Only when a pale hand waved in front of his face several tis did Shane finally surface from his laser-focused trance.
"What's up?" he asked blankly, looking up at its owner—Erza.
She was bent over, leaning close, expression sowhere between amused and exasperated. "Aren't you hungry? Look outside. It's already night."
Shane's first instinct was to say "not really." He wanted nothing more than to finish the last few pages—the travelogue was just getting to a fascinating bit about an old border town's technique for weaving strange plant fibers.
Erza eyed his reluctant face, even more puzzled. "Don't you have the Gale-Force Reading Glasses? It's not even a spellbook you have to parse word by word. You've been on that all afternoon?"
"Of course." His voice carried a spark of shared excitent. "It's packed with interesting info. I want to read it a few tis—really burn it into my mory."
"How many tis?" she pressed.
"This is the fifth," he said, a bit proud.
"…"
She stared at him for two seconds, then simply grabbed his collar and hauled him out of his chair. "Dinner."
Dragged bodily away from the table, Shane finally noticed the sky outside was ink-black, the library lamps glowing softly. Even Levy, who'd been reading nearby, had vanished at so point.
"Wait—the book—"
"I got it." Erza snapped it shut and slid it back into its spot in one smooth motion.
Too lazy to cook, they picked a random lit-up restaurant on the way ho.
Munching on a decent enough steak, Shane suddenly had an idea. He set down his knife and fork. "Hey—after this I want to swing by a blacksmith."
In the days he'd been resting, Saber's dream hadn't returned, and he didn't dare throw out random guesses anymore.
That travelogue, coupled with his firsthand encounters with Zeref's creations, had sparked a thought: to crack this True Na and trigger the vision again, maybe he needed to actually walk the trail the hints pointed to.
Like forging.
Which he happened to enjoy anyway. With spare ti now, it was a good excuse to dust off that hobby.
Erza swallowed and asked, "You can forge magic swords already?"
"Not nearly," Shane chuckled. But his eyes were bright. "I do have ideas I want to try."
After dinner, they headed straight to a reputable forge at the edge of town.
It was late, but the furnace still roared; the rhythm of hamr on tal filled the air.
This ti Shane didn't buy pre-made blanks. Instead, he stopped by the raw materials and picked through the ore, choosing a few good-looking chunks.
At the counter, he put down a deposit on the lot, then politely asked an old smith if he could spare the next morning to help him set up a simple forge near his ho.
The old man weighed the coins and broke into a grin. "No problem, lad! I'll haul everything over first thing and get you sorted!"
On the way back, Erza glanced at his empty hands, curiosity burning brighter. "You're starting from ore? That's a lot more work."
"It's necessary," Shane said, looking toward the dark line of trees. "This ti, I don't want to lean on magic. I want to slt the iron myself and hamr it into shape."
If he didn't use [Arrow Construction], but instead walked each step from raw ore to finished blade, maybe he'd get closer to Saber's roots.
Erza half-understood, but still asked, "Want to help?"
He pulled his gaze back and smiled. "Use this ti to finish Requip. Let fuss over the forge."
He chuckled at himself.
So much for quietly studying in the library. Then again, it didn't have to be either-or. He could hit the library in the mornings and hamr steel in the afternoons.
The next morning at dawn, Erza washed up and headed out to the guild, full of energy.
Shane waited in the yard.
It wasn't long before the old smith trundled up with a load of materials and a young helper.
Maybe because Shane had paid so generously, the smith was in fine spirits and moved quickly.
They picked a spot just outside the yard, near a little creek—handy for quenching. The smith directed his apprentice mixing clay, building the furnace with practiced hands.
Shane helped when he could, passing tools and asking about the hearth's shape, the bellows' angle.
The man seed pleased by the thoughtful questions and explained more than he might have otherwise. "It's simple, but it'll burn hot enough. Perfect for small work."
By the ti the furnace stood, the sun was high. After one last test of the bellows, the smith wiped his brow, satisfied, and headed off.
Shane stood alone before the new-built forge, its firebox still empty.
He ran his fingers over the rough clay. The dry, gritty texture sent a little thrill through him.
He could hardly wait. He lit the kindling and worked the bellows.
Whoosh—
Air rushed; flas leapt, licking the bare brick, heat rolling out to flush his cheeks.
He slapped his face lightly and stared into the dancing core of the fire, eyes shining.
…
By dusk, Erza was on her way back from the library when she heard a steady clanging by the creek.
She followed the sound and found Shane hard at work.
His face was streaked with soot; sweat beaded on his brow, catching the firelight. He held a glowing red billet in long tongs, laid it on the anvil, and brought the hamr down again and again.
Erza said nothing, just watched his profile.
His jaw was set, but his eyes were bright, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
He looked… happy.
Maybe even happier than he did when it was just the two of them.
The thought made sothing twist in her chest—an unreasonable little sting she couldn't na.
"And here I am, bringing you dinner," she muttered, a bit miffed, setting the takeout box down on a nearby rock.
But the creek breeze was cool. Worried the food would go cold, she frowned, then scooped it up again and went inside to keep it warm.
When she ca back out, Shane was just setting his hamr aside.
He turned to her, proudly lifting the billet—now clearly taking the rough shape of a blade. "Well? First try, and I pulled it off!" he said, swiping his forehead, eyes sparkling.
~~~
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