The heat of the forges grew stronger the deeper they went into the Artificer's Hall.

Sparks flew in every corner, younger apprentices hammering away while older masters barked at them.

But in the farthest corner, where the fire seemed to glow brightest, was Belric.

They found him hunched over his anvil, his thick arms blackened with soot, his beard tied in a knot to keep it from catching fire.

He was shaping something Arden had never seen before, thin bands of metal connected with a web of tiny runes that pulsed faintly as he worked.

Each strike of his hammer wasn't just about force, it was measured and timed with a faint hum that came from the runes themselves.

"Looks like a trap of some sort," Rael whispered, eyes narrowing.

Arden shook his head. "No. That's a weapon. He's testing resonance."

Belric paused, turning the piece under the forge-light.

But the glow flickered, sputtered, then went out.

His thick brows furrowed, and with a grunt he slammed the unfinished piece against the bench. "Useless junk!" he barked, though his eyes still carried a craftsman's hunger.

Arden coughed lightly. "Looks more like stubborn junk to me."

The hammer stopped mid-swing. Belric's head whipped around, and for the briefest second his face stayed hard, ready to scold whoever interrupted him.

But then he saw Arden, and the fire in his eyes shifted.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, wiping his hands on a rag that was already more black than white. "If it isn't the pest that makes this city less boring." His gaze moved across the group. "And the rest of you as well. Greyhold keeps talking about your little dance with those beasts."

Nyra shifted slightly when Belric's eyes landed on her sleeves.

His expression changed again, and before anyone could stop him, he crossed the room in heavy strides and snatched the sleeves from her hands.

"Still holding, I see," Belric said, turning it in his hands.

He traced the edges, tugged at the crystals, and gave a grunt of approval. "Loose here," he muttered, pressing against one joint, "but it survived. And from the stories I've heard, you've been giving it hell."

Nyra gave a small smile. "It's done its job."

Belric's lips twitched into something between pride and greed. "For a little more coin, I could make it better. Tighter channeling, stronger output. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Before Nyra could answer, Arden stepped in. "That's why we're here, actually."

Belric looked at him, his smirk returning. "Ah, so not just to watch me fail at my latest genius project?"

Arden chuckled. "That was entertaining, but no. We came for something more serious. Custom work."

At those words, Belric froze. His eyes flickered with something rare— excitement. "Custom weapons?" he asked, voice lower now, like he didn't trust his own ears.

Arden nodded. "For each of us. Made to fit our strengths and affinities better."

Belric's laugh boomed across the hall. "Finally! Someone with sense! Do you know how boring it is to keep making the same staves and blades for merchants who don't even know how to swing them?" He rubbed his hands together, then forced his face back into a stern mask. "Of course, something like this doesn't come cheap."

Arden crossed his arms. "I wasn't expecting cheap. We'll pay according to the quality, the materials, and how well they turn out. That fair enough for you?"

Belric's mouth twitched into a grin. "Fair enough." He pulled a thick ledger from the table, along with a piece of chalk that left faint glowing trails as he wrote. "Names, affinities, classes, and weapon choice. Tell me everything."

Rael stepped forward first. "Battle Mage. Ice and lightning affinity. I fight up close, so gauntlets."

Belric scribbled quickly, muttering to himself. "Dual affinity, physical channeling… I'll need insulated cores, layered conduction…" His hand waved impatiently. "Next!"

Nyra gave a small nod. "Elemental Mage. Ice and wind. I could use a staff, but I'd like one that amplifies range attacks and still gives me some control up close."

Belric's eyes lit at the challenge. "Two affinities, one control tool… A hybrid staff with dual channelling, maybe extendable edges…" He muttered again, scribbling so fast the chalk squealed.

Zephyra stepped closer, her talons scratching faintly against the floor. "Armor. Claws. Wind and fire."

Belric paused, eyes wide. "A beast order?" He leaned in, inspecting her feathers and scales with genuine awe. "Hah! I'll need to craft organic grafts, resonance binding, and flame-resistant layering. This is madness. I love it."

Finally, Arden stepped forward. His voice was calm, steady. "I need a blade. But not just for one element. It has to channel everything I carry, every signature I bear."

Belric froze, the chalk stopping mid-stroke. He slowly looked up at Arden. "Everything? Do you have any idea what you're asking for?"

Arden's grin was faint, but his eyes didn't waver. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could do it."

For a moment, Belric just stared. Then he laughed, shaking his head. "You're going to ruin me, boy." His grin widened. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

He scribbled harder than ever, muttering under his breath about rare ores and resonant cores, about materials that cost fortunes but could withstand multiple affinities. The chalk ran out halfway through, and he snatched another without breaking pace.

When he finally stopped, his beard was powdered with white dust, and his eyes gleamed like a man half his age. He pushed the ledger aside, looked at Arden's group, and waved them away with both hands. "Go, go, leave me to my work! I've no time to waste talking now. I need materials, apprentices, and silence."

They barely had time to thank him before he was already barking orders at the younger artificers nearby. "Get me steel from the southern mines! No, not that brittle junk, I need the good batch! And fetch me the crystal cores—three of them, now!" His voice followed them even as they left the hall.

Outside was cooler, and quieter. Nyra was the first to speak. "He looked… excited."

Arden smirked. "That's an understatement. He'll probably forget to eat until he's done."

Rael clenched his fist. "I can't wait to see mine. Finally, something that doesn't just break when I go all out."

Zephyra gave a low rumble. "Armor that burns. I'll like that."

Arden chuckled softly, the sound carrying through the street. "Yeah. We'll all like what's coming.

But until then, nothing changes. We train, we fight, we grow. These weapons will mean nothing if we can't keep up with them."

And so, while Belric buried himself in metal and fire, Arden's group returned to their routine.

They spent their days in the training hall used by Greyhold's younger mages, sparring against one another, sharpening their affinities until their bodies ached. At night, they cultivated their aether, Arden pushing harder as he learned to bend his new life signatures into tools he could wield in a fight.

He found himself experimenting in small ways, seeing how the echoes of life energy pulsed when he moved, how they could be guided, sharpened, or made to rebound. Every session gave him ideas, and every idea brought a faint smile to his lips.

For the group, the wait for Belric's weapons didn't feel like waiting at all. It was a fire under their feet, pushing them to prepare for the moment the forge would deliver their future into their hands.

A/N:

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