--A few days ago--
"You called it Essence of Kova?" Leana asked a few days after he requested her to look for info. Seth nodded. The material's description simply called it the coagulated blood of Kova. Since it was special rated, Kova had to be a god. If the princes had been unable to find anything, he would have asked Simon, though he doubted the priest could do better than her.
"Well, I found sothing. There was a good called Kova. It was actually quite prominent across a bunch of worlds a few centuries ago," she explained.
"Was? Not anymore?" the blacksmith asked. He knew a lot of mythology and most of it had gods dying once in a while, but knowing what he knew now, it was hard to believe a god could die while his religion was healthy.
"He was part of the Aasit, a dium-sized Pantheon that has spread across a few worlds," she said and slid him a piece of paper across the table. It was the summary of Kova's legend.
"Kova, the great thunderer, who was even louder in bed than among the clouds. He was the most powerful of the Aasit in battle and stood undefeated. His re laughter could burst his opponent's eardrums and none of the other Aasit could harm him. The strongest Aasit couldn't put a dent in his body and the trickiest Aasit couldn't find a poison that could harm his body..."
"Are you serious?" Seth asked when he read the last part of the myth. Leana just nodded.
"One day, his youngest sister ca to him and challenged Kova to a duel of screams. The winner was going to be whoever was louder. The only stipulation was, that they both had to give it their all. Kova was apprehensive since there was no way his sibling could beat him, but the other insisted.
The sibling started and scread her lungs outs until her throat was sore. The young Aasit screams evoked pity in anything that lived. Then it was Kova's turn. After hearing his sister's cries, it was even harder for him to keep his promise, but he assured her he would give his best. When Kova's voice rose, the earth quaked.
Mountains broke apart and the earth itself split, but he was not done and his voice grew louder and more piercing. At the height of his roar that threatened to destroy the world of gods, Kova himself dissolved into millions of pieces, destroyed by his own voice."
"Why did his sister do that? Was Kova that disliked by his family?" Seth asked unsatisfied by the weird tale.
"What can I say? It is how the story goes, if you want the background you would have to speak with the locals."
…
--Present--
Seth rembered their conversation as he stared at the small chunk of . He had a slight hangover from drinking dwarves under the table, but today he wanted to try processing this special material.
After hearing the god's story and original traits from Leana, the blacksmith was quite clear about what he wished to make from it: Strings. It was ti for the bard to think about making a personal instrunt for himself.
Having a material that was all about toughness and loudness, or volu, seed perfect to make strings for an instrunt. The instrunt Seth had in mind was sothing along the lines of a guitar. He imagined that it would look really cool and sound apocalyptic.
Even though his was only apprentice lv.6, he wouldn't stop him from preparing the strings first. He intended to raise maker in a similar way as he did and in search of a note that could soften the tal.
That was his idea based on the story Leana told him. If this was the legend of Kova and what the people believed in, then this was also what gave this material its power. If it was Kova's voice that defeated the god's own toughness, then wouldn't there be a way to work the material?
There were different phenona in the world that gave him the idea. Like glass breaking through resonant frequencies, or sand becoming perable like liquid hitting the correct resonance. Maybe Kova had gotten soft and broken himself by hitting his own self-resonance for too long? If that was true, maybe Seth could at least soften the material by singing and playing the right note.
Over dozens of tries, Seth not only changed the frequency of his singing but also the volu of his voice in the hope to find the right frequency and force to manipulate the stubborn material. All without knowing whether it would even work.
He kept trying in the dogged pursuit of making strings.
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