The battlefield was finally silent.
The once-thrashing horde had been reduced to lifeless heaps of flesh, their dark ichor soaking into the cursed soil of Gehenna. Smoke from the lingering fires still curled into the sky, and the stench of death mixed with the ever-present metallic tang of mana-charged air.
Kalem limped toward his cart, his body screaming in protest with every step. His legs felt like they were being stabbed with hot needles, the aftereffects of Resonance Blade Style—Sleet Storm punishing him for his recklessness.
Garron, who had been walking nearby, noticed his sluggish movements. "What the hell happened to you?"
Kalem grunted, gripping the side of his cart to pull himself up, but his legs refused to obey properly. Before he could fall, Garron grabbed him by the chest armor, effortlessly hoisting him up.
"That last move completely messed up my legs," Kalem muttered as he settled into the driver's seat. He took the reins of Onyx, his massive, black-plated horse, and gave them a light tug. The beast huffed, shaking its mane but obeyed.
"As expected, I still don't have the endurance to keep that move going for long. Otherwise, I would've killed the entire horde myself," Kalem admitted.
Garron let out a dry chuckle as he climbed onto the cart beside him. "Good to know you still have limits, kid. You were starting to look a little too much like a force of nature back there."
Kalem shrugged, though the motion made his sore muscles ache.
"Now," Garron said, slapping his hands together, "let's get that material of yours."
"Yeah," Kalem exhaled, adjusting his gloves. "I want to examine it properly."
The ride into the city was uneventful, save for the occasional warrior giving Kalem a knowing nod or a raised eyebrow at his current state. News traveled fast—too fast—and people were already whispering about the young warrior who cut down a horde in a single technique.
Kalem ignored them. His focus was elsewhere.
Garron led them through the bustling forge district, where the glow of molten metal and the ring of hammers never ceased. The air was thick with heat and smoke, the scent of burning coal mingling with the sharp tang of refined minerals.
They finally reached a modest-looking vendor, its shelves lined with neatly arranged ingots—each one labeled with its elemental affinity and grade.
Kalem's eyes immediately swept over the labels. "Where's the obsidian?"
The vendor, a scarred dwarf with soot-streaked arms, scratched his beard. "Out of stock, kid. The last batch got bought up by the Legion blacksmiths."
Kalem frowned slightly. He had been looking forward to working with it.
"Got anything better?" Garron asked, folding his arms.
The dwarf smirked. "Depends on how deep your pockets are."
Kalem tapped the side of his crate, indicating he wasn't interested in useless chatter. The dwarf chuckled before reaching under the counter and pulling out a dark, gleaming ingot, almost black with a faint violet shimmer running along its surface.
"Darium," the dwarf said, holding it up. "Twice as strong as obsidian, twice as expensive too. Hard as hell, but if you know how to work it—" he gave Kalem a knowing look "—it'll make some of the strongest weapons you'll ever see."
Kalem reached out and took the ingot. It was denser than it looked, heavier in his palm, and carried a faint resonance of raw mana. A small smile tugged at his lips.
"I'll take it," he said without hesitation.
Garron sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Guess I'm losing more coin than I thought."
The dwarf laughed as Garron handed over the necessary trade tokens, shaking his head. "Pleasure doin' business."
Kalem gave him a short nod before storing the Darium in his crate.
With his new material secured, Kalem and Garron parted ways.
"Try not to break yourself next time," Garron called as he walked off, shaking his head.
Kalem simply grunted, barely acknowledging him as he guided Onyx back toward the stable where his cart was kept.
By the time he arrived, exhaustion had fully settled in. His body felt like lead, his legs still pulsing with a dull ache that refused to fade completely.
He parked the cart, securing Onyx's reins before leaning back against the wooden frame.
There was a list of things he needed to do—testing the Darium, refining his techniques, adjusting the mana flow for Sleet Storm so it wouldn't destroy his legs again.
But at that moment, as the cool night air drifted through the stable, his body had only one demand.
Sleep.
Kalem closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion finally drag him under.