The vision was still burned into the back of his mind. A blade of flame. A blade of ice. A blade of lightning. The moment the three swords crossed in midair, something existed beyond them. Something formless. Something vast. opened his eyes. The dim ceiling of the workshop's attic was there above him. The smell of straw. Faint residual heat rising from the furnace. He could tell the outside was beginning to brighten. He hadn't slept. Not a single moment. He confirmed Ur's hammer in his hand. Black iron grip. Ancient script carved into it. It wasn't glowing now. Despite how much heat it had held last night, it was cold now, like ordinary metal. Heavy. (A blade of flame... how am I supposed to forge that?) Questions spiraled in his head, but no answers came. The forging of three blades. That's what it had sounded like. That's what the vision seemed to say. But what materials were needed? What techniques? He had no idea. He got up. His master Yorn would still be sleeping at this hour. On mornings like this, the market was the place to be. --- Fostaelen's forging market came alive with the dawn. Along the street stretching east from the city's central plaza, stalls and permanent shops lined the way. The smell of iron, steam, and fried bread mingled together. The morning market was loud. Merchants shouted, clanged scales to call customers, and the sound of raking through piles of scrap metal came from everywhere. In the distance, a steam locomotive's whistle. The first departure from Fostaelen Station. walked between the stalls, keeping Ur's hammer pressed against his chest. The Ruin Preservation Edict—a law the Caldora Federation imposed on artifacts of this kind. Removing objects from ancient ruins without permission meant up to ten years in prison. turned this over in his mind again and again. If he was caught, it was over. But he couldn't bring himself to let it go. He walked, checking the prices of materials. He stopped in front of an aether crystal stall. Half-transparent stones lined a small shelf. Particles with a bluish glow. Each one was small—about the size of a thumbnail. He looked at the price tag. Fifty zen per piece. Fifty zen for a single piece. For , a blacksmith's apprentice whose monthly allowance was barely three zen, it might as well have been another world. Aether crystals—the result of aether tides flowing through the earth, condensed over long years. When used in forging, they stabilized aether infusion into metal. Skilled blacksmiths always kept a few pieces in stock, or so he'd heard. For an apprentice, it was a story from a different realm entirely. (I don't even know what materials I need, so what's the point of checking prices?) He sighed at himself and jotted numbers in his notebook. Ash iron scrap at two hundred zen per kilogram. Specialized forging oil at fifteen zen per bottle. Aether crystals—needless to say. A blade of flame. How much would it cost to forge something like that? He couldn't even guess. As he sighed, something moved at the edge of his vision. --- The aether crystal stall. On the opposite side of the shelf. A small girl, with movements so natural they were almost invisible, slipped a crystal piece into her scarf. It was lightning-fast. Her arm movement was barely visible. It happened in the span of a single blink. If he hadn't been watching from directly in front, he would have missed it. reacted on instinct. He slipped past the stall and reached for the girl's arm. That was his mistake. The moment the girl sensed his hand coming, she twisted her body in a half-rotation. A wringing motion. 's hand cut through empty air. Riding the centrifugal force, the girl's fingers slipped into the inner pocket of his jacket—and by the time he realized it, she was already three steps away. Ur's hammer was in her hand. "Huh...?" The girl turned around. Long reddish-purple hair swayed softly across her shoulders. It was tied up carelessly, but caught in the morning light, it gleamed with an almost unnatural vividness. Her left eye was gold. Her right eye was violet. Silver ring piercings lined one ear. She looked a bit older than . Around 162 centimeters tall, maybe. Slender, but from the way she'd moved just now, he could tell she knew how to use her body. The moment the girl's palm received Ur's hammer—she froze. Completely still. One second. Two seconds. Before could even register something was wrong, the girl's knees buckled. She caught herself with her hands, dropping to one knee on the stone pavement. She pressed her forehead. Her scarf slipped from her shoulder. "—" It was a voiceless sound. rushed over. "Are you okay!?" he blurted, but his mind was reeling. He understood this feeling. Last night, the moment he'd touched that tool, the world had vanished. That sensation. Right now, this girl was—seeing the same vision. The girl remained still on the stone pavement for about thirty seconds. The stall owner glanced over, wondering what was happening. A passing customer looked briefly and kept walking. Finally, the girl slowly raised her face. Her left gold eye and right violet eye looked straight at . "...What is this?" With trembling hands, she pushed Ur's hammer back toward . He took it and quickly tucked it into his jacket. "I had the same thing last night. Some kind of vision. A blade of flame, a blade of ice... I don't understand." The girl stared at his face. Her gaze measured whether she could trust him. Wariness was plain to see. But she wasn't completely rejecting him either. "...You're a thief, aren't you?" "[sarcastic]Yeah, so? What was that just now?" She admitted it so readily that was at a loss for words. A thief just... confessing like that. "Uh... no, that's not what I was asking about." "Then let's put the thief thing aside for now." "Put it aside for what?" The girl gave a wry smile. Not so much a smile as an expression of exasperation at the situation. Still leaning on her hands against the stone, she looked up at . "I'm Ryla." A brief introduction. stood frozen for a moment before answering, "Kael." --- Just as they were cautiously speaking to each other, a voice rang out from the market entrance. "There she is. It's Ryla. Don't let her escape." A low voice. When turned around, two men were pushing through the crowd toward them. Sturdy builds. Worn leather armor. Short swords at their hips. Probably in their thirties. Their eyes were sharp, and they weren't smiling. Ryla's face changed. Just for an instant. She quickly returned to her normal expression, but something was packed into that single moment. "[cold]This isn't your problem. It's mine." She started to back away. But , for some reason, moved before he could think. Before one of the men could reach for Ryla, stepped in front of him. "[serious]If you have business with this person, talk to me first." The man paused for just a second, then drove his fist into 's stomach. A grunt escaped him. His vision blurred. He dropped to one knee on the stone pavement. A dull pain spread across his side. His breathing became ragged. "[angry]Why are you protecting me!?" He heard Ryla shout. The next instant, lightning-fast martial arts. Ryla swept one man's legs out from under him and bolted into the market stalls. The man gave chase. The second man tried to circle around. Ryla kicked a shelf from above, launching herself into the air, using the second man's shoulder as a stepping stone to leap to the other side. The man lost his balance. pushed himself up, holding his side. He saw the other man preparing to follow up. tackled him from the side. It hurt. But the man went down. A stall swayed. Piled metal scrap clattered and crashed. The stall owner shouted in anger. Feet shuffled as people scattered. After a few seconds of chaos, the two men spat out threats and left the market. "Next time you show up, you won't get off so easy!" Their voices faded. collapsed where he stood. His side throbbed. His breathing was ragged. The stall owner was still glaring at him. "If you broke my shelf, you're paying for it!" the voice came. Beside him, Ryla was breathing hard. She looked down at . "...You're an idiot." Her voice was low. It sounded exasperated, but something else was mixed into the edge of that voice. Something couldn't quite put into words. --- They left the market. Behind Garm Furnace—the workshop run by 's master Yorn—there was a corner hidden by a stone wall and scrap materials where they wouldn't be seen. sat down there, still holding his side. Ryla crouched beside him without a word. "[serious]Let me see." Her tone left no room for argument. She pushed 's hand away and examined his side. Below the ribs. It hurt when she touched it. But he didn't think the ribs were broken. Ryla unhesitatingly tore a strip from her scarf. She folded the cloth and pressed it against 's side. "...It hurts." "[sarcastic]Of course it does." The distance between them was close. Ryla held the cloth in place while checking the injury. Reddish-purple hair spilled from her shoulder, swaying near 's arm. Her gold left eye was serious, looking downward. found himself following her profile with his gaze. —Why am I looking? He hurriedly looked away. At the stone wall. Just a meaningless stone. "Why did you help me?" Ryla asked while still holding the cloth in place. Her face was turned down. "[serious]...I thought stealing was wrong. But I thought getting punched was even more wrong." There was a pause. "[laughing]Too honest." It was a laugh through her nose. But it wasn't a laugh he disliked. --- In the workshop's back area, took out Ur's hammer. "Can I try something? It might be related to last night's vision." Ryla watched silently. She had her back against the stone wall, arms crossed. There was still wariness in her. But the fact that they'd shared last night's vision created a faint connection between them. placed a piece of scrap metal near the furnace. Even in the workshop's back, he could feel the furnace's heat warming the stone wall. The method of invoking forging magic wasn't through incantation. It was a technique of infusing aether from within your body into metal through the rhythm of hammer strikes and breathing. With each strike, you exhale, listen to the metal's ring, and flow the aether running through your body into the blade's edge—the way his master Yorn had taught him countless times. But he'd never succeeded even once. A deep breath. He gripped Ur's hammer again. The sensation of ancient script against his palm. First strike. The metal rang. He became aware of the aether within his body—this is where he always got stuck. When he tried to feel the flow, he tensed up. When he tensed, the aether became chaotic. When it became chaotic, the metal— Wait. It didn't get stuck. The grip of Ur's hammer was becoming faintly warm. There was a sensation like something flowing into his palm. As if the tool itself was organizing his body's aether. Like he just needed to be a conduit, not fight the current. Second strike. Third strike. An orange light kindled in the center of the metal piece. It spread gradually. The surface of the metal took on a reddish hue, pulsing as if fire were burning from within. It was hot. But the hand holding the tool was fine. The flame attribute had taken root. stopped striking. For a moment, both of them stared at it in silence. In the shadow of the stone wall, the orange light swayed gently. "...I did it." His voice was hoarse. Ryla uncrossed her arms. She leaned forward slightly toward the metal piece. "[surprised]This is actually something really incredible, isn't it?" "It's incredible." He couldn't quite smile. The emotion in his chest was something other than joy or surprise. A warmth spreading through the center of his chest. After dozens of attempts that only resulted in the metal shattering, now