Chapter 96– Blades in the Fog
Reyn, still in disguise, walked out of the bar and found Kael waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Kael's sharp gaze flicked toward him.
"Did you find him?" Kael asked.
"Not yet," Reyn replied.
Kael pushed off the wall with a small shrug. "So where to next?"
"The blacksmith shop Sorin gets his blades from."
---
A little while later, the two arrived at a squat stone building. The air around it shimmered with heat, the smell of soot and hot iron clinging to the streets. Inside, the clang of hammer against steel rang out like a steady heartbeat. Sparks leapt from the forge, illuminating racks of unfinished swords and piles of broken ones.
As Reyn stepped in, his eyes locked with the shopkeeper's — a broad-shouldered man with arms thick from years of hammering steel. They moved toward one another without a word, grasped hands, and squeezed with all their strength. The iron grip stretched on for minutes until both broke into laughter, patting each other on the back.
"Ha! Good to see a fellow craftsman," the shopkeeper said warmly. "Name's Orven."
"Smith," Reyn replied with a small grin.
Kael tilted his head, watching quietly, expression unreadable. Secret handshake for blacksmiths? he wondered, still leaning lazily against the doorframe.
Orven's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked Reyn over. "You've got the hands of a worker, no doubt about that. Calluses deep, burns on the knuckles. You've earned your forge."
Reyn chuckled. "And you've got a keen eye."
Satisfied, Orven leaned back. "So then, Smith — what can I do for you?"
"I want to meet Sorin," Reyn said plainly.
Orven raised an eyebrow and gave a short laugh. "So, you've come to steal my best customer?"
Reyn smirked. "That's his choice to make. Let's see who he picks."
The blacksmith's grin widened. "Bold words. I like that. Well, I'll tell you this — Sorin's got a terrible sense of direction. The boy's always getting himself lost in the ruins and wilderness. Half the time, I think he'd vanish for good if he didn't come back for a new blade."
He gestured toward a pile of broken katanas stacked against the wall. "Pushes his swords past their limits every time. Still, he usually stumbles back here every five days or so. Tomorrow, he should return."
Kael didn't shift from his leaning position, expression still cool and almost bored. This is going to be… interesting, he thought, though outwardly, he gave nothing away.
---
The night passed quickly. The forge's glow dimmed to embers, and the city of Enden quieted after its usual evening of drink and mourning. Reyn and Kael left Orven's shop with a plan set in stone.
By the time dawn painted the horizon in streaks of gray and pale gold, the two of them were already atop Enden's high walls. Cloaked in Reyn's concealment techniques, they stood invisible to the knights, archers, and mages patrolling the battlements.
The air atop the walls grew heavy with anticipation. Archers tightened grips on bowstrings, mages whispered incantations, and knights shifted restlessly in their armor. Everyone knew what was coming — another wave of dark creatures from the cursed forest.
Kael's expression stayed neutral, almost bored. "And the monsters?" he muttered.
"They're coming," Reyn said softly.
Then a lone figure emerged from the fog, dragging a small, battered wagon behind him. Even from a distance, Reyn could see it was filled with monster cores, hacked-off limbs, and other grim trophies of the wilderness.
"That's him," Reyn whispered.
Kael's gaze flicked to the figure, still calm, leaning lazily against the parapet. Just another man, he thought.
The ground trembled as the wave of monsters thundered closer. Sorin slowed as he neared the gates, dragging his wagon. Then, in a sudden blur, he lashed out, knocking the swords from three adventurers' hands and catching them with ease.
Kael's eyes sharpened. His earlier boredom melted into focus, a slow grin spreading as he leaned forward. "Now that," he murmured, "is my kind of man."
---
Sorin raised his three mismatched swords, his stance calm as the horde closed in.
Then he plunged into the wave.
His blades moved in perfect rhythm, each swing a blend of precision, strength, and unbending will. His right hand cleaved downward, splitting a skeletal knight clean in half. His left redirected a beast's claws wide before severing its throat. The third sword, clenched between his teeth, struck with sudden precision, skewering a ghoul through the eye.
A death knight roared, cleaver raised high. Sorin met it head-on. His blade snapped against blackened armor, but his hands didn't falter — he twisted, shifted, and drove the broken edge into the creature's exposed neck. It collapsed, and he was already moving, already cutting the next.
The earth split as a silver spider burst from the treeline, steel-like legs stabbing down in rapid succession. Soldiers screamed and scattered. Sorin sprinted straight at it. He ducked low beneath a scything leg, sparks flying as his teeth-sword deflected the strike. He vaulted upward, one blade hooking into a joint, another stabbing deep into the armored thorax. His final strike drove upward, piercing its head in a brutal thrust. The spider collapsed in a shuddering heap of ichor and twitching limbs.
Sorin hit the ground running. He snatched a fallen knight's longsword, hurled it like a dagger, and skewered a charging beast. Another blade was stolen from a stunned adventurer, used in three swift strikes before it too was flung through a spider's eye. He never stopped moving, his momentum relentless, his body the weapon, his swords only extensions of his will.
From the walls, Kael's smirk deepened. "Not reckless," he muttered. "He knows exactly what he's doing."
---
The three adventurers Sorin had disarmed earlier scrambled in panic, yet they weren't helpless. Desperately, they tore open their packs — the relics they had purchased from Reyn's mysterious shop glimmered in their hands.
One snapped on the Mantis Claw, a jade gauntlet etched with a mantis mid-strike. He leapt as ghouls swarmed him—vanishing from the ground in a shimmer of light, reappearing atop the wall in a single impossible bound. The gauntlet dissolved into dust, but his life was spared.
The second hurled the Fist of Tebigong, a palm-sized bronze idol. When it struck the dirt, a shockwave thundered outward, toppling a death knight and scattering skeletons like straw. The idol shattered, but the path was cleared.
The third crushed the Eye of Dashi, a crystal sphere sparking with lightning. The storm answered her call — a bolt smote a spider-beast, blasting it apart in a thunderous burst of burning legs and smoke.
They weren't wasteful. Each Wu was used at the perfect moment, pulled like aces from a gambler's sleeve. And they had more — satchels stuffed with charms, scrolls, and talismans glowing faintly with power. By the time the wave ended, every last relic would be gone.
But to them, it was worth it. Miracles worth every coin, treasures that kept them alive when death was only a breath away.
Reyn's eyes narrowed as he watched. Grateful now… and tomorrow, when the shop is gone, they'll curse me for it.
---
The wave broke. Scattered remnants of beasts fled into the treeline. Sorin didn't even glance at them. He simply planted one sword in the dirt, hefted his wagon, and went back to gathering monster cores.
Reyn tugged his cloak tighter. "Enough. I've seen what I needed."
Kael raised a brow. "Leaving before the end?"
Reyn gave a small smile. "We don't need to watch the stragglers die."
His hand brushed the hilt of one of the three blades slung at his side — Wado Ichimonji, Sandai Kitetsu, and Shusui — their weight comforting, promising a legendary future.
Together, they stepped away from the wall, their path already leading back toward Orven's forge.