The sun burned in Cira’s neck and the box in her Arms felt heavier each second. She squinted her eyes against the harsh light, drops of sweat rolling down her back as she adjusted her grip on the box. Her ribs still ached—a dull, deep pain that reminded her she wasn’t fully healed from the Gammawolf. Each step sent a jolt through her body, and her muscles protested with every movement. She wasn’t used to feeling so… fragile.
The box in her arms was hot, it felt almost like it would burn her Arms off. She couldn’t afford to look weak in front of the others, even if her entire body screamed at her to stop and rest. The village was bustling, everyone preparing for the upcoming feast, and she didn’t want to be the one slacking off, especially not after her recent triumph against the Gammawolf. People were counting on her—she was a protector, not some helpless bystander.
Still, every step felt like a test of willpower. Her vision blurred slightly from the heat, the sunlight catching her in the eyes no matter how much she squinted. She could hear the faint clanging of metal as others worked, and the murmur of voices as villagers passed by. It was a busy day, with preparations well underway, but all Cira could think about was finding a place to set this box down before her arms gave out completely.
As if summoned by her wish, she spotted a small bench near the edge of the workshop area, shaded slightly by a large oak tree. Cira staggered over to it, lowering the box onto the bench with a groan of relief. The weight was gone, but the ache remained in her limbs. She sat down heavily next to the box, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
For a moment, she just let herself breathe, the coolness of the shade offering a brief break from the oppressive heat. Her ribs throbbed in time with her pulse, but it was manageable—at least for now. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the village wash over her.
Suddenly, a cold shock hit the back of her neck. Cira yelped and jerked forward, turning around to see Lina standing there, grinning with a cold bottle of water in her hand. The condensation dripped down the side, catching the light like tiny crystals.
«Relax,» Lina said, her grin widening. «You looked like you were about to melt.»
Cira blinked, still startled, but then let out a breathy laugh. «You could’ve warned me, you know.»
"Where’s the fun in that?" Lina teased, holding out the bottle. «Here, drink before you pass out.»
Cira hesitated for a moment, but then she grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the lid and took a big sip. As soon as the cold water touched her lips, a wave of relief washed over her and her muscles relaxed; even if just a little. She let out a sigh.
«Thank you,» She said as she slid down the bench slowly.
«No Problem,» Lina replied with a grin, taking a seat next to her. She stretched her legs out, the two of them sitting in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sounds of the bustling village filled the air around them—voices, the clatter of tools, the occasional bark of a dog—but here, in the shade of the oak tree, everything felt just a little more peaceful.
Cira tilted her head back and let her eyes drift closed as she looked up at the swaying leaves overhead. She tried to let herself enjoy the brief pause, but the ache in her ribs and the heavy weight in her chest reminded her that she wasn’t really resting—just catching her breath. Beside her, the box she had hauled all this way sat on the bench, still radiating heat from the sun. Inside, it held a collection of heavy iron plates, gears, and spare parts—pieces meant for repairs on the village’s machinery, things that would keep the upcoming feast running smoothly. Every item in that box had a purpose, something useful, unlike the way she felt when she wasn’t working.
Lina broke the silence first. «You should really let yourself heal, you know. It’s not like anyone’s going to care if you take it easy for once.»
Cira opened her eyes and glanced over at Lina, who was staring ahead with a look that said she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. There was something about the way Lina spoke—gentle yet unyielding—that always made Cira feel both comforted and slightly scolded. She reached for Lina’s hand, intertwining their fingers. It was a small gesture, but it sent a warmth through her that helped ease the tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying.
«I know, but…» Cira began, her voice trailing off as she looked at the heavy box beside them. «There’s so much to do.»
«Yeah,» Lina said, squeezing her hand, «but you don’t have to do it all by yourself.»
Cira glanced over at her, catching the concern in Lina’s expression. But instead of feeling reassured, a flicker of frustration bubbled up. It wasn’t that Lina didn’t understand—she did, more than anyone—but the idea of stopping, of letting others pick up the slack, felt… Just so wrong. Cira had always been the one people relied on. Taking a step back now made her feel like she was letting them all down, as irrational as it was.
«Look,» Cira muttered, her eyes drifting back to the box, «there’s just too much to do.»
«There’s always going to be too much to do.» Lina’s voice was firm, but she gently squeezed Cira’s hand, their fingers still intertwined. «But you don’t have to do it all. Not alone.»
Cira wanted to believe her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she stopped—even for a moment—everything would start slipping through her fingers. She hated the sense of uselessness that crept in when she wasn’t doing something, wasn’t being the protector she was supposed to be. How could she rest when there were people depending on her?
They sat there for a moment longer, and then Lina stood, pulling Cira up gently by the hand. «Come on,» Lina said, gesturing toward the box. «Let’s get this thing to the forge and then you can actually sit down for more than five minutes. Deal?»
Cira forced a small smile, though her stomach twisted at the idea of taking it easy. “Deal,” she said, even though she wasn’t sure she believed it.
They lifted the box together, Lina taking the heavier side, and Cira’s arms strained with the effort. The metal inside shifted with a clatter, the sound moving between them as they moved through the village. Cira’s ribs protested with every step, but she kept her face neutral, determined not to let the pain show. Beside her, Lina glanced over to her, an obvious flicker of concern crossing her face, but she didn’t say anything.
A group of children, all different ages and sizes, dashed past them, kicking up a cloud of dust, their laughter cutting through the noise of hammering and chatter. They barely spared Cira and Lina a glance, too absorbed in their game of Catch. It was one of those rare sights that made Cira’s heart tighten with a pang of bittersweet pride—these kids had a chance at a future, a chance she and the others had fought to give them. And she would do anything to protect them.
A little further along, a group of women crouched around large tubs, washing clothes with rhythmic, practiced motions. One of them, an older woman named Tessa with lines creasing her sun-weathered face, waved at them. «Cira! Lina! You two are still working too hard!» she called out, a teasing note in her voice. «Especially you, Cira!”
Lina chuckled and called back, «Well, somebody’s gotta keep this place running!»
They turned a corner and passed by another group of kids playing with a makeshift ball. One of them, a boy with dirt-smudged cheeks, paused and called out, «Hey, Cira! Did you really fight that Gammawolf on your own?» His eyes were wide with admiration.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Cira shifted the box in her hand, feeling the weight of it pressing against her sore ribs, but she still managed to offer a small smile at the boy’s enthusiasm. He stood there with dirt-smudged cheeks and bright, curious eyes, a reflection of innocence and admiration that made her heart soften.
«I did fight it,» she said, pausing to catch her breath. «But it wasn’t easy. It was close… really close. I almost didn’t make it out alive.» The memory of that brutal encounter flashed in her mind, the way the Gammawolf’s massive form had loomed over her, and the adrenaline had surged as she fought against instinct to run.
The boy’s eyes widened even more, filled with awe. «Whoa! You almost died? That’s so cool!»
Cira chuckled, shaking her head. «It’s not cool, trust me. You don’t want to be in a situation like that. It’s scary. Fighting isn’t just about being strong.» She adjusted her grip on the box again, glancing down at him. «You’ve got to be smart, too. You can’t just run in swinging without a plan, or you’ll end up in trouble real fast.»
The boy’s eyes grew even wider, if that were possible. «Really? So you didn’t just bash it with your sword?»
Cira chuckled softly, shaking her head. «No, I had to be careful. The Gammawolf was tough, and it almost got me. I was trapped at one point, and I thought it was going to be the end. But I remembered to stay calm and use my surroundings. It was closed in, so I used that to my advantage.»
The boy's brow furrowed, clearly trying to process her words. «So you almost died?»
She nodded slowly, her expression serious. «Yeah, but I didn’t let fear take over. You can’t let it. You have to think on your feet, and if you do, you might just come out on top. Just like the way you’re playing with that ball—keep your head up, and don’t let anyone knock you down, okay?»
His eyes sparkled with determination. «I will! I want to be just like you when I grow up, Cira!»
Cira felt a warmth spread through her chest, a mix of pride and affection. «Just remember, being a protector isn’t about strength alone. It’s about being smart and brave, too. And don’t forget to have fun. That’s important, too.»
The boy nodded enthusiastically, the admiration in his eyes shining bright. «I promise! I’ll remember!» With that, he ran off to join his friends, leaving Cira feeling a little lighter despite her burdens.
Lina watched the exchange with an amused smile. «Would be nice if you followed your own advice,» she teased.
Cira Rolled her eyes. «Don't even start.»
When they finally reached the forge, the building’s familiar silhouette loomed in front of them. The stone walls radiated heat from the constant fire burning inside, and the rhythmic clang of Garel’s hammer rang out, mingling with the sounds of the village. The forge door was propped open, letting in a breeze that barely touched the stifling air within.
The forge was a blend of old-world craftsmanship and advanced tech. The walls were made of reinforced steel, interspersed with glowing conduits that pulsed with energy, feeding power to the various tools that hummed and buzzed with activity. Garel’s anvil was a slab of dark alloy, far denser than traditional iron, capable of withstanding the heat and pressure needed to work with the futuristic metals he often shaped. Holographic displays flickered near the forge, showing schematics of weapons, armor, and mechanical components he was currently working on.
The forge itself radiated heat, a massive furnace embedded in the wall with shimmering blue flames that were hotter and more efficient than anything made with coal or wood. The air smelled of molten metal, scorched with a slight tang of ozone, the result of high-energy plasma welding. On one side, a mechanical arm suspended from the ceiling held a hammer, which Garel occasionally activated with the push of a button to help him shape the more difficult metals.
The large man, with broad shoulders and thick, soot-covered arms, looked up from his anvil. His face split into a crooked grin, revealing a missing tooth.
«Well, look what the cat dragged in,» Garel drawled, his accent thick and rolling, stretching the words out like molasses. His voice carried the distinctive twang of someone from the far reaches of the region, each word rising and falling with a singsong rhythm. «Didn’t think I’d see the two of you lugging that box all the way here. Especially not you, Cira. Thought you’d be too busy tusslin’ with beasties.»
Garel was a broad-shouldered man with a face that seemed permanently smudged with soot, the lines around his eyes deepening whenever he flashed one of his trademark grins. His accent was a blend of the nearby coastal region’s drawl and the clipped, rustic speech of the mountain folks, giving every sentence a unique rhythm that made him hard to ignore.
Cira couldn’t help but return his grin, though she tried to mask her discomfort as she set the box down on the workbench. «You know me, Garel. Never could sit still.»
«Aye, an’ that’ll be the death of ya, sure as the sun’ll rise,» Garel replied with a low chuckle, wiping his hands on a stained leather apron. «Now, what’ve ye brought me today? Hope it’s somethin’ more than just a sore back and tired bones.»
Cira rolled her eyes as she opened the box, revealing the contents inside—metal ingots, tools, and various supplies that Garel would put to use. Lina watched the exchange with a bemused smile, enjoying the banter.
«Got you some new steel and the tools you’ve been askin’ for,» Cira said, leaning against the counter as she gestured toward the box. «Figured you’d want them before the feast.»
Garel let out a satisfied whistle. «Ah, now that’s what I like t’ see. Good, solid steel. Not that flimsy stuff Jacc tried to pass off last time. He’ll be wantin’ to save face, I bet, but not in my forge.»
He reached into the box, picking one of the metal ingots with practiced ease, turning it over in his calloused hands. The metal caught the light from the forge’s flickering, electric-blue flame, casting a cold gleam across his face. Garel’s keen eyes traced the metal’s edges, assessing its quality as if reading an old friend’s story. «Aye, this’ll do nicely. An’ ye even brought those new hammers I asked for. Good on ya, Cira. Good on ya.» His grin widened, showing a gap where a tooth was supposed to be, but it only added to his charm.
Cira leaned a little heavier against the counter, trying not to show how relieved she was to have put down the box. «Just don’t wear out the new stuff too fast, Garel. Rian’s been whining about how it’s a pain getting replacements.»
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that matched the steady hum of the forge’s heat. «I’ll be gentle, lass, but ye know how it goes. Can’t make proper work without good tools. An’ ye’ll have to admit, my work’s worth the trouble.»
Lina stepped closer, glancing at the ingots, small machinery and scrap with interest. «You’re the only one around here who could make something decent out of that metal, Garel. If anyone can put it to good use, it’s you.»
Garel gave her an approving nod, tipping his head toward Cira with a wink. “Yer girl’s got a silver tongue, Cira. But she’s right. This’ll go a long way, ‘specially with that feast comin’ up. Folks’ll be wantin’ fresh blades and tools after all the celebratin’.”
Cira couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips as she glanced at Lina. The warmth in her chest mingled with the ache, but it felt good to have this small, easy moment. Even if she wouldn’t let herself rest fully, these little interactions made everything a little more bearable. She let her eyes wander around the Forge.
In the far corners, plasma rifles and energy blades sat in varying states of disrepair. Some were in pieces, others had their casings removed, exposing the intricate wiring and mechanics within. Gauss weapons, with their sleek, elongated barrels designed for high-velocity projectiles, rested in a rack, though most were nonfunctional, the remnants of a time when such technology wasn’t as rare for the normal people out Here.
Garel noticed Cira’s gaze. « You’ll be wantin’ Rian’s lot to take a look at the proper weapons,» Garel muttered, tapping the side of a broken plasma rifle. «Most of this stuff’s too far gone for me. But the tools—ah, the tools’ll keep me busy.»
Cira smirked, leaning back against the counter. «Figured as much. The working gear’s already with Rian and his crew.»
Garel shrugged and let out another gravelly chuckle. «At Least I won't get bored. Between patchin’ up those old energy blades and trying to keep the forge from blowin’ up on me, I’ve got my hands full.»
Lina stepped forward, her hand still resting on Cira’s shoulder. «Speaking of Rian, he’s been looking for more Gauss coils. You wouldn’t happen to have any lying around, would you?»
Garel rubbed his chin, glancing toward the far wall where a pile of spare parts was stacked haphazardly. «Might have a few left, but no guarantees on ‘em workin’. They’re gettin’ rarer these days. Folks don’t know how to handle the tech like they used to.»
Cira’s gaze flickered toward the pile of half-dismantled weapons, feeling a pang of frustration. These tools—these weapons—should have been their edge against the dangers outside the village. But most of them were little more than relics now, shadows of their former glory. Only a handful were functional, and those were with Rian’s group, who needed them most.
She sighed. «Maybe one day we’ll figure out how to get them all working again.»
Garel grinned, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and mischief. «Aye, maybe. But until then, ye’ll have to make do with my hammer and some good steel. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a good blade, after all. Sometimes, the old ways are the best ways.»
«Thanks, Garel,» Cira said, offering a tired but genuine smile. «We appreciate it.»
«Aye, lass,» he replied, clapping her on the back gently. «Now off with ye. Let an old man work in peace.»
«Just make sure you save us a good seat at the feast,» Lina added with a playful smirk. «Can’t have you hogging all the good food just because you’ve got new tools.»
Garel laughed again, his voice carrying through the forge. «I’ll keep a spot warm for ye, lass. But ye best be quick if ye want a share of the good stuff! Now, go on, get outta my hair before ya slow down my work. Ye know where to find me if there’s more to be done.»
As they made their way out of the forge, the sun bore down on them once more, but this time the weight of the heat felt just a bit more manageable. Lina walked close beside Cira, her fingers brushing lightly against hers as they navigated the bustling streets. Villagers passed by, offering nods or quick greetings, but Cira could feel Lina’s eyes on her more than anyone else's. It was a quiet, patient gaze—one that made it clear she wasn’t going to let this rest thing go without a fight.
When they finally reached the shade of another oak tree near the edge of the market, Lina stopped and turned to Cira, crossing her arms. «Alright, you’ve done your good deed for the day. Time to take a break.»
Cira groaned, knowing what was coming. “Lina, I’m fine, really. There’s still plenty of stuff to do, and—”
«Nope. You’ve been running around all morning, and you still look like you’ve been through a war zone.» Lina’s voice was gentle but firm. «You’re taking a break, whether you like it or not. Doctor’s orders.»
Cira raised an eyebrow. «Pretty sure you’re not a doctor.»
Lina shrugged, her smile widening. «Well, I’m the next best thing you’ve got right now. Come on, Cira. You’re not going to be any use to anyone if you push yourself until you collapse. Just... take it easy, at least until the feast.»
Cira opened her mouth to argue, but then she saw the concern etched into Lina’s expression, the genuine worry hidden behind the playful tone. It was that look, more than anything, that made her sigh and finally nod. «Fine, I’ll take a break. Until the feast. But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.»
Lina grinned triumphantly, wrapping an arm around Cira’s shoulders and giving her a quick squeeze. «Deal. Now let’s find you somewhere shady to sit down before you change your mind.»
As they walked together through the bustling market, Cira felt the familiar pang of restlessness tugging at her. She couldn't sit down and do nothing. But for Lina she would do it.
Even If she hated it.