Mikokos' tiny forge was screaming. Not in a metaphorical, poetic way. This was an actual aural assault. Sparks cascaded in a rave-themed rainstorm, arcing off the anvil in loops of molten language. A chorus of metal agony and arcane friction ground against the air, nearly snapping her stall out of existence. Bob watched the crafter dance between flame and fury, her hammer a blur as she wrought the impossible. Her eyes glowed with fully realized forge-madness - something reserved for people who thought spreadsheet-optimization equaled romance. History, or 'lore', just might break its kneecaps under the weight of her ambition.

  'Brief silence.'

  Mikoko stepped back, chest heaving, holding a newborn legend of cult-status potential. It vibrated slightly. A tell of unfinished business on a cosmic scale.

  “I believe,” she whispered, voice laced with exhaustion and elation. “we have achieved crowbar perfection here. One small step left.”

  She got a nod of approval from Bob and slotted the ascendant gem into the reinforced grip. The masterpiece pulsed once, hard enough to make air throb and send dust swirling off the floor.

  [System] Item Crafted.

  ???? (Tier VI), unnamed

  160 Physical Damage

  ???? (Locked)

  ???? (Locked)

  Oh hell yeah. No more tool-imposed attack nerfs, just pure power and.. finally some hidden bonuses to flush out! Bob could not contain his excitement “LOVE! Mikoko, this is amazing. Give it here!”

  Mikokos knuckles went white around the shaft. “Bob.” she said flatly “I don’t know what’s going on. The metal, it does not want to leave my forge.” She gave it up with haunted reluctance - this thing spelled ruin in the wrong hand. The moment it touched his palm, it shivered and.. spoke?

  ???? “Yo.”

  Bob froze. Mikoko dropped her tongs. Iron Jaw, who’d been watching from the vicinity of his own stall, went out of his stern character-brand and took a single step back in discomfort.

  The crowbar wiggled once. “So. Uh. I’m alive now? Just fantastic. Add sentience to my mix-tape, why don’t you! I’ve got stuff left un-bar’d and no time for these puny mortal affairs.“ A momentary pause of silence. “HEY BOB, so are you gonna name me or what? Baptize me in your fountain of gloom?”

  Bob stared, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth, eye's screaming 'mind-blast' over and over. Yep, his brain had just bluescreened.

  Mikoko didn’t blink, clearly fascinated by the newest personality to join the antechamber-crew. “Oowee.. your crowbar has it own voice!”

  ???? “Yeah! My passion though? Watch me cook this joint!” The crowbar flexed and Mikoko’s eyes popped bright with delight.

  'Tool? Nah, baby, I'm the whole damn kit

  Wreck your system, like a patch that don't fit

  I’m the ‘oh shit’ moment, when the cutscene stops

  Myth with a handle, no rust-covered prop

  You’ve got stats? Cute. I got legacy weight,

  Trash your sad run, mod-fuck your fate

  I’m the glitch in your grind, the buff you’ll regret,

  Swing me wrong Bob and I might just reset.. .. you!

  Bars recognize bars! Mic drop. Out.'

  ‘CLANK’ Mikoko dropped her tongs again along with her jaw.

  The gruff merchant squinted towards Yui’s stall as if hoping she’d fly to the rescue. She didn’t. “The lad’s done it now.”

  ???? “Yo.” The crowbar said again, shifting in Bob’s grip. It was trying to find some inkling of comfortable balance. “We’re partners. Let’s set some ground rules for what’s to come.”

  “Nah.” Bob muttered, a pool of concerns flooding over behind his eyes.

  ???? “Alright. Let’s just cut to the real question at.. hand. Do you even know what my job is?”

  “Breaking things. You just did a whole spit on it.” Bob pointed out.

  ???? “Damn straight!” it snapped. “Things with a capital T. That’s the key word here. I’ll gladly go to town on a few doors, crates, hatches or locks with structural integrity. But Bob, when was the last time you let me pop a panel or liberate a jammed drawer? I’ve been fighting horrors and abominations alongside you, and not once have I been used correctly. It’s weaponized misapplication, man, and at it’s worst: plain and simple tool-abuse.”

  Bob blinked. “It is effective though.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  ???? “Hell yeah. Lethal even. But I’m also getting worn out. You swing me like a warhammer, when I’m a goddamn precision instrument.”

  Mikoko leaned in. “This is not normal weapon behavior. I reaaaallly don’t want to as I kind of love this creation. But, it feels as though I might have screwed up my best customer's order.. I’m gonna fix it, sir! Free of charge.” Bob sent her a vague smile of approval and she reached for the tool. It vanished.

  [System] Crowbar (Tier VI) Unequipped.

  Bob stared at his now empty hand. ‘Equip crowbar.’

  [System] Crowbar (Tier VI) Equipped.

  It materialized just to disappeared again.

  [System] Crowbar (Tier VI) Unequipped.

  Iron Jaw exhaled deeply: he was watching someone get pantsed by karma, and not for the first time. “Lad. Just what did you put that tool through out there?”

  Before Bob could answer, a familiar text box flickered into view.

  [Echuu] Well congratulations sure are in order here! You’ve played the system and forged a weapon so powerful it developed boundaries. Respect.. One small suggestion though. Take or leave it: couple’s therapy! Debt Keeper’s a good listener, low hourly rate too. Not too taxing.

  The crowbar reappeared. “Slime’s right. I’ve got self-respect now. You want to use me, boy.. Then step up and earn this partnership.”

  Bob clenched his jaw. “You’re a fucking crowbar. Get that into you thick.. frame.”

  ???? “Dude.. Correction. I’m your crowbar. And I’m gonna make your run a slap-contest, if you don’t start taking me seriously immediately.”

  “Fine. I’ll name you.” Bob muttered. “But no take backs. You get what you get.”

  The crowbar stopped vibrating. “Cool. Hit me. Preferably something that fits my rap-game.”

  Right. Bob thought for half a second and blurted: “Rebar.”

  Silence.

  The crowbar twitched. “..Wait.”

  “It’s thematic.” Bob said firmly. “Steel. A support tool. Strong. Just what you wanted to be, right? Rebar is locked in.”

  [System] Rebar Unequipped.

  Bob stood there, hand still frozen in a holding pose. “You motherfu.. ”

  He didn’t finish his sentence before Mikoko collapsed to the floor in laughter: ugly, snorting, tear-streaming, full-body ROFLMAO’ing. She sat, pounding a thigh with one hand, the other wiping wet eyes. “That.” she gasped. “That was the best commission of my life. Thank you universe!”

  “Funny, yeah, but also annoying. This will no doubt set me back.” Bob couldn’t help but smirk at the absurdity. After all, whatever the consequences, it was his own fault for pushing fate. Yui had kindly warned him that this was a possibility. He sauntered over to Iron Jaw’s and bought a cheap T1 crowbar. Just in case Rebar had ghosted him for good.

  “Right. Boss time.” By now, Bob had a piling itch to scratch..

  .. [System] Unread Messages: (1)

  Sender: Derrin

  Subject: HELP HELP.. HELP!! HELP! HELP

  Bob winced. “God damn’it. This game, can’t it just let me play already?”

  Even by MMO standards, five capital letter HELP’s in the subject line would be a war crime. He hovered for a second, debating if this was truly a straight-up boss-triggered panic puke.. or something else. Was this bait, or worse, a phishing-mail? Only one way to find out. ‘Tap’

  'Bob, I NEED YOU. I don’t know wtf triggered, but it’s BAD MAN. System flagged as ‘final tally.’ hear of that? ME NEITHER

  GET!BACK.. TO. ME,FAST!'

  Bob rubbed his jaw, teeth grit as his brain did the mental equivalent of deciphering a modern-day crash-message. Final tally? He had heard that before. That's what happened when you maxed out playing the curse-tombola. Bob cracked his neck. Should he drop everything and rush in, all white-knight-idiot chasing down a sad-violin-cue? Nah. Bob didn’t do rescue arcs. He did prep runs, boss punks, and, if needed, creative violence with steel and stubbornness. Heroism was optional, success mandatory. Besides, going to Derrins aid now, without Rebar tamed or both arms online.. That would be asking for the young warriors’ next, and maybe final, death screen. A sigh escaped him as he chose his response:

  'Sit tight. Don’t click anything. I don’t care if a pop-up offers you unlimited XP-glitches or a free dragon mount that doubles as a romantic companion.

  I’m coming, promise! Gotta fix something first though. You owe me that much patience.'

  [System] Message Sent.

  [Echuu] Acting all responsible are we? Proud of you. Confused, but proud.

  Bob shot the hovering text box a look so deadpan it could flatten gods. “I don’t throw myself into every catastrophic mess you know.. ”

  [Echuu] True. But your success rate at finding shit hitting a fan is legendary. Honestly, you’re a missile-battery locked into disaster-track-mode. Pew, seek, suffer!

  Bob didn’t comment. Instead he turned toward Boss Door, boots stomping across ground like echoing war drums. The door waited for him. Monolithic and timeless, its surface carrying a faint distortion from anticipation of violence.

  [Boss Door] Encounter 4/7 – The Void Emperor. Choose a Difficulty Tier: 1–5. Greater Tiers bring more rewards, more challenge.

  Bob didn't hesitate. ‘Tier Six.’

  A long pause before the system responded: flat, mechanical and somehow judgmental. As if what he had just done was an affront to it’s self-image.

  .. Choose a Difficulty Tier from 1 to 5. Greater Tiers bring more rewards, more challenge.

  “Cowards.” Bob snorted. He stabbed a mental finger at the next best thing. ‘Tier 5.’

  The door pulsed. The air thickened. And somewhere deep within the vaults of code and cruelty, a new nightmare stirred, awoken not by purpose, but by arrogance.

  Bob adjusted the grip on his cheap, un-sentient T1 substitute. A placeholder. His voice was calm. Almost bored. “Alright, Void Emperor.” he said. “I sure hope that’s a promise of forty thousand demons.”