The forge smelled of burning metal and charred wood the moment we stepped inside. Heat pressed against my skin like a physical wall, making me squint. Sparks snapped from the open furnaces in the corner, while half-melted blades rested on racks, their warped edges gleaming like wounded animals. Steve stood in the middle of the chaos, his hair wild, his thick beard already flecked with frost from my earlier accident.
"Mana power is determined by how good your affinity is for the element you have," he explained in a teacher's tone, clearly enjoying himself. "The better your affinity, the more potent your mana. And you'll also need less mana for spells. Combine those two, and that's your mana power. I can already tell your strongest affinity is ice. So, use that when testing the weapon."
"Cool," I said with a small nod, my voice flat even though I couldn't help but smirk at my own pun.
Steve ignored me.
"I have some words for you to test." He grunted as he lugged a bundle of weapons in, the blades clattering like metal bones against each other. Dropping them by the side of a table, he bent down and hauled up a heavy two-handed sword. His thick arms flexed, veins bulging with effort, before he shoved it toward me. "Here, Kitsuna. Use this sword first. Infuse your mana into it. You do know your strongest element, don't you?"
Taking the sword carefully, I nodded. "Yeah."
"Good. Then use that element to infuse it."
"So… I actually need to control the mana this time instead of just throwing it out of my body like usual?"
"Yes, you can do it." Stacy's encouraging smile lit up from the side like I was her favorite student at show-and-tell.
"I guess I'm lucky that I'm a reincarnation from a world that never had this kind of power inside the body," I muttered, weighing the sword. Its balance was good—Steve wasn't a hack, at least.
"Even if you are, it's still going to take a while," Steve grumbled, already sounding impatient.
Ignoring him, I shut my eyes and focused. The mana inside me was like a restless river, always eager to spill out and freeze anything unlucky enough to be nearby. Trying to guide it was like trying to herd cats—angry, sharp-clawed cats. I winced, but slowly, painstakingly, I pushed it toward my hands gripping the sword.
"Think of your element," Stacy whispered, almost like she was holding her breath.
Ice. My mind latched onto it, visualizing sharp shards, frozen lakes, and the satisfying crack of water turning solid. The moment the mana brushed against the sword's hilt, the weapon seemed to drink it in, pulling greedily from me.
"STOP!?" Steve's voice cracked like glass.
My eyes flew open just as the entire sword exploded in frost. A jagged layer of ice crawled from the hilt to the tip, locking it solid in a cocoon of white-blue. The temperature in the room plummeted. I could see my breath. Steve's beard had already frozen stiff, icicles hanging from it like ornaments.
"Did I overdo it?" I asked innocently, though the sight of frost creeping along the floorboards made me wince.
"YES!?" Steve roared, his teeth chattering so violently I thought they might break. His arms flailed at his frozen beard like he was fighting off an animal.
"Oops." I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
Stacy burst out laughing, doubling over until she nearly slipped on the forming ice patch. "She… she froze your beard!" she wheezed, pointing at Steve.
"It's not funny!" He barked, stomping a foot and breaking off some of the frost.
"Totally funny," I muttered under my breath.
Steve groaned and thrust another sword at me, one hand still working to thaw his beard. "Try this one. And this time, for the love of the gods, less mana."
I took it, concentrated again, and carefully dripped mana into the blade like feeding drops of water into a sponge. This time the sword glowed faintly, cold mist curling off it instead of freezing into a block.
"Better," Steve said grudgingly. "Do it again. And again."
Hours blurred by. Sword after sword warped, cracked, or outright shattered under my clumsy experiments. Some metals melted under the mana infusion; others froze brittle and snapped like glass. Stacy cheered every attempt, whether it was a disaster or not. Steve cursed more creatively each time, muttering things about "bankruptcy" and "lunatic fox girls."
Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve leaned back against his anvil with a deep sigh. His workshop looked like a battlefield—piles of ruined weapons, scorch marks, frost patches, and even one sword stuck halfway into the ceiling beams.
"Like I thought," he said, his voice resigned, "this is going to be expensive. Stacy, prepare your wallet."
Stacy groaned, clutching her head. "I knew it would be bad, but why must it be the most expensive metal in the world!?"
"If it makes you happier," I piped up, trying to lighten her mood, "I think I can eventually recreate weapons with ice itself. My eye feels like another limb, and it's strong." I lifted a hand, conjuring small ice cubes that plopped into my palm. They were misshapen and wobbly, and one cracked apart before it even finished forming.
Stacy chuckled despite herself. "Cute. But that'll take years."
"Well, mastering weapons will also take months," I countered. Then a thought struck me. "Wait—can't you make the kingdom pay for this? I mean, I am going to be their weapon, right?"
Stacy blinked at me. Then a grin spread across her face like the sun breaking through clouds. "That's it! Hahaha, I'll make the king pay for your weapons! Smart thinking, daughter of mine."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help a little grin of my own.
The forge windows glowed with the amber of late afternoon, shadows stretching across the floor. I rubbed my sore arms, realizing how long we'd been here. "Looks like we're out of time for shopping."
"Yeah." Stacy sighed. "We'll have Rebeca handle the rest tomorrow. And we'll need to start studying tomorrow, too."
"She's going to be mad, you know that," I said flatly.
"It'll be fine. She won't be that mad… I hope." Stacy's voice wavered.
I just stared at her.
Before she could defend herself, Steve returned with a heavy bag clinking full of weapons. "Here are the prototypes I forged out of Adamite," he said, setting them down with a thud.
I grabbed the bag and tucked it into my dimensional storage. Now that I had better mana control, using skills like that felt almost natural.
Steve's eyes widened with envy. "That skill's ridiculous. I want it."
"Not for sale," I said with a cheeky smile.
"Thank you, Steve," Stacy said with a small bow. "We'll send word when we need more. And, yes, the payment will come soon."
"Don't forget the money!" Steve called after us as we stepped out of the sweltering forge into the cooling evening air.
The Punishment
Rebeca was waiting outside the mansion gates when we returned. Her posture was perfect, her arms crossed, her expression colder than any ice I could conjure. Stacy visibly stiffened beside me.
I froze, too—but for different reasons. My instincts screamed danger. The veins on Rebeca's forehead pulsed like she was about to blow.
"Stacy," Rebeca said in an emotionless voice that made the hair on my tail stand up, "why were you buying weapons? I told you to buy things Kitsuna would actually need."
"I—" Stacy faltered, then plastered on a nervous smile. "I'm sorry, Rebeca. I just… When I saw her stats, I couldn't help myself. At least we got her new clothes! And, uh, plans changed. We'll start studying tomorrow, then training when she's settled in. Could you, maybe, buy the rest tomorrow?"
Rebeca's eyes narrowed into slits. Then, without warning, she reached out and grabbed Stacy's ear, yanking hard.
"Ow ow ow ow!" Stacy squealed.
"Who was it that wanted her new daughter to call her 'Mom' as fast as possible?" Rebeca hissed, tugging harder.
"Not in front of Kitsuna!" Stacy wailed, flailing her arms. "She already thinks I'm an airhead!"
"I wonder why," I muttered under my breath, smirking at the show.
My amusement didn't last long. Something tugged at my tail. I whipped around to see Rebeca smiling sweetly at me.
"Oh no," I whispered.
"You're not getting away either," she said. With a sharp yank, she dragged me forward by the tail. Pain shot up my spine, making me yelp. My scarf flew off, followed by my shoes.
"AAAH!? That hurts! Let go, let go, let go! You're pulling my tail out!" I screamed, thrashing.
Stacy, still in Rebeca's grip, gave me a pitiful smile. "I'm sorry, my daughter, but at least we're getting punished together."
"Shut it! I don't want this kind of bonding!" I barked.
Rebeca's lips curled into a sadistic grin. "Quiet, both of you. We're going to the punishment room."
As she dragged us across the courtyard, I suddenly caught a whiff of something strange. My nose wrinkled. Heat spiked in my cheeks.
"Rebeca…" I said slowly, looking up at her. "Are you… into torturing people? Because I can smell something… weird coming from you."
She froze mid-step.
Her face went red.
I gave her a knowing smile. "So you're into that, huh? Wouldn't have guessed."
"What do you mean?" Stacy blinked, confused. "I don't smell anything."
"Remember, I can smell way better than you. And trust me—she's getting wet down there—AAAAHHHH!"
I didn't even finish before Rebeca hurled me into the air like a sack of potatoes.
"You pervert!" she shrieked, her entire face scarlet.
"How am I the pervert here!?" I shouted back, still airborne.
She dropped Stacy like a sack of flour and bolted for the mansion, covering her face with her hands.
"Huh? So… we're not being punished?" Stacy mumbled, rubbing her sore ear.
I hit the ground with a crater-making thud, dust flying everywhere. Groaning, I pushed myself upright and cupped my hands around my mouth. "THANK YOU FOR DROPPING ME; STILL INJURED, BY THE WAY!"
Stacy hurried over, her face caught between concern and laughter.
"Your maid is a sadist," I grumbled, brushing dirt off my clothes. "She gets turned on by torturing people. I could smell it clear as day."
Stacy's eyes widened. Then, slowly, she started to nod, her face turning red. "…That explains so much. YOU PERVERT!" she screamed toward the mansion. "I'll get you back for all the punishments you've given me!"
I stared at her in disbelief. "How didn't you notice that in all these years?"
"She always had valid reasons to punish me!" Stacy said defensively. "And I don't have a nose like yours!"
"Whatever," I sighed, tail still sore. "Let's just eat and sleep. Studying starts tomorrow."
Stacy brightened immediately, skipping ahead toward the mansion, humming about books and lessons. I lingered a moment at the gate, watching her.
She was scatterbrained. Impulsive. A total mess sometimes. But there was warmth in the way she looked at me, even if I couldn't quite trust it yet. Could she really be the mother figure I never had?
In my past life, I'd had a mother too—until I was five, when she took her own life right in front of me. That scar still bled in quiet moments. I wasn't sure I could handle another loss if Stacy ended up leaving me, too.
But… maybe I wanted to risk it.
"Hey! Are you coming?" Stacy called from the doorway, waving.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I muttered, shaking myself out of my thoughts. Pulling my scarf back on, I trudged after her, stepping into the mansion's warm light.