Kalem stood inside Briar's smithy, surrounded by the heat of the forge and the sharp scent of molten metal. His crate of weapons sat open beside him, along with several materials he had gathered.
The forge was smaller than what he was used to, but it was well-maintained. The tools were of excellent quality, the anvil well-worn but sturdy, and the ventilation was sufficient to keep the workspace from becoming suffocating.
Still, what truly mattered was not the forge itself but what could be created within it.
Kalem had wasted no time getting to work. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, sorting through the weapons he had forged in the past. Some were good—perhaps even excellent—but they weren't perfect.
And for Kalem, if a weapon wasn't perfect, it wasn't worth keeping.
"Hmm."
A deep hum of curiosity echoed through the smithy.
Kalem ignored it at first, focused on his task.
Then the staring became impossible to ignore.
"Ma'am, are you going to continuously stare at me?" Kalem finally asked without looking up, continuing his preparations.
"Yes," Briar replied, arms crossed as she leaned against a wooden workbench. Her feline-like tail flicked behind her lazily, her sharp eyes locked onto him with interest. "After all, you're doing something ridiculous."
Kalem raised an eyebrow but didn't stop his work. "Ridiculous?"
Briar scoffed, gesturing toward the forge. "A young smith, no older than twenty-three, rents my forge, displays skills that rival veteran craftsmen, and now he's melting down most of what he's made. Yes, I'd call that ridiculous."
She tilted her head, her feline ears twitching slightly. "Besides, I don't have that many customers right now. Watching you work is more entertaining than staring at the walls."
Kalem simply shrugged. "As far as I know, melting inferior pieces is a standard practice."
"Standard practice is one thing," Briar said, narrowing her eyes, "but I've never seen a smith toss away a selling piece."
Kalem glanced at her, puzzled. "What?"
Briar walked over and picked up a blade he had set aside for melting. It was a finely crafted longsword—sharp, well-balanced, with a smooth hilt and a near-flawless edge. The metal gleamed under the forge's firelight, and the weight distribution was near-perfect.
"This," she said, holding it up, "is not an inferior piece. It's better than what most smiths here can produce."
Kalem frowned slightly. He knew it was a good piece. But in his eyes, it was still lacking.
"It's not up to my standard," he replied simply.
Briar gave a short laugh. "Your standard must be absurd, then. This sword will sell in no time if you put it on display."
Kalem exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I do sell my work from time to time," he admitted, "just not continuously."
"Why not?" Briar asked, setting the sword down on the workbench.
Kalem didn't answer immediately. He stared at the forge, watching the flames dance before he spoke.
"Because forging is more than just making weapons to sell," he finally said. "Each piece is a step toward something greater. If I settle for 'good enough,' then I won't reach the peak of my craft."
Briar studied him for a long moment before letting out an amused breath. "You're an odd one."
Kalem smirked slightly. "I've been told that before."
Despite her words, Briar's respect for him only grew. She was no stranger to dedicated smiths, but Kalem had the kind of obsessive drive that few possessed. She had spent decades honing her craft, yet this young man had already reached an exceptional level. If he continued at this pace…
She shook her head. That was for the future to decide.
"Fine," she said. "Do whatever you want. But if you do decide to sell, let me know first. I'd rather see these weapons in the hands of warriors than melted down into scrap."
Kalem gave her a nod before turning back to his work.
The next few hours passed in near silence, broken only by the sounds of metal ringing, fire roaring, and the occasional hiss of molten slag being discarded.
Kalem worked with methodical precision, re-forging some of the melted metal into new shapes, improving on past mistakes, refining his techniques.
Briar continued to watch, occasionally stepping in to give her own insights, though she quickly realized Kalem's instincts were razor-sharp. She had sparred with talented smiths before, but Kalem worked as if he were born for this.
After some time, Briar stretched, rolling her shoulders. "You're lucky you found this place," she said. "The Forge-Keepers don't just let outsiders use their forges so easily. If you plan on staying in Gehenna, you should consider joining them."
Kalem didn't stop working as he replied. "I'm not opposed to it. But I'd rather prove my worth first."
Briar smirked. "You're already doing that."
Kalem simply continued hammering, the rhythmic strikes echoing through the forge.
Eventually, as the night deepened, Briar stood up. "I'll leave you to it," she said. "Just don't burn my forge down."
Kalem snorted. "I'll try to resist the urge."
She chuckled before heading toward the entrance. "Oh, and one more thing," she added. "If you're really serious about reaching the peak of your craft, don't forget that even the best smiths learn from others. Stubbornness is good—but don't let it blind you."
With that, she walked out, leaving Kalem alone with the fire, the steel, and his unwavering determination.
The forge burned bright, illuminating his focused expression.
Tomorrow would bring more challenges. But tonight, he would refine his craft, piece by piece, until his hands could shape weapons worthy of his name.
And after another day, he would step onto the battlefield.