[1 day after.]
[Kitsu POV]
"Are you done?" Stan asked, looking up at me with that half-bored, half-suspicious look of his.
"Yes. "Fifty steel swords and fifty impure katanas," I said, dropping the swords onto Stan's desk in front of him with a loud clatter. The weight of the steel made the desk creak, and his brows twitched at the sound.
He reached for one of the weapons slowly, his thick fingers brushing over the polished steel. He pulled out one of the katanas, the blade gleaming faintly in the forge light, the curve sharp and deliberate.
"How do you know how to make katanas?" he asked finally, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the perfect lines and balance of the weapon.
"Books," I said simply. Not a lie, though not the entire truth either.
Stan's lips pressed into a thin line. "Right, like I'll believe that. Did Giga help you?" He lifted his gaze to me, his eyes trying to pierce through the casual shrug I gave him.
"With explanations, yes. "But I created all of them independently," I said firmly, shrugging again for emphasis.
"Hmm. Fine." Stan sighed, setting the katana back down with more care than I expected. "Let's go to Steve's furnace."
"Am I already going to work with him?" I asked, tilting my head curiously. My tail swished slowly behind me, betraying my anticipation.
"No, you are far away from that. You're going to start working with Adamite now." Stan stood up from his chair and gestured for me to follow. His boots thudded against the stone floor, heavy and deliberate.
"Are you sure?" I asked, blinking. Adamite wasn't some toy metal. It was rare, expensive, and stubborn. And dangerous if handled wrong.
"Steve said you should start with it after you make the hundred swords in one day," Stan said, his tone sharp, almost annoyed, like just saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Oh, okay. Are you going to teach me this time?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, letting a smirk play across my lips.
"I will supervise you, yes," Stan said, nodding as if that was enough.
"Good to know," I said, humming a tune as I nodded along.
"You mean something else, don't you?" Stan shot me a look, his brows furrowed.
"Yeah," I said without hesitation. "It's about time you actually do something." I let my voice carry the irritation I'd been holding back for days.
"You said you read some books," Stan said, shrugging dismissively.
"Ah, so that's why you haven't helped me. Now I understand why you're working for Steve instead of running your own smithy," I said sweetly, my sarcasm dripping with venom.
Stan froze mid-step, shoulders stiffening. He was one of those men who carried the shadow of a genius brother like a curse, and I had just poked that wound with a smile.
"Little lady, I would watch my mouth if I were you," he said, turning to glare at me.
"Pfft. What are you going to do? Hit me with your hammer?" I laughed, tossing my head back. "That won't do anything to me."
"You might be from the Draigs, but you're just a trainee here. Watch your mouth," he growled, trying to intimidate me with his shorter but stocky frame.
"Trainee? No, I'm not a trainee. I'm here to learn from Steve because of connections, not because I want to be a blacksmith." I crossed my arms, glaring right back at him.
"So you won't even try to deny you used your connections." Stan scoffed, shaking his head.
"Why should I?" I asked, my expression blank with honest confusion.
"Ugh, you're shameless." He barked out a laugh, scratching his face in frustration.
"I'm straightforward, not shameless," I corrected him with a grin, my teeth flashing. That grin only seemed to irritate him further.
"That's almost like the pot calling the kettle black," Stan muttered, looking away.
"If you just did your job, I wouldn't be this grumpy," I said, stepping closer and lowering my voice. "Steve told you to teach me. Have you taught me anything at all? No. Everything I've done so far is just me putting in the work alone, with some advice from another dwarf—just as grumpy as you, but way nicer than your dumb ass."
"Tsk. You used connections to get here. How should I know you had any talent?" Stan shot back, still glaring.
"I don't have talent for smithing," I admitted, shrugging. "I'm just good at learning."
"... Whatever. Let's get to the furnace."
"Finally, we are doing something productive," I said, rolling my shoulders.
"Sigh, how can someone like this exist?" Stan muttered.
"I can hear you," I said flatly.
"I don't care."
"... "
"We're here. Let's get started before my blood boils me to death," Stan said, pushing open the heavy door to the main furnace chamber.
"Just drink some beer then," I said cheerfully, pulling a barrel out of my storage and setting it beside him.
Stan blinked, his eyes widening slightly. "Why do you have something like that with you?"
"I don't know. I thought dwarfs liked beer, so I got some, just in case." I shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Truth be told, I'd forgotten it was even in my inventory.
"You could have told me," Stan muttered, already grabbing the barrel with one hand.
"Okay," I said, tilting my head innocently.
"Let's get to work." Stan's tone lightened just slightly, the edge dulled by the promise of a drink.
"Yes," I said, taking my place at the furnace.
"Now. Let's talk about Adamite first. "What type of metal do you think it is?" Stan asked, already pulling the stopper from the barrel and taking a long gulp.
"It's weak if you know how to destroy it," I said, recalling my battles against weapons forged from it.
"Right. Of course it won't be easy," Stan sighed loudly, wiping his beard with the back of his hand before downing more beer.
[20 hours later]
"Yes, yes, just like that," Stan said, nodding vigorously.
"Really? It does look right, though," I said, holding up the small, weirdly shaped metal piece with cautious pride.
"No! You fucked it up!! Again!" Stan's face was bright red, his voice echoing off the forge walls.
"My bad," I said, watching the piece tear apart in my hands.
"Leave it on the anvil until it cools down to a solid!" Stan barked, his voice so loud my ears twitched in pain.
"I understand," I said quickly.
"Do you? That was the third time you did it." Stan glared at me, eyes narrowing in that same way I'd seen a thousand times over the past day.
"It was the first," I countered, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Third."
"First."
"Whatever. Just start over already," Stan grumbled, tipping the barrel back for another long drink.
"See? You were mistaken," I said, my lips twitching into a smirk just to annoy him further.
"Ugh!"
[35 hours later]
"Awesome! "I made my first Adamite knife," I said proudly, holding up the finished blade. The metal gleamed faintly, heavier and denser than anything I'd worked with before.
"Zzzzz…"
"Yo, Stan. Wake up." I nudged his foot with my boot. He passed out about twelve hours ago, leaving me blessed with enough silence to actually think through my forgery. His constant yelling had given me the worst headache I'd ever had.
"What?" he grunted, sitting up from the ground, rubbing his bleary eyes.
"I'm done," I said simply, dropping the knife into his lap.
"Huh. So we can move on to the next step," Stan muttered, examining the blade with surprising sobriety for someone who reeked of ale.
"Yes," I affirmed, nodding.
"Alright. Here are the blueprints for the next weapons. Now make one of them," Stan said, pulling a rolled blueprint out of seemingly nowhere.
"Just one?"
"Yes. It's a waste to make multiples of them. It's not like we'll be selling them."
"But they're excellent," I said, glancing at the neat sketches.
"It's from a no-name smith. No one would buy it," Stan explained, his tone dismissive.
"Fair point," I said, rolling my shoulders and heading back to the furnace.
[5 hours later]
"I am done," I said, kicking Stan's feet again.
"What?"
"I'm done with the axe," I said, holding up the heavy weapon.
"In five hours?"
"Yeah. Once you know how the metal works, the faster you can work with it," I explained with a grin.
"That's not how it goes… But to each their own," Stan muttered, shaking his head.
[2 hours later]
"One done."
[4 hours later]
"Three done. How many are there?"
[14 hours later]
"Ten done. Twelve to go."
[25 hours later]
"Finally… "I'm done," I gasped, dropping onto the floor. My muscles screamed, my eyelids felt like lead, and exhaustion pressed down on me harder than any hammer ever could.
"How is it going here?" Steve's voice cut through my haze.
"Yes, you can check all of them," I said, pointing weakly at the twenty-three weapons laid out across the floor.
"Hmm. You really are fascinating," Steve said, his eyes gleaming as he inspected the work.
"Sorry. I'm already taken," I muttered automatically.
Steve chuckled. "How have you progressed this much in so little time, Kitsuna?"
"Books," I answered quickly.
"Right. You do have the books from the Kunis," Steve said, clearly not believing me but choosing not to push further.
"Yeah. They're very detailed," I said, stating the simple truth.
"Can I read them as well?" Steve asked, still examining the weapons.
"Why? Aren't you already the best?" I asked, tilting my head curiously.
"You can always learn. It doesn't matter how good or how old you are. I'm sure you understand what I mean," Steve said, flashing me a small grin.
"That's true. I'll have to ask Mom, though. It's the Kunises', not mine." I shook my head.
"Why don't you ask the Kunis directly?"
"Politics," I said flatly.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I'll ask my mom later today," I waved him off.
"Alright. You can go home anyway. We'll start with the demi-god weapons in two days," Steve said, picking up one of the Adamite axes.
"Why not tomorrow?"
"I need to prepare for it, and you need proper rest," he explained.
"Oh, alright then. I'll see you in two days."
"Yeah, and bring more beer. I want some too," Steve added just before I walked out.
"I'll do that," I said, pulling two barrels from storage and leaving them by the door.
'I started with forty-two barrels. I only have seven left. 'That old dwarf Stan took twenty-seven on his own,' I thought, trudging out of the smithy, exhausted.
"Let's go home," I said softly, heading toward the mansion with heavy steps.