and began removing my shirt. The fabric caught slightly on the porcelain joints of my shoulders. Once it was off, I reached for the seam in my chest plate and pressed the hidden catch I'd built into it.

  The porcelain chest swung open like a cabinet door, revealing my true form inside: just a head, part of a torso, and a single arm. The red, ragged edges of my missing parts contrasted sharply with my pale, unblemished skin. I averted my gaze, suddenly self-conscious.

  Clarik didn't flinch or show disgust as he helped me disconnect from the porcelain body's mechanisms. He'd seen me before, of course, but I still felt exposed, vulnerable. I hated having others see my broken form. In my mind, I was hideous; just a mere fragment of something that should be whole.

  "There we go," Clarik said, carefully helping transfer me to the combat frame.

  Thank you.

  I flexed all my limbs, getting a feel for the combat body once more. It was half a foot shorter than the porcelain body, but much more durable and stronger. Each of my metal arms held a strength that the pretty ceramic limbs of my other form just could not match. I removed my porcelain mask, handing it to Clarik, before replacing it with the armored metal helmet that protected the vulnerable red flesh where my eyes had been.

  I looked over at the bronze mirror hanging on the wall and saw my reflection. Gone was the almost-human androgynous figure that I had worn for the last few weeks. In its place was the monster of old, the same one that had destroyed Qordos and chased off Gomka's gang. A four-armed monstrosity that protected the humans who hated and feared it.

  I opened my status box and took a look at the change in my scores.

  Changing bodies had changed my statistics as well. My Strength, Endurance, and Dexterity scores had all gone up to reflect the stronger, more durable, and faster nature of my combat form. I dismissed the blue box, then went to the workbench to get my weapons.

  As my hands reached down to grasp my swords, spear and mace, Clarik spoke up.

  "Good hunting, No Eyes," he told me, which was usually what the villagers told the hunting party whenever they left for the woods. I suppose, at that moment, I was a Hunter. If not in class, then very much in spirit.

  I smiled and gave the blacksmith a nod, before moving my mechanical form outside. It was time to hunt.