The rhythmic clang of metal on metal echoed through Briar's smithy. The forge's glow bathed Kalem's face in flickering orange light as he hammered away at a new project.
Each strike sent sparks cascading onto the stone floor, the heat wrapping around him like a second skin.
His mind, however, wasn't here in the forge.
It was still in the field, standing amidst the fallen, watching as the Bone Devil's acidic ichor melted through armor, weapons, and flesh alike.
It had taken dozens of casualties to put the thing down.
And that was unacceptable.
Kalem wiped the sweat from his brow, turning to the glass canister of black ichor resting on his workbench.
Contained. For now.
But soon?
It would be something else entirely.
Garron sat near the forge's entrance, watching Kalem work with a mixture of wariness and resignation.
"Let me get this straight," Garron said, his voice carrying over the sound of hammering. "You're really going through with this?"
Kalem didn't stop hammering. "Obviously."
Garron exhaled, running a hand through his graying hair.
"Alright. Let's hear it. What exactly are you making?"
Kalem placed his hammer down, rolling his shoulder.
"A weapon," he said simply.
Garron scoffed. "No shit, genius. But what kind of weapon?"
Briar, who had been working on her own project at the adjacent anvil, finally spoke up.
"That's not a spearhead," she noted, eyes narrowing at the half-formed metal strands Kalem was working on. "What the hell are you actually making?"
Kalem smirked.
"A whip," he said. "A serrated steel whip, infused with ichor."
Garron's face twisted into disbelief. "A whip?"
Kalem nodded. "A weapon that's fluid, unpredictable—but still capable of cutting deep. With the ichor running through its structure, every strike will spread the acid, making each wound worse than the last."
Briar's ears flicked. "And you're saying you can actually forge something like this? A whip is already difficult to control, but making it serrated and infused with a corrosive substance?"
Kalem kept hammering, his smirk never fading.
"I've made something similar before."
That made Garron pause. "Wait—what?"
Kalem exhaled, setting his hammer down. He walked over to a nearby rack, grabbing a set of old, worn-out blueprints. He unrolled them on the workbench, revealing the detailed schematics of a black estoc.
"Years ago, I made Blackthorn," Kalem said, tapping the design. "A black estoc, forged to be self-sharpening and capable of piercing even reinforced armor."
Garron studied the design before scoffing. "And where is it now?"
Kalem leaned against the workbench.
"I melted it down."
Briar blinked. "What? Why?"
Kalem shrugged. "It lost its effect over time. The material wasn't stable."
Garron narrowed his eyes. "That's a bit excessive. Why not just fix it?"
Kalem sighed, crossing his arms. "Because I don't fix weapons that aren't worth keeping."
Briar observed him for a moment, her tail twitching. "That's not normal, you know? Most smiths just… improve their work. Not discard it entirely."
Kalem chuckled. "I don't like making temporary solutions."
Garron muttered, "Of course you don't…" before glancing at the blueprints again.
"Wait," he said suddenly, eyes narrowing. "You made this before?"
Kalem nodded.
Garron's expression darkened. "Kalem… where the hell did you learn to make weapons like these?"
Kalem didn't hesitate.
"Arcathis Academy."
Silence.
Briar's tail flicked again, this time more alert. Garron's brows shot up.
"Arcathis?" Briar repeated, looking at him differently now.
"You're saying that you graduated from Arcathis Academy?" Garron's tone was a mix of disbelief and exasperation.
Kalem tilted his head. "Yeah. Blackthorn was my graduation project."
Garron rubbed his temples. "So let me get this straight… you graduated from one of the most prestigious weaponcraft academies, and instead of working for a Forge-Keeper, you're here? Making experimental weapons in a random smithy?"
Kalem shrugged. "Seemed more interesting."
Briar whistled. "Damn. I thought you were just some crazy field blacksmith, but you're actually a certified lunatic."
Kalem smirked. "I try."
Garron groaned. "I knew there was something off about you."
With the revelations out of the way, Kalem returned to forging his steel whip.
The serrated segments had to be flexible yet strong, each one connected in a way that allowed fluid motion without losing durability.
Briar supplied the Darium reinforcement, which Kalem integrated into the structure to prevent the ichor from corroding the metal itself.
"How are you going to make sure the ichor flows properly?" Briar asked.
Kalem held up a thin channeling tube, etched with water-attribute runes.
"The ichor will be contained inside the whip, only releasing when I trigger the runes," he explained.
Garron exhaled. "I still think this is insane."
Kalem grinned. "That's what makes it fun."
Finally, the prototype steel whip was complete.
Kalem took it outside, its segmented metal structure gleaming under the torchlight. The ichor-infused runes glowed faintly, waiting to be activated.
A target dummy—made of old armor and cloth—stood a few meters away.
Briar and Garron stood a safe distance back.
Kalem cracked the whip.
A whistling sound filled the air as the weapon moved like a serpent, the serrated edges glinting. The whip snapped forward, wrapping around the dummy's torso—
And then the ichor was released.
A thin line of black liquid seeped from the whip's grooves, coating the serrations.
Then, it burned through the metal armor like paper.
The dummy collapsed in on itself, the ichor eating through it layer by layer.
A heavy silence followed.
"...Holy shit," Briar muttered.
Garron pinched the bridge of his nose. "We are so screwed if you go rogue."
Kalem just smirked, holding up the whip.
"Not bad for a first try."
As the night deepened, Kalem continued tweaking the whip's mechanisms, adjusting the rune flow, improving the containment.
It was just the first version.
There was still more to perfect.
Still more to test.
And still more creatures lurking in the abyss—waiting.
Kalem smirked to himself.
Next time, when something crawled out from the depths…
He'd be ready.