Lock was forced to stay in the Shiganshina District, and his life gradually returned to a regular rhythm.
There was no more hardship of traveling all night, no more constant threat of being on guard against Titan attacks, no more mental confusion after each kill—only a fulfilling, warm life every day.
Eren, Armin, and Mikasa became frequent visitors to Lock's home. The three of them were naturally curious about the world beyond the Wall and incessantly asked about its scenery.
They had heard that the world outside was far richer in animals and plants than within the Walls, with vast mountains and towering forests where trees stretched far above the city walls… All three were captivated by the thought of such strange, new landscapes.
Armin showed a natural sense of timidity and withdrawal when imagining Titans instinctively wanting to hunt and devour humans.
Eren, as always, burned with the desire to explore and discover.
Mikasa remained stoic, giving no reaction. It was clear that the only thing this girl cared about was the safety of those close to her.
Besides spending time with the three children, Lock visited Uncle Harry and Alan's homes every day, sharing meals and laughter.
Aunt Martha and Aunt Karal, who regarded Lock as family, naturally welcomed him without objection.
Of course, Lock was not blind to the reality; he occasionally brought daily necessities and food to express gratitude.
In these two families, Lock found the warmth of home—a brief escape from the harshness of his life.
Yet the reality was unforgiving.
There was only one choice: to keep moving forward.
–––––––––––––––––––––
Ding… ding… ding…
The sound of iron being lifted reverberated early in the morning from the forging room of the Corps.
The guards, half-asleep, were jolted into wakefulness, their faces full of helplessness.
"It's started again… Been a month already, hasn't it?"
"Who says it's not true? I really admire Lock for getting up so early every day. I couldn't bear it for more than two days."
"Yes, in weather like this, it's much better to sleep out in the open."
"Of course. Once my shift is over, I'll nap till afternoon."
"Together…"
"Roll…"
"..."
Meanwhile, Lock worked intensely in the blacksmith shop, shirtless, hammering a red-hot iron blank with focused precision.
Originally about thirty centimeters in length and width, the iron blank had now been reduced to the size of a fist, with impurities painstakingly hammered out.
This process alone took Lock an hour and a half.
Even with his exceptional physical strength, he was exhausted.
Fortunately, Uncle Harry arrived on time with a team of blacksmiths.
Looking at Lock, sweating profusely and having nearly removed all impurities from the iron blank, the blacksmiths couldn't help but feel admiration.
"Lock remains as diligent as ever."
"Alas, if only I had such perseverance when I was young, I'd be a master blacksmith by now, and wouldn't be arguing with Harry every day."
"Big Beard, do you want to get beaten?"
"Sounds like you're sure of victory, Harry. Our record is always 50-50."
"Cut it out…"
Lock paid no attention to their banter.
Wiping sweat from his forehead, he spoke seriously, "Everyone, let's begin."
"Now that Lock has spoken, no more arguing today."
"I should be the one saying that!"
Harry and the bearded blacksmith continued their childish rivalry, drawing laughter from those around.
At forty years old, they still acted like children, and it was genuinely amusing.
With the playful squabble paused, the blacksmith shop returned to its steady, industrious rhythm.
Watching the iron blank Lock had carefully hammered, Uncle Harry and the others exchanged glances of amazement.
They vividly remembered that just a month ago, Lock's craftsmanship had been nowhere near this good.
Today, his skill in hammering the iron blank to remove impurities had reached near perfection.
The next step now fell to them.
All the blacksmiths were veterans with decades of experience, recognized by Charlie, a senior blacksmith. Their craftsmanship far surpassed Lock's.
As they performed the precise, repetitive motions they'd honed over a lifetime, Lock couldn't help but sigh.
"In comparison, I'm still far behind…"
Yet, he stayed focused, carefully observing every movement and detail.
He helped out when possible and did his best to participate in every part of the forging process, ensuring that when the black gold bamboo was combined with the metal, no mistakes would occur.
Over the past month, processes and details had been refined repeatedly.
Today, with constant optimization, everyone felt it was going to succeed.
This was the instinct of a true blacksmith.
Once forged and quenched, the upgraded black gold bamboo sword appeared.
Its body was black, its blade a sharp silver-white, having ready radiating a cold light, though still unsharpened.
It was the feel of success.
Only the final step remained.
Without hesitation, the bearded blacksmith—renowned for his expert grinding—took the lead and began carefully sharpening the sword.
He was meticulous, afraid that any mistake would undo their combined effort.
The process took about forty minutes.
At last, just as the grinding was finished, Lock heard the familiar, delightful system sound in his ears…
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