Cane sized up the riders as they advanced—mismatched gear, poor formation. Probably a mercenary group.
At the center rode a massive man in full plate armor, a greatsword slung casually across his saddle. His mount was a true warhorse—one of the largest Cane had ever seen.
Fergis:Fire user on the right. Archer next to her.
Dhalia:Healer behind the big guy.
To the armored man's left rode another melee fighter, chainmail glinting under his cloak, twin short swords visible over his shoulders.
The big man's voice was calm, easy.
"A bit late for hunting."
Cane shrugged casually. "Just out exploring. Cadets from the Magi Academy."
"Is that right?" The big man shifted in his saddle. "Why are your eyes glowing, boy? Some kind of mage?"
"He's no mage," the lone woman said, eyeing Cane closely. "But I am curious about his eyes. Might be some kind of secret."
"Bet they're carrying some interesting gear," the archer added. "What were you hunting?"
Cane:Get ready, Clara. Shoot the archer if he even touches an arrow.
Cane shrugged again, smiling lazily.
"Fergis, you know what kind of people ask these kinds of questions?"
Fergis's hands were already glowing. "Yeah. People looking to steal from other people."
Cane's trident flared with starlight.
"And how do we feel about those kinds of people?"
Clara jumped in without hesitation.
"We don't like 'em. Filth."
Fergis:Hey... that was my line.
Clara swung her blunderbuss casually to cover the archer.
The big man sneered.
"It's five on four. You sure you want to try it, kids?"
Dhalia:Knew it. He's bad. Can we take them?
Cane laughed softly.
"You're nothing. Less than nothing. Stole that armor off a corpse and now you ride around pretending to be a fighter."
The man's face darkened.
"What did you say, boy?"
Cane beckoned him forward with a flick of his hand.
"Me and you. One on one. If you win, we hand over everything."
Fergis laughed. "No way he accepts that. Bet he's never fought someone actually looking him in the eye."
Clara nodded. "Definitely a backstabber."
Dhalia:What are you doing, Cane?!
"You're on, boy." The man dismounted heavily, his steel boots sinking into the earth with each step.
Clara:Careful, Cane. He's a big 'un.
Clara narrowed her eyes at the archer.
"You with the big nose—you so much as twitch, and you're eating dirt."
Cane stood quietly, shield stowed, Starbolt glowing faintly in his hand.
The man approached, stopping a few meters away.
"Regor Nyle," he said, drawing his greatsword back for a heavy diagonal swing.
"Cane Ironheart," Cane answered, smiling easily.
As Regor's swing started, Cane blurred forward—far faster than the man expected. He slapped a hand against Regor's chestplate.
In a flash, Cane entered the armor—melding joints, buckles, plates—welding the armor into a single solid piece. He stepped back, calm.
The greatsword fell from the man's paralyzed fingers.
There was a beat of stunned silence—then Regor toppled face-first into the dirt with a thunderous crash.
Above Cane's head, the faint shimmer of starlight gleamed brighter.
He turned his glowing gaze on the remaining riders.
"We done here? Or do you want to try us?"
The archer shook his head slowly—no one dared to move.
Cane:Get our horses. We're leaving.
Fergis:What did you do to him?!
Cane:Melded his armor. Locked him in.
They mounted up quickly, riding out without another word.
The mercenaries stayed frozen in place, not even daring to dismount until the students had vanished from sight.
It was full dark by the time the team returned to the stables.
Smiles and laughter echoed through the night as they walked together to the administrative building, still buzzing with energy.
At the counter, Cane turned in their bounty—the massive bear skin and the level eight soul gem. He also submitted a formal report on Regor Nyle and his attempted robbery.
The clerk, a thin man with spectacles perched low on his nose, paled visibly at the name.
"Regor Nyle?" His voice cracked slightly. "I'm surprised you made it out alive."
Cane shrugged lightly.
"Guess we got lucky."
Fergis grinned.
"I guess."
The clerk quickly recorded their submissions, tapping notes into the ledger.
"Well done, cadets. You've officially entered second-tier ranking."
He offered a rare, polite nod of respect.
"Thanks," Cane said.
They exited the building together, steps lighter, heads a little higher.
Fergis glanced at the others.
"So... what now?"
"HOM reading," Cane said with a mock sigh.
Fergis groaned as the clerk handed over their updated point tallies.
"Well... you've earned a boring night."
They reached the steps where the paths to their dorms split. Clara and Dhalia peeled off, waving.
Cane:Great job today. See you both in HOM tomorrow.
Clara:Nap class? I wouldn't miss it.
Dhalia:Night, guys.
Instead of reading his HOM assignment, Cane changed into a sleeveless shirt and stepped onto the rune portal leading to the smithy.
An instant later, Jonas Ironfist stood in his place—the mask firmly in position.
Cane pulled a large piece of blacksilver from his bin and placed it on the workbench.
"Let's see. Four pieces, big enough to cover a fatal strike to the heart. Size of my outspread hand should be enough."
He cut four leather straps for each, connecting them at the back, and started designing a locking fastener for the buckle.
After completing the first heartguard, Cane turned it over in his hands, inspecting it carefully.
Satisfied, he entered the metal.
Blacksilver unfolded before him—a twilight world filled with both light and shadow.
Starlight erupted over his head, flooding the darkness, exposing unseen strengths and weaknesses.
Cane moved quickly, strengthening the flows, creating reinforced pathways.
Each adjustment shifted the background music—starting with a single voice, swelling into a soaring choir so beautiful it could make angels weep.
At the center of each heartguard, he placed a socket for the level four soul gems they'd gathered.
"I'll try using starpower to trace the rune."
Without exiting the blacksilver, Cane pulled out the sheet of metal he'd used to transfer stealth and defensive runes from the Avenger mission.
"I can only use a simplified stealth rune—otherwise the gem'll burn out."
Under star sight, every detail sharpened.
He corrected tiny errors, amplified key lines, and wove in a replicator loop to boost the rune's output without overtaxing the gem.
Every adjustment glowed brighter or dimmer, guiding him like a children's game of hot and cold.
Satisfied, Cane placed the soul gem into the socket, willing the blacksilver to embrace it completely before exiting the artifact.
He didn't stop to test it.
He moved straight to the next.
Several hours later, Cane stored the finished heartguards along with two newly forged HAVs.
Morning came too soon.
The unseasonal warmth made Cane leave his usual Academy robe behind.
Canvas trousers, a button shirt, boots—and he was out the door.
Dhalia and Clara were standing near an open window when he arrived, enjoying the breeze.
Cane's psi rune pulsed.
Dhalia:No robe this morning?
Clara:Last time someone showed up to HOM without one, Wallen sent them back to their dorm.
Cane shrugged.
Cane:Works for me. I didn't do the reading anyway.
Clara:Reading? There was reading? Must've done it already.
Dhalia rolled her eyes.
"This should be fun."
Cane felt Professor Wallen's gaze lock onto him the moment he stepped into the classroom.
He shortened his stride, letting himself look sluggish as he shuffled forward.
"I'm so glad I made it," Cane said with a tired yawn, pulling two HAVs from his storage ring and placing them carefully on Wallen's desk.
"Here's the gear I promised for your nephews in the navy. Stayed up all night finishing them."
Wallen's stern expression melted into one of awe as he lifted one of the HAV vests.
"It's... so light."
Cane yawned again, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Hexagonal adamantium. Stops both sword and shot. It's buoyant, too—keeps you face-up if you're unconscious in the ocean."
Wallen's eyes widened.
"It really stops a musket round?"
Cane nodded.
"Tested it with senior staff watching. Make sure your nephews get them right away."
Wallen cradled the HAVs like priceless artifacts.
"Thank you, Cane. You should return to your dorm and get some rest. We'll see you back here next week."
"Oh... yes, sir." Cane nodded politely and shuffled 'wearily' back toward the door, Clara and Dhalia gaping in disbelief.
Cane:Have fun.
Clara:No way...
Dhalia:Not fair... You don't even look tired!