Mylene eyed Aric with a heavy gaze, her expression unreadable. “Another one,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “What do you want?”

Aric walked up to her, feeling the power coursing through his veins. “Six daggers,” he said firmly, “all the same size. They need to be embedded with 8C Therm Transmittors.”

Mylene’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him, her gaze unwavering. “8C Therm Transmittors, you say?” she repeated, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “You certainly have specific and unusual requests. Why do you need these, and what makes you think you’re worthy of such craftsmanship?”

Aric took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I have a debt to settle,” he began, his voice steady. “ I will use these daggers to fulfill my obligation, and when my task is complete, I will return them to you. I understand the value of your work and the trust you place in those you craft for.”

Mylene leaned in, her interest piqued. She studied Aric more intently, noting the determination in his eyes. “Tell me more about this debt,” she said, her tone serious.

Aric stared ahead, his expression resolute. “I will work in the shadows. Not everything I do will align with conventional justice, but it’s necessary. I have enemies to face and goals to achieve, and I will destroy everything in my path.”

A slow smile spread across Mylene’s face, a glint of approval in her eyes. “I like the fire burning within you,” she said. “Very well, I’ll craft your daggers. I’ll embed each with a Nerva core. And I’ll provide a special bag to carry all six.”

“There’s no need for the Nerva core,” Aric interjected. “The 8C should be outsourced.”

Mylene’s eyebrow arched, a hint of curiosity mingling with her previous amusement. “Do you have a particular aversion to Mendaciti products?” she asked, her voice probing. Aric remained silent, his jaw tightening slightly. The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, the tension between them palpable.

Mylene’s smile broadened, and she leaned back, clearly enjoying the challenge he presented. “I see,” she mused. “You’re not fond of Mendaciti, are you? Interesting. For your information, I created my own Nerva. They contain opals that get consumed after three years instead of feeding on the user. I wasn’t planning on using them, but you’ve piqued my interest. However, you would need to get them replaced after a while.”

He nodded, saying that if she was okay he would want to do that again.

She paused, studying him intently. “I must say, it’s surprising to encounter someone with your level of technological knowledge in such a backwater state. It’s not often that someone impresses me.”

Aric remained silent, unsure of how to respond.

Mylene continued, her voice softening slightly. “When you walked in, I sensed a feeling of loss in you. There’s a pain you carry, and it drives you. My weapons are powerful, but they require respect. They will self-destruct if not used correctly. I’ll have them done in an hour. You can wait here.”

Aric nodded, his silence conveying his gratitude. He found a spot on the floor and sat down, his back against the wall.

Aric stood there and watched as her hands seemed to do countless things at once, preparing the cores, materials and also forging the daggers in the heat.

Aric stood there and watched as Mylene’s hands moved with incredible precision and speed. It was as if they were performing a complex dance, each motion perfectly coordinated and purposeful. She prepared the cores with meticulous care, selecting the finest materials and ensuring each component was flawless. The heat from the forge illuminated her face, highlighting the intense focus in her eyes.

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He watched, amazed, as she shaped the metal with deft strokes of her hammer, the rhythmic clang echoing through the room. Sparks flew in a controlled frenzy, casting brief showers of light. She worked the blades, her movements fluid and confident, each strike and adjustment bringing the daggers closer to perfection.

Despite the intensity of her work, Mylene moved with an almost serene calm, as if the act of creation was both a challenge and a meditation for her. The transformation of raw materials into finely honed weapons was mesmerizing to watch.

As the first dagger took shape, Aric marveled at the craftsmanship. The blade gleamed under the forge’s light, the edges sharp and lethal, the blade black. Mylene’s expertise was evident in every detail, from the perfectly balanced hilt to the seamless integration of the 8C Therm Transmittors.

With each subsequent dagger, Aric’s admiration grew. Mylene’s fluency in her craft was unlike anything he had ever seen. She handled each step of the process with the same unwavering focus, her hands moving almost faster than his eyes could follow. Finally, after what felt both like an eternity and no time at all, Mylene set down her tools and wiped her brow. The six daggers lay before her, each one a masterpiece of deadly elegance.

Aric approached, his eyes filled with awe. “Thank you, Mylene. They’re incredible.”

Mylene nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Remember, Aric. Respect these weapons. They’re more than just tools. They carry my mark, and they demand reverence.”

Aric nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of her words. “I will. I promise.”

She took one of the daggers and pressed a button on its hilt. Instantly, the dagger transformed into a small metal chip, fitting neatly into her palm. She offered it to him, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Aric took the chip, examining it curiously. He tapped the button on its surface, and with a fluid, almost magical motion, the chip expanded back into the dagger. His eyes gleamed with amazement, a smile spreading across his face. He couldn’t help but laugh, the joy and gratitude evident in his voice. “Thank you, Mylene. This is incredible.”

Mylene seemed proud of her work, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. “That’s not all,” she said, taking the dagger back from Aric. “Let me show you the 8C Therm functionality.”

“This feature is a heat detector built into the weapon. It allows the dagger to return to its owner when willed. Watch.”

Mylene set the dagger on the ground and took a few steps back. She opened her hand towards it and the dagger quivered for a moment, then lifted off the ground, flying back into her outstretched hand.

“It's perfect.” He said, awestruck at the craftsmanship.

In a flourish, Mylene pressed the buttons on the remaining daggers, transforming them into chips as well. She then retrieved a specially designed bag, each pocket inside perfectly shaped to hold the metal chips.

“Here,” she said, handing the bag to Aric. “Each dagger has its own pocket. Keep them safe, and use them wisely.”

Aric carefully placed each chip into its designated pocket, securing them inside the bag. He looked up at Mylene, his gratitude clear. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said sincerely. “These will make all the difference.”

Mylene nodded, her smile warm. “Go on, then.”

As Aric walked out of the forge, he saw countless people by the door topple over, having clearly been listening in on his conversation with Mylene. They scrambled to their feet, eyes wide with curiosity and surprise.

One of them, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, spoke up first. “For her to speak so nicely to you, you must have something more than just your backstory. No regular person gets a weapon from her hands.” Another person, a young woman with bright eyes, added, “Mylene’s never so impressed. What did you do to earn her favor?”

Aric slung the bag over his shoulder, feeling the weight of the daggers like a promise. He met their curious gazes with a calm, determined look. “It’s not about what I did,” he said. “It’s about what I’m going to do.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. He chuckled softly to himself, muttering under his breath, “That sounded so stupid.” Glancing back, he noticed the people still watching him, admiration and curiosity clear in their eyes as they whispered amongst themselves. He quickened his pace, a mix of embarrassment and determination fueling his steps.