Kael strode through the village, his gaze sweeping over the tools and weapons in use. Wooden spears, rusted sickles, and crude axes lined the armory—a term he used generously. Villagers sharpened farming implements on rough stones or hefted poorly balanced clubs, their faces etched with quiet determination.
“This isn’t going to cut it,” Kael muttered, his voice low. His mechanical eye scanned the area, calculating dimensions and assessing resources. “We’re vulnerable.”
Lexa’s voice hummed softly from the core suspended around his neck. “You’re stating the obvious, Captain. What’s the plan? Build a laser turret from twigs and moss?”
Kael smirked faintly. “We need a forge. A proper one. If they’re going to defend themselves, they need weapons—real ones.”
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Kael approached Elira’s father near the central square, where the elder was organizing workers to repair a damaged grain silo. “I have an idea,” Kael said, his tone purposeful. “We need to build a forge.”
Elira’s father paused, his brow furrowing. “A forge? We’ve never had one here. Closest was in the neighboring village, and that smith… well, he’s gone now.”
Kael nodded. “I know. But if we’re going to stand a chance against what’s coming, we need better tools, better weapons. I have a design that can maximize efficiency with the materials we have.”
The elder crossed his arms, considering. “You’ll need help.”
“Good,” Kael replied. “Because I can’t do it alone.”
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With Lexa projecting diagrams and calculations directly into Kael’s cybernetic eye, he sketched a blueprint for the forge on a wide, flat slab of wood. Curious villagers gathered around, marveling at the precision of his lines and the complexity of his designs. “This here,” Kael explained, pointing to a section of the drawing, “is where the bellows will go. It’ll funnel air into the fire, making it hotter, faster.”
Berry appeared behind the crowd, glancing at the plans with a raised eyebrow. “Not bad,” he murmured. “Might be able to add some runes for extra oomph.”
Kael glanced at him. “Think you can manage that?”
Berry smirked. “Please. Amateur hour.”
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The village came alive with activity. Stones were hauled from nearby fields, clay was shaped into bricks, and beams of sturdy wood were cut and fastened. Under Kael’s direction, a tall chimney rose from the forge site, its silhouette striking against the twilight sky. Berry engraved intricate runes onto the bellows, ensuring a consistent and powerful airflow, while Elira’s father oversaw the construction of the main structure.
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By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the forge was complete. Its glowing coals cast warm, flickering light over the gathered villagers, who stood in quiet awe of their accomplishment.
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As the crowd began to disperse, Elira’s father approached Kael. “It’s impressive,” he admitted, his voice heavy with thought. “But a forge is only as good as the one who wields it. And we don’t have a smith.”
Kael frowned. “No one?”
The elder hesitated. “There was one in the other village, but… the monster got him. He had an apprentice, though. A boy named Nolan. He’s young, but he’s got potential.”
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Kael found Nolan near the edge of the village, sitting on a fallen log. The boy was thin, with soot-stained hands and a face set in quiet determination. “You’re Nolan?” Kael asked.
The boy nodded. “I was… learning. But I’m not a smith. Not yet.”
Kael crouched beside him, his voice steady. “You have the foundation. And now you’ve got the tools and support to build on it. I’ve seen what we’re up against, Nolan. This village needs you.”
Nolan hesitated, then glanced toward the forge. “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask,” Kael said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re not doing this alone.”
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The next morning, the forge roared to life. Villagers gathered to watch as Nolan worked under Kael’s guidance, Lexa providing advice through his cybernetic eye. The boy’s hands trembled at first, but as the hammer struck metal, confidence began to replace doubt.
Hours later, Nolan held up his first blade—a simple, sturdy sword. The villagers erupted in cheers as Kael examined it, nodding in approval. “It’s a start,” Kael said, handing it back. “And we’ll need many more.”
Elira’s father clapped Nolan on the back. “You’ve done good, lad. This forge will change everything for us.”
Kael stared into the glowing coals, his thoughts heavy. It’s a start. But we’ll need much more.
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Meanwhile, miles away, the seventh brigade rode into the ruins of the neighboring village. Scorched beams jutted into the air like skeletal fingers, and the ground was littered with broken tools and bloodstained earth.
Sir Drennor dismounted, his expression grim. “Search for survivors,” he ordered.
The knights fanned out, their boots crunching over debris. One found a twisted set of claw marks gouged into a wooden door. Another discovered deep, unnatural footprints leading into the forest.
“This wasn’t bandits,” one knight murmured. “These marks… they’re not human.”
Orlan Herdan scoffed as he strode through the wreckage, his ornate armor gleaming even in the dim light. “Doesn’t matter what it was. It’s gone now. We have a mission to complete.”
Drennor rounded on him, his tone sharp. “If this is what we’re up against, we need to prepare.”
Orlan sneered. “Prepare for what? Ghost stories? Superstition? Focus on your orders, knight.”
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their unease growing. Drennor’s jaw tightened as he mounted his horse. “This isn’t over,” he muttered.
As the brigade rode out, the wind carried a faint, inhuman screech from the forest, sending a chill through the knights.