I looked up at Jorun, my face streaked with soot and sweat. I had to be careful here… I thought, gauging the line between deference and confidence. To save Master Jorun face, I must act tactfully.
"I am apprentice Yoshi," I said smoothly, letting the name roll off my tongue as if it carried weight, "from the Singing Forge Clan of the Central Continent. I have come to challenge you."
Jorun froze, mid-step, a brow raised so high it seemed to threaten his hairline. His eyes darted over me as though trying to locate a memory. The Central Continent. He had been there many times, seen dozens of clans, but… Singing Forge? Nothing registered. A name completely unknown to him.
A flicker of puzzlement crossed his expression, but he masked it with prudence. He straightened, hand sweeping in a gesture half-invitation, half-command.
"Very well," he said, voice measured. "Come. You may enter my private forge."
Felicity and the mimic followed close behind as I strode forward. The door closed behind us with a resonant thunk, separating us from the stunned apprentices and the chatter of the shop floor.
For a heartbeat, the only sounds were the soft shuffle of boots on stone and the mimic's low, contented hum. Then Jorun turned fully, arms crossed, the firelight catching his soot-streaked brow.
"Okay," he said finally, voice deep and firm, " You have my attention. Now… who are you really, and what do you want?"
The mimic nudged my leg with its runed bulk, as if reminding me that whatever I said next, it had my back.
I let my gaze meet Jorun's, steady and unflinching, while Felicity's silver eyes glimmered from the shadows, reading every flicker of expression.
"I happen to overhear your predicament" I said simply, letting the words carry. "And I'm here to offer my services in helping you craft this sky grade talisman."
Jorun's eyes narrowed, and the line of his jaw stiffened. "You overheard my predicament?" His voice was rough, as if tasting disbelief. "And you… claim you can help?"
After watching the boy craft the Green-Eyed Dragon Dagger Jorun knew he was good, but could he really be that good?
I gave a small nod, letting my confidence speak more than words could. "Yes. I've studied rare forging techniques, the subtle interactions of spirit-infused metals, and how to temper a weapon or talisman to Sky-grade perfection. I believe I can complete the forge you've been struggling with."
The mimic thumped its stubby bulk against my leg, a quiet rumble of approval vibrating through the floor. Felicity's smirk deepened; her silver gaze never left Jorun.
The old smith leaned back slightly, arms crossed, eyes scanning me as though measuring every nuance of my posture, my breathing, even the faint aura of my qi. "And what would you want in return for this… generosity?"
"The finest black smithing tools your store has," I replied evenly. "And a chance to present the talisman to emperor Ichikawa myself, if you see fit. Nothing more."
A long pause stretched between us. Then, slowly, Jorun's mouth curved into a faint, calculating smile. "You speak boldly, apprentice. Most would be crushed under the weight of a Sky-grade forge before even lifting a hammer."
He stepped aside, sweeping a hand toward the forge. "Very well. Show me. Prove that your words carry the weight they claim."
I felt the mimic shift behind me, runes flickering in quiet excitement. Felicity leaned forward, whispering in our bond, "This is it, Ash. Don't waste a single moment."
Jorun's eyes softened slightly as he waved me over to a wide table at the back of the forge. Upon it rested an ultra-scroll, its surface shimmering faintly with golden qi that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This," Jorun said solemnly, voice low with reverence, "Is an inheritance-level scroll claimed by Lord Ichikawa from an inheritance raid. Inside are the precise details for crafting a Tri-Emblem Talisman. Its power is considerable — it functions as a potent elemental ward, granting eighty percent resistance to all element types."
I let my gaze trace the intricate patterns of golden energy weaving across the scroll.
Jorun continued, the lines of his face tightening. "Its design calls for Mystic Rainbow ingots, which Lord Ichikawa has generously supplied to us. I haven't even begun processing them into refined steel yet."
I inclined my head, hands extending slightly in a gesture of respect. "May I?"
Jorun studied me for a heartbeat, then inclined once, with a faint nod. "Be my guest. After all… how can you craft it if you do not first understand the instructions?"
I stepped closer, unrolling the ultra scroll. Golden inscriptions floated just above its surface, alive with barely restrained power. My fingers brushed the edges, and I let my Eon Force flow gently into the Fire Opal Philosopher gem I carried. Knowledge and insight bloomed within me, and I absorbed the scroll's contents with perfect clarity — every nuance, every method, every subtle instruction etched itself into my memory as if the scroll itself had spoken directly into my mind.
When I looked up at Jorun, my expression was calm, assured. "The process will take two nights and perhaps the third part of a morning," I said, voice steady.
Jorun's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of awe and calculation crossing his face. ''Two nights and three days!'' he thought, fingers twitching with anticipation. By his own calculations it should have taken the better half of a month. If this boy can truly accomplish this he thought ' 'perhaps the reward will be mine after all.' '
I exhaled slowly, letting the heat of the forge wash over me, and stepped toward the kiln. The dance of flame, metal, and spirit had begun.
I moved to the center of the forge, the golden glow of the scroll reflecting off the walls. My eyes settled on the Mystic Rainbow ingots. These were no ordinary metals — each one contained layers of elemental essence, entwined with raw spiritual energy. Any misstep, any improper heating, and the entire batch would turn brittle, resistant, or utterly useless.
I placed the ingots into the mystic level kiln, than placed the kiln into the Sky-grade crucible. I focused a thin wisp of eon qi into the forge, flowing in subtle, precise patterns. Slowly, the ingots softened, melting into a molten state that shimmered with every color of the spectrum — ruby reds, sapphire blues, emerald greens, and flashes of violet that danced like azure lightning.
"Notice the dross forming at the surface," I muttered, scrapping it away carefully with a tempered mystic level spatula. "This is impurities finding their way to the surface. The tricky part is Rainbow-steel must remain in a liquid state. If it hardens prematurely, its crystalline matrix will become resistant to most elements and reheating it will be nearly impossible."
Master Jorun's eyes went wide, a bead of sweat rolling down his soot-streaked temple. "Impossible… It will require around-the-clock attention! Continuous focus! No mortal could maintain that!"
I barely gave him time to process the shock. From the edge of my awareness, I split my mental energy pool, creating a powerful twin, a perfect duplicate of myself. In a blink, my twin moved through the forge. He went directly to the preparation of the Mystic Spirit clay, mixing it with delicate strands of elemental essence to form the cast for the Tri-Emblem.
The Tri-Emblem itself was deceptively simple on paper, three triangles forming a larger, whole triangle, with an inverted negative triangle suspended in the center. But its complexity lay in the elemental arrays needed to aligning the spirit of the metal with the clay matrix, and ensuring the negative subtractive space carried just as much force as the positive.
Jorun staggered back several paces, eyes wide as he watched the twin Ash carefully fold, knead, and shape the mystic clay in tandem with the molten rainbow steel in the crucible. "What… what manner of martial technique is this? There are two of him now!"
I gave him a brief, controlled smile. "This is just precise scattering of eon qi and mental pool division. It allows me to perform multiple simultaneous processes."
The mimic thumped at my leg, letting out a low, contented hum, as if approving my orchestration. Sparks flew, molten steel shimmered, and the smell of heated rainbow-metal mingled with the iron tang of the forge. Already, the apprentices who had lingered at the door peeked inside, eyes wide as they watched the impossible unfold.
I looked over at Felicity who watched me with admiration in her silver eyes. "Why not spare her this." I thought to myself.
Then, with a subtle shift in my eon qi and mental energy I created a third twin, dividing another portion of my vast mental energy pool into the fully realized twin of myself, capable of independent thought and action. It was seamless, each movement precise, as if another me had stepped out of the shadows of my mind.
My new twin walked over to Felicity, taking her hand gently. "Come on," I said with a grin, "let's get something to eat. And maybe...co-cultivate a little more, to recharge."
Felicity blinked, silver eyes wide with surprise. "Ash… your mental pool… it's grown so large!"
I shrugged, an easy smile curling at my lips. "Apparently so. But don't worry. These two have everything under control."
She laughed softly, the sound bright and warm, and squeezed my hand. "Okay, let's eat, then. But only if you promise not to start phantom crafting while I'm trying to enjoy a meal."
I laughed, leaning close for a brief, reassuring peck on her cheek. "No promises."
We stepped away from the forge and out of the shop, the heat and hum fading behind us, however even though I left the forge I still remained, keeping the forge heated. My other twin continued their work watching the soul furnace forge bake the mystic clay. Outside, the bustling streets of Fanghua seemed to embrace us — the familiar scent of incense, the sizzle of street food, the muted hum of city life.
As we walked, I could feel the faint pulse of the forge through my twins , a reminder that the impossible work continued behind us, hands guided by skill, intent, and the quiet devotion of two Ashes bound to a singular purpose.
For now, though, it was just Felicity and me — a rare moment of calm amid fire, steel, and destiny.