“Hey, don’t worry about Ellie—she’ll be fine with Talia. I… I think.”

“Hm.”

Julian and Cyrus were currently floating in the air. Gently, of course, as floating more than 40km/h is actually illegal in Topside’s residential and commercial areas. Be that as it may, however, Cyrus was completely stunned—no, shocked at how Julian was actually able to follow him with ease.

Julian already told him that MEGAN was talking to him every second and telling him where to place his hands and such, but this was… monstrous. Cyrus even tried to close his eyes for three seconds and almost hit a stabilizing barrier. But of course, he couldn’t really compare himself to someone who has been totally blind his entire life.

Unbeknownst to Cyrus, though, MEGAN wasn’t saying anything to Julian at all. Julian had told her to speak up only when he needed help—he was trying to adapt to his heightened senses, feeling the vibrations around him. MEGAN would occasionally chime in, but her input was becoming less frequent.

“That cane of yours…” Cyrus glanced back at Julian, staring at the cane hooked on his waist. “It looks old.”

“It is.” Julian hummed, his hand brushing over the hilt of the cane. “My father gave it to me when I turned eight.”

“Huh…” Cyrus used his latching shoes to slow down—despite its name, latching on platforms and floors is not its only purpose, one could also use it to fly around the expanse of space. But of course, most people still prefer pushing themselves using the stabilizing barrier that could be found everywhere in the Topside. Cyrus then spun around, grabbing his camera and letting it go.

“What are you doing?” Julian tilted his head at the sound.

“Documenting,” Cyrus said as he gestured to his hands to control the camera, letting it fly around them, “You’re an influe—an up-and-coming celebrity now, Julian. We need to vlog your life, or else the people will just forget about you. As much as quality matters, quantity does too… and you flying around like this while wearing that is just thirst bait, the girls will love it, and also the men. Where did you even get those clothes?”

“It’s… a shop called David Andrews.” Julian said.

“David Andrews…” Cyrus narrowed his eyes and muttered under his breath, “...I’ll contact them for a sponsorship.”

“The store gave me these clothes for free,” Julian continued, patting his coat. “The owner knew who I—Sword Junkie—was.”

“Ho…?” The growing smile on Cyrus’s face grew even faster, “Looks like someone easy to talk to. I bet we can get a lot from that David Andrews guy. Just let me handle all the sponsorships and whatnot, Sword Junkie.”

“Do… you need some help?”

“No…” Cyrus rolled his lips, “MEGAN’s enough of a help, I just call her whenever I need something. I’ve been meaning to ask… just how were you able to get a MEGAN? Those things are like… the top of the crop when they were released, and only a limited amount of them were sold before they were cut off.”

[Damn right I am.] MEGAN, who had been quiet, couldn’t resist chiming in with pride. [I’m the apex predator, Julian. Don’t forget that.]

“Hm…” Julian did not really answer and just smiled. And soon, after what seemed like another 30 minutes of floating up, they reached a part of the Topside where the establishments and the infrastructures were far in between from each other—they seemed to have reached a very private residential area… considering all the large houses. And their view, well…

…there was nothing else above them anymore. Their view is the dark, and colorful expanse of space itself.

Nothing, however, could have prepared them for what they were seeing now that they’d reached their destination.

“I knew SwordJunkieNo.1Fan would be extra...” Cyrus’s eyes darted left and right, his voice filled with disbelief. “...But this? This is extra with extra steps.”

Who could blame him? They were looking at a mansion—a literal mansion tilted horizontally inside a large, swiveling globe, spinning like a colossal clock on steroids.

“If he wanted to simulate gravity… why didn’t he just live down on the planet?” Cyrus blinked a couple of times in disbelief. “He practically used 80% of his lot just for the swiveling contraption thingy alone, which is like what… a kilometer long? Just how… rich is this guy? He lives on the top of the Topside too. What the fucking bourgeoisie is going on here?”

“Interesting.” Julian, on the other hand, had a completely different reaction. His head was tilted to the side, listening to the movement of the swiveling and rotating house.

“Uhh… I guess this is the entrance?” Cyrus and Julian floated toward a much smaller globe that had a door on it.

“Hello?” Cyrus pressed the intercom, “This is Cyrus, we have an appointment with… SwordJunkieNo.1—”

[Ah! Please, come in! Come in!]

And not even a second later, the door automatically slid open. Cyrus and Julian hesitated to float inside at first, but the two just shrugged and just went on with it.

“I guess… we should get strapped,” Cyrus said, heading toward a horizontally inclined seat with straps. “You’ll be fine, Sword Junkie?”

“Yes,” Julian responded. Cyrus didn’t need to ask. Julian was already strapping himself in just fine. As soon as they were settled, the chamber they were in started moving.

“I swear, this is so extra,” Cyrus muttered, not sure whether to be impressed or overwhelmed as they accelerated, likely syncing up with the mansion’s rotation. “I’m liking this dude more and more.”

“Hm…” Julian exhaled deeply, the sensation of gravity becoming familiar again. A few seconds later, the large door on the other side of the chamber opened, revealing the yard that surrounded the swiveling mansion.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“You know, I just thought of something…” Cyrus took in a small gulp as the two of them removed their straps, “...We’re not going into some sort of sex dungeon, right?”

“You set this meeting, Cyrus,” Julian said, turning his shoulder toward him. “If it turns out to be one, you’ll be the one participating.”

“…I was joking, bro.” Cyrus sighed as he stepped out of the chamber. The view made him gasp. “Wow… beautiful. Nauseating to look at, but beautiful.”

“Hm…” Julian hummed as MEGAN explained to him how the view of the expanse of space was rotating around them. It was… weird.

“Wh—”

And before Cyrus could say anything else, a loud voice came rushing toward them. “Sword… Sword Junkie!?”

"Here we go,” Cyrus muttered. “Put your game face on, Julian. Time to meet—what the…”

Cyrus’s eyes turned completely wide as he saw the man running toward them. He had pictured all sorts of images in his mind as to how SwordJunkieNo.1Fan looked like…

…but an old man with a glorious white beard was absolutely never one of them. And he was obviously muscular too, not as much as Julian, but he was.

“I… I can’t believe it…” The old man stopped two meters in front of Julian, staring at him from head to toe. “Sword… Sword Junkie in ze flesh!?”

The old man seemed to want to touch Julian but was actively stopping himself as he adored him from afar. As for Julian, well, he was slightly weirded out by how many people seemed to be circling around him these days. Was this going to happen a lot now that he was a ‘celebrity’?

“Are you… Sword Junkie No.1 Fan?” Julian asked, and the old man finally stopped circling around him.

“Ah, ja! Forgive me, forgive me!” The old man burst out into a fit of laughter, “My name is Hans. Hans Tauber.”

“Julian Winters,” Julian stretched out his hand, and Hans immediately reached for it and started shaking it—he started off as gentle, but as soon as he felt how rough Julian’s hand was, the old man’s eyes just widened in disbelief.

“Your—”

He was about to say something, but was cut off by Julian, “You’re also a blacksmith, Hans?”

“How… How did you know!?” Hans beamed, glancing between Julian and Cyrus. “Ja! Ja! True… true blacksmiths are different! You are a dying breed, Julian Winters. I vould say almost extinct already. The children today… they only know how to print und print weapons, no soul at all.”

“Hm…” Julian hummed.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat? I had my bots prepare something,” Hans offered, trying his best to hide his accent.

“We just ate, Hans.” Julian tilted his head to the side, “Maybe we should do that later and talk about what you wanted done?”

“Oh…” Hans gulped, “...Okay. Please, follow me.”

Hans was initially walking toward the mansion but suddenly changed direction to a hatch that was a few meters away from it—and from how it sounded as the hatch opened, it was thick, incredibly so.

“Uh…” Cyrus, who was letting Julian take the lead, leaned closer to him, “...I want to tell you that if this turns into some sort of sex dungeon thing, I want you to know that everything I will do from this point on is being forced upon me. Okay?”

“It’s not anything like that, Cyrus.” Julian once again tilted his head as a familiar sound started to call him.

“How would you know…?” Cyrus narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “Don’t tell me you’ve been diddying?”

“...Diddying?”

“...You don’t know what that means? It involves a lot of baby oil and was popularized back in the 21st century and—"

“Haha!” Hans seemed to have heard Cyrus’s words as he glanced back, “This is no sex-dungeon, my friend—nein. This… this is something better!”

A click whispered in the dark chamber as Hans flipped the light on—and no—it was not a sex dungeon at all, but a vast forge—a pristine, well-maintained forge. The forge itself roared to life as soon as they stepped inside, filling the room with an intense heat.

“Oh…” Julian tapped his cane against the floor, letting the vibrations ripple through him. “...These tools are old, Hans.”

“Oi, you shouldn’t say that,” Cyrus nudged Julian, “And how do you even know that? Is MEGAN telling you this stuff too?”

“I’m glad you appreciate my setup, Sword Junkie,” Hans’s voice was filled with pride, though a hint of nervousness crept in. “Ja, all of these… ancient pieces I acquired. Some go as far back as the 20th century, all of them… cost me a lot of money. I am very happy a true blacksmith appreciates it.”

“Hm.” Julian continued to walk around, letting MEGAN quietly describe the forge’s details to him.

“Ah!” Hans followed, almost bouncing as he knocked on one of the larger machines. “This one is special! I got it from an era when my ancestors were waging war.”

“A forging press?” A small smile tugged at Julian’s lips as he gently tapped his cane against the machine. “It’s… large.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Sword Junkie,” Hans chuckled nervously, his accent failing to hide itself. “I only use zis when mein arms get tired! I try to stay traditional, ja! Zis und ze grinder are mein only two machines! Everything else, I do by hand!”

Hans rambled on about the history of each tool, clearly passionate about his collection. Cyrus couldn’t complain, though. It was rare to see Julian so engaged in something other than blacksmithing—well, perhaps not, as this also had something to do with blacksmithing.

For over an hour, Hans gave them a tour of the forge, showing off every piece of equipment with immense pride.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Cyrus, Hans got down to business.

“Three times,” Hans cleared his throat before raising his thumb and two fingers, “I am willing to pay you three times if you make the weapon here, using all of my tools and equipment.”

“Oho… now, we’re talking.” Cyrus stepped forward as it was finally his turn, “You can discuss all the things about money with me, the Sword Junkie does not deal with such things. But three times and you’re putting the Sword Junkie on the spot, hmm… I think we will be requiring a bit more than that.”

“Of course!” Hans’s admiration only seemed to grow as he looked at Julian. “I’m willing to pay anything!”

“What do you think, Sword Junkie?” Cyrus asked, “Are you okay with crafting a weapon—”

Cyrus did not really need to finish his words as he saw that Julian already removed his coat and was already folding his sleeves up.

“Okay,” Julian shrugged as he gently placed his cane beside the forging press.

“Well, there’s your answer,” Cyrus chuckled, turning back to Hans. “But I’ve got one condition—let us stream the whole thing for the fans.”

“Hoho.” Hans chuckled as he crossed his arms, “Ze more people who appreciate ze Sword Junkie, ze better. I am all for it. Go ahead, lackey.”

“I’m not—”

Cyrus lost his chance to refute as Hans suddenly walked away, pulling out something from one of the crates and then placing it on the table close to Julian.

Julian’s hand immediately found its way to the metal, his fingers brushing over it. “This…” Julian’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “This is the same material used in the space elevator’s foundation.”

“It is…” Hans gulped, “It’s called the Xylarion. How… did you even know? This metal’s not commercially available on Earth.”

“I can hear it.” Julian smiled faintly. “It’s humming to me, Hans.”

“Then, can you—”

“Yes,” Julian didn’t let Hans finish. His hand glided over the cold surface of the ingot. "What do you want me to make with it?"

“A kitchen knife,” Hans said without hesitation.

“...A kitchen knife?” Cyrus’s hands which were busy setting up his cameras instantly paused as he heard that. “You asked for the Sword Junkie personally… just for a kitchen knife? Don't you have those fancy vibrating thread slicers for that...?”

“Wait, no… please, listen.” Hans breathed out, “After I retired from my career, I vas lost, ja?I found cooking. Became a chef in mein old age. A kitchen knife will be very personal to me, and knowing that I can carry it everywhere… to have you, Sword Junkie, craft it vould be mein utmost pleasure. Ze kitchen knife—it is mein veapon.”

“Okay,” Julian gently grabbed the xylarion ingot and wasted no time getting to work—and he quickly noticed something. It was more resistant than anything he had ever touched. The forge already roared, and yet the xylarion stayed completely hard for far longer than usual.

“This… will take a while,” Cyrus muttered, adjusting his camera angles.

“Yes,” Hans nodded as he watched in fascination even though Julian was only heating the metal, “The xylarion’s melting point is way higher than anything you'd find on Earth, or this galaxy for that matter. Normally, you'd need to use a machine… but I don’t think the Sword Junkie plans to do that."

Julian didn’t even go near the press or heed it any mind at all. He had already grabbed the hammer, waiting for the right moment. The forge continued to roar, the flames enough to cause their sweat to fall endlessly, and then dry it all the same after only moments. The fire was wild, infernal.

And finally, when the metal finally softened enough, he moved swiftly, pulling it out of the forge and onto the anvil, striking it with practiced precision.

“Is he really…?” Hans once again gulped in disbelief, “He is hitting ze metal at its softest points. I vas told by ze people I got zis metal from zat they use special equipment to find zis… but he is just feeling it? Zis is… impossible, but…”

"Bro, I don't understand you. I have an auto-translator so just speak German."

"He’s just feeling the metal..." Hans completely ignored Cyrus. "This is… and he’s actually molding it that easy? What… This should be impossible, but…”

Hans’s awe only deepened as Julian worked. The rhythmic clang of the hammer filled the room, each strike more precise than the last.

“Uh…” Meanwhile, Cyrus made sure to be as far away from Hans as possible as he saw his face getting redder by the second. He thought he would never meet anyone as eccentric as Julian, but he was—in the presence of two of them.

“This is… this is amazing. He—Hm?”

But just after a couple more seconds, both Cyrus and Hans looked at each other as Julian just suddenly stopped moving.

“What…” Hans wanted to approach and ask what was wrong, but he stopped himself from doing so as he truly did not want to interrupt Julian and his process. Cyrus was also starting to get worried as this was the first time he had seen this kind of expression on Julian’s face.

He was… uncertain.

And he was right, Julian truly was uncertain, but not in the way he was thinking.

There was a thought currently inside Julian’s mind as his hands stopped working—or perhaps it was a certain type of intuition. The gods of Artemia are completely unpredictable, and not to mention beings of absolute power.

And so what if… just what if—if this metal turns into something equivalent to an [Epic] grade weapon in Artemia…

…Can the [Master of Shadows] also claim it?