Light, dust, and a vibrant, colorful aura gathered around Clayton.

“W-wow!” Allan, with a mouth wide open, looked into a room. A gust of particles started rotating around Clayton’s blade. Slowly making way to its surface. Dust fell to the ground. Vibrant metal shone in his hand. It retracted its light as it waned in color. Clayton glanced at it in a similar way as before and pointed it forward.

A thick bright aura appeared around the blade.

“Good.” Said Clayton while putting it down. He took another one and did the same action as before. Blade, what he put down, immediately changed to normal.

“Holy ore!” Allan exclaimed.

“This is awesome! I want to learn about this!” He thought to himself.

Clayton went on and on. Swords by swords. Blade by blade.

Lights and dust floating around in the room. Different colors glowed around the blades and swords. Sweat appeared on Clayton’s forehead. It looked a little taxing for him. He took his time, checking every blade. With expertise and time to spare. Allan was unfortunately unfamiliar with this sight. He had no idea what sort of materials or techniques his father did to the blades. Its value or the true value was unexplainable. By the time 25th was done. 45 minutes passed.

“Finally done!” Clayton happily sat down on his chair which was hidden below his office.

“I hope this will be worth it. It has been years of preparation and hiding” Glancing around. Unwilling to look at his documents. He rather got up and stored the blades and swords in a bag from before. Storing it in another room.

Allan found a few things from tonight quite interesting. Each blade had a corresponding color. Depending on a pattern that appeared from Clayton’s earlier sharpening. He made a list of them. It showed that the colors they manifested were in the line with the layered waves of the color pattern of metals.

“It is in line with 2 of them, which were made within 3 years. The metal that the father used had a similar or same color. It was hard to tell with the remaining 23 of them. Most of them had darker colors without too much of a difference in colors. However, there are still noticeable waves at the right angle.” Allan deducted after checking the notes and sketches.

After his long thinking, Clayton glanced at his bookshelf as if remembering something. He picked 2 thick books with hard covers. “It is about the time for Alla’s birthday. Maybe not for long. but he will be pleased with these.” Clayton spoke out loud.

“Huh? It is still about 5 days left. How generous.” Allan thought, surprised by his intention.

“This night was tremendously resourceful. I wonder what he will do with these blades and swords. Selling it will cost a fortune for sure. Unlike the blades above.”

Allan realized one singular feat from today's spying. One which he would never guess, nor expect. The sight of dust, light and magical pressure.

His father used the energy. It was well known that certain people possess blessings from their surroundings. Although further pieces of information were strictly prohibited to learn.

For some, it was an almost legendary sight to behold. Especially for people in lower societies. This did not stop Allan from learning about these legends. As there were plently of people in his suroundings what knew about is. Stories of old adventures what let their mouth speak in a heat of alhocol left much out of these stories.

Considering their wealth and his father, he couldn't be considered one of the lowest. It was all just a matter of perspective. Allan's life was the least bit terrible. One would look at the whole world in general and guess many people's lives were one step from death. Or, having a pleasant life with bearable circumstances.

He did not find what he wanted in the library. Only some superficial knowledge, stories, and legends were available there for premium costs. He made a deal with Thomas from the Lonely Tiger pub in exchange for some silver. Allan suspected he knew much more than he left on his surface persona of the bar owner.

At times, Thomas told him some stories about what he experienced in the past. Learned about some basics, and stories as an adventurer, prior to being a Pub owner. He told Allan about some people he met and even some scrolls and documents that he perhaps should not. At first, he was reluctant to say much, but over time, he told him about how these individuals appeared. It was about finding some Spark within yourself. Allan did not understand it much.

It was clearly very difficult to manifest it if it even was within every person. It may differ from person to person in both quality and quantity. Allan always assumed that these things had nothing to do with the way blacksmiths did their work. He was wrong.

“It can be done in a blacksmithing world too?” Allan thought as if it opened a new door to him. Although. Locked behind a curtain of mystery and lack of understanding it.

“But father found his Spark… Not sure when and how.”

What implications it had were even more mind-blowing to him than everything from the past. Until now in his life, he would never guess his father as being that sort of person. This greatly shocked him to the bones, but it left him with superb excitement and amazement. Especially these blades and swords, which he had seen before. Pretty and absolutely stunning masterpieces were revealed to him. The amount of work and care he gave to them was obviously much better than the shop above him.

Energy-infused blades were usually in hands of royalty, leaders, and certain secret organizations. Their way of getting their hands on them was a secret, and they tried to never leave witnesses when using them. Conflicts and religions within some nations were described as chaotic and destructive. Hidden behind the effects of highly destructive and ambitious people were such weapons. But no weapon is useful without its wielder. Humans with many other races went for themselves and against themselves as well.

“That's about it for tonight. Time to go back.” Allan decided, as his father cleaned the room. He put the plank over the broken window, crawled from bushes, and left. Climbing up to a second floor, entering his room. Before resting for the next day, he stored his stuff in a chest before he jumped to his bed. He slowly fell into a dream. Walking through the grand planes with a glowing sword in his hand. His seemingly invincible enemies crawled before his legs. Allan was completely clueless about his enemies of his. It made very little sense to him.

He suddenly awoke. Sun illuminating his room. He looked around in confusion.

“Weird dreams… I don’t care much about wielding weapons. Making them is more interesting.” Allan complained as he got up, looking outside into the sky. “Looks like it’s already past morning.” Putting on a new pair of trousers and a shirt. He went around a corner towards the kitchen. After munching down some bread with dried ham, he went downstairs.

His father sitting and writing some documents in his office.

“Good day, father.” Greeted Allan.

“Oh? You are finally awake? Yesterday must have been quite exhausting. For you to sleep that long.” Clayton joked. His son was always an early bird. The shop would be closed for today as well.

“Yea. I slept well. Not worrying about working in your shop was bliss.” Allan joked back to his father.

Clayton couldn’t help but laugh.

Allan noticed by his side was a bag from yesterday and asked.

“Are you going out to finish your contract?”

“Yes. I finished taking care of them.” Clayton pointed towards the bag. “But it won’t be the last thing. I suspect Boris will demand more work. I hope I won’t catch his nervousness. It was unsettling yesterday.”

“Can I take a look?” Allan hoped for a chance to check them out.

He lucked out. “Sure you can.” Answered Clayton, still writing something on a piece of paper.

Allan walked to a bag, opened it, and greeted him was a pile of weapons. He grabbed a random blade. “Ugh. How heavy… T-t-that is a little heavy for such a blade.” Allan struggled while getting it into an ear, resting it on his shoulder.

“Not bad. For your age to wield it like this is pretty good.” Clayton commented while he glanced for a moment when he was still writing something down.

“What? I will be 14 soon! It is still young. I know that, but I am strong, like an adult already.” Allan tried to swing the blade but failed quite miserably. The blade fell from his hands, so he at least flexed his biceps in awkwardness.

“Oh yeah, 14 already. We will be in this city for 10 years soon.” Clayton extended his arm towards a bookshelf which was just a pile of random papers. Swiped them to a side. Book in hardcover was placed there.

“Oh, that is a book from yesterday.” Allan secretly thought.

“Here is some good new learning material for you. I have seen your blade since yesterday. Try to finish it before I return, then I will give you the second one.”

“But father, I have read everything on your shelves already.” Replied Allan.

“This one is new.”

“Where did it come from?” Asked Allan, in curiosity. He knew the actual truth and wanted to see his father's excuse. Clayton looked at him, trying to come up with an answer. He tried hard but failed in the end.

“Did it come from mister Boris’ place?” Allan answered as he looked at his struggling father.

“Oh, yes yes. He knows you like this stuff.” Answered Clayton with not much thought.

“By the way, yesterday you did some big mess in Thomas’ bar. Mister Boris complained to me about it as I was leaving before sunset.”

“I am sorry for causing trouble. I only punched him a little.” Said Allan, with a smile on his face.

“Wait… you punched him?” Clayton was clearly surprised. Not remembering the details, as he cared very little if someone troubled his son. Tim got what he deserves.

“Don't worry too much about it. It seems Boris had better things to do than clean his messy son’s problems.” Calming down, he said to Allan.

“Fine. Not like I regret it.” Allan accepted his new book. On a cover was a clear picture of full body armor with horns on a headgear. On the upper side was written- Protection guide of war veteran Lundo and how to make them.

“Weird name for a book… Wait!? That is a guide for protection and armory types?” Allan looked at his father in shock. He has never seen his father work with armor. Or anything protection related.

“Excellent protection is also important to know. I know something about it, but it is not my specialty. I am a weapon-master in terms of skill.” Clayton said with pride. And he wasn’t wrong, even if people who visited him in his shop. They’ve seen only a tip of a blade. No one would guess he had the stuff of legends below their feet.

Allan, wondering about his father's intentions, did not mind getting his hands on this. He knew general information about armory books from a library, but they were brief. Learning the craft from it was impossible.

“Thank you, father.”

“I will get going in a bit after finishing some documents.” Clayton said, turning back to his office.