Chapter 231: A Disguise [II / Bonus - ]
Silas walked over, looking at the glowing block of unique metal that carried his own forged name.
"That’s impressive, Thora, but what about the disguise?"
"Right, right!" Thora said, snapping back to attention and tossing her tongs onto a wooden table.
She crossed her arms, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Look, My Lord... crafting a proper magical disguise item from scratch takes a hell of a long time. It isn’t just a matter of slapping a fake wig and some face paint on you. If you want to fool high-tier government sensors and spiritual detection wards, you need something that restructures your entire presence but if I were to forge a proper disguise artifact from baseline materials right now, it would take weeks to months if not years of work—"
She stopped dead mid-sentence, her brown eyes going wide as saucers.
"Aha!" Thora shouted, slapping her forehead. "I have exactly what you need, My Lord!"
Silas blinked, watching in confusion as the dwarf forge-mistress turned on her heel and ran frantically toward a dusty towering wooden shelf tucked away in the far back corner of the Foundry.
She began rummaging through stacks of old iron boxes, discarded blueprints, and dusty leather pouches, throwing random metal scraps over her shoulder with wild abandon.
"Where the hell is this thing...?" Thora muttered angrily, her voice muffled as her head was buried inside a bottom cupboard. "Fucking hell... I know I put it right here..."
"What are you looking for, Thora?" Silas asked, walking over and leaning against the shelf.
"It’s a Disguise Ring!" Thora explained loudly from inside the cupboard, tossing out an old copper hammer. "I got it from my dad years and years ago back in the mountain holds! It’s an experimental prototype he built before he passed! He ended up losing the original runic scroll where he kept the design schematic, so I’ve been keeping it tucked away, trying to reverse-engineer the conduit paths in my free time!"
She pulled her head out of the cabinet, holding up a small dark object between her thumb and forefinger with a triumphant grin.
"Found it!" Thora cheered. "Look at this beauty!"
Silas leaned in closer to inspect the item.
It was a simple unadorned black metal ring. It didn’t possess any glowing runes, ornate gems, or visible magical auras.
It looked entirely ordinary, almost like a piece of tarnished iron scrap.
"This plain black ring?" Silas asked skeptically.
"Don’t judge an item by its casing, My Lord!" Thora scolded him, holding the ring out toward his hand. "Once you wear it, your physical appearance, your body structure, and even your spiritual presence will completely shift! It overwrites your outward persona on a foundational level! Go ahead, put it on!"
Silas took the cool black band from her palm. He looked at it for a brief second, then slid it smoothly onto his left ring finger.
... Nothing happened.
The air remained still. Silas looked down at his hand, then looked up at Thora with an unamused eyebrow raised.
"Nothing’s happening, Thora." Silas said flatly.
"Eh?" Thora grunted, leaning in close and staring at the ring on his finger. "Hold on, that’s impossible..."
She reached out and gave the black band a hard energetic tap with her fingernail. "Maybe the internal mana conduit is defective after sitting in a dusty drawer for so long...?"
The instant her fingernail made contact with the metal—
BOOM.
A violent surge of deep purple mana suddenly erupted from the black ring!
The purple light swirled outward like a roaring vortex, completely enveloping Silas’s entire six-foot-two frame in a glowing opaque pillar of magic!
The spatial pressure inside the Foundry spiked as the ring forcefully re-wrote his physical parameters from the ground up, compressing his skeletal structure, altering his conduits, and shifting his spiritual frequency.
Thora shielded her eyes with her forearm, taking two steps back as the purple light pulsed violently three times before slowly dissolving into the warm air.
When the light finally cleared, Silas Graves was completely gone.
Standing in his place was a woman.
The woman was noticeably shorter than Silas’s original height, standing at roughly five-foot-seven.
Her body was clad in a simple black button-down shirt and fitted black trousers.
However, her left sleeve dangled empty from her shoulder, rolling loosely in the warm draft of the forge... she only possessed a single right arm!
Her hair was a sleek pitch-black shade that fell loosely to her shoulders, framing a sharp strikingly beautiful face.
And as she slowly opened her eyelids, her eyes shone with a deep radiant mysterious purple color that possessed no trace of Silas’s original golden rings.
Thora stood frozen, her mouth hanging wide open in pure awe as she gawked at the figure standing before her.
Silas looked down at her hands or rather, her single right hand and flexed her fingers.
She brought her right hand up, looking at her smooth, pale skin and her narrower wrist.
"This is weird..." Silas spoke out loud.
Her voice had changed completely.
It was no longer a deep gravelly baritone... it was a smooth and slightly raspy but very womanly voice.
Silas took two steps forward, feeling the shift in her center of gravity.
She was shorter, her frame was far lighter, and the complete absence of a left arm felt strangely natural, as if her body had been born that way.
Stranger still, there was zero pain or phantom ache coming from her empty left shoulder.
Before Silas could fully analyze her new center of balance, Thora snapped out of her trance.
The dwarf forge-mistress darted forward like a striking predator, reaching out with both hands and firmly grabbing a massive handful of Silas’s newly shaped, perky rear end!
SLAP!
"Hey!" Silas snapped, reflexively twisting her torso away and glaring down at the dwarf. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Thora pulled her hands back, holding them up in a mock gesture of surrender, though a dirty, ecstatic grin was spread across her face.
"I apologize, My Lord!" Thora giggled uncontrollably, her eyes sparkling with wild delight. "I couldn’t help myself! No matter whether you’re a rugged man or a gorgeous woman, you’re still absolutely breathtaking! Look at that firm waist and that tight ass! Is the body feeling okay for you?"
Silas let out a long breath through her nose, smoothing down the fabric of her black trousers.
"Physically, yes, the body feels completely fine," Silas admitted, examining her right arm. "It’s surprisingly responsive and light. But what about combat? My primary weapons like my Greatsword and my other swords, or even the Sylvan Spear are strictly designed for two-handed combat. I don’t think I have any formal training or muscle memory for a single-handed sword style..."
She looked at her empty left sleeve, which fluttered gently as she turned.
Silas wanted to get used to this new physical vessel as soon as humanly possible so she wouldn’t fumble during her public debut.
’Maybe I’ll take this body out on a border patrol tomorrow morning or something...’ Silas thought, examining her reflection in a polished steel shield hanging on the wall. ’Who knows? Maybe this is a practical way I can walk around the territory and hang out with the girls without them constantly walking on eggshells around their Lord...’
However, that hopeful thought completely vanished into thin air the very next second.
CREAK!
The heavy double doors of the Foundry swung open, letting in a gust of cold winter wind and swirling snow.
Tasmin stepped through the doorway, her newly evolved S-Rank silver-streaked hair catching the orange glow of the forge fires.
She carried her twin chained shortswords at her waist, looking around the workshop.
"Thora," Tasmin called out. "Is the scout gear reinforcement ready yet? I came to pick up the—"
Tasmin froze.
Her dark eyes locked instantly onto the black-haired, purple-eyed, one-armed woman standing in the center of the forge beside the anvil.
She didn’t pause for more than a single heartbeat.
She didn’t look confused, nor did she raise her weapons in defense against an intruder.
Instead, Tasmin simply tilted her head, her sharp face softening into a flat unimpressed look.
"My Lord," Tasmin said plainly, walking inside and closing the door behind her. "What are you doing in a disguise?"
Silas blinked her purple eyes in total, utter shock. She stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the scout.
"How do you even know...?" Silas asked, her female voice carrying a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "I don’t look like myself at all! I don’t even have the same voice or physical gender!"
Tasmin stopped a few paces away, looking Silas up and down with a quiet, knowing smirk.
"You might not look like our Lord," Tasmin explained smoothly, gesturing toward her own chest where her core hummed. "But you feel like him. You can’t hide it from us, Lord Silas. Every single combatant in this territory that is bound and linked to your banner can see it clearly... that massive brilliant golden aura radiating from your soul. You could turn into a bird or a rock, and we would still recognize your presence instantly."
Silas’s shoulders slumped, her female frame deflating completely as she let out a defeated sigh.
"Oh... alright," Silas grumbled, crossing her single right arm over her chest. "Well, setting that aside... how do you like the disguise visually?"
Tasmin stepped closer, circling around Silas’s new body with an analytical eye. She inspected the empty left sleeve, the sharp jawline, and the glowing purple eyes.
"Visually? I like it a lot," Tasmin admitted honestly with her lips curving upward. "You make a remarkably striking woman, My Lord. But if I’m being completely honest... I definitely prefer when you’re a man."
"It’s just temporary," Silas clarified, flexing her right hand. "I just need to get used to handling myself in combat while using this single-arm structure."
Thora, who had been watching the entire exchange with a mischievous grin, suddenly clapped her hands together loudly.
"Hey!" Thora suggested eagerly. "Why don’t you help out, Tasmin? Give our Lord a proper test drive in his new body right now!"
Silas looked over at Tasmin, thinking it over for a second. "That’s actually not a bad idea. Tasmin, give me a light spar. Let’s see how fast my reaction speed is in this form."
Tasmin’s dark eyes flashed with dangerous excitement. "As you wish, My Lord."
SWOOSH.
Without giving a single word of warning, Tasmin’s body completely dissolved into the floor!
She activated [Shadow-Submersion Drift], vanishing into the dark shadows cast by the forge equipment in a fraction of a millisecond!
The atmosphere in the Foundry dropped five degrees in an instant.
Silas stood perfectly still beside the anvil, her purple eyes narrowing as she centered her breathing. Even without her original eyes, her sensory perception was fully operational.
’Behind me...’ Silas registered instantly.
A sharp, jet-black dagger formed entirely from solid shadow energy materialized out of the floorboards directly behind Silas’s back, thrusting silently toward her right shoulder!
"Heh," Silas smirked confidently.
Having anticipated the strike, Silas gathered a burst of Gold Core mana into her boots and pushed off the ground, intending to execute a simple light backward leap to clear the blade’s range and reposition herself.
However... Silas had drastically miscalculated two critical factors.
Her new body was significantly lighter than her original heavy male frame, and her S-Rank Gold Core was pushing full power into muscles that were now half their original density!
BOOM!
The instantaneous kinetic output was astronomical!
Instead of a light two-foot defensive hop, Silas shot upward into the air like a high-velocity surface-to-air missile!
"WHOA...!" Silas yelped in her new female voice as the floorboards beneath her feet literally shattered from the launching force.
CRASH! SHATTER! BANG!
Silas’s head, shoulders, and upper torso smashed violently through the thick timber crossbeams and reinforced slate tiles of the Foundry’s roof.
Wood splinters, iron dust, and broken roof slate exploded outward into the snowy night sky!
Silence descended over the Foundry once more.
Down on the floorboards, Tasmin materialized out of the shadows, sheathing her shadow blade as she slowly raised her head, looking straight up at the ceiling.
Dangling from the gaping, smoking hole in the roof was a pair of slender legs clad in black trousers, twitching helplessly in the open air while the top half of their Lord remained stuck outside in the snowstorm.
Tasmin let out a slow, long sigh, resting her hands on her hips as she shook her head.
"My Lord really needs more training with this body."