2 days later...
It was finally ti for Ruvian to visit Dain Forgewell, the local blacksmith of Notaris Town, and pick up the custom-made knife he had ordered.
When he stepped into the workshop, Ruvian pushed past the curtain and was imdiately t with the familiar wave of heat.
The air was thick with the scent of tal and burning coal. His gaze moved across the cluttered space until it settled on the man working beside the forge.
Dain noticed Ruvian and his son slipping in and lifted his head from his work.
"Do not worry, kid. I have completed your request," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a knowing grin.
"Be thankful. My father put in real work for your request." Gared added from behind him.
"Of course." Ruvian replied, though his attention was already drifting elsewhere.
The space before him brightened for a mont, and with a single practiced thought, a translucent blue page unfolded into view.
Activating Skill: [Character Sheet]
Lines of glowing pages unfolded in the air before him.
===============
{}---『STATUS PROFILE』---{}
◇ Na: Dain Forgewell
◇ Age: 47
◇ Spellcore: Tier 1
◇ Rank: Fifth-Class Magus
◇ Magic Affinity: None
[Mana Resonance: (0/100)]
==[General Attributes]==
Strength: D-
Agility: E-
Endurance: D-
Vitality: D-
Perception: F
==[Mage Attributes]==
Mana Control: F
Casting Speed: F-
Magic Power: F
ntal Strength: E-
Mana Sensitivity: F
Mana Essence: [150/150]
==[Innate Blessings]==
- [N/A]
==[Affinity Mastery]==
- [N/A]
===============
He studied the window panel carefully.
’Nothing much has changed.’
With a small inhale, he slid his fingers again across the glowing air.
Activating Skill: [Editorial Preview]
The character sheet condensed. The interface glead for a mont before shifting form, collapsing into a singular line of glowing text that floated directly beneath Dain Forgewell’s na.
[Alive]
Ruvian’s gaze sharpened.
There was no imminent fate or danger, but the system had given him a glimpse into this man’s future in the next arc that he would remain alive.
’That’s good to know.’
He closed the sheet, the glowing page dissolving into the ambient air.
"Sothing on your mind, boy?" Dain asked, arms crossed now, eyeing him with a mix of suspicion and amusent.
"You’re staring at like you’ve seen a ghost... or worse, a noble tax collector."
Ruvian smiled, then offered a calm shake of his head.
"It’s nothing."
Dain pulled out a neatly wrapped package and set it on the table. The weight was solid but not excessive.
"Here’s your request, kid."
Dain pulled away the cloth, revealing the custom-made kitchen knife. The blade glead under the dim light of the forge, its edge polished to perfection.
The handle, carved from dark wood, fit comfortably in his grip, its surface designed with an intricate engraving of a blooming flower.
Ruvian traced it with his thumb.
Dain smirked, watching his reaction.
"Hah. Ain’t she a beauty? Sharp enough to cut through at and bone like butter. Hell, I’d bet you could shave with it if you were crazy enough."
"Yeah, it is a beauty."
Ruvian didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small folded slip of paper and tossed it into the air.
Dain’s grin stiffened. "Oi, oi, you don’t—"
Shffft!
The blade moved in a single, fluid motion.
The paper caught mid-fall, split cleanly in two. Both halves fluttered to the ground, severed with such precision that the edges barely curled.
Ruvian examined the knife in his hand, his expression indifferent.
[You have been rewarded 10 Plots Points]
"Are you crazy?"
"That gorgeous knife is extrely sharp! You could hurt yourself. Be more careful, boy."
Ruvian lightly chuckled.
"True, it is sharp."
"I like it."
Dain was speechless hearing the boy’s response. He snorted, shaking his head as if offended.
"Tch. You didn’t believe ?"
Ruvian placed the knife back into its sheath and tucked it away. Dain was still watching the sliced paper on the floor.
Then, a satisfied smirk crept onto Dain’s face.
’Damn right, of course, it’s sharp!’ He proudly thought.
Ruvian reached into his coat and pulled out 3 silver coins, placing them onto the counter. Dain’s eyes darted to the coins before turning to his son, who had been watching from the side.
"Gared," he called out.
"Take it and put it in the chest."
"Yes, father."
Gared then quickly moved to collect the coins. anwhile, Ruvian adjusted his coat, slipping the knife into his belongings before turning toward the door.
"You’re leaving already?" Dain’s voice followed him, carrying an edge of amusent. Ruvian stopped just before stepping out, casting a glance over his shoulder.
"I have so other preparations left to make for my enrollnt."
Dain let out a loud laugh, shaking his head.
"Hah! You’re busier than the damn count himself."
Ruvian rely shrugged, offering a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Without another word, he stepped out of the workshop and disappeared into the bustling streets.
The forge was silent for a mont.
Gared approached his father, his arms weighed down by a bundle of weapons left for repair. He adjusted his grip before looking at his father with a furrowed brow.
"Father, why have you been rejecting so many repair requests these last few days?"
Dain exhaled through his nose, wiping his hands on his apron.
He cast a glance at the weapons Gared carried, the last of their pending work.
"Because... after we finish these repairs, we’re shutting the workshop down for a while."
He calmly said.
Gared froze.
His grip on the weapons tightened.
"...What?!"
His father didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he reached forward, placing a strong hand on the boy’s shoulder. His grip was warm, a reassurance, and a promise.
"Get ready, son."
Dain said, his tone leaving no room for argunt.
"From today, I’m going to teach you how to make real weapons, like a true blacksmith."
Gared’s breath hitched.
’Did I hear that right?’ Gared thought.
For a long ti, those were the words he thought he’d never hear again.
His father, once a proud craftsman, had abandoned forging long ago, resigning himself to repairs and maintenance.
Gared had always wanted to learn, to follow in his father’s footsteps, but he had long since given up hope.
And yet, sohow, his father was looking at him now, waiting for his response.
Gared’s eyes burned with sothing fierce.
Finally, his lips stretched into a wide, uncontainable smile.
"Yes, Father!"
Without another word, he turned and rushed inside the workshop, his excitent practically radiating off of him as he carefully placed the last batch of weapons onto the workbench.
His hands, which had only ever held tools for repairs, itched to grab the hamr.
Dain let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he watched Ruvian’s silhouette disappear into the crowds.
"Who would have thought that crafting a simple kitchen knife would feel more fulfilling than hamring dents out of shattered weapons?"
He had not expected anything from the task. It was just simple, mundane work.
Yet sowhere between drawing out the steel and carving the delicate flower patterns along the spine, his hands began to move with a care he had forgotten he still possessed.
Sothing had moved him, and with it rose a mory he had not touched in years.
—"Hey, brother. Looking grumpy as always, I see."
The voice rang out clear and bright, sharp as a hamr striking true. It cut cleanly through the roar of the forge, through the heat, through ti itself.
—"Elfred? What are you doing here?"
—"I thought of coming here to see you before I went on another expedition. Anyway, rember our talk last week? I’ve got an idea. What if we surprise Mother for her birthday with a gift?"
—"A gift? We don’t have the money for anything decent, Elfred." Dain scoffed, already knowing the answer.
—"Ha! Who said anything about buying one?" The laugh that ca from Elfred had been imdiate, unburdened.
Even now, the image ca back with painful clarity; Elfred leaning against the anvil, soot-smudged and grinning, eyes reflecting the fire brighter than the coals themselves.
—"Huh, then what are you planning?"
Elfred’s smile had widened, reckless and impossibly sincere.
—"How about... we forge her a kitchen knife. Not so market junk. One made by us. She likes cooking, right? With your hamr and my help getting the ores. I know it’ll be better than anything those markets sell!"
Dain let out a quiet chuckle in the present, the sound rough, as if dragged from deep within his chest.
—"So? Are you in or not?"
Elfred’s voice echoed serenely in his head.
Back then, they had been poor. His hands blistered, Elfred clothes perpetually stained with dust and blood. Yet they stood shoulder to shoulder, supporting each others.
Recalling those mories, a fla he had long believed extinguished began to burn once more.
His joy of crafting slowly ignited.
The mont of when it all began...
—"Of course, I’m in!" Dain shouted.
—"That’s what I want to hear, my dearest brother."
—"Bring the fire to the forge!" Elfred added, unable to stop himself from smiling.
Dain exhaled slowly in the present, his calloused fingers running over the rough surface of his apron and shook his head.
"Hah... I ought to thank you for that, kiddo."
His gaze drifted to the forge, where embers still smoldered beneath the blackened coals.
The smirk on his face deepened.
Soon, the forge will burn brighter.
And so would he.
Dain turned around and walked through the curtains.
"Gared..." He called his son as he drew in a deep breath.
Gared turned around, looking at him with the brightest eyes.
"Yes?"
With a wistful smile, Dain opened his mouth and shouted...
──────── ✦ ────────
[Chapter 30: Bring the Fire to the Forge!]
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