Oscar entered the familiar bleak and stone ramparts of the Foundry. It had only been a day after their Clash of Metal ended, but the fires of activity and pounding of hammers and anvils were abundant from within. Oscar came over to the front desk and grabbed the attention of the sleeping fabricator.

"Who is it?" The fabricator yawned, releasing a puff of air from their tubes. He wanted to rub his eyes, but the helmet stopped him.

"I need to see the forgemaster." Oscar placed the token, engraved with Aunt Rosett's name, on the counter.

The fabricator stared at the token for a long while. Although the fabricator wore the black helmet, Oscar could tell their mouths had gaped open in shock. Oscar coughed to get their attention. "Is everything fine?"

But again, there was silence.

"Excuse me!" Oscar slammed on the counter, finally snapping the fabricator out of his trance. Oscar said the next part lowly to avoid garnering attention. "Can I see the forgemaster?"

"Hang on." The fabricator took the token and went into the back. His figure fidgeted and looked shaken as he tumbled his way over under Oscar's odd gaze.

Oscar tapped his hand on the counter, waiting for a response. After thirty minutes, Oscar began to wonder if the fabricator was doing his job properly and grew irritated. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see a fabricator behind him with no badge to show their identity.

"It's me." Aunt Rosett's voice came from the figure. "No one can realize it's me without the fabricator badge. I didn't expect you to show up right after the year's end, but it's no matter. Follow me and draw attention to me."

Oscar nodded and went along with Aunt Rosett, passing by many corridors and descending many stairs. He had never gone this deep below the Foundry before; the depths he went into surpassed the Clash of Metal which took place in the large chambers of molten lava.

"We are heading to my private workshop," Rosett answered Oscar's unspoken question. "The forgemaster has the best place in all of the Foundry. You should be glad to step into it."

Seeing Aunt Rosett's proud demeanor, Oscar laughed awkwardly. "Thank you for the opportunity."

"Put on your uniform. We got a long day ahead of us." Rosett chuckled.

After Oscar put on his fabricator uniform, they entered a single door at the end of the last set of stairs. Immediately, he was blasted with a heat wave that made his skin dry up. The temperatures in this room were beyond any that Oscar felt from a forge.

Inside, the furnace had four openings with large metal jaws as openings that spewed out flames like a dragon. The anvils lined up with many materials atop them, and the kilns continued to burn with various colors. Aunt Rosett picked up her hammer and waved Oscar to follow her.

Each step Oscar took made him feel hotter and sweatier. Oscar panted and groaned, wishing to take a cold bath, but this was all for the sake of learning Reis forging. Taking a seat on a stool, Oscar glanced at Aunt Rosett, who cleared away the clutter on the anvils.

"Can I ask you something?" Oscar asked.

"Go ahead. I wouldn't be much of an aunt if I neglected you." Rosett tapped her hammer on the anvils, and the resulting vibration shook off the remaining black soot.

"Why are you teaching me Reis forging?" Oscar had this question on his mind after learning Aunt Rosett refused to teach Draven. "My master will most likely ask me to teach him."

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Rosett let out a cold laugh. "We can solve that easily. Promise that you won't teach that madman anything. I won't let him learn when he's so unappreciative of my efforts, and I also explained the other reason to you."

Oscar shuddered and lifted his arms nervously. "Please don't put me in that situation. I don't think I can handle master's wrath." He feared being put through even more torturous training from his master if he failed to comply.

"That's my condition for teaching you. Besides, he won't kill you. That fool is quite tame around you…unlike the rest of us." Rosett sighed, wishing that was not the case. "I also want to teach you Reis forging because you will need it when you go on your own. Draven and I are here in the Pavilion, but I cannot continue to take both of your requests. And also…."

"Also?" Oscar tilted his head.

Rosett looked up wistfully. "If something happens to me, you can make the weapons for Draven, and you will carry on the techniques."

"Why do you talk as if you're going to die?" Oscar furrowed his brow and gripped his hands tightly. First, the ominous announcement by the Pavilion Master and now Aunt Rosett's strange words. It unnerved him that he didn't know the full extent of the knowledge they did.

"Just a thought. We always need to pass on our techniques to the next generation, so even if we die, we still live on in them and are not forgotten." Rosett fanned the flames harder, reflecting bright orange off her black visor.

Oscar fell silent. He understood the sentiment because he had the same thought about his Eliren Breaker and to use it to carry on Abe and Albert's will, never forgetting them. But something nagged at him as he felt Aunt Rosett was serious when she said something might happen to her.

"Don't be so gloomy. I can see your face despite the visor." Rosett flicked Oscar's helmet. "I'm mainly teaching you for selfish reasons. You have inherited Draven's techniques, so if you inherit mine, you're our collective disciple, like having a child together." Rosett patted his head. "In the end, I'm just a fool who wants some semblance of a link between him and me to exist. Now, do you promise not to teach Draven?"

Oscar sighed. "I agree. But Aunt Rosett has to protect me if he comes knocking. Otherwise, I will teach him all about it."

"Don't worry about that! That man can't is only allowed to go near one of the Marshal Exalts, not in the residential areas." Rosett laughed and pulled Oscar off his stool. "Let's begin Reis forging. It's going to be a tiresome endeavor, so be prepared."

"Yes!" Oscar regained his vigor.

"First, I have to gauge you as a fabricator. Let me ask you about your process. How do you create your armament? What about your formations?"

"I use a combination of Reis and Ein in my forging. The Reis provides an easier time to purify the materials, and I am slowly closing in on 100% purity with my increased control of Ein." Oscar explained.

"But that is just grade-one materials. You are an Elite Exalt; how about grade-two materials?" Rosett asked.

"I'm around 90% on those. It's hard to progress." Oscar gripped his hammer tightly.

"90 is amazing, especially for one without a suitable anima." Rosett comforted Oscar. "How about your formations?"

"I think about the constellations as I make them."

Rosett leaned in with interest. "Constellations? That's quite nice. There are some in the past who had the same inclination as you, but you would be incapable of replicating their formations."

"Why not?" Oscar asked.

"It's all unique. Their view on constellations and inclination differs from yours. You can get a better general sense from looking at them, and we record them so students may think upon it, but in the end, the formation is yours." Rosett pointed at herself. "For example, when I create formations, I think about flowers. As does Draven."

"Master?" Oscar recalled his master's formation on his previous buckler looked like a spiraling flower.

"Yes," Rosett blushed under her helmet. "We both think about flowers, but we cannot completely copy each other's formation. A node can be different by a tiny amount, but it makes all the difference in the world for us because his formation won't resonate with me. That is the key thing when creating an armament, the formation must resonate between you, it, and the metal."

"That's true," Oscar nodded. He remembered the feeling when he created his formation based on constellations. It was a bond between him and the formation as though they were linked. "How about animas? My friend told me he just has a knack for formations thanks to his hammer anima."

"That's simple. The anima is the soul; it is you. So when your friend strikes with his hammer anima, his soul naturally gravitates to his preference. It's like having an unconscious tendency for things." Rosett explained. "Later on, when he truly grasps the identity of his formations, his speed and quality will elevate. Any other questions?"

Oscar thought hard but couldn't think about anything else, so he shook his head.

"Good. Then let's begin the Reis forging." Rosett carefully took out the crucible that was heating in the furnace. Inside was a mixture she had prepared while they talked. Rosett turned to Oscar. "Pick up your hammer."