It was scary how quickly a person got used to comfort. In his mind, Dallion didn’t think he was remotely pampered. The last six months had been taxing both mentally and physically. When he wasn’t learning, he was chasing after rogues or, on occasion, absorbing vortexes. The artifacts, the tomes of knowledge, even the Academy support hadn’t made his life any simpler.

A few days of walking through the wilderness, without a robe or magic, on the other hand, had quickly taught him how unaccustomed he had become to normal life. Back when he was a full-time hunter, walking from Nerosal all the way to the fallen south had been a breeze. It wasn’t that the walking tired him, but the fact that he had to do it at all. Every step he took made him think of the time wasted. When spellcraft was involved, he could fly a mile for the same time he made ten steps.

Calm, Dallion kept repeating. He had to be calm.

He took out his vortex finder, in the hope of finding any excuse to shatter the boredom. Sadly, he had no such luck. With a mental sigh, he put the device away again.

At least he’d made sure to look like a hunter, if nothing else. The number of rings he was wearing masked his magic completely. Even a mage wouldn’t be able to tell he had the trait. Yet while that made things simpler, it also made him a target of wilderness beasts and low-level awakened, even if they had no chance of winning.

It’s always difficult letting go of the reins, the armadil shield said.

“What?” Dallion asked, confused.

It’s an old dryad saying. Means that it’s never easy to let go of power, luxuries, and comfort. People who retire go through it. Or used to.

“Did you?” Dallion asked.

It’s been a long time ago, the guardian said. Why don’t you rest for a bit? It’s been half a day.

“Half a day of boredom.”

When Dallion had left the citadel, his concerns were remaining undetected and facing Adzorg in enemy territory. He had never considered that just getting there would present such a mental challenge.

Determined to walk through it, he continued for half an hour more, after which he finally succumbed.

“We’ll spend a while here,” he told his items.

The area he was in was barren, completely flat for miles. There was no chance a creature would approach unseen, or even at all. Likewise, there was nothing Dallion could hunt.

“Ruby, you can stretch your wings.” Dallion sat down.

No sooner had he said that than the aether jellyfish popped into existence. Normally, Dallion wouldn’t have anything against it. He knew how curious the creature was when it came to the real world. This wasn’t the right time, though. Right now, Dallion was supposed to be an ordinary hunter.

“No,” he said firmly.

Just a bit, boss?

“Not outside,” Dallion replied.

PERSONAL AWAKENING

Reality shifted to Dallion’s realm. The sun was just rising, its light mixing with the bright glow of the Moonstone crystal cluster. Immediately, Lux appeared with a pop.

“Boss!” the blue firebird said, flying twice around him.

“Nice to see you, Lux.” Dallion reached out to pet the creature. Only then did it occur to him how rarely he had done so. Magic had replaced all the abilities the familiar had offered in the past, and as a result of him, as well.

Confused, but also glad, the firebird stopped in place, letting Dallion’s hand enter the top of its head.

“Are you going to try and pass a trial again?” Lux chirped.

“No, but I’ll be here for a while.”

The boredom of the real world walk had reminded him of the many skills he had been neglecting. It has also reminded him of something very important—he didn’t need anyone’s permission to try something on his own.

It took him fifteen minutes to get to his anvil, then another five to move the anvil near the Moonstone. All of his echoes had gathered, watching silently… All but Di’s. For the moment, she remained in the library.

Wanting to start with something simple, Dallion summoned an ingot of silver, along with the appropriate hammer.

I want to make a dagger, he thought.

Markers appeared all over the chunk of metal, indicating where he had to strike and how. Following the instructions Dallion got to work.

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The first dagger took him half an hour to complete. Most of the time was needed to get used to the process once more. No combat splitting was used—if Dallion made a mistake, he had to manually fix it over and over again, until he reached the desired result.

Tossing the item on the ground, Dallion summoned another ingot and started again. This time he managed to forge a dagger in ten minutes. It was much better than before, although he still found his actions clunky, not to mention a large number of imperfections remained.

Not breaking a sweat, he summoned a new ingot. By the end of the hour, twenty daggers had been created and tossed away. The rust had effectively fallen off, allowing him to achieve what he envisaged in nearly perfect detail. After completing the final form of the dagger in a matter of minutes, Dallion thought it was time to take it up a notch.

Summoning two ingots, he placed one on the anvil, then cast a spell to keep the other in the air. Rolling up his sleeves, he drew the heat symbol on the floating piece of metal, causing it to melt into a ball of silver. A levitation spell kept it from falling to the ground, yet be ready for use—a trick he had learned from the furies in the world of furies.

Hammering the other ingot to a semi-complete shape, Dallion then moved his hand close to the ball of molten metal, using his magic threads to pull part of the scorching liquid. He could feel the heat on his skin, even without being in physical contact.

Just like making potions, he thought.

The difference was that unlike water, it took a lot of effort and reaction speed to add threads of magic in the liquid while constantly casting heat spells to maintain the state of the metal.

A thin line of silver poured onto the blade, containing with it a spell for fire. Not very original, but it didn’t have to be.

Casting a faint air current to start reducing the heat, Dallion hammered the spell into the rest of the body, further focusing on the dagger’s shape. This time, he was using three dozen instances, and he well needed it. Twenty times per second, the spell fizzled out, forcing him to split again and keep going. Bit by bit, the blade moved towards completion until finally it was done.

ENCHANTMENT INTEGRATED

A blue rectangle appeared. Dallion cracked a smile. In the past, he would quench the dagger in oil or water. Being capable of magic, this time he used air currents just as a fury would.

“A pity you can’t carve a handle for it,” Ariel said. The white-haired echo had been ever testier lately, but Dallion could see that he was impressed—blobs of awe the size of grapefruits were floating within his body, visible thanks to Dallion’s music skills.

“That’s what magic is for.” Dallion cast a spell, causing a handle to form beneath the blade.

Grabbing hold of the dagger, he did a few strikes in the air. The balance was well, although the grip could have used a bit more work. That wasn’t the point of the exercises, though. After playing around for a few seconds, Dallion hit the side of the anvil. A yellow flame burst all over the surface of the blade at the moment of contact, enveloping both it and half the anvil.

Not stopping there, Dallion kept striking. The flame grew brighter and brighter, burning Dallion’s hand in some instances. It was at that point that Dallion stopped. For the first time in quite a while, he felt pleased. If Euryale were here, she would probably tell him that was just the first step.

“It’s crap,” Onda said, arms crossed.

Not expecting such a reaction, Dallion looked at the guardian. The nymph was standing with the echoes, a displeased expression on his face. Based on his visible emotions, he was dying to jump in and explain everything Dallion had done wrong. At the same time, he remained afraid.

“It worked,” Dallion said in a calm fashion. “That’s what counts.”

“You made an enchantment.” Onda grumbled. “No! You made a trash potion. Each time part of the knife breaks, the spell is triggered. It won’t do crap if you hit something softer. Best thing you can do is stick it into someone and break the blade.”

That escalated quickly. Was the nymph talking from experience?

Dallion looked at the blade. In one of his instances, he pricked the tip of his finger. Nothing happened. Not fully convinced, he aimed at the nearest tree he could see and threw the dagger.

The weapon flew through the end, sinking halfway into the trunk with a loud thump. No flames followed. Dallion’s sense of achievement faded away.

“Why?” he turned to the nymph.

“You’re not mixing forging and magic. You just found a complicated way to enchant a weapon.” There was a slight pause. “Cool idea. It makes it difficult for the enchantment to be removed. Still is an enchantment, though.”

“Show me.”

There was no response.

“Harp,” Dallion said loudly. “Let him show me.” He waited for a bit. “If you can’t show me, why not him?”

Suddenly the tree with the dagger in it burst into flames. Looking closely, Dallion could see that the blade had been cleanly sliced off, releasing the “metal potion” he had put in it. A column of water fell from the air, enveloping the plant like a jelly prison, then splashed onto the ground.

“Do I take that as a yes?” Dallion asked.

“No,” the air nearby vibrated, forming words. “He won’t teach you,” Harp said a few steps away. “I will.”

You can forge? Dallion wondered. Was that another skill she had hidden from him? There wasn’t any such skill mentioned in the harpsisword’s rectangle. Then again, spellcasting hadn’t been initially present either.

“You want to teach me?” Dallion looked at her.

“I’m here to guide you.” Came the reply. “Even when I think you’re following the wrong path.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“If I tell you, you’ll be following my path instead of yours.” Several ingots appeared in the air, all of them sea iron. “And neither of us will be happy about it.”

As philosophical as that sounded, Dallion understood perfectly. The return to forging felt like a distraction while doing something else. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t given up forging, he had just stopped actively using it as he had stopped so many other activities. As Nil used to say, there always were distractions; sometimes even the things that could bring the greatest benefit also were distractions on the path to something else. In this case, Dallion wasn’t so sure.

“It’ll help me in the battle to come,” Dallion whispered. “In all the battles. I’m new at magic, so I have to make up for it with something else.”

There always was the Moonstone, but he was saving that for later. At some point, it was inevitable he’d clash again with his former mage instructor. When that happened, it would take the power of a Moon to win.

“What do you really want to learn?” Harp asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Even with all the time in your realm, you don’t have enough to learn everything. I’ll only teach you what you really need for the battle.”

That made sense to some degree.

“Shapeshifting items,” Dallion said. “I want to be able to reforge my weapons, so they change form in the real world. Just like Itella’s.”

“Shifting weapons.” A second anvil, made entirely of water, appeared next to Dallion’s. “Let’s get started.”