1.3 A Welcome Surprise

190 F.Y.

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"Put your back into it, kid!" my father encouraged as I struck the molten piece of what would become a sword on the anvil, my striking arm immediately feeling the burn of the activity. "You need to make that thing bend to your will!"

Eight years old. I've grown fairly well despite the people of this time's lack of knowledge in basic food groups. Or actual variety in food, really. Seriously, it almost felt like the only thing we ate were meat and potatoes. I tried explaining that we all needed to eat some vegetables as well, but I couldn't really fault them for not listening. It also didn't help that I was five or six at the time, but I did understand that we were in the middle of a rocky hill with horrible farming terrain. And apparently, greens were expensive where we lived. I could only hope that I didn't die a painful death from lack of Vitamin C because of this.

Well, at least my parents listened when I said we should try growing our own stuff.

"Strike harder!"

"Yes, Father!"

Still, it wasn't all bad. Currently, I was being taught a valuable trade in the small workshop just beside our house. I knew my father was a blacksmith from the constant ringing echoing throughout the house whenever he disappeared into this quaint little workshop, and I was honestly itching to get into it myself. It also explained why we were fairly well off despite living far away from the town square. From what I've gathered, weapons were always a hot commodity, and such, I took the liberty of asking my father to, well, teach me the craft. I couldn't exactly tell him that I already knew what I was doing though.

"Make that metal sing, kid."

"Of course!"

The heat of the furnace was scalding, like an oven set on overdrive as I put the piece of metal back in for the umpteenth time. It was basic smithing, of course. This was called tempering, a process meant to reinforce the metal for added sturdiness. It was common scientific thing where heat rearranged molecular bonds, allowing it to reform into another more stable shape preventing the material from being too brittle.

Also, I was surprised to learn magic existed here in some shape or form. Then again, I probably should've expected that the moment I learned that reincarnation was a real thing.

"Good. Now, since this blade has been pre-etched, you can go straight to infusing your hammer with Seigel Wesen," my father explained as I put the molten slab of metal back onto the anvil. "It should feel like a stream of energy flowing from your chest towards your striking arm."

I nodded in apprehension as I tried my best to recall just how my father taught me to call forth this 'Seigel Wesen.' Sounded German, but I wasn't going to question it. Still, it was something about a 'well of power' beating in my chest... Was it coming from my heart then?

Focusing on the rapid thumping in my chest, I felt a slow build-up of something hot and foreign bubbling up inside me.

Oookay? That was it, I guess. Kind of easy, to be honest.

Willing the energy to flow towards my striking arm, I raised my right arm in reluctant excitement as I felt my hand burn with the strange energy that I was now producing.

"Now strike!"

"AARRGH!"

*CLANG!*

I screamed as I forcefully struck down on the waiting anvil. The resounding clang of metal on metal reverberated throughout the room, my right arm numb from the impact of my hammer hitting the now glowing piece of metal. But while I would've noted the unfamiliar pain coursing through my right hand, I turned my attention on the more interesting thing happening in front of me. I stared in fascination as the bluish glow at the site of impact spread across the metal, following the etchings to form a circuit-like pattern on the sword.

It was a curious sight to behold. To think that I made this thing with magic? Granted, I still didn't know what exactly it added onto the finished product, but it was still an exhilarating experience to know that I was capable of at least some form of magic nonsense.

"Normally, you imbue the Seigels before the final tempering process," Father shrugged. "But since it's just a trial run, I figured you can skip the boring parts."

Boring, huh? If I recall what Father taught me correctly, every Seigel had a purpose; a specific job to make the whole of the weapon work as intended. Kind of like magical runes, now that I thought about it.

"I expect you to learn to draw and etch all the Seigels that I'll teach you throughout the years," Father smirked as I marveled at my own work. "We have plenty of time. So no worries, Rouge."

"Of course," I smirked back. "I'll make sure to surpass you, old man."

"Hey, don't you start calling me old now."

I chuckled with my father as we continued on with my supposed lessons. These were all basic stuff, really, but it didn't hurt to learn from an actual master. I was just a hobbyist back in the old world, after all, and I might pick up a few more tricks here than if I just continued on with what I knew.

Still, this Seigel stuff had so much potential. Every line and etch had a specific set of instructions or purpose. There were general stuff, sure, but the fundamentals of it was just ripe with experimentation.

I smiled to myself as I thought of all the possibilities. I think I'll have fun with this.

"Don't smile just yet, Rouge," Father shook me out of my newfound revelry as he gave the new sword a quick twirl before setting it back down on the anvil. "It still needs to pass the final test, after all."

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