The mole monster prowled around at the edge of the wards, keeping an eye on James. After hurriedly ensuring the ward was topped up with magic power, he had retreated, gripping the haft of his newly-forged war hammer in his hands. Unfortunately, the pick-axe haft was a sub-optimal choice for a war hammer. It was now unwieldy to use single-handedly, but too short to use properly with two hands.

  In one sense, he was in a better position than his first encounter with a monster. He was inside a ward, with plenty of supplies, and he even had a proper weapon (although the low durability was both confusing and deeply concerning).

  On the other hand, he had completely lost the element of surprise. The monster was looking right at him and hadn’t looked anywhere else the entire time James had been watching it.

  James tried creeping forward to take a swipe at it with the war hammer, but as he advanced, the mole monster retreated out of the range of the hammer. Then, as he reached the fading edge of the ward, it shuffled forward in a clumsy dash, raking out with its front claws. James fell, tripping over his own feet, but the monster stopped short in its charge, blocked by the ward.

  James scooted back and the monster resumed pacing along the edge of the ward.

  An impasse.

  James’ heart pounded and he breathed heavily as he stood back up and returned to his forge and smelter, well away from the edge of the ward. The monsters’ claws were like knives, at least eight inches long and sharp, while the paws on the end of its thick forelegs were broad and, from the sound of the impact as they hit the cavern floor, heavy.

  Suddenly thirsty, thirstier than James had ever felt in his entire life, he shakily took his cup and drank from the pure water flowing down the wall. Over and over he refilled his cup and drank until, stomach near bursting, he vomited it back out.

  James was terrified. His thoughts raced, thinking about how he could dash back to the old iron mine, reset the wards, and dig his way back out. But even though he felt sure he could outrun the mole monster from one set of wards to another, he wasn’t sure when he had last recharged the other set of wards, or if he ever had at all. Were they still functioning? Would he dash there only to find the monster following anyway? And that was if he didn’t stumble and get rushed by the monster before even making it there.

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  And what of the old iron mine itself? James hadn’t been back there once since entering the cavern. Who was to say it was safe, that it didn’t have more of the mole monsters in it?

  James spat bile from his mouth, feeling light headed and hyperventilating. He squatted down next to the wall, and reaching out with his right hand to stabilize himself his fingers brushed against and then instinctively wrapped around-

  The handle to his Green Iron Hammer. The one he had been using to [Forge] for weeks and weeks now.

  He took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. Closing his eyes, he focused on the hammer in his grip and the sounds of the shuffling monster faded away. In and out he breathed.

  When he reopened his eyes, he was calm, and more than that, he was determined.

  He glared at the monster.

  “I’ve killed one of you already, and I’ll kill you too.” he said venomously.

  For all that the Smith was a peaceful man, he had his mother’s fire in him. The kind that said to go for the eyes.

  He picked up a stone, stood, and threw it at the monster. It ducked its head, avoiding the stone, and hissed at him, making to lunge at him before halting abruptly, stopped by the wards.

  Right. James hadn’t thought it would work, not really, but it was worth the attempt.

  James sad down on a rock and glared at the monster as he thought. What he wanted to do was to hit the monster on the head with his war hammer and kill it instantly. Hefting the war hammer in one hand and his trusty Green Iron Hammer in the other, he realized that the war hammer was roughly three times as heavy as his forging hammer. He had managed to kill the first mole monster with the green iron hammer, but he had had the element of surprise, and the first blow had only stunned it. It was the second blow, when the head was on the ground, that had put it on the brink of death, and only after pounding away at the skull repeatedly had he actually leveled up as a [Smith]. Sadly, neither of his classes being combat classes meant that he had no easy way of being sure the monster was really dead, at least not with a skill.

  Still, he could observe closely, the same way the slave boys had been able to tell regular iron ore apart from colored iron ore, even without the [Ore Identification] skill.

  The problem was that actually hitting the mole would be difficult. If he rushed it head on, it would probably lunge and gore him on its claws. And if he tried to dodge that and by some miracle actually did avoid the attack, he would be off balance for a follow up strike.

  Thinking, James realized that what he wanted was a shield. With a shield, the claws of the monster would be blocked, and the monster would be open for a counter strike from the hammer. It would not be the cleanest counter, not with the unwieldy war hammer in one hand with the other holding the shield, but it would be possible.

  And what if something went wrong, the shield didn’t work and the monster got around it?

  James needed armor. If he took a bad gash from those claws, even if he killed the monster in the end, he didn’t like his chances of digging back out of the old iron mine while wounded.

  James pulled out some dried meat and chewed on it thoughtfully as he designed his first set of armor.