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The question is, can you be blamed for something you were raised to believe?
If someone had only talked to him, perhaps they would all see it was merely a cultural difference.
But Smithy was always subjected to the same question. Why has he dared to harm something as good and beautiful as Star Road?
Truthfully, the Stars frightened him.
The shapeshifter was born into a dimension where war was religion. The weak perished, and the strong survived.
He had no parents. He had been dumped in a factory vat as a newborn, probably the result of a long forgotten transaction.
The most unthinkable thing for someone to do was to help a person out of selflessness. It was a sign that the person was merciful, weak, and easily tricked.
Smithy knew what it was like to live on that bottom rung, but not for long. He gave all his gold to learn magic from a wizard.
The fool taught him how to create life from metal, an almost useless skill when everyone in this world was some weapon or another.
But Smithy knew how to take advantage of it.
A Knife. One of the most basic creatures in this world. The perfect place to begin.
He fashioned the bright blade, the yellow hilt, the tiny figure on top to fool opponents into wasting an attack on a false person.
Considering this world, one might call Smithy kind. He inflicted no pain on his creation, and even let him name himself.
Mack was the first, and his next project was a set of five Axe Soldiers. Their proportions and personalities were all different, almost a taboo. The more unique a soldier was, the more likely they were to betray you. (The Axem Rangers were too busy fighting each other.)
One day, he watched a Bow stun a hundred people with poison darts. Bowyer and the Aeros were born that evening.
Yardovich was his pride and joy, given his creator’s own shapeshifting abilities. His birth quickly led to his little group being known as the terrifying Smithy Gang.
When he ran out of soldier ideas, he created Blade as their home. Smithy’s people had long keeled over, and survivors were rare.
He expected his Gang’s service, but never laid a hand on them. They gave him their loyalty in return.
Smithy had conquered his world, but still felt yearning.
That was until his new invention, Exor the Sword, glitched and opened a portal.
The smith crashed landed in a field.
The dark sky hurt his eyes. What were those tiny pinpricks? The shine in the darkness confused him.
He stumbled into a village, taking the form of one of the shelled beings nearby.
He asked one of the creatures nearby, one of them with a round head.
They laughed at him with a squeaky voice. “Those are the stars! You know, granted wishes?”
“Wishes?” The word crackled in his mouth.
They sighed. “The Star Spirits respond to the good things the people want and grant them. It gives us hope.”
“Give it?! Freely?!”
“Why would it be conditional? They are kind beings.”
Smithy found a library and used a spell to read everything the books contained.
This world worshipped helping others. He shuddered, unable to comprehend.
Throughout it all, Star Road was constantly referenced (even in swears). There were seven Star Spirits that were led by Eldstar. Weaker Stars served as couriers of wishes, and species such as Star Sprites performed the other duties.
In spite of himself, he looked toward the sky, this feeling of “hope” crushing his insides.
He wished to find his place in this world. Perhaps this order could be better.
One month in, two months in, he was still an outcast. He was still scrounging for basic necessities, and the villagers only ran away when he threatened them instead of bartering.
Smithy was bewildered by how easily these people were overrun by monsters! It was like they had no violent bone in their bodies, and their only instinct was to pray to their Star Spirits for help.
The respect he had built for them quickly dwindled.
The only person he still admired was King Bowser, the infamous military king, but the Toadstool princess was too big of a weakness for him.
Smithy retriggered the portal, fuming. He would correct this sad little planet after making more Gang members.
And he would start with King Bowser. The smith knew no higher honor than initiating war. Surely he would understand.