The group returned to Ironheart Estate, each peeling off toward their rooms without much talk. It had been a long night.
Cane entered his chamber quietly—and paused. His bed was already occupied.
Rather than speak, he simply undressed and slid beneath the covers. Sophie turned toward him in her sleep, curling closer with a sigh, her hand finding his chest as the night finally ended.
—
He woke to the soft weight of Sophie watching him. Her chin rested in her hand, eyes warm and amused as Cane stirred.
A knock at the door preceded Milly, who wheeled in a breakfast cart. She caught sight of them both and flushed scarlet before retreating in silence.
Cane cracked open one eye, blinking against the morning light. "How long did I sleep?"
"Long," Sophie whispered, leaning in close enough to kiss him. "Did you get enough rest?"
He sat up slowly, stretching. "Guess so. Don't feel tired or anything."
Sophie gestured toward a parcel on the windowsill. "That was there when I woke up."
Cane padded over, tugging on his shirt. Sophie followed, hugging him from behind.
"It's hard to get dressed when you're doing that," he murmured.
"You're warm," she said with a smile. "Can't we get heat in this room?"
"Sleep with less on," he grinned, picking up the parchment and running his fingers across its surface. He paused, eyes narrowing as he examined it with his senses. A metallic square was folded inside, bearing a single message:
Cane,
We agree.
—Fraedi
He pressed his thumb against the metal and sank into it.
Two figures appeared in his mind's eye—Fraedi, and a striking woman with raven-black hair. Cane didn't recognize her, but her voice wrapped around him like silk, musical and strange. There was something not quite human in her tone—something nymphic, like merfolk magic, but… different.
"If you're seeing this," the woman said, "then you are what we believe you are. My name is Gadira. A soothsayer, of sorts. Both my name and existence subject me to constant hunting. But in your care, I believe I'd be safe. I'll visit you when you return to the Magi Academy."
Cane emerged from the message, storing the metal square in his pocket.
"Let's get something to eat," he said.
Sophie stepped closer with a bright smile. "Want to go to an auction today? It starts at noon."
"Sure," Cane said. "That gives me time to make something first."
As they stepped into the hallway, Cane paused at the sight of Relen approaching.
"Good day, Young Master," the steward said with a short bow.
"Good day," Cane returned. "I want to hire the same workers who built the cottage—same style. Have all the materials delivered here, and let me know when they're ready."
Relen nodded. "Where will the house be built?"
"Somewhere secret," Cane said with a grin, already walking.
After a light meal, Cane returned to the smithy.
The air was warm and faintly metallic, comfortingly familiar. He paused just inside the door, eyeing the rack near the wall. Several finished swords gleamed softly in the filtered daylight—Jonas's work.
Cane didn't need to lift one to know their quality. His mentor's craftsmanship was always unmistakable. Exquisite balance, clean temper lines, subtle artistry.
A quiet smile tugged at his lips. "What to do…"
He scanned the bins of sorted metals, then drew his Starstinger blades and let them hover at his sides with a flicker of focus. They swirled lazily in the air, orbiting him like attentive companions as he sifted through the materials.
"Hmmm… Zirconium? I've never worked with that before. Let's try adding nickel."
Forming a union with the ringworld, he closed his eyes and purged the impurities between both metals, streamlining their bond. The alloy fused effortlessly beneath his touch, pliant and eager. He named it Nonium.
"Highly resistant to heat and flames…" he mused aloud. "Let's make a simple bracelet—wrist to elbow, maybe. Magneto node… and something pleasing to the eye."
He slipped into the metal world and found himself grinning.
The new alloy shimmered like liquid moonlight, a golden-silver hue both strange and beautiful. He focused on the Magneto node, tilting his senses toward it.
"Why does it look… soft?"
It pulsed gently, as if breathing. He nudged it. It expanded instantly, swelling under his touch like a sleeping thing jolted awake.
He focused harder, pushing it to its full size—then activated it.
The Nonium leaped from his grasp, slamming into the metal workbench with a sudden clang before beginning to crumble. Cane stepped back as it disintegrated rapidly, curling inward with a hiss before bursting into a fine cloud of reddish-brown dust. Pfft.
He reached out to touch it.
The dust was finer than any rust he'd worked with—nearly powder. Was it because the node had been expanded before activation?
He sank into it.
The metal world became crimson, hazed with swirling particles that stung his throat. He coughed, doubled over for a moment, nearly pulling free—until he centered himself.
"Metal belongs to me," he whispered, steadying his breath. "This is my world."
The discomfort ebbed. He began to coax the fine dust together, bonding particles gently. Slowly, they coalesced—bright red and warm like a dying sun.
He shaped it into a serpent.
The body narrowed as it formed, sleek and sinuous. A tail. A coiled spine. A viper's head. Then, scale by scale, he detailed the outer form—layered and precise, glinting like carved glass. The underbelly he shaped differently: elongated, overlapping plates that felt smooth under the fingers.
For the eyes, he left sockets empty. The mouth, slightly open, lacked fangs—an elegant threat implied, not shown.
Setting the sculpture aside, Cane retrieved two small metal bars—one copper, one platinum.
With calm precision, he began to divide the copper in two.
Then the platinum—cut into twenty-four equal fragments.
Cane focused on the copper.
He sank into the metal, adjusting its properties with practiced ease. A green shimmer crawled across the surface as he forced the patina to bloom instantly, coating both pieces in vibrant verdigris. The moment he slipped into the metal world, the tone shifted—softer, more pliable. The Magneto node swelled beneath his senses, expanding fully before activation.
Pfft.
Both pieces dissolved into fine red powder.
He immersed himself in the remains, the misted world now copper-tinted, warm and ripe with change. Carefully, he began to coax the particles together, binding and shaping them until they gleamed like polished emeralds—focused, sharp, almost sentient.
Predator eyes.
Cane set them aside, then turned his attention to the platinum.
One by one, he activated each node and let the fragments collapse into fine dust. He sculpted them with slow, deliberate care, giving each tooth a brutal gleam. They formed razor-sharp, perfect crescents—metal fangs designed for menace.
When it was time to assemble the pieces, Cane took a steady breath.
The emerald eyes.
The platinum fangs.
And the serpent's gleaming red body.
His three star aspects flared within the ringworld—white, blue, and black—each lending their essence to the work. Magic surged, origin-bound and powerful, and the air in the smithy thickened with pressure. A defensive pulse rippled outward, unmistakable.
Footsteps approached from outside.
Fergis skidded to a halt in the doorway, eyes wide.
"What was that?" he asked, panting. "I felt it from the third floor. That was like... Telamon-level magic."
He caught sight of the snake on Cane's workbench and raised a hand, flame flickering instinctively in his palm.
"Relax," Cane said, half amused. "It's not alive. It's supposed to be a defensive bracer."
"Supposed to be?" Fergis echoed warily.
Cane shrugged. "Try it on. It won't fit me."
Fergis eyed the snake warily but slipped it over his wrist and up his forearm. The metal contracted without warning, molding to his arm in a single smooth motion.
"Woah—!" he yelped, startled.
Cane grabbed the shop broom and swung it. Fergis tried to dodge, but the bracer pulsed—thunk—the wooden handle stopped inches from his shoulder.
"Hey!" Fergis glared. "That's amazing. But what would you have done if it hadn't worked?"
"Apologized." Cane grinned, completely unapologetic.
Fergis chuckled, slipping the bracer off. "I wonder what the limits are?"
"No idea," Cane said, storing the piece. "We'll let the Olivara auction house figure that out."
"You heading there now?"
"Yeah. You joining?"
Fergis shook his head. "Violetta's visiting. I promised I'd take her shopping."
Cane raised an eyebrow. "Any word from Teek?"
Fergis's smile widened—no blush this time, just quiet affection. "Yeah. She says the 'specials' are progressing fast. When the front opens, they'll field an entire Fury Legion."
"You thinking about joining them?"
The question was casual, but not meaningless. Cane had been thinking about it, too.
Fergis glanced around, lowering his voice. "You mean… fight on the front?"
Cane nodded. "It won't take me long to finish my business. And real combat experience? It'd benefit all of us."
Fergis leaned on the workbench, thoughtful now. "You really think the Fury Legion's enough to turn the tide?"
"Alone? No," Cane said. "But think about it. Say you're matched with someone who is evenly matched. Then you drop a trump card—something game-changing. What do you do?"
Fergis frowned, running a hand through his hair. "If it were me? I'd either hit their weakest flank… or stack everything behind the trump card and punch through."
Cane gave a satisfied nod. "There's only a few options, but our presence at the front could be helpful."