Affection was supposed to slow down the higher it went.
Reaching ninety alone was difficult, but in just a few hours it had risen to ninety-five.
Isaac frowned, pulling up her status to check what was going on.
[Status: She refuses to feel regrets again, and has decided to do what her heart tells her to do.]
He stood there, half-baffled.
It felt as though something had stirred Celia’s emotions, forcing her emotions to explode with intensity.
But he had no clue what the catalyst was.
Beside him, Celia said nothing, walking with calm steps out of the dissipating smoke.
Her face showed only a bright smile.
The two of them emerged onto the main street, and the sign of the Walker smithy came into view.
The rhythmic clang of hammers echoed faintly inside, along with the smell of metal and smoke.
When they stepped through the door, Isaac saw Tyr bent over an anvil.
He had transformed into a man-sized figure. He was focused entirely on the blade he was hammering.
Sparks leapt around him, but his hands never slowed. He didn’t even notice Isaac entering.
Someone else did.
"Boss!"
Paul looked up from the other side of the forge where he was supervising two apprentices.
His face broke into a wide smile, and he quickly walked over. The heavy apron he wore was stained with soot, but his excitement lit him up more than any fire.
"You’re back!" he said, almost too loud. Then, as if something struck him, he suddenly bowed his head. "Thank you, Boss. Really, thank you! Because of the Hell-Iron Myre you brought me, I finally advanced!"
Isaac blinked. "Advanced?"
Paul straightened, his grin stretching wider. "Yes! I finally reached Master Rank. My class advancement quest had been stuck for years. I could only make Spirit grade weapons before, and even then, only with great effort. But now... now I’ve broken through!"
"Only Spirit grade weapons?" Celia asked from beside Isaac, her brows lifting.
Paul turned toward her, scratching his head. "Well, yes. Spirit grade is hard to forge. The top blacksmiths need excellent materials to manage it. I could do it even with poor-quality materials, but I could never go higher until now."
"You could make Spirit grade weapons with bad materials?" she asked, sounding more surprised.
"Haha!" Paul laughed, clearly taking her tone as praise. "Exactly. That was my curse and my pride, I suppose."
Isaac was surprised as well.
Spirit grade alone was rare.
To have been producing them with subpar ores all this time... and now, with Hell-Iron Myre, Paul had leapt straight to Mystic grade in just weeks.
With enough training, maybe even Legendary grade weapons wouldn’t be out of reach. Of course, that would take time.
"Congratulations," Isaac said.
Celia nodded. "Yes, congratulations."
Paul looked like he might burst. "Thank you! I’m going to throw a party soon to celebrate. It’s not every day a smith reaches Master Rank. Boss, you must come. It would mean a lot to me."
Isaac smiled faintly. "Alright. I’ll come."
Paul clapped his hands together once. "Good! That settles it."
Isaac glanced toward Tyr, who was still hammering away without looking up, then back at Paul. "Actually, I came here because I need weapons. I’m planning to hunt some powerful monsters soon."
Paul’s eyes lit up even brighter. "Then please, come with me. I’ll show you something special."
He led Isaac and Celia through the forge, past Tyr and the apprentices, into the smithy’s main office.
The room smelled faintly of oil and metal polish, with shelves lined by smaller weapons and tools.
Paul reached into his spatial ring and pulled out three large crates, setting them down with care.
"These," he said, patting the first crate, "are the first Mystic grade weapons I forged with Hell-Iron Myre."
He opened the lid.
Inside lay a long spear, its shaft a deep crimson-black metal that seemed to shimmer faintly under the light.
The spearhead burned with a faint inner glow, as though fire itself had been forged into the edge.
"This one is the Infernal Fang Spear," Paul said proudly. "The prototype of this weapon was what you took away yesterday. I only completed this one today."
The prototype was the one Isaac used to take down the N’theris Serpent.
It was quite strong already. The real deal must be even stronger.
"It’s attuned to fire, and its abilities include Flame Resonance. When you channel mana into it, the spear ignites and can extend fire along its thrusts. It can also absorb surrounding flames to strengthen itself."
Isaac ran a hand along the weapon’s shaft.
The metal felt hot and sharp.
Paul opened the second crate.
Inside was a long and elegant sword.
Its blade was a clear silver-blue that seemed to shimmer with frost. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, and faint icy mist curled along the edge.
"This," Paul said, "is the Frostveil Sword. It’s an ice-element weapon. It has two main abilities: Frostbite Edge, which chills whatever it cuts, slowing and weakening enemies, and Frozen Domain, which can summon a field of ice around you for a short time."
"That’s an amazing ability," Isaac said.
"It is!" Paul grinned, proud.
Celia’s eyes lingered on the sword, her hand brushing her sleeve as if resisting the urge to touch it.
But it was the third weapon that seemed to call Celia.
The weapon was a sleek and sharp katana.
Its blade was a deep violet streaked with black veins.
Sparks of dark lightning crawled faintly across the metal, crackling in silence.
"This one," Paul said with reverence, "is the Stormshadow Katana. It’s attuned to Dark Lightning, an affinity that Hell-Iron Myre naturally excels with.
"Its abilities are Lightning Rend, which tears through defenses with explosive strikes, and Shadow Step, letting the wielder flicker short distances while attacking. It’s fast, deadly, and merciless."
All three weapons gleamed before them, each radiating power that surpassed anything Paul had shown before.
Isaac looked at them, then at Paul. "How much?"
Paul immediately shook his head. "Please, Boss. Don’t even ask that. These are my gratitude to you. Without you, I’d still be stuck where I was, hammering out Spirit grade swords and spears and cursing my luck. But now... now I’ve stepped onto the path I always dreamed of. I can’t put a price on that."
Isaac frowned slightly.
Paul noticed his expression.
He spoke with a firm voice for once. "Let me do this. You’ve given me a future. These weapons are my thanks to you."
For a moment, silence settled in the room, broken only by the faint crackle from the katana’s blade.
Isaac finally nodded. "Alright. I’ll accept them."
Paul’s grin returned. "Good! Then I’ll prepare proper cases for them. You’ll need them soon, right?"
"Yes," Isaac said.
Celia added, "They’re incredible. You’ve done well, Paul."
The blacksmith chuckled, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Coming from Celia, that means more than you know. I’m actually quite a big fan of yours."
Celia smiled at that, clearly used to people saying similar things.
Isaac glanced around the shop and noticed a few customers had wandered in.
Some of them weren’t even looking at the weapons on display.
Instead, their eyes were fixed on the office room where he and Celia stood. A few even whispered to each other while sneaking glances.
"Looks like your fans noticed you when we were outside," Isaac teased.