Dune walked slowly through the forest village of Varrinor He passed by half-beasts haggling for fruit, children darting between stalls, and armored guards leaning lazily against moss-covered walls.
Soon, the rhythmic ringing of metal drew his attention. A forge.
The blacksmith's shop was built between two trees, with vines woven into the roof and smoke curling out of a hollowed horn that served as a chimney.
Weapons of all kinds hung along the walls, blades, axes, spears, even strange curved daggers he didn't recognize. Dune stepped inside.
The heat hit him instantly, along with the stench of sweat and steel. Several smiths were working, sinewy men and women, their hands blackened, their eyes fixed on glowing metal. One of them noticed him and gave a nod, expecting just another customer.
"Hello?" Dune spoke but it was too loud, nobody heard him. "Hello??"
"Tsk" Dune unsheathed his sword.
The room froze.
The blade gleamed unnaturally, as though it drank the light instead of reflecting it. Every line, every edge, every groove was perfect. Its weight, its balance, flawless.
The nearest smith leaned in, eyes wide. "What in the gods' names…?"
Another stepped forward, whispering, "That's no ordinary weapon. That's a masterpiece."
"I'll give you five hundred golden Neba for it!" one of them blurted, already reaching for a heavy coin pouch.
"I'll double that!" another shouted. "I've never seen a fold pattern like this in my life!"
Dune stepped back confused… "ah?" I knew this weapon was amazing, but i didn't expect them to be this amazed by it. … Bethel is a god after all.
Dune simply stared at them, expressionless. "it's not for sale."
The room went quiet again. Even the fire seemed to crackle more softly.
"You don't understand, kid," said an older smith, wiping soot from his forehead. "You could live like a prince with what we're offering. You'd never have to fight again."
"Again, I didn't come here to sell," Dune said flatly, returning the blade to its sheath. "I came to learn."
That was when a voice cut through the tension. "Leave the kid alone, cockroaches."
A man stepped out from the back, a burly figure with a long beard tied into iron rings, and arms like tree trunks. His eyes glimmered with respect.
"You've already bonded with it. I can feel it from here." the head blacksmith said, stepping closer. "But if you truly want to learn, I'll teach you. At least the basics."
Dune gave a slight nod.
The rest of the afternoon passed with sweat and steel. Dune watched closely, asking few questions, but absorbing every detail, folding technique, tempering process, the delicate balance between strength and flexibility. By the time he left, his hands were dark with soot, but his mind burned brighter. He now knew basics of sword crafting.
As he continued walking, the noise of the forge faded, replaced by the sound of running water. He followed it until he arrived at a tranquil clearing.
A waterfall, man-made, but beautifully crafted, poured into a clear pond surrounded by soft grass. By the water's edge sat a woman, legs crossed, hands on her knees, eyes closed in deep meditation. She wore loose white robes, and her silver hair floated gently in the breeze.
But what caught Dune's attention wasn't her serenity.
It was the Neba.
Red Neba circled her in slow, gentle arcs, pulsing in sync with her breath. It was alive, yet calm, controlled. Unlike anything he'd seen.
He narrowed his eyes. "What is that?"
"The woman opened her eyes and looked up at him with a confused look. "You can see me?" Then her confusion turned into a smile.
"Interrupting my meditation? Curious one, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"This," she said, gesturing to the glowing ring around her, "is cultivation. A method of refining the body, mind, and spirit through Neba. It's not a common technique because it takes a lot of time and focus. Most prefer to grow through force and combat, but cultivation leads to true power and deeper control."
"Can anyone do it?"
"In theory. But it requires patience. Balance. Stillness. Not traits I see in most warriors."
Dune looked at the Neba ring again. "How does it work?"
"You're asking too many questions kid,"
"Whatever" Dune sighed.
Before she could say more, a loud explosion echoed through the forest.
Dune spun on his heel. Shouting followed. The ground trembled slightly beneath his boots.
He followed voice and Pushed through the growing crowd until he arrived at the village's central square, where a circle had formed around two combatants.
One had the build of a wolf, long ears, gray fur running down his arms, and sharp claws flashing in the sunlight. The other was bulkier, striped like a tiger, his hands wrapped in chains that rattled with each movement.
They were already mid-fight.
The wolfman lunged, claws slashing through the air, but the tiger caught his arm and threw him to the ground with a bone-shaking crash. The crowd roared in approval, tossing golden Neba coins at each other, calling out numbers and odds.
"Fifty on the tiger!"
"Ha! Wolf's just getting started!"
Dune said nothing, stepping closer. Both fighters were using Neba enhanced strength, but not just that. Their footwork, their precision, even how they used the terrain, it was all refined.
Someone beside him whistled. "You new? These fights happen every few days. No rules. Just survival. Winner takes the coin, the pride, and the title. You wanna make a bet?"
Dune kept watching. "No, thanks."
"I'll just watch," he muttered to himself.
After the fight ended with the victory of Wolf. Dune continued walking for a few more minutes, weaving through narrow paths and shaded groves.
He had seen the forge, the waterfall, even the beastkin clash in the square, but now, as he wandered deeper, the excitement began to fade. Curiosity gave way to restlessness. He wasn't one for aimless walking.
A sigh escaped his lips.
Nothing more to see? he thought. This place is starting to feel, kinda boring.