(The Backyard Of Soron's Castle, Supreme Master Argo's POV)
By sunrise the next day, the castle's quiet backyard had transformed into a temporary forge zone, with Argo's apprentices erecting worktables, securing mana furnaces, and assembling an array of hammers, tongs, crucibles, and runic stabilizers with practiced efficiency.
Smoke curled from the furnace vents as the first flames were lit, the air filling with the familiar scent of burning coals and heated metal—a scent Argo had lived his entire life in.
At the center of it all sat the block of Origin Metal, resting on a stone slab like an ancient relic waiting to be awakened.
"Crucible ready, Supreme Master," one apprentice reported, lifting the reinforced container that had been layered with heat runes for extreme-temperature forging.
Argo nodded once.
"Place it inside. Begin with a high-boil mana flame. Let us see how it reacts."
