The successor

The sun rose slowly over Stormbarrier Village, casting golden light across the forges and rooftops. The morning air was thick with the scent of coal and hot metal, and the rhythmic clanging of hammers echoed as blacksmiths resumed their work.

But today was different.

Today, the trial would conclude.

Hugo and Eclipse Zero stood near the village's main forge, where the massive anvil and the Arc-Hammer rested. Villagers had begun gathering, whispering among themselves about Nathan's display of power the previous day.

The blacksmith chief stood with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. He had seen countless apprentices rise and fall, but this… this was something else.

Then—Nathan arrived.

The boy stepped forward, his usual anger subdued, his face unreadable.

But Hugo could tell.

Something had changed.

Nathan's hands weren't clenched into fists this time. His posture wasn't rigid with rage.

Instead, he looked… focused.

Hugo stepped forward, facing Nathan directly.

"You know what you have to do," Hugo said simply.

Nathan took a slow breath. His fingers tightened around the Arc-Hammer's handle, but not in frustration—this time, it was with purpose.

The villagers watched in silence as Nathan turned toward the forge.

This was it.

Nathan took his place at the forge. A glowing bar of superheated metal rested on the anvil, waiting.

The Arc-Hammer hummed with energy as he raised it above his head. The moment of truth had arrived.

Nathan exhaled, his mind flashing back to Hugo's words from the night before.

"Think of the best moments of your life."

He remembered his father's forge. His father's voice.

"A blade isn't made with strength—it's made with care."

His grip adjusted, and then—he swung.

CLANG!

The first strike landed. Sparks flashed, but the metal held firm.

It was a good strike. But not perfect.

Nathan hesitated for a split second.

The old him would have gotten angry. He would have let the rage take over.

But instead—he adjusted his stance.

He lifted the hammer again—and swung.

CLANG!

The villagers leaned forward, watching with bated breath.

Again—Nathan swung.

CLANG!

Each strike became steadier.

Each blow landed with more control.

And then—it happened.

Nathan's final strike sent a pulse of Arcana through the Arc-Hammer, creating a shockwave of controlled force around the anvil.

The Storm Barrier Blast—but refined.

The energy didn't shatter the ground this time. Instead, it flowed into the metal, forging it stronger.

The glowing steel on the anvil had been tempered by power, but shaped with precision.

Nathan stared at it, his breath steady.

He had done it.

Not out of rage.

Not out of blind strength.

But with true skill.

For the first time—he felt worthy.

The blacksmith chief stepped forward, inspecting the metal. He ran his fingers over the surface, his sharp gaze flickering with genuine approval.

"...It's a fine piece," the chief muttered. "Forged with control. Not bad, kid."

The villagers erupted into cheers.

Nathan, his hands still gripping the hammer, took a step back, breathing deeply. He looked at Hugo.

"…So?"

Hugo smirked slightly. "Now, you're ready."