Chapter 67: Pyre’s Return

The shop was dim and warm, filled with the scent of roasted spices and faintly sweet smoke curling up from the hearth in the corner. I sat at a small table, staring at the strange drink in front of me—a murky, golden liquid that smelled like it would burn on the way down. The bartender had insisted it was "mild," but after my first sip, I doubted that was true. It tasted like fire and bitterness, but somehow, I didn't hate it.

I let my fingers trace the rim of the mug, my thoughts wandering. The last few days had been a whirlwind of fights, laughter, and that strange encounter with the elf fusion at the bar. It all felt like a blur, but it had left a warmth in my chest I couldn't quite explain.

The door to the shop creaked open, and the bell above it jingled softly. I looked up and immediately recognized Pyre, his crimson hair catching the light from the hearth. He stepped inside with his usual confidence, his presence somehow filling the room despite his lean frame. The chatter in the shop hushed for a moment as heads turned, but Pyre didn't seem to notice—or care.

"There you are," he said, striding toward me with a grin. His voice was casual, but there was a sharpness to it that always made me feel like I was being sized up.

I nodded in acknowledgment as he pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. "You've been busy," he said, his grin widening. "I can see it all over your face. What've you been up to?"

"Not much," I said, trying to downplay it.

"Not much?" Pyre raised an eyebrow. "Ash, come on. I've been gone for weeks. Don't tell me you've just been sitting around twiddling your thumbs."

I sighed, knowing he wouldn't let it go. "I fought in an arena."

Pyre's eyes lit up with interest. "An arena? Now that sounds like a story. What kind of fights? Did you win?"

"I won," I said simply, not wanting to elaborate.

"And?" Pyre leaned forward, clearly enjoying this. "What did you win?"

I hesitated, debating whether to tell him. "A... date."

Pyre froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was loud and unrestrained, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. "A date?" he repeated, slapping the table. "Ash, you're killing me. You fought in an arena for a *date*? And here I thought you were all about survival and power."

"I didn't know that was the prize," I muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Pyre wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Okay, okay. Tell me everything. Who was the lucky one?"

"She was an elf fusion," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "She showed me around the city. We talked. She kissed me on the cheek and left."

Pyre grinned. "That's it? No fireworks? No dramatic confessions of love?"

I frowned. "Why would there be fireworks?"

Pyre shook his head, laughing again. "Ash, my boy, you are hopeless. But hey, good for you. You're branching out. Next time, maybe you'll figure out what a date actually is."

After finishing my drink, we left the shop and headed toward the forge Pyre had mentioned. The path wound through narrow alleys and across cobblestone streets, the air filled with the clang of metal and the hiss of steam.

When we arrived, the blacksmith's forge loomed before us, a hulking building with smoke billowing from its chimneys. The heat hit me as soon as we stepped inside, the air thick with the smell of molten metal and burning coal.

The blacksmith was an imposing figure, his muscles rippling as he hammered a glowing piece of steel on his anvil. He looked up as we entered, setting down his hammer and wiping his hands on a soot-stained cloth.

"Pyre," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "What brings you here?"

"I've got a commission for you," Pyre replied, pulling two small orbs from his coat. One was black, the other blue, both gleaming faintly in the dim light.

The blacksmith's eyes narrowed as he took the orbs, inspecting them closely. "These are rare. What do you want me to do with them?"

"Two rings," Pyre said. "Something special. One for each orb."

The blacksmith nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I'll need time. These aren't ordinary materials."

"Take two weeks," Pyre said. "We're in no rush."

The blacksmith grunted in agreement and turned back to his forge, already deep in thought about his work.

The forge was quieter when we returned, but the heat and the smell of metal were as intense as ever. The blacksmith greeted us with a nod, gesturing for us to follow him to a workbench at the back of the shop.

On the bench rested two rings, each radiating a subtle energy that seemed to hum in the air.

The first ring was sleek and black, its surface smooth and almost liquid in appearance. Intricate runes were etched into the band, glowing faintly as if alive.

"This is the Ring of Silence," the blacksmith said, holding it up. "It suppresses sound-based attacks and amplifies focus, giving the wearer an edge in chaotic situations."

Pyre handed it to me, and as I slipped it onto my finger, I felt a strange calm wash over me. The world seemed quieter, sharper, like I could hear my own thoughts more clearly.

The second ring was a striking mix of blue and silver, with a small gemstone embedded in its center. The band was designed to resemble ripples on water, flowing and fluid.

"And this," the blacksmith continued, holding up the second ring, "is the Ring of the Colorless Sky. It enhances perception and adaptability, allowing the wearer to react faster and more precisely in battle."

I took the second ring, sliding it onto another finger. A faint coolness spread through me, sharpening my senses and heightening my awareness.

Pyre nodded approvingly. "You've outdone yourself," he said to the blacksmith.

The blacksmith shrugged. "A job worth doing is worth doing right."

As we stepped back onto the streets, Pyre turned to me with a satisfied smile. "You're getting stronger, Ash. These rings will help. But remember, they're just tools. It's up to you to use them wisely."

I nodded, flexing my fingers as I adjusted to the new weight of the rings. "I understand."

"Good," Pyre said, his tone serious for once. "Because where we're going next, you'll need every bit of strength and focus you can muster."

I didn't ask where we were going. I'd learned by now that Pyre liked to keep his plans to himself until the last moment. Instead, I followed him, the hum of the rings a constant reminder of how far I'd come—and how far I still had to go.