Harem Sync: Divine Edition-Chapter 67: Precision... is Strength."

Haru carefully got up so as not to wake Kira, but she stirred anyway, making an adorable noise of protest.

He stroked her for a while, running his fingers between her fox ears, down her head, her neck, until she purred softly again and settled back into the warm bed.

He left the room barefoot, following the sound of the hammer that had stopped.

Gandloaf was leaning against the forge door, watching Isabela and the guards training ahead: sword movements, defensive stances, basic warm-up exercises.

Yukihime was a little further ahead, drawing on the dirt floor with a stick, focused on her own childish art.

He just watched, perhaps lost in memories of when he had an apprentice who did the same thing, drawing while he worked.

The polished sword was on the anvil.

Haru looked at the blade.

It was no longer visually "Sword of Vorath," the transformation had been complete.

Black as a starless night, two meters long but perfectly balanced, so well-made it seemed light just to look at.

Some subtle Dwarven runes engraved near the guard glowed faintly when the light hit it correctly. The hilt was remade in black leather with silver details, but maintained the Vorath theme, a small stylized skull on the pommel.

The sword radiated presence, not detectable magic, but something alive, as if the sword had its own consciousness waiting to be wielded.

"It was asleep," Gandloaf said without turning to Haru, still watching the training outside. "Now... it’s awakened."

Haru picked up the sword, felt its weight. As if it had been made specifically for his hand.

"Even so, I’ll call it Vorath," he said, twirling the blade. "To remember where it came from."

He stored it in his inventory, the sword disappearing from the physical plane, sucked into dimensional space.

```

[ITEM STORED]

◊ Vorath’s Greatsword (Restored)

◊ Quality: Dwarven-forged

```

A comfortable silence for a moment.

"About the Flame Path..." Haru began, looking at the still-active flames in the furnace. "I’d like to understand more. Being able to walk among forges, activate flames... it would be useful."

Gandloaf turned to him, assessing him. "You want to learn the Dwarf art? So you can summon me?"

"If possible."

Gandloaf hesitated, his one hand clenching into a fist, old scars aching with memories. The trauma was still fresh. But... he had chosen to go standing. Sitting wouldn’t fix anything.

"First..." he began slowly, "...you need your own forge."

Haru nodded, listening.

"We Dwarves consider three things essential to a forge: an anvil, a furnace, and..." he paused, "...any space you dedicate as sacred for the work. It can be a full workshop or a corner of a cave. The size doesn’t matter."

"I understand."

"Then you need a torch." He pointed to the metal structure on the wall. "Where you’ll break the Fragment of a Blacksmith’s Ember... and to make one, you need a virgin crystal."

"Virgin crystal?" Haru frowned.

"A crystal that has never been used. You’ll have to make one, or find one in deep caves." Gandloaf picked up a piece of metal, began to shape it distractedly with his hand as he spoke. "When you break the crystal and activate the flame for the first time... that’s when the important part comes."

He looked directly into Haru’s eyes.

"It’s only a complete Flame Path when you have the forger’s name. Arathôr is mine. Every blacksmith has theirs. It’s kind of a secret for some, a public declaration for others. It depends on the forge’s tradition."

Haru processed that. "And then?"

"Finally, you need to consecrate the forge. This requires a saint, someone with recognized divine blessing. They perform a ritual that marks the space as sacred, allowing the Flame Path to take root there permanently."

Pause.

"It’s... a lot of process." Haru admitted.

"It’s art." Gandloaf corrected.

But he looked at Haru with respect. "But if someone can do it... you can do it."

He extended his one hand.

Haru shook it firmly, the agreement sealed without a written contract, just a word of honor between blacksmith and Gamer.

Kira appeared in the doorway yawning, hair messy, tail dragging on the floor. "Good morning..." She murmured, his voice still groggy with sleep.

Gandloaf laughed. "Good morning, little fox."

...

Far away, in a mountain temple, a meeting was taking place in a circular chamber lit only by candles.

Five Custodians sat around a stone table, masks covering their faces, golden cloaks reflecting dim light.

The Inquisitor, a rank above a common leader, reviewed scrolls spread across the table, gloved fingers tracing reports of recent interrogations.

"Haru Mizuki," he said without looking up. "He passed all the tests."

The Custodian on the left, a female voice muffled by the mask, replied: "But there was an inconsistency in the Identity Test."

"Elaborate."

"You mentioned place of birth: Tokyo."

A tense silence filled the chamber.

Another Custodian, an older, weary voice, murmured: "Tokyo... that name came up before."

The Inquisitor pulled out another scroll and read aloud: "Three cases in the last few months. All confirmed Anomalous individuals mentioned Tokyo as their origin. Along with other places: New York, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Nampula..."

"Places that don’t exist in this world," the female Custodian added. "All were purified after confirmation."

"But..." the older Custodian interjected, "...Tokyo is an ambiguous case."

The Inquisitor nodded. "Exactly. Japan exists in this world, an island region in the Far East. Tokyo is a real capital. Ancient, but real."

"Then why do Anomalous individuals mention it?" another asked.

"Because..." the Inquisitor clasped his fingers, "...in the world they come from, Tokyo also exists. A coincidence of names. But our Tokyo is different from theirs. When we interrogate them thoroughly, the details don’t match. They describe an impossible city, metal towers, lights without flames, carriages without horses..."

Heavy pause.

"So Haru Mizuki is a suspect?"

"You are under observation." The Inquisitor corrected. "We’ve already given him a special coin, a mark of potential recruit. If he’s genuinely from our Tokyo, there’s no problem."

"And if you’re from the other Tokyo?"

Silence.

The older Custodian added. "And what if he becomes a Custodian before that? What if he trains, gains confidence, and then we find out too late?"

The Inquisitor looked at the candle flame on the table, its light reflecting off the mask.

"Then we’ll have an Anomalous within the Order. And we’ll need to purify him from within." Pause. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

"But..." he smiled behind his mask, "...I prefer to believe he’s genuine. We need strong warriors. If he’s ours... it will be a blessing."

"And if he isn’t?"

"Then it will be a lesson in vigilance."

...

The group prepared to leave the village, the cart loaded with provisions bought the previous day, the horses rested and ready.

Gandloaf appeared holding a leather bundle. "For you."

Kira handed it over.

She opened it and found two small, perfectly balanced daggers, blades gleaming, handles wrapped in soft leather.

"Mr. Gandloaf..." her voice came out emotional.

"Come back when you can." He said simply.

Haru was on the roof of the cart as always, sitting cross-legged, watching the smoke rising from Gandloaf’s forge as they drove away.

He smiled.

The cart slowly left the village, heading towards the road that led to the Imperial Capital, the next adventure awaiting.

...

When the cart disappeared on the horizon, Gandloaf returned to the workshop.

He hammered the anvil with increasing force, his eyes gleaming golden-green. "The more you forge a Dwarf has active, the more precise he becomes. And precision... is strength."

He hammered so hard that the anvil cracked in two.

He stopped, breathing heavily, processing the growing thought.

"What if... what if I help that boy?" he thought, looking at the one hand. "I guide him... and in return, he helps me..."

With his remaining hand, he manipulated the iron of the broken anvil, the metal bending to his will without fire, without tools.

The metal rebuilt itself, the anvil becoming whole again.

He remembered the Gamer saying "useless character"

"I can be strong enough..."

He pulled an old book from his pocket, a small diary with a leather cover. He opened it to the last page where there was an incomplete symbol drawn by hand.

"...And finish off that Gamer..." he murmured to himself, "...and all of his kind."

He gave the anvil another hammer blow.

The sound echoed throughout the entire village.

And Gandloaf, the Dwarf who had lost everything, began to forge again, not just metal, but purpose.