Chapter 24: Once Again, To The Fire (Part 2)

"I'll just make one blade. Just one blade, MEGAN, and I'll go… home."

He knew MEGAN was watching through his eyes since she mentioned something about a live stream—and although he couldn't hear her… he was sure MEGAN was already screaming at him to rest and go… home.

Home.

Did he even know where home was anymore?

Of course, it would be silly for Julian to consider Artemia his home since he had only been here for a few days—but he felt… alive here.

"Ha…" Julian let out a small breath as he shook off all the thoughts he was having. If he could just make one more blade, he would feel like himself again.

He would let his clone rest after that, and then learn more about Artemia and Otherworld back on Earth, but for now, he just needed to feel the weight of a hammer in his hand.

Julian began walking, letting his instincts guide him through the streets of Ethaca. The city felt different now, smaller, almost insignificant after he had seen visions of Earth and the buildings that almost felt like prisons locking the sky.

And yet, despite its smallness, there was something about Ethaca that felt… freeing.

As Julian walked, his hands very slightly hovered in front of him, palms facing forward. And though he could see perfectly in Artemia, his body still moved as if he were blind. It was instinctual, a habit formed from a lifetime of darkness.

His other senses had always been his true sight, and so, he wanted to "see" everything this city had to offer.

"Oh…?" It wasn't long, however, before his ears caught a familiar sound—the unmistakable clanging of metal being hammered into shape.

Julian's steps quickened as he followed the noise, weaving through the bustling streets until he reached a plaza. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.

A smithy.

"W…what the…?"

No—Smithies. A whole plaza filled with them. Tents were set up all around, and the air was filled with the sound of hammers striking anvils, the heat of forges, and the unmistakable scent of molten metal. It was hard to breathe, but Julian took it all.

There were at least a dozen smithies, each one different. Some were simple setups with just a few tools and an open flame. Others were more established, with full shops and displays of their work. Weapons, armor, chainmail, axes, swords—everything a warrior could dream of was on display here, forged by the hands of different blacksmiths.

"W… wow. Just… wow." Julian couldn't help but smile.

He wandered through the plaza, his eyes wide with wonder as he inspected the various weapons and armors being crafted. For a moment, it was like nothing else existed—he had forgotten the trials, shadow monsters…the penalty.

It was just the sound of metal, the heat of the forge, and the beauty of craftsmanship.

But as he continued to walk and started to look closer at all the items, the smile on his face very slowly faded.

"They're… wasting precious metals," Julian whispered under his breath, humming his breath slightly. "I… think I can do better than this."

"Huh…?"

Unfortunately… his voice wasn't as quiet as he thought.

"What did you say, pretty boy?" a voice snapped from behind him.

Julian turned around, only to see a female blacksmith standing near a grinding wheel. She was glaring at him, her muscles incredibly tense as she adjusted the bandana wrapped around her head.

"Did… you just say you can do better than me?" she demanded, leaving the wheel and stepping toward him.

"What…? No." Julian blinked, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I… didn't mean you. I meant just… in general, everyone—"

"What?" The woman's eyes narrowed even further, her glare intensifying.

"So you're insulting all of us, then?" she growled, stepping closer, her arms bulging as she flexed her grip on a hammer…she wasn't going to use that on Julian, was she?

"N-no," Julian stammered, feeling a sudden tension in the air. He wasn't used to confrontations like this. After all his social life only consisted of Ellie… and MEGAN.

"I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't mean anything by it. I'll just… go now."

"Wait… hold on," the woman said, grabbing his wrist with surprising speed and strength. Julian winced slightly at her grip—why does it feel like his wrist was being locked by a vice?

"Let me see your hands."

"Huh?" Julian was caught off guard as the woman pulled his hand toward her and inspected it closely. Her eyes narrowed again, but this time with curiosity instead of anger.

"Interesting…" she muttered, tracing a calloused finger along the lines of Julian's palm. "Now that I'm looking at you, you have some meat on you too. And here I thought you were just some pretty boy. "

"Uh… I… I guess not?" Julian stammered, unsure of how to respond. His gaze flicked nervously to the hammer still in her other hand.

"Huh…" The female blacksmith squinted her eyes.

But of course, it wasn't just the woman who actually felt something—Julian did too, even more so.

He felt it, he saw it—just how much time and effort the female blacksmith had spent in mastering her craft as she held his hand. Julian felt each crevice, each crack, and each blister, calluses—all of it weaving a story that Julian was very much familiar with. And now, he was actually seeing her for the very first time.

"I'm…really sorry," he said again, his voice more sincere this time. "I didn't mean to insult you. I know how much work goes into this… these are your precious babies."

"...Babies?"

"You… you worked hard for them…" Julian's words trailed off, emotion catching in his throat. "If someone told me what I said to you, I would also probably…"

"W-wait, wait…" the female blacksmith quickly let go of Julian's hand, her eyes wide with confusion. Was this guy seriously about to cry? She stared at him for a moment, taken aback by the raw emotion on his face. For a guy who looked like he could take on a dozen soldiers… his reaction was surprisingly soft.

"You're… you're good," the woman said, her voice awkward and uncertain as she took a step back.

"Ugh…" She scratched the back of her head, clearly unsure of how to handle this. "Look, we get heated up sometimes, okay? There's just been a lot of competition lately."

"Competition?" Julian asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced around at the other smiths.

"Yeah," the woman replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ethaca wasn't always like this. But now? It's filled with metalworkers and vendors, all trying to make a name for themselves. With the monsters breeding like crazy, there's plenty of demand for weapons, so trade's booming."

"Huh…" Julian looked around the plaza again, seeing it with new eyes. Now that he was thinking about it clearly, his words really did sound almost like a threat.

The female blacksmith's eyes followed Julian's gaze as he surveyed the plaza, and as soon as he saw her looking at a certain forge, she let out a loud breath.

"I used to work at that smithy over there," the female blacksmith said, nodding toward one of the large forges with its own establishment, prominently set apart from the tents. "It was one of the most respected shops in Ethaca. But ever since they decided to only make weapons for the aristocrats and the pompous elites, I left."

"Hm…?"

"Yeah. They only care about money now," the woman continued, her voice laced with frustration. "It's all about status now. Who's buying the weapons, not how they're made. So I struck out on my own. I prefer working for real warriors anyway, not those fancy lords who've never seen a battlefield. Ack… why am I even telling you this!? It's all because you… ack."

"Hm…" Julian nodded, though he didn't quite know what to say.

"Anyway," the woman said, shifting her attention back to him. "What are you in here for? You don't seem like a local. Wait… don't tell me you're planning on setting up a shop too?"

"That…" Julian scratched the back of his head, unsure of how to answer. "I was actually just planning on renting a forge and some ingots. I just want to craft a blade or two."

"Ugh… no." The woman groaned, rubbing her temples. "We don't do that here. Most of us are independent workers, and we own our forges. No one's going to let some skinny lout touch their… babies, as you called them. But…

…Hm." She glanced at him again, her eyes narrowing as if sizing Julian up again.

"What…?" Julian took a step back as the female blacksmith continued to appraise him with a critical eye.

"I am in need of a striker," she finally said, crossing her arms again. "And you look like you know your way around a hammer. Work for me for a bit, and I'll forget you ever insulted my… babies. I can pay—"

"Sure," Julian said before the woman could even finish her sentence.

"Huh?" The female blacksmith raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by how quickly he agreed, "You're… okay with that? I… I mean, right. Why would you even refuse? Ha… hahaha…."

She had been prepared to offer him payment since he clearly had some experience judging by his hands and build, but if he was fine not getting paid, well…

"My name's Juliet," the female blacksmith finally introduced himself, "You sure you don't want pay?"

"I'm Julian," Julian replied with a small, earnest smile. "And yeah… I'm just happy to work."

"Well, would you look at that—Juliet and Julian. We're already off to a great start!" The woman chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, then…

…let's get to work, pretty boy."