CLANG CLANG

Passing through the third door hidden within the underground facility, Kyle stepped into a far more underdeveloped section of the settlement.

There were no polished floors, towering chandeliers, wealthy elites, or advanced technology here.

All he could hear was the sharp clash of metal against metal. The air was thick with the smell of flames, molten iron, and ash, while his eyes widened at the sight of his first true smithery.

He had entered a massive workshop.

"This is..." Amanda muttered, her brows lifting slightly. "...you didn’t bring me here during my first visit."

There was no complaint in her tone, though. If Tear had decided to bring them here, then it meant she was taking this matter seriously. And if Tear personally involved herself with Kyle’s gear, there could hardly be a better outcome from this visit.

"This is Maiden Crest, the smithery my family has run for over a hundred years." Tear introduced the place with unmistakable pride. "This is my legacy. My pride."

Kyle silently took in the scene before him, clear intrigue flickering in his eyes.

Several blacksmiths were immersed in their craft. Anvils thundered beneath heavy strikes, furnaces roared at full capacity, and glowing metal bent beneath practiced hands like poetry forged into motion.

For some reason, he found himself deeply drawn to blacksmithing.

[Host, this is the influence of your new trait, ’Will of Steel.’ You have developed a fondness for creation.]

Kyle could tell.

Just by watching those hammers shape steel, he felt as though he had finally discovered something that had been missing from his life all along.

But still...

"They lack something."

His words caught both Amanda and even Tear off guard.

"What do you mean?" Tear asked, her brows rising slightly.

Kyle was too absorbed in his own thoughts to realize he had just criticized the very foundation of Tear’s pride.

He walked toward a workstation where a man was shaping a sword with complete focus. Beside him rested a discarded pile of warped and misshapen blades, obvious failures abandoned one after another. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Kyle stopped at a respectful distance, careful not to interrupt the blacksmith directly, before turning toward Tear.

"None of them have a soul. Even the one he’s making right now is only a shell of what it could’ve become."

CLANG

Kyle had not lowered his voice in the slightest, and that alone explained why the blacksmith’s hammer suddenly came to a halt.

Amanda and Tear both stiffened for some reason, their gazes instinctively shifting toward the man.

The blacksmith slowly turned around, his narrowed eyes carrying clear irritation.

"What did you just say?" he asked.

And his words were directed at none other than Kyle.

Kyle turned toward the man, realization flickering in his eyes as he understood he had interrupted him. Even so, he neither lied nor apologized. He stood firmly by his opinion.

"I said none of your perfected swords carry your soul."

He stepped closer and glanced at the blade in the blacksmith’s hand.

"Not even the one you’ve been forging so carefully. And not the ones you’ve chosen as your completed works either."

The blacksmith snarled. "And who are you to tell me that? What do you know about smithing?"

"Mile, calm down. He is..." Tear stepped forward, attempting to ease the tension, but Mile raised a hand and stopped her.

"No. Wait." His eyes stayed locked on Kyle. "I want to hear his opinion on what supposedly carries my soul. Because I know the effort I’ve poured into my craft. I’ve given those swords everything I have."

"No, you haven’t," Kyle replied without the slightest hesitation. "Not to all of them. Only a few..." His gaze shifted toward the discarded pile nearby. "...and unfortunately, those are the ones you scrapped and threw away."

Mile frowned deeply. "What are you even talking about? First you insult my craft, and now you’re trying to save face by saying something ridiculous?"

Kyle let out a faint sigh. "You’re the one not making sense."

He walked past the blacksmith and picked up two swords. One was polished, balanced, and clearly battle ready. The other came from the discarded pile, rusted and poorly angled. If wielded in combat, the blade would likely veer off target without the enemy needing to do much at all.

Holding both swords up, Kyle continued,

"You chose this one because the shape, sharpness, and balance felt right."

Then he lifted the discarded blade.

"And you threw this one away because it felt... imperfect in your hands. Right?"

Mile slowly nodded. "Yeah. That’s why."

By now, several blacksmiths around the workshop had stopped working entirely, their attention fixed on the unfolding exchange.

Tear and Amanda watched Kyle in silence. Tear’s eyes carried clear curiosity, while Amanda looked slightly flustered by how suddenly everything had escalated.

Kyle nodded before asking, "Can I get something to test them on? Maybe a training dummy?"

Tear gave a small nod and gestured toward the left side of the workshop, where several training dummies stood. Some had already been cleanly bisected, likely used to test the sharpness and durability of finished blades.

Kyle walked toward them while the others followed behind.

He handed the damaged sword to Mile first.

"I’ll infuse my Genesis into it and strike once. And, well... I’m still very new to this, so don’t complain too much."

Mile frowned, but before he could respond, Kyle released his Genesis.

The moment it surfaced, everyone immediately understood what he meant.

His magic was wild. Untamed. Unstable.

He could barely keep it wrapped around the weapon properly, and the only reason he managed at all was because of the short period he had spent training with Aella.

TNG

The instant his Genesis coiled around the blade, a sharp metallic cry rang out as the sword rejected the overwhelming pressure being forced into it.

"As expected..." Tear scoffed softly.

Just as she suspected, he truly was a complete beginner with monstrous potential.

Kyle ignored her remark entirely and swung the sword once.

SLASH

The blade struck the dummy.

CRACKLE

The training dummy split cleanly through the middle, but at the same time, the sword itself shattered into fragments that scattered across the floor.

Mile clicked his tongue in irritation.

For now, however, he restrained himself. He would wait until the boy’s entire ridiculous theory collapsed on its own.

Kyle turned toward the man and said, "As you can see, my Genesis couldn’t be absorbed by the blade. After one proper strike, it collapsed."

He then took the rusty sword from Mile and handed the broken hilt back to him.

"Now, let me try this."

Kyle faced the training dummy once more, and again, Genesis erupted throughout the workshop.

This time, not a single person remained unaware of the chaos surrounding him. His presence was simply too overwhelming to ignore.

"And his Genesis is rising even higher..." Amanda muttered.

The others noticed it as well.

Kyle was pouring more and more magic into the blade this time, clumsily trying to force the unstable Genesis around it.

Yet their attention did not remain on Kyle for long.

"What..." Mile’s lips parted in shock.

Tear’s eyes widened in disbelief.

The sword.

The discarded blade that Mile had abandoned and forgotten...

It was absorbing Kyle’s Genesis flawlessly.

Not resisting it.

Not cracking beneath it.

The unstable energy flowed through the rusted sword as naturally as breathing, as though the weapon had been forged specifically for Kyle from the very beginning, tailored perfectly to his existence.

The rust peeled off, energy began to flow through the weapon, and when Kyle swung it—

*SLASH*

—the blade survived but not the thirty six training dolls.

°°°°°°°°°

A/N:- Thanks for reading.