After the chants ended, Raven instructed the trainees to clear and arrange the place so Zain could begin the forging and finishing.
A few minutes later, space had been opened on the left side of the wall, while the tables and benches were arranged on the right, facing it.
Zain ordered a steel table brought over so he could set out his tools, and asked for bundles of wood because he had borrowed the stone furnace from the kitchen.
He carried his tools himself and began arranging them on the table. He took out a mold shaped like a sword, alongside a rectangular piece of steel for forging, a whetstone, and the usual blacksmithing tools and metals required for the alloy.
When the arrangements were done, he lit the furnace and placed the black cauldron over the blazing fire.
He tossed the metals into the cauldron one by one — those small pieces that looked like ancient stones, weathered by time.
He started with iron, then copper, then silver, and finally fluoranium.
The trainees' eyes were fixed on every step he took, watching intently.
He threw the metals in and waited for them to turn into molten fusion so he could add the remaining components.
He leaned over the fire and tossed in more wood until it flared up and regained its full heat.
Over time the heat spread throughout the hideout until everyone was sweating profusely.
Zain showed no reaction; his face remained cool despite the effect of the heat on him.
Whenever the flames died down, he hurried to throw on more wood so they would not lose their vigor.
After about an hour the metals had become one mixture, and he moved on to the next and final stage.
He took out four hollow bottles about waist-sized, each sealed with a wooden stopper.
He wrapped a scarf around his nose and mouth, opened the first bottle, and poured all its liquid into the mixture.
He repeated the same with the second and third bottles, then stopped at the fourth.
Emptying his hands, he searched the small pouch at his waist and pulled out a yellowed fang about fifteen centimeters long.
He studied it intently before slowly dropping it into the molten alloy.
Now only the last step of this venture remained: adding the demonic blood.
He took a deep breath, unclasped the stopper of the final bottle, and lowered his hand slowly until a few, careful drops fell — just enough.
The trainees' looks grew even more expectant than before.
Zain noticed the mixture trembling from the blood drops and realized at once that it was anything but ordinary.
He understood the magnitude of the danger and the secrets that might surface because of it.
Now the hardest phase remained, the most dangerous one: the finishing.
Would it succeed on the first try, or end in disappointment?
Pressure mounted on Zain; signs of worry and tension appeared on him.
The Sword of the Sky, standing among the crowd, saw his condition and tried to calm him with a hand signal requesting steadiness and composure in his work.
Zain looked at him and gave a slight, sardonic smile. He shook his head and vowed inwardly that everything would turn out fine.
He put on embroidered leather gloves reinforced with metal so his skin would not feel the heat at all.
That thick, stitched layer was meant to protect the gloves from the cauldron's heat so Zain would not burn.
Keeping his face away from the blaze, Zain lifted the cauldron and poured its contents into the mold lined with grains of sand to prevent any adhesion he had set earlier.
He poured the entire mixture and returned the cauldron to the fire to repeat the earlier process of adding metals and fanning the flames.
He let it melt at its ease, then came back to the mold and poured water over it to hear the hiss of steam as he began the forging and sharpening.
On touching it, he felt its heat and took it up to begin hammering.
With every strike he delivered, a roaring clang sounded, and showers of sparks danced around him.
Everyone watched his back and saw the great talent the world had produced — awe, gratitude, and pure envy in their gazes at his skill.
"If only I were like him, I'd be beside him now," a whisper was heard from within the crowd, its speaker unnoticed.
But who cared? Everyone continued to smile, eagerly watching what he would accomplish.
After finishing the hammering, he moved straight to sharpening on a rectangular stone.
With each pass and the touch of water, a soft, pleasant squeal rang out, evoking in everyone fond, amusing memories of people who had once been dear to their hearts.
Zain finished the sharpening, and everyone remained lost in thought because of him.
Unaware of the moment, and the instant their eyes opened, the scene felt strange to them.
The sword was indeed floating, bathing in a golden-yellow light.
The halo of light began to dim and fade until it vanished, and the sword fell to the ground.
But wait — why did everyone's expressions change and their tongues fall silent?
Because the moment it hit the ground, it shattered — breaking into small, scattered pieces like glass.
No one had expected this at all. Neither Zain nor the Sword of the Sky uttered a single word; even Raven himself was stunned.
But with time, silence could not last — the breaking of the Sword of the Sky broke that silence.
"It's all right, it's all right, everything's fine. It seems the first attempt has failed; it was simply unexpected. So let's leave things to him — he told me that some attempts might fail. Isn't that right, Zain?"
"Oh, yes, you're right. I didn't expect the result to be like this. It's fine — we have two attempts left. It seems the other mold has already melted; I'll start working on it immediately."
No one said another word; their expressions softened and relaxed, watching him resume his steps.
But Zain felt greater pressure and anxiety; pessimism showed behind his scarf.
The Sword of the Sky went to him and tried to soothe him: "Didn't you tell me last night that you were ready? You even said we might fail every attempt. Why are you stunned now? There's nothing to fear — you already put in the work. If you want to stop, you can, and we'll try later or whenever you wish."
Zain looked at him, sighed and relaxed, then said: "It's okay, I'm really fine and I appreciate your concern, but I must go on. As long as my mind is clear, I can continue better than if I delay, because my thoughts will spin and I'll keep thinking pessimistically: will I succeed? As I said earlier, this was entirely unexpected."