As Berry continued to issue orders, her voice never wavered. She spoke with a precision and organisational depth that stunned those who knew her as a quiet, reserved girl.
In truth, she had spent the previous hours preparing for this mont with Sara’s assistance, rehearsing the logistics and anticipating the bottlenecks.
It was a rare, transformative scene; the shy master had stepped into the shoes of a general, reviving the very plan William had used to save her own people years ago.
The eting concluded with a flurry of motion. Faction leaders stepped forward one by one, accepting the blueprints as if they were holy relics. ssengers were dispatched imdiately, their boots thundering against the stone floors as they raced to summon every smith and artisan within the city.
The bulk of the talent ca from five primary sources: Sara, Berry, Ro, Lara, and Anjie. Although Lara’s city had weathered a brutal siege, the spirit and infrastructure of its craftsn remained intact. Their forging departnt had been the backbone of the defence, and now, they were being called upon for a much greater purpose.
Lara worked with frantic efficiency to clear a massive sector in the city’s inner zone. Within minutes, the area was transford into a sprawling industrial hive.
Thousands of portable ovens were wheeled into place, and piles of raw ore, conductive alloys, and quenching oils were hauled in by the wagonload.
The first to arrive were the masters from the Long clan and the Aspire Academy, moving with the synchronised discipline of those who had done this before.
They were led by Kong, whose face was set in a mask of grim determination, and Ellina, the head of the Academy’s forging departnt, who looked at the burgeoning plaza with a clinical, calculating eye.
Together, they led a core group of five hundred elite masters into the plaza. However, they were soon joined by a massive influx of other smiths. By the ti the thirty minutes were up, the plaza was overflowing with nearly three thousand forging masters, with more streaming in through the portals every minute.
"Are you certain all of these are the most experienced masters your forces have to offer?" Kong asked, his voice booming with doubt as he surveyed the massive crowd. He was used to the insular excellence of his clan, not this sprawling, disorganised sea of craftsn.
"We are a coalition of dozens of factions," Fang said, clearing his throat as he stood beside the old patriarch. He knew exactly where the majority of these new arrivals had co from. "Most of these n and won served under Anjie’s banner."
Anjie had been strategic. She had seen the opportunity the mont Berry spoke. The threat of the Scarlet Bears was a nightmare, but the solution—a teachable, replicable thod of survival—was a godsend for her people. She had sent word to every smith who had served her fallen kingdom, those who had sworn their loyalty to her as their lady.
There were thousands of them here now, but Fang knew this was just the beginning. If they reached out to the broader territories that had once belonged to Anjie’s realm, this number could easily be multiplied by ten. They weren’t just building a forge; they were building an army of creators.
"Enough talk," Berry said, her voice cutting through the heat and the smoke of the first fires being lit. She turned to Kong, giving him a firm nod. "Kong, lead the way. Lang will assist you with others. Let the fires burn."
The first hamr struck an anvil, and the sound echoed through the city like a heartbeat.
Kong stood at the head of the massive plaza, his eyes montarily glazing over as the heat of the first furnaces licked at his skin. The sll of charcoal and ionised air acted as a catalyst, dragging his mind back through the years.
He could still see it vividly: the sight of a twelve-year-old boy, a re porter with dirt under his fingernails and a weight on his shoulders that no child should bear.
Back then, the Long clan had been standing on the precipice of annihilation. A monster tide the likes of which history had never recorded was screaming toward their gates, and yet, they had been forced to follow the instructions of that boy.
Kong rembered being dragged to a forge to take orders from a porter. Yet, William had pulled off a feat so magnificent, so utterly impossible, that it had redefined Kong’s understanding of the world.
What struck Kong most, even now as he looked out at the thousands of masters waiting for his command, was William’s humility. After saving the clan, the boy hadn’t asked for a throne or a statue.
He had stepped into the shadows, allowing the youngsters who had assisted him to walk in front of the clan elders and take all the credit. He had given them the glory while he kept the burden of the truth.
"Listen up!" Kong’s voice suddenly bood, snapping himself out of the reverie. He realised he had been standing in silence for several minutes, the weight of the mory holding him still.
He cleared his throat, his expression hardening into that of a master craftsman. "We will start with the foundational fold. Watch closely, for the rhythm is more important than the strength of the strike!"
He stepped up to a massive, black-iron anvil and began to demonstrate the process. Beside him, the few hundred masters from the Long clan and the Aspire Academy moved in perfect, haunting unison.
They worked as if they were parts of a single, great machine, their movents fluid and devoid of wasted energy.
It was clear to everyone watching that these n and were not just skilled; they had been practising this specific craft since the day they were born. Their hamrs rose and fell with a natural grace that only decades of muscle mory could produce.
From the edge of the demonstration area, Ellina stood with her arms crossed, her eyes tracking the movents of the Academy’s smiths.
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