Artisan Sparks and Crimson Hair

That morning, Hatz and Fiya were riding the elevator toward the upper platforms. It was the first time they had gone up together.

Fiya had her face pressed against the reinforced glass, watching as the lower levels of the city grew smaller beneath their feet.

"It's huge…" she whispered. "All of this… is still Zeytharion."

"Yes. And one day, you'll get to choose where we live," Hatz replied with a calm smile.

She turned to him. Her unshakable expression was still there, but there was a glint of admiration in her eyes.

"I believe you."

Hatz ruffled her hair affectionately.

"We're going to eat until we explode."

"Just eating is enough for me," she replied, turning her attention back to the view rising with them.

"We're making a stop first. I need to sell some materials."

"That's why you brought your mop and backpack?" Fiya asked, shifting to the other side of the elevator for a better look.

"Something like that," Hatz said, glancing at his faint reflection in the glass.

He wore his everyday clothes: old black pants, stained in several spots; a faded white t-shirt, and a moss-green jacket, well-worn but still functional, with several open pockets.

His mop was strapped to his back like a sword, and over it, his battered work backpack, stuffed with weapon and armor ascension materials.

"We'll swing by the Adventurer Guild Platform first," he said, just as the elevator passed several minor platforms and approached one of the main ones.

"Will we get to see people doing magic?" Fiya asked, tilting her head with curiosity.

"Maybe… it'll be fun," Hatz replied, smiling back at her.

The elevator came to a smooth stop with a faint hydraulic hiss at the Adventurer Guild Central Platform, one of the busiest and most vibrant places in all of Zeytharion.

The area was a storm of movement: adventuring parties in shining armor, robes etched with runes, swords, staffs, and even magical pets moved around in all directions.

Street vendors sold potions, maps, talismans, and second-hand gear. Rune forges steamed beside enchanted display cases, and the constant noise filled the air with energy.

Fiya looked around wide-eyed, trying to contain a mix of awe and excitement. Hatz took her hand.

"Come on," he said, guiding her through the crowd toward the blacksmith and alchemist district.

The forge and alchemy zone was even more intense than the rest of the platform.

Dry heat poured from open forges, and the smell of molten metal mixed with acidic vapors and floral perfumes from nearby alchemy labs.

Hatz led Fiya past the various stalls. Some vendors shouted their prices, others offered free magical analysis.

Young warriors haggled over weapon upgrades, mages argued about formulas, and apprentices scrubbed soot-blackened cauldrons.

The whole area buzzed with energy. The air was thick with smoke, steam, and sparks.

Hammering echoed across the platform as apprentices darted around with glowing materials and alchemists stirred bubbling flasks of vibrant essence.

Hatz walked with steady steps, Fiya holding his hand. But the moment they reached the first big forge, he was met with a dismissive glance.

"No recyclers," said a flat voice from behind the counter, not even bothering to look up.

"I've got good-quality ascension materials to sell," Hatz said, opening his backpack just a little.

"There's a trash bin in the back if you want to leave whatever you're carrying," the assistant replied without looking, returning to hammering a pair of rune plates.

Fiya frowned. That man didn't even look her brother in the eye. She glanced at Hatz, who simply pressed his lips together and walked on.

They tried two more major forges. One had a sign that read "Service for Silver-Rank Adventurers Only."

In another, a manager with a silver braid and a magical apron clicked her tongue at them.

"If you don't have origin-sealed materials or a contract, there's nothing to discuss," she said, turning away with disdain.

"Why do they all talk like that?" Fiya muttered as they kept walking.

"Sometimes it's even worse," Hatz replied quietly. "But don't worry. The good part is, we've caught someone's attention."

And he was right.

As they moved away from the fancier stalls, a figure in the shadow of an alley had been watching them for some time.

A tall man, arms thick as beams, with a red beard braided to his chest and a black forge jacket trimmed in copper.

Without a word, he stepped in front of them.

"You. The guy with the mop on your back," he said in a gravelly voice, pointing at the cleaning tool.

Hatz and Fiya stopped. The man tilted his head, motioning for them to follow.

"What if he's a kidnapper?" Fiya whispered, eyeing him carefully. He looked like a lumberjack who'd traded his axe for an anvil.

Hatz smirked and quickened his step, keeping his sister close.

"Trust me. He's not leading us into a furnace," he joked, though his tone was more cautious than playful.

They followed him down a side passage, descending a set of stairs into a dim corridor lined with steaming pipes and the distant clang of hammers.

They arrived at a small, hidden forge tucked between two older buildings. The workshop had no name or sign, just a worktable blackened by time and a sealing rune etched into the wall.

"I'm Kurn. And you're an idiot if you thought you could sell anything at those big-name forges dressed like a beggar," the man said, arms crossed.

"Then why bring me here?" Hatz replied without flinching.

"Because I'm an even bigger idiot," Kurn snorted, then gave a crooked smile. "I saw those materials. Some of that shine isn't something you see every day."

"They're real ascension materials. From a good source," Hatz insisted, opening the backpack with more confidence.

Kurn examined them with a practiced eye, carefully pulling out a few fragments and analyzing them under the light of a runic device.

"Traces of rune magic, perfect bonding, smooth surfaces… These were crafted, weren't they?"

"I guess… I found them left behind in a dungeon," Hatz lied. From Kurn's expression, he could tell the man didn't believe him either.

"Then you're one lucky bastard. These materials are so well linked, it almost feels like a crime to use them," the blacksmith muttered, though he didn't press further. "But you've got a problem."

"What kind?"

"You don't have a license to sell these officially. No recognized forge wants to tarnish its name buying from a janitor—even if your materials are legit."

Hatz lowered his gaze, disappointed. Fiya watched silently beside him. Then she stepped forward and squeezed his hand.

"And will you buy them?" she asked the blacksmith directly.

"If they're worth it, I will."

Hatz smiled again, hopeful.

"I won't pay like the big forges, but I won't rip you off either. And if you bring me more, I can make them circulate without drawing attention."

"Is that illegal?"

"Only if you shout it out loud. Down here, no one's listening… right, little one?"

Fiya raised her eyes, unfazed.

"I don't shout. But I remember faces."

Kurn let out a hearty laugh.

"I like her. More spine than most of my apprentices. Alright, trashman. For this batch, I'll give you seventy lums."

To Hatz, it was like hearing the dragon gods sing his name. Seventy lums! That was almost a full month's pay—for just four cleared dungeon levels.

"And if I charge you a bit less…" Hatz began, unstrapping the mop from his back. He pulled his gloves from one of his jacket pockets and placed them on the table. "Would you be able to use some of the materials to ascend these weapons?"

"Weapons?" Kurn repeated, frowning like Hatz had lost his mind.

"Let's just say… they're not what they seem," Hatz said, gesturing to the mop and cleaning gloves.

Both Kurn and Fiya looked at them with a mix of confusion and pity.

"You're asking me to reinforce a mop and a pair of janitor gloves… using ascension-grade weapon materials?"

"Exactly," Hatz confirmed, wearing the most serious face he could manage.

Kurn let out a deep laugh.

"You're the strangest guy I've met in a long time," he said, shaking his head, still smiling. But against all odds, he picked up the mop and started examining it.

"This is the big secret?" Fiya whispered, leaning closer to her brother.

"Kind of," he replied with a knowing grin.

She squinted at him but didn't ask further.

Kurn shone a runic flashlight over the mop. After a few seconds, he muttered something in a language Hatz didn't recognize.

"This is impossible…" he said, now staring at Hatz like he'd just handed him a forbidden relic.

"This damn mop for cleaning monster crap… it has cores, elemental slots, and the capacity to ascend to ranks that…"

"Ranks that what…?"

Kurn didn't answer. After checking the gloves, he muttered something else in that same foreign tongue and began rummaging excitedly through his tools.

"For the first time, I'm using this," he said, pulling out a slim forging hammer engraved with runes on the handle. The metal head gleamed as if it had never been used.

With expert hands, he grabbed five ascension ingots and placed them on the mop and gloves—one at the base of the handle, another at the center, one on the mop head, and one on the back of each glove.

"Let's see if they fall apart into scrap," he murmured, raising the hammer, which began to glow a deep crimson.

"Wait, what—?"

"Here we go!" Kurn shouted, and slammed the hammer down onto the materials.

Hatz shut his eyes tightly, bracing for disaster.

One hit. Then another. And three more right after that.

When he dared to peek with one eye, what he saw left him speechless.

The mop and gloves were glowing with the same bluish hue as his runic mark. The light enveloped them in a strange, magical aura.

Kurn had stepped back, visibly impressed. Fiya stared wide-eyed, mouth slightly open.

As the glow faded, what lay before Hatz was completely transformed.

The mop now resembled a double-edged rune staff. It still held its tool-like shape, but the handle was reinforced with alloy and embedded crystals. The bristles were covered in a runic mesh that shimmered faintly, as if charged with purifying magical energy.

The gloves had rune engravings on the knuckles, reinforced dark leather and metal plates on the fingers. They looked built to withstand battle and deliver precise, devastating punches.

"Call it whatever you like, but this… is no longer a mop," Kurn declared, grinning in satisfaction.

"Bring me more materials, and I'll make this deadlier than a legendary spear. As for the gloves—I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of your punch."

"This… this means a lot to me, Master Kurn," Hatz said, unable to take his eyes off his new 'weapons'.

"Master? What are you talking about? I'm your official blacksmith now. You're not showing this to anyone else," he said firmly.

"Are you… serious?" Hatz asked, stunned.

"Of course! My mark's on your gear!" Kurn exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Tears welled up in Hatz's eyes.

"It'll be an honor," he murmured, just as Fiya gently squeezed his hand.

Kurn chuckled heartily.

"Good! Anyone would cry after seeing what these hands and this hammer can do."

He winked at Fiya, who kept a serious expression.

"You made my brother cry," she said, accusingly.

"And I'm glad! That's what art does," the blacksmith shot back.

Hatz wiped his eyes with his sleeve and stood up straighter, wearing a renewed smile.

"This is just the beginning. I'll bring you something even better next time."

"I'll be waiting," Kurn replied. Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice. "But don't tell anyone what you've got. That thing could make you stand out… and you don't have an adventurer's license."

Hatz nodded. He knew both of them were now walking a risky path.

After selling the materials, Kurn stuffed the money into a sack without counting it in front of them—but then opened it briefly. The lums inside shimmered with a warm, almost ceremonial glow.

The blacksmith placed the full seventy he had promised, not deducting the value of the ascension materials he had used.

Hatz bowed five times in farewell, until Fiya tugged on his jacket to make him stop.

Kurn gave them a wide grin and a thumbs-up.

As they stepped out of that hidden passage, the sun seemed just a bit brighter.

"So… can we eat now?" Fiya asked in her usual calm tone, though Hatz could tell she was bursting with excitement inside.

"Yes. But first… we're getting the best cloud ice cream in this city."

They climbed the stairs toward the restaurant district, Fiya's eyes scanning every detail like she was assessing a brand-new world.

"We're going to eat as much as we want, okay? Today's special," Hatz announced triumphantly.

"Wait. Are we spending money before paying off the debt, the backup cores, the lighting system, and the water filter?"

"Fiya, please! We're celebrating! You can't start thinking about that now. We'll have plenty."

"I'm not scolding. I'm planning. There's a difference," she replied with her trademark serious face.

"You're six years old!" he cried, throwing his arms up to the sky.

"And you're a grown man with a magic mop. We both carry curses," she declared, like a wise old woman.

Hatz burst out laughing.

"Come on, let's get something sweet. Then you can audit my expenses with your imaginary notebook."

"It's not imaginary. It's at home. With graphs."

Before Hatz could respond, a murmur spread through the crowd moving through the upper plaza. Merchants, customers, and passersby paused, whispering, and some even pulled out their tablets to record the moment.

"What's going on?" Hatz asked, standing on tiptoe.

Then he saw it.

A procession of women dressed in black suits and white cloaks embroidered with silver core thread advanced down the central path of the district.

They walked with grace and authority. Every step calculated. Every gaze, a silent decree.

The Administrators. Graceful, beautiful, almost ethereal.

"Who are they?" Fiya asked, looking up.

"Administrators. The managers of the adventurer system. They control class promotions, access to restricted zones, trade with the upper platforms… and they also have their own private guild."

Fiya frowned.

"They look like… a squad of models."

"Yeah. But instead of walking runways, they process forms and manage adventurer development."

At the front of the group were two women who stood out even among the others. One had onyx-dark skin and white hair tied in a high bun. Her silver eyes gleamed with arcane energy, and a floating tablet hovered beside her like an extension of her will.

Next to her was a blonde woman with a sharp face and a military posture. She carried a runic staff engraved with Zeytharion's emblem. Both of them walked as if the world adjusted to their presence.

The crowd parted to either side, leaving a clear path for the group.

"They look like final bosses…" Hatz muttered.

"They look efficient," Fiya corrected, admiring the perfect synchronization of their stride.

Then, a few steps behind the group, a figure caught his attention.

Unlike the others, she didn't walk with pride or confidence. Her head was slightly lowered, her expression lost in thought.

Although her face and hair were partly hidden beneath the hood of her cloak, Hatz recognized her instantly.

Red, slightly wavy hair. Eyes the color of a brewing storm. A tired gaze.

The Administrator he'd met at the ruins of Kohr. The one who'd dropped the brooch he still carried in his backpack.

"It's her…" he whispered, freezing in place.

"Who?" Fiya asked, noticing the shift in his expression.

"One of them. The red-haired one. I saw her in a ruin I was cleaning. She dropped a brooch… I still have it."

The woman kept walking silently, lagging slightly behind the group, not looking at anyone.

"Are you going to give it back?" Fiya asked curiously.

"Yes. But not now. There are too many people, and they seem to be heading somewhere important."

"I guess… dressed like that, people might think the worst if they saw you approaching," she added in her usual dead-serious tone.

Hatz sighed and looked away.

"You're right. Let's get that ice cream."

"If you end up following her like a lost puppy, I'm leaving you behind," Fiya warned, though a small smile crept onto her lips.

Hatz cast one last glance.

He saw how the crowd stared, entranced—especially the men. Some couldn't help themselves and whistled or shouted compliments a bit too enthusiastically.

"Yeah… just thinking about it is terrifying," he said, imagining himself trying to approach her in the middle of all those imposing figures.

"If you wore new clothes and stopped looking at her like a lovestruck idiot like all the others…" Fiya said, inspecting him up and down, "...maybe she'd actually notice you."

Hatz sighed in defeat.

"Maybe..."

"Chin up, King of Trash. Stay just the way you are, and maybe some woman will take you off my hands someday," she said, deadpan.

Hatz laughed and ruffled her hair affectionately.

"You'll always be my number one girl."

"Yeah, right," she replied, turning away and heading toward the nearest ice cream shop.

Hatz, still wanting to catch one last look at the red-haired Administrator, hesitated a moment.

He threw a few lingering glances as the group disappeared behind a guarded doorway.