CHAPTER 258: CRAFTED

"So, off memory, I blurted out that I was heading to take a bath... and I offered for her to join me. I expected her to reject it or walk away, but she actually said yes. She even let me braid her hair. But now she’s saying we’re not close."

Zarah blinked slowly, unfazed."How does what happened make us close?"

Talia gasped like she’d been stabbed.

"She’s right," I said with a shrug. "It doesn’t make you close."

"Of course you’d say that." Talia responded and made a up and down gesture with her fingers as she added: "She your beloved."

"It’s true," I replied simply.

"But we spoke a lot," Talia insisted, throwing her hands up slightly.

"You spoke a lot," Zarah corrected, her tone flat, almost bored.

Talia clutched her chest dramatically, stunned, like Zarah’s emotional indifference had personally wounded her.

She let out a long, defeated sigh.

"Seriously..."

But then Zarah expression softened, and she added quietly,

"But from hearing her speak, I can tell she’s not a bad. Just loud"

"Zarah," Talia said, suddenly bright again, and stepped forward with open arms, clearly intending to hug her.

But Zarah not up for that affection, extended one finger and pressed it to Talia’s forehead, stopping her advance like she was halting a charging boar with minimal effort.

"Alright, that’s enough of that," I said, waving lightly. "Talia, we need to talk about your skills and how they can be useful for the games."

Her mood shifted immediately—her back straightened, and her expression sharpened.

"The King’s Game," she said, all traces of fluster gone. "Gork told me we’d be participating."

She hesitated, then looked at me with a seriousness she hadn’t shown till now.

"Do you think we’d be ready?" she asked. "I heard it’s rather brutal."

"We will be," I said, "as long as everyone contributes."

Talia nodded, the seriousness in her eyes sharpening.

"Alright. Like I said before, my ability—[Threadbare]—lets me modify already-crafted armor. I can reinforce it, reshape it, make it fit better, make it last longer... but that’s not where my real talent is." She drew in a small breath, her confidence rising. "I can also give it special effects that enhance the wearer’s stats."

"Oh?" I breathed out, genuine surprise slipping through.

I knew it.

Earlier, when I questioned her and she hinted she could do more than just make armor tougher, I had wondered what else she meant. I had suspected it was something bigger, something special... and clearly, it was.

An armor enhancer that could grant stat boosts wasn’t just helpful.

It was game-changing.

"By how much can the wearer’s stats be increased?" I asked, stepping closer, more focused now.

"It depends." she replied.

"On what?"

"On the quality of the material," Talia said, lifting her chin slightly, "and on how strong the armor already is before I use my ability on it. If the armor is low-quality, I can only push it so far. But if it’s made from good materials, if the craftsmanship is solid, then I can enhance it with really powerful effects."

That made sense. Even skills had limits. You couldn’t turn trash into treasure without something to build on.

"What’s the best armor you’ve ever made," I asked, "and what effect did it have?"

Talia pondered for a couple seconds before she replied:

"Well... the best had to be the former Chief’s armor."

"Oh...that!" I muttered.

Of course.

I remembered that armor clearly. Jael had looked like a war god in it—broad, imposing, almost radiant with menace.

"And what was the effect?" I asked, narrowing my eyes a little as I replayed the image of Jael in that armor.

"It increased the user’s mana by thirty percent."

Thirty percent.

My eyes widened a little.

"Thirty percent... that’s a lot."

"Indeed," Talia said, unable to stop the smug little curl of pride at the corner of her mouth.

I rested a hand on my chin, thinking.

Her ability was far more valuable than I first assumed. If she could grant something that significant to Jael, then outfitting my goblins with armor enhanced by her hands could change everything. Even a weaker fighter became dangerous if their stats were pushed that high.

"What rank is your skill, by the way?" I asked.

Talia paused.

Her posture stiffened, and she suddenly looked hesitant, almost guarded, like she wasn’t sure she should answer.

"Don’t worry," I said, trying to reassure her. "I’m not going to steal your skill."

Talia’s face twisted instantly.

"What do you mean steal my skill?!" she snapped. "That’s the same thing as saying ’Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.’ Are you threatening me?!"

"You won’t be threatened if you act like the good goblin Zarah says you are and obey your chief."

Talia gritted her teeth so hard I thought I could hear them grind. She opened her mouth to fire back, but before she could get a single word out, I added calmly:

"And don’t forget—you feel paralyzing pain if you lie."

She froze.

Then glared at me like she wanted to stab me with a sewing needle.

Finally, through clenched teeth, she said:

"S-rank... it’s S-rank."

"Oh?" I raised a brow. "That’s a rather high rank."

Her expression shifted instantly—right back to smug, chin lifting as if she expected a choir of praise to erupt around her.

"That’s right. I’m special," she said, practically glowing. "I deserve special treatment."

"Of course you do," I replied, heavy with sarcasm.

She ignored my tone entirely.

"Anyway, if you really want to see what I can do, you could come try some of my work," Talia said, brushing a hand through her damp hair. "I have an enhanced armor that’ll suit Zarah perfectly."

"Oh?" I turned toward Zarah.

Her expression brightened immediately. She didn’t say anything, but the slight lift of her brows and the way her shoulders straightened told me everything I needed to know.

She was interested.

"We should head back to the camp then," I said.