Seated behind his desk, Viktor interlocked his fingers beneath a thoughtful frown. His bushy brown moustache twitched for a heartbeat. Then, he shook his head.
"I don't teach constructs to students, much less to those not enrolled in my lessons. But..." He smacked his lips, his voice a mixture of interest and reluctance. "I'll give you a chance since Rector Haldris sent you."
He pointed at the forge station and anvils. "Prove you're a child of the forge—one who gives elements a purpose beyond destruction, who engraves mana to sublimate nature's marvels."
Adam knitted his brow. "What do you need me to do?" When he spoke, his voice was somber, like that of a grandmaster tasked with crafting a dull knife.
Prove? Humph! As if he needed anyone's approval. He knew he could be the best crafter. Nothing else mattered.
