The spear was very nice, but Cole couldn't help but compare it to his claymore. He wanted to see just how much of a difference the mana metals made.

First off was actually a slight disadvantage on the spear's end. It was very high-quality metal and was quite obviously magic with the runes slightly glowing on its surface, reacting to the runes that powered the forge. But, his metal affinity whispered in unison with conjuration, it was tainted. Only very slightly, one or two percent impure at most. Yet his claymore was made of steel that was innately perfect down to the last atom of the blade.

The forge burned with forcefire, so no soot blackened and dirtied the material. The artic iron hammer was incredibly strong when heated up, and the constant re-strengthening in the flames burned away anything that could have collected on its surface. The claymore was pure in every meaning of the word. The closest thing to an impurity it had was a spot of the wolf's blood that had been annoying to remove once it dried.

But the spear won out from there. The durability of deep iron was unlike anything in the modern world. It could spread force to an absurd degree, and even after that, it was still incredibly resistant at any one spot. Cole's Mortal two strength, magic hammer, and muscles from decades as a smith had barely been enough to use the material. Maybe once he learned to use force magic with a bit more finesse it would be easier, but for now, it was the most challenging material he had ever worked with.

And due to that overwhelming resilience, a 'reinforcement' rune hadn't been needed. Instead, Mary had chosen that her weapon would be engraved with 'sharp'. Deep iron could already stand up to Cole's prodigious strength, so 'reinforcement' would have been utter overkill. Sharp would let the amateur combatant make far better use of the weapon. It didn't exactly matter how you used a pointy still if it could shear through flesh like butter.

And the rest of it was pretty nice as well. The length of the weapon was ideal for a short spear, and once Mary got used to it the equipment would be well-sized for her height. The wood and leather grip were conjured, meaning they were entirely perfect. There were still some limitations, and he had to go with a wood that was on the lighter side to account for the Merchant's lackluster strength. The special way in which he had connected the spearhead and the haft made it far harder to break the pointy end off.

The combination of superior materials, runic enchantments, and the overwhelming skill of Cole Vance came together to forge an amazing weapon. Time to test it.

Mary was awake from her nap, scrolling through the Galactic Market just as she had before. The smith pitied whichever poor bastards she decided to do business with. He got her attention and handed her the spear. She was surprised by the weight of it. The small advancements mana had made to her physique along with the, relatively speaking, light weapon was easier to carry than she expected.

After a small mana recovery break, as Cole had been manipulating the forcefire to blaze even hotter in order to gain an advantage over the deep iron, they left the pocket forge. It had been early morning when they entered. After the hours upon hours of forging, it was now late afternoon, bordering on sunset. The smith and the Merchant wouldn't stay in the forest during the night, they weren't stupid, but the pocket forge could be summoned instantly and anywhere. They could cut it however close they wanted.

"So I just shove mana into the rune? That seems too simplistic. How do they even work?"

Mary was interested in just how the runes affected the world, so Cole gave an explanation based on what the books within the pocket forge's library had told him. He was no expert, but the tomes were descriptive and lacked any flowery language. They were purely instructional, so even his cursory reading was enough to get some basic ideas.

"Think of it like a language. The rune on your spear means 'sharp', and the rune on my claymore means 'reinforcement'. They have designs that represent their concepts and each means or embodies one natural force or state of being. My weapon uses the force of becoming stronger, yours uses the state of being of cutting without resistance. Intent can minorly affect it at higher levels, kinda like an accent or inflection changing the meaning or impression of a word.

Whenever you activate a rune, you are speaking directly to the world. Mana is like air and the symbols are like vocal chords. You channel mana through the runes to elicit a certain 'sound', that the world hears and acts upon. The amount of mana poured in, the intent of the wielder, and how in-depth the runic phrase is all affect the overall power. Think of the difference between politely asking and demanding that the world change.

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The reason that runic phrases are so difficult is because of how their sentences, or the closest thing to them, are structured. Instead of words in a row, all components overlap and fuse into one larger rune. This gives you a higher vocabulary when speaking to the world, letting you make more detailed requests. It is the difference between walking up and shouting 'FIRE' or eloquently asking 'Could you perchance throw some fire from my sword?'

The main thing is just that it's a language, but there's really a lot more nuance- Never mind, we have wolves to kill."

His rant had been not exactly quiet. They had walked into the forest in search of other members of civilization. Not deeper into the forest, but parallel to the plains in the distance. Not going farther in, but not leaving either. Cole had now attracted the attention of four mutant wolves, each at least the size of his previous victim and likely just as strong. One was taking the lead, stepping in front of its companions in a clearly leading role. Some form of commander, but also likely not the Big Boss of whatever organization the wolves had.

Cole hadn't used mana in combat yet. It was time to remedy that. A tenth of his mana was kept cycling through his channels. He had passed out from mana exhaustion once and was loathe to do it again. Half of the remaining mana was converted to pure mana and started to head toward his claymore. With the shitty conductivity of mundane iron, it would take at least six seconds for the rune to activate. All the remaining forcefire in his channels was concentrated into an orb hovering in front of his outstretched palm.

He felt it struggle against him, clawing and begging to be free. So he permitted it, letting a leak occur in the orb. A leak facing the lead wolf. And then, three things happened.

A marble was conjured. It was small, even more so than the first he had even summoned. The semicircle facing him was normal, but the side facing the Monsters had burst, for lack of a better term. The steel looked like the splash when a drop of rain hit a serene lake, shooting up and out in concentric rings. It rippled for a moment, half a second at most. And then, as always, an equal and opposite action occurred. A spike the size of a toothpick emerged from the exact center of the marble, piercing the ripples perfectly and shining with an intense red and silver glow.

A blast of flames spread from the tip of the needle. It was not forcefire, not truly. It was only force and fire. The aspects of metal, conjuration, and enchantment had already been used. The burst of fire thankfully didn't hit any trees or underbrush, as the wolves had ambushed them in a clearing. The flames were so hot that Cole's eyes began to feel dry just by being close to them. The fire reached halfway across the clearing, coming up just short of the wolf. It only missed by a few feet, but it wasn't done yet. The frontal edge of the flame burst shone with the silver light of force.

A concentric cone of force ripped through the wolf. The silver desolation looked like a sonic boom in the air. The comparison was enhanced by an intense crack emanating through the clearing, loud enough to hurt. The sound of the ground, all of the wolve's bones, and the very air itself breaking. The beast was dead before it hit the ground. Or tree rather, as the blast had sent it careening back into the forest. The corpse was mangled beyond recognition.

If that hadn't taken almost half his mana, Cole would have felt bad for the wolves. Sadly for them, Mary had found out that selling Monster parts was a lucrative form of business on the Galactic Market. Never get between her and profits. An almost translucent orb of wispy white energy hit the nearest wolf, causing its eyes to roll up into its head. For just a moment, its mind was entirely blank. That moment was all the Merchant needed.

She had begun charging her weapon at the same time as Cole, but her deep iron weapon was far more conductive than his claymore, so her rune actually activated first. The mixture of fear and shock from the smith's display of power had stunned the wolves enough that they didn't even react as Mary rushed across the clearing and stabbed the previously stunned wolf in the throat. It had likely been meant as a probing attack. However, she was using a weapon that was made of deep iron, enchanted with the rune for 'sharp', and forged by Cole Vance himself.

The wolf's throat had a gaping hole in it straight through the windpipe, and Mary was struggling to remove the weapon from where it had emerged on the other side of the Monster's neck.

Well, that was dramatic. The two remaining wolves finally regained their senses after processing the annihilation of their squad leader and the inevitable death of Mary's victim. One immediately turned tail and ran, sprinting off towards the deeper forest with speed that would make an Olympic sprinter cry. The last one turned towards Cole and charged. A stupid and last-ditch decision.

His claymore was fully reinforced with runic power. Half of his mana going into the rune all at once was very different from a slow trickle over the course of the fight. The blade came down with an air of immutability. Nothing would cause it to stray from its path. Including the wolf's skull. The last wolf died to his opening attack easily, not even trying to avoid the blow in its fear and desparation-infused charge.

That was easy.