The portal zone was a study in exhausted efficiency. Proctors moved between knots of battered students, their voices clipped and tired. Adam and his team merged into the northbound line, their silence more telling than any complaint. Each step felt heavier than the last.
When they finally reached the evaluation table, a proctor with a levitating ledger glanced up. "Names," she stated flatly.
"Adam Ashblade."
"Raven Vale."
"Wren Vale."
"Lira Wordin."
"Kael Frost."
The stylus scratched against the magical parchment. "Your token."
Adam placed the single, dented disk on the scarred wood. The proctor turned it over, gave the faint rune a cursory look, and dropped it into a lockbox. "Let's see your haul."
They unpacked their spoils with stiff fingers: the large, jagged D rank core from the Canyon Crusher, the handful of smaller E rank cores, and the bundle of sharp Ironstrider talons. The proctor noted everything without comment. "Alright. Move along."
The portal transit was a disorienting lurch, a sickening twist in the gut that left an ice pick headache drilling behind Adam's eyes as he stumbled onto the academy's smooth floor. Nearby, someone retched. Kael, pale but composed, merely adjusted his sleeve.
A senior student by the archway called out, not bothering to look up. "Results are posted on the Grand Board at first bell. Dismissed."
Lira was already shuffling away. "A bath. I need a bath that lasts a year. Tell me how the forge goes tomorrow." She offered a tired wave without turning back.
Raven watched her go, then let out a slow breath. "Let's offload the common parts first. No point hauling them to the dorms."
The forge announced itself long before they saw it, a wall of dry heat pushing down the corridor, carrying the complex scent of coal, ozone, and hot metal. Inside, the antechamber was orderly chaos. Finished weapons lined the walls, and sets of armor stood sentinel in shadowed niches. Beyond a wide stone archway, a hellish glow pulsed to the rhythmic pound of a massive hammer.
The master forger, Brynja, emerged from the heat haze wiping her hands on a rag. She was a solid woman with a soot stained apron and arms mapped with old, silvery burns. "Back already? And you all look like you lost a fight with a gravel troll."
Raven stepped forward first, placing a bundle of common E rank beast parts on the counter: claws, fangs, a strip of tough hide. "We're looking to sell."
Brynja poked through the lot. "Alchemist fodder. Not much here." She named a price. Raven nodded, pocketed the coins she counted out, and stepped back.
Adam moved up next. He laid his longsword on the counter. The steel was dull with dried grime and notched along the edge.
Brynja picked it up, hefting it. She ran a thumb along the fuller and grunted. "One of my apprentice's. Held up, but it's seen some work. What are you after?"
"I need it to be stronger. Tier C strong," Adam said.
She set the blade down with a soft click. "Tier C means starting over. I melt it down, build the new blade around a proper core. That's what gives it its bite. You have a core for that?"
"I do." Adam reached into his pack and produced a smooth, brown crystal. It glinted with a deep, inner light, far more polished than the rough core from the Canyon Crusher. It had been his father's. Months ago, in the hills, Adam had spotted the C rank beast that made it, an armored monster moving like a landslide. He'd known better than to engage. His father hadn't. He'd come back and pressed the core into Adam's hand. "Will it work?"
Brynja took it, her calloused hand closing around the crystal. It glowed briefly with a warm, earthy light. "Armored mud slime. Good, stable core." She looked from the crystal to Adam's sword, her gaze calculating. "Your fire's already in this steel. I'm putting earth into the heart of it. They might make something new together. Something like lava, tough, and it'll hold an edge that burns. Or they might fight each other and the whole thing turns to brittle junk. It's a gamble. You sure?"
Adam didn't look away from the core. "I'm sure. What's the cost?"
"The core covers the expensive bit. For my time, the true silver for the channels, the rest, call it one gold, three silver."
Adam turned slightly, fishing in his coin pouch. He had seven gold, eight silver, and seventeen iron left. He counted out the payment and pushed the small stack across the counter.
"Two days," Brynja stated, sweeping the coins away. She jerked her chin past Adam. "You. Twinsy. You're next. Don't stand there all day."
Wren laid his twin daggers and the Ironstrider talons on the counter, adding three small E rank cores from his own pouch. "For these. Work the talon stuff into the blades. I want them to stick better."
Brynja picked up a dagger, tested its balance, then eyed a talon. "I can get the talon essence into the alloy. These little cores, they've got a kick to them. I can weave a hint of that force into the edge. It'll make your hits land with a bit more behind them. That's another silver."
Wren paid up, his eyes glued to his weapons.
As they turned to leave, Kael, who had been silently studying a rack of throwing knives, spoke without turning. "She doesn't just see the nicks. She sees the story in the metal."
Adam glanced back. Brynja had already vanished into the roar and glow of her forge, his sword and his father's core left in her keeping. Tomorrow, the academy would judge their trial in cold numbers on a board. Soon, in the sword, he'd see if earth and fire could be persuaded to forge something greater.