Oscar fought against Draven in the sand arena. Their fierce exchange of blows sent waves rippling through the sands as clear sounds resounded from their fists colliding. His bandaged arms and hands were numbing from the constant barrage as his master's, Draven's, attacks grew increased in ferocity.

"It's been four months since you've come here. Your Prinstyct has developed well, and you can match me in this state now." Draven and Oscar were on their knees and clinching each other's necks. "Though, even if our Prinstycts are equal, what if I have more power?"

Draven tightened his grip.

Oscar keeled over with veins popping out of his neck from his attempts to resist but was powerless and ended up in Draven's chokehold, with one arm barely holding back the choke. "You said you would match me on everything but the Prinstyct."

"It's for educational purposes." Draven chuckled and released Oscar. "You are now at the stage where we'll end up in these stalemates. In the last two months, overcome my Prinstyct and land a clean blow on me."

Oscar bowed and shouted, "Yes!"

"Hmm? It's already time. Disciple, make your way to the forge and start practicing. I need to go somewhere." Draven disappeared in a gust of sand.

Oscar redid the bandages on his arms and stretched his back. He changed into the fabricator uniform and entered the workshop. On the anvil was a ruined mess of material; Oscar gathered the material and placed them inside the crucible to melt.

The bubbling of the molten solution and the roaring flames of the furnace echoed as Oscar maintained his silence. He traced his finger across the hammer's head in deep thought.

It had been two months since he successfully refined the azureiron and the turtle shell, but he could not create an armament properly. The mess of materials he was melting down resulted from his novice ability. He recalled everything Draven had told him but was still stuck.

Once the materials properly melted, Oscar took out the crucible and poured it into a mold for a buckler. He dripped a little of the glacial oil to quench and solidify it, but not too much.

It was still molten hot but held its shape. Oscar hit it with his hammer, ensuring he was doing it correctly.

The process for creating the armament was different from refining raw materials. Oscar pounded hard on the hot product but sent his Ein to meld into it. From the resonance of the hammer, a faint node formed in the pre-armament.

He swung again, creating another new node. Then he hammered between the nodes and stirred his Ein to form a link connecting them.

Instead of unraveling a network of webs and releasing clear nodes, Oscar had to create a new network or formation by lodging in the nodes with his Ein and connecting them all over the armament. This had to be done while hammering it into the ideal armament shape so the Ein could penetrate deep into it and take its place.

When it was complete, the materials that made up the armament would finish melding together and have a good foundation. The foundation would also influence the shape of the armament.

Oscar's network of nodes continued to build and become more complex.

Oscar breathed heavily, releasing a puff of smoke from the tubes on his helmet's side. This was an exhausting process that drained his mind. He had to find the correct place to create a node like a nail that bound the turtle shell and the azureiron together.

The last hammer stroke fell as the new buckler formed into its shape, similar to Oscar's old one. He lifted it with tongs and quenched it in the basin of glacial oil. The loud hissing noise came with the spewing smoke and bubbles of heat.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Oscar removed the buckler, which was still steaming and releasing smoke, and placed it on the anvil to give it a look over. The buckler was black and reflected the light of the fires well. He could see the faint lines and points adorned its surface, his self-made formation.

But Oscar did not cheer in joy at his creation. How many times had he failed in this step? Oscar had lost count over the past months.

Without a word, he swung his hammer down, and a loud clanging of metal rang clearly. The buckler seemed fine, but cracks formed on its surfaces, spreading like a web until the buckler broke apart.

"Another failure….I also need to make a new batch of azureiron and turtle shell pellets." Oscar looked at the fragments, which were smaller than the previous scrap pile, barely usable. "It's a shame I can't constantly reuse the materials, but Master said everything has a shelf life."

Oscar sighed and restarted his work, refining the azureiron and then shifting to another turtle shell. He felt it was funny that he had become a master in dismantling the raw materials but was horrible at putting it all back together. His hammer was well-accustomed to it.

After everything was settled, there was a bar of refined azureiron and a pile of turtle shell pellets. He melted them all together in the crucible and resumed his attempts at armament creation.

Another failure.

Oscar sat down and stared at the shattered buckler. He gripped his hammer and let out a sigh of frustration. After all this trial and error, Oscar felt it was near impossible to find the correct formation.

"Master mentioned this is the hardest part of a fabricator's job. Are my nodes not correct? Or are the lines not connected as they should be?" Oscar tapped his hammer on the anvil, thinking about the possible solutions. He turned to look at the stool his master usually sat on.

"Where did Master go?"

…….

In the Foundry that continually spewed dark clouds into the air, making the area around it a bleak wasteland, Draven stepped into a large workshop. Inside was a fabricator working on an armament; each hammer strike resounded clearly through the workshop as a node shone on the armament like a star.

"It is heartening to see you so enthralled in your craft," Draven said.

"That's rich, coming from the mad Warden of the Abyss Prison. How intoxicating are the screams of the prisoners?" The fabricator responded but did not face Draven. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt a lady while she's busy?"

Draven merely grunted. "Making a sword?"

There was a long molten red, unfinished sword on the anvil. The fabricator had been working on this.

"Indeed, it is a grade four armament. Please stop talking and let me finish. This is the most important process." The fabricator continued to swing the hammer.

"Don't care." Draven refused and continued talking. "I need you to give me a hammer."

"For heaven's sake." The fabricator's tone grew increasingly hostile, but she still asked, "What for? You have your own hammer."

"For my disciple," Draven stated.

This news caught the fabricator off-guard as she accidentally hit the hammer in the wrong place. She let out a shout of frustration and pointed at Draven, "I messed up the formation, you sadistic maniac! What sort of poor soul have you taken as a disciple, or is he like you?"

Draven shrugged and sighed like a parent watching their child's tantrum. "Just make me a hammer that utilizes Reis to its best."

"Reis….You taught your disciple Reis as well." The fabricator snorted, dumping the failed sword into the crucible to melt.

"I would have thought fabricators would be welcome to the idea of Reis. My disciple has used it to some effect in his refinement." Draven sat elegantly on the stool with his legs crossed.

"That's just you. Fabricators do not need Reis if they can make do with their Ein. Why take the risk of your heart exploding? And waste a lot of time not forging?"

"For the Forgemaster of the Foundry to be so scared. It is truly a sight." Draven joked.

"It's common sense. I bet your disciple went through hell to acquire it and been through worse to progress." The Forgemaster scoffed. "Well, while this failure takes a long time to melt, I'll make you the hammer."

"Much obliged." Draven nodded.

…….

"Here we go!" Oscar hammered on the buckler, creating a new node. This node was clearer and shone brightly like a star. It was Oscar's new answer.

After many observations and reviewing the manuals, Oscar felt something was off about his nodes. They looked stable and linked perfectly by the lines he drew, but they didn't have that spark inside.

"A singular point. Everything is about being as minuscule as possible. The smaller the node, the stronger the bond." Oscar lifted his hammer and focused, using 'Ein Awaken' to concentrate the Ein to its utmost and even more.

He had been using 'Ein Awaken' with each hammer strike before, but he exceeded the limit to concentrate the Ein even further this time.

"If the way I was doing it before was not enough, even to my limits. Then I have to go beyond that." Under his helmet, Oscar's nose started to bleed as his eyes strained.

He slammed the hammer again, creating another shining node. It wasn't a perfect method because Oscar was slower in each hammer strike and needed to finish before the armament cooled.

However, this was his first real step in becoming a fabricator.