I introduced Ajax to Sinclair and gave my Cannon Fodder Minion a quick rundown on the new management arrangements, then left the two of them in the Arcade to plan and scheme while I headed out to round up the others. They were all loitering in front of the Arcade and Temperance still seemed like she was a hairsbreadth away from extreme violence. No real surprise there. “Ready for Extreme Violence” was practically Temp’s middle name.

  She calmed down a little as I explained what had happened with Ajax, though she still glared at the assembled protestors as though trying to decide how she wanted to murder them.

  I took a few extra minutes to stockpile more Health, Stamina, and Mana Elixirs, before we set off for the 49th floor. There were other things I wanted to do, but we’d already been gone a long time. A suspiciously long time. If we didn’t get back to the Holly Hearth soon, Wulfgar or Hannah would almost certainly come knocking. Finding our rooms empty would invite some uncomfortable questions I didn’t really want to answer.

  I trusted Nikoli to hold up his end of the bargain, and Wulfgar seemed like a decent enough guy, but if either suspected I had a Mythic Emblem tucked away in my Spatial Core, all of that friendly, small-town cheer might just melt away like snow on a hot July afternoon. Greed did strange things to people—good people, most of all.

  Much to my dismay, we found Wulfgar waiting for us outside our room at the Holly Hearth. He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, and eyes locked on the door. Wulfgar had been all smiles the night before, but now his expression was flat—guarded—as though his face was carved from a slab of stone.

  “Been knocking for a while,” he said when the door finally creaked open. “No answer. I thought maybe you’d left, but I checked the window from outside and it was still closed.” He squinted, studying me with cold gray eyes. “Where were you?”

  “Just deep sleepers,” I said, ignoring his insinuation. “But we’re up now. Everything, okay?”

  He grunted. Nodded. But the warmth from the day before was nowhere to be found now.

  “The Jarl is waiting for you over at the forge,” he said coolly. “We best get moving, the Jarl doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  We stopped at the counter on the way out and found Hannah behind the bar, smiling and holding a box of warm breakfast pastries. Fried dough, sprinkled with powdered sugar and stuffed with raspberry jam. We thanked her for the gift and ate in uneasy silence as we followed Wulfgar along snow-dusted roads and through a warren of winding back alleys.

  He stopped us at the forge door, his massive frame blocking the entrance. His brow furrowed, his bearded face creased with frown lines.

  “Listen,” he said solemnly, “I like you. All of you. But I don’t know you. Not really. So hear me clear when I tell you that if you do anything to hurt Nikoli or jeopardize the safety of this Safe Harbor, that it will be the last mistake you ever make.”

  There was no heat in his tone. He wasn’t trying to threaten us. This was a promise, as certain and solid as the cobblestones under my boots.

  Then, without waiting for a response, Wulfgar turned and thumped on the forge door with a heavy fist. The metal door rang like a bell, and a moment later it hissed open, steam billowing into the cold morning air.

  “Good luck, today,” Wulfgar said, waving us in.

  The four of us filed in and the door clanged shut behind us with the finality of a prison gate.

  “He seemed a little grumpy, don’t you think,” Croc whispered, sounding concerned. “Hope it wasn’t something I did. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him so much about Twilight? I tried to avoid spoilers, but it’s a slippery slope and once I get going, it all just comes out.”

  “I really don’t think that’s it,” I mumbled, patting Croc reassuringly on the head. “He’s just worried. People can act strange when they get worried, but it’s got nothing to do with you, bud.”

  Nikoli was waiting for us, just as greasy and soot covered as the day before. There was a wild look in his eyes, and I had a sneaking suspicion that he’d never left the forge.

  “Welcome,” he said, striding over with a mason jar in one hand and a massive hammer slung over one shoulder. “You sleep well, da? Holly Hearth gets little noisy, but best beds in all Kringlegard.” He took a long swig from the jar—it looked like water, but who knew—then held it out to me with a grin. “A drink to start the day off proper?”

  I shrugged and accepted the jar. I nearly sputtered when I took a sip.

  “Holy shit, this is just straight vodka,” I said, wiping my mouth with my sleeve then handing the mason jar back.

  “Da, I brew it myself,” he replied, puffing his chest out in pride. He gestured toward the corner, where a heap of metal stills and curling copper tubes formed a chaotic contraption. “Only the best for friends of the Jarl and no better lubricant to get creative juices flowing.”

  Temperance pulled the jar from my hand, then proceeded to chug the entire thing in a display that had even Nikoli raising an eyebrow.

  “Thank you,” she said, setting the empty glass on a nearby table. “I was feeling a little parched.”

  Nikoli grinned and chuckled. “I like this one.” He gestured between me and Jakob, “I do not know if you are already romantically involved, but if not, you should move quickly before the single men of Kringlegard see how she drinks. With talent like that, suitors will be lining up around the walls!”

  I noticed Jakob blushed a little, though the Cendral said nothing.

  “Now come,” Nikoli boomed, “we have work to do. Many preparations to make.” He turned and strutted further into the workshop, leaving us no option but to follow. “This creature we will be fighting, the locals call him Krampus,” he said over one shoulder.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Wulfgar filled us in a little bit last night—though,” I added, “he was pretty light on the specifics.”

  Nikoli frowned. “I am surprised he mentioned the creature at all. Most people in Kringlegard will not even speak its name for fear of invoking the sglaz.”

  “All he would tell us is its name,” Temperance said, “and we practically had to pry it out of him.”

  “Not surprised,” Nikoli said with a sigh. “They are superstitious, and not without cause. Krampus is a fierce creature from legend with host of powerful abilities and small army of obedient servants—the Jultomten. Yule Elves,” he clarified at the obvious confusion on our faces. “They spawn from a sack Krampus carries on his back. Wave after wave, they come. Very powerful. People say if you speak Karmpus’s name too loudly, the Jultomten will come for you in the night and drag you back as a Yule sacrifice.”

  “Murderous Christmas Elves,” I repeated. “For some reason I am in no way surprised. I assume he also has a few other tricks up his sleeves? Other than the Jultomten, I mean?”

  “Oh, yes. His bulging sack is full of many nasty tricks,” Nikoli said, completely stone face.

  “I feel like that’s the worst possible way you could’ve said that,” I replied.

  “What?” Nikoli asked, confused. “His bulging sack is full of many nasty tricks. Is this wrong English?”

  “No, no,” I reassured him. “It is technically correct English, just gross sounding.”

  Nikoli still didn’t seem to understand why the phrase “his bulging sack,” was unpleasantly vivid and I didn’t feel the need to explain any further.

  “We will need specialized gear to defeat him,” Nikoli continued. “He has many powerful abilities—Chains of Yule, Hearthfire Lash, Cloven Rush. But the two most dangerous are Naughty List and the Long Winter Comes. Naughty List is mental ability. Ensorcels mind, makes you relieve the worst day of your life over and over again. Very unpleasant. Long Winter Comes is environmental ability. Snow. Ice. Frostbite. Enhances the power of Naughty Lists. Is bad. But something like this will help.”

  He pulled his blood-red coat, trimmed in white Yeti fur, from the back of a nearby chair and casually tossed it to me. I examined the coat and a popup appeared.

  Festive Flayer Coat

  Rare Artifact

  Type: Cloth Armor (Enhanced)

  Ho, ho, holy hell—what the fuck are you wearing? Is that skin? You know what, forget I even asked…

  Woven from the tanned hides of wayward gnomes and trimmed with the coarse, unethically-sourced yeti fur, this gruesome garment is a mockery of the traditional red coat worn by Saint Nicholas. While unspeakably vile in origin, the coat offers undeniable utility. Its thick, enchanted lining grants complete immunity to the ravages of environmental cold, and resistance to all forms of cold-based magical damage. Snow and frost seem to part around the wearer, refusing to cling to them.

  More disturbing is the coat’s ability to conceal the wearer’s past transgressions. While worn, it shields its bearer from arcane scrutiny, rendering them undetectable by spells or abilities that would divine truth, alignment, history, intent, or personal information—including all details from the user’s Specimen Bio-Report. The wearer may find themselves smelling faintly of cinnamon, coal smoke, and repressed guilt.

  Effect 1, Yeti-Touched: Grants immunity to environmental cold and resistance to cold damage.

  Effect 2, Hide and Sleight: Your past is nobody’s business—not even the System’s. While equipped, you are immune to all spells and abilities that would reveal alignment, affiliations, criminal acts, sins, or the invasive power of Spatial Core scans.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Effect 3, Set Item 1 of 5: Santa’s Slayer Regalia

  “Is good, no?” Nikoli said with a grin, crow’s feet crinkling at the corner of his eyes.

  Good wasn’t the word I’d use—considering that the coat was crafted from the skins of sentient, humanoid creatures—but it was useful. The value of the Hide and Sleight effect alone was damn-near worth its weight in Delver Tokens.

  As the most wanted man in the Backrooms, an Artifact like that could be extremely valuable, though it also raised some concerning possibilities. For example, if someone from the Skinless Court happened to have a similar item, would it allow them to bypass the security protocols on my Doorway Anchors—effectively granting them unauthorized access to the store?

  I wasn’t sure, but I’d need to poke around and find out once Krampus was dead. If it was true, that’d be one hell of a loophole, and it was almost guaranteed to come back and bite me in the ass sooner or later.

  I handed the coat to Jakob, who quickly scanned it before passing it off to Temperance.

  “You will each need something like this before we face Krampus,” Nikoli stated flatly, once Temperance had finished. “If you go in as you are, certain death. With Artifact like this”—he seesawed his head back and forth as he thought—“maybe only forty-percent death.”

  Those weren’t exactly reassuring odds.

  “And how do you propose we go about getting something like this?” Temperance asked. “Unless you happen to have extra skin coats just lying around?”

  “Is simple,” Nikoli replied with an easy shrug. “We make them together, here in the forge.” He waved at the chaotic interior, filled with tables and workbenches. “Is not as good as my Soul Forge, but it will do. I am Artificer—there is nothing I cannot craft.”

  “We’re going to make them?” I asked, not bothering to mask the doubt in my voice.

  “Da,” Nikoli replied with a nod. “Is easy with right tools. Time intensive, but easy. What do you know about the construction of Sigil Stones, Relics, and Artifacts?”

  I shared a glance with the others who all looked as confused as I felt.

  “Not much,” I finally confessed. “I know that, in theory, you can forge Relic Shards into useable Relics, but I’ve never had much luck with it. And I didn’t even know it was possible to craft Artifacts or Sigil Stones.”

  Nikoli chuckled darkly and shook his head.

  “Come, come,” he gestured for us to follow deeper into the workshop. “I will show you the way.” He guided us over to a large wooden workstation, banded with strips of reinforced iron, its surface etched in strange geometric patterns—circles within circles, odd lines that never quite meet—each groove inlaid with threads of gold and silver that thrummed with faint power.

  Runesribed Fabrication Table

  Rare Artifact

  Type: Fabrication Tool

  Bulky, sturdy, and built to withstand even the most volatile magic-fueled explosions, this mana-infused workstation is a staple of any serious enchanter’s workshop. Although this is a basic model, which offers no thrills and precious few frills, it is perfectly suited to aid in the construction of Relics and basic Sigil Stones by providing a stable arcane matrix that reduces destabilization during inscription and material bonding.

  While it grants no additional bonus to success like more advanced models, it passively prevents most common fabrication pitfalls. No explosions, mana leaks, or cursed feedback loops—unless, of course, you are truly incompetent. Heavy and not easily moved, fabrication tables like this one are often installed in crafting halls, Safe Harbors, or personal sanctums. Those who recognize it know that it is a reliable, workmanlike tool for anyone seeking to bind magic into matter.

  I read the description with keen interest and a faint flutter of excitement.

  I’d never seen a fabrication table before—never even heard of one—but something like this opened up a whole new world of creative possibilities. Curiously, the table’s description didn’t actually explain how to use it, only what it could be used for, which was mildly annoying.

  “As description says, this is basic fabrication table.” Nikoli slapped the surface with one calloused hand. “Is backbone of any Artificer’s forge. But first, you must understand basic fabrication theory.” He pulled out a Relic. Nothing special, just a Common-grade Basic Camo Kit. Almost every low-level mimic I’d ever killed dropped a Relic almost identical to that one. “What do you see, when you look at this?” he asked, raising the camo kit so we could all get a good look at it.

  “A makeup compact,” Jakob offered when no one else spoke.

  The Cendral wasn’t wrong. It did resemble a folding makeup compact with a small mirror inside. Though instead of blush or eyeshadow, it had thick makeup in shades of black and green, brown and tan. I’d had a kit just like it during my Marine Corps days.

  “Wrong,” Nikoli barked. “The exterior of given Relic, it does not matter. The outside could look like anything. Camo Kit. Invisible-Ink Pen. Gilly Suit. Fake Snow. Different, yet all the same. A true Trapper or an Artificer knows this.” He moved over to the workbench and set the Relic on the table, directly in the center of several large, concentric circles.

  He placed his palm flat against the table and channeled a thread of Mana into the geometric sigils inlaid into the surface. They flared to life with golden light and a flickering holographic image appeared in the air above the Relic. It was rather simple—just a twisting, circular band of golden light with a crooked line jutting off from one side.

  “This,” Nikoli said, gesturing toward the strange pattern, “is Basic Camo Kit. Vessel does not matter. Only pattern.”

  Both Jakob and Temp looked perplexed, but Croc wagged its tail eagerly.

  “Hey, Dan,” the mimic said excitedly, “isn’t that the way your Spell Trap Cards work?”

  “Spell Trap Cards?” Nikkoli asked immediately.

  I fished a Balloon Menagerie Card out from my tool belt and handed it over. Nikoli squinted and studied the card, rubbing a thumb across the surface, before casually licking the surface. After a moment he grunted in approval then offered me the card.

  I grimaced and shook my head. “You go ahead and keep it,” I said.

  He just shrugged and tucked it into his pocket.

  “Is good work,” he said in begrudging approval. “You have Runic Resonance Trap?”

  I nodded.

  “Good, good. This will be much easier for you, then. Basic principle is same. Relics are not vessel, they are sigil. Think of rune as a computer program that tells mana how to act. How to flow. Blow this up. Hide that. Turn water into ice or ice into acid. It is all same mana, understand? Just different expression. The rune contained within Relic guides mana. Tells it what to become. This is true for trap making. But…” he said with a sly grin, “is also foundation for fabricating Relics from Shards. Or creating Sigil Stones.”

  He pulled the Basic Camo Kit from the table and exchanged it for a pile of Common Grade Relic Shards, which resembled chunks of glossy white porcelain.

  “Most Delvers know that Shards can be forged into Relics, but most cannot forge Relics. Is paradox. This is because they think, wrongly, that Relic is vessel, not pattern.” He tapped a finger against his temple. “They imagine a Camo Kit. The mana is not Camo Kit and so it does not know how to act. Instead, it finds a suitable configuration. Usually random and chaotic. Such Relics, fabricated without guidance, always turn out bad. But instead, if you focus on the pattern and not the vessel…”

  He trailed off and closed his eyes in concentration as he fed mana into the fabrication table. The Relic Shards seemed to shimmer, a faint sheen of steam rising off them as they melted and flowed together, forming into a liquid silver puddle contained within the runic circles. A brilliant flash of light momentarily filled the room and when it faded, the silver pool was gone and in its place was what appeared to be a roll of Christmas-themed wrapping paper—green and red with brightly colored trees dotting the surface.

  Nikoli picked up the new Relic and tossed it to me.

  I snatched it from the air and turned it over, examining the wrapping paper in meticulous detail. I quickly got a new prompt, confirming that the item, Merry Misguise, was indeed a concealment Relic, no different than the Camo-Kit.

  “New Relic often reflects environment,” Nikoli said, “but effect is same. You must have template, though. This is real trick. Creating Relics with a new effect is beyond even my abilities. As for Sigil Stones, same principle applies.” He trudged over to a large metal-banded box and flipped up the lid with a groan of rusted hinges. Inside the chest were polished stones that could easily fit inside the palm of my hand. Well, my good hand anyways—not the stumpy baby hand growing from my left wrist.

  “These are blank Sigil Stones. Hard to find, unless you know where to look. Almost any Relic effect can be imprinted onto a Sigil Stone, though the format will twist mana. Is less predictable than fabricating Relics from Shards, but there is science to it.”

  Once again, he repeated the process—laying the blank stone inside the warded circles on the table, then imbuing it with the same mana pattern he’d used to forge Merry Misguise. This time, the stone flared a deep bronze color and when the light faded, a jagged glowing rune was engraved into the rock’s surface.

  “Is same,” Nikoli said hefting the stone, “but different. When paired with Artifact, it increases effectiveness of all stealth and concealment-based Relics by 10%.”

  Huh. Now that was interesting. It reminded me a bit of how Echoed Aura worked—twisting a Relic’s power into something that could function as an Aura.

  Nikoli pocketed the stone and shuffled over to another work bench, though this one looked to be a solid slab of crystal or glass.

  “This is Mana Infusion Table. For transforming progenerated items into basic Artifacts.” He pulled a dark green Northface parka from storage and carefully laid it on the table. “Artifacts are artifacts because they have material significance. Items that come from outside”—he gestured broadly at nothing—“in the real world, are always imbued with material significance. But there is way to artificially imbue item with material significance.”

  He pressed a hand against the table.

  “To make Artifact, you must first prime with mana.” He fed a trickle of power into the table, which lit up like a halogen searchlight. “Then, you must give item meaning. Must feed it a memory.” A look of concentration flickered across his face as he focused on the coat. The light from the crystal table seemed to sink into the fabric, infusing it. “Any small memory will work. But once memory is used, it is gone from your head. Poof. Belongs to Backrooms.”

  The light faded and when he removed the coat it was now a Common-grade Artifact with a single effect slot.

  “Wait,” I asked, suddenly full of questions with no answers, “you can just make Artifacts? Does that mean you can also upgrade items that are already Artifacts?” I asked, immediately thinking of my ass ugly bathrobe.

  He hesitated. “Is tricky,” he said, “and it only works on Artifacts that have Personal Significance. But we cannot do it here. You need specialty Augmenting Altar. I have one in my Soul Forge. But the process is costly. Only small memory to create a Common-grade Relic. But it takes powerful memory to upgrade Artifacts to Rare-class or beyond.

  “The more meaningful the memory, the more powerful the upgrade. You want Fabled Item? Question is,” he said stroking his bushy white beard, “what will you pay? The memory of your first kiss? The last words spoken with a dying loved one? The day you got married? The day you had your first child? This is price.”

  I let the words settle over me as I consider the implications.

  In a place where power meant living, how far would I go to survive? How much of myself was I willing to give up? And how long would it be before this place sucked my soul dry of meaning until only an empty husk remained?

  “And what about the rest of this equipment?” Jakob asked. There was another fabrication table nearby, but more eye-catching were the massive forge and anvil, a rune-covered grinding wheel, and several huge barrels brimming with a wide variety of questionable liquids.

  “Is nothing to concern yourself with,” Nikoli said with a dismissive sniff. “Used for forging weapons, armor. Fabricating custom mechanisms. Too much to teach in one day—and only a fraction of the equipment my Soul Forge has. But…” he tromped over to a workbench covered in test tubes, distillation vials, and glass beakers. “I do have basic alchemy station if you any of you know how to brew Elixirs.”

  Jakob’s eyes lit up with excitement.

  “I have full complement of ingredients and reagents you can use,” Nikoli said, pointing to a lopsided cabinet overflowing with supplies. Leaves and flowers, tinctures and powders, teeth and eyeballs, and dozens of other things even more esoteric and strange.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate it,” I added quickly, not wanting to sound ungrateful. “But this is incredibly valuable information, and you don’t even know us. So why stick your neck out like this?”

  Nikoli was quiet for a long moment before finally answering. “We are a pragmatic people. I know the Flayed Monarch is scared of you. That is enough to know it would be better to make ally than enemy.” He paused and grinned. “And you forget self-interest. You help me kill Krampus and save face, all of Kringlegard prospers. So, helping you is helping me. Now,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Enough questions. Fabricating takes time. I will provide template, but you must make—I have my own work to do.”

  He walked over to the wall and pulled out the strange candy stripped sword he’d been working on the day before.

  “When time comes,” he said while inspecting the blade, “we will be ready…”