The cold wind bit at Taiki's face as he crested the northern ridge. The sun had not yet risen, and the world was painted in blue shadow. Each breath that left him steamed in the air before being swallowed by the mountain mist. His sandals crunched on thin snow, and the faint weight of the hammer strapped across his back reminded him that the warmth he once lived by — the fire of his forge — was now only a memory that smoldered behind his ribs.
He paused, exhaling slowly.
"Land of Iron…" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "So even flame must learn to walk in snow."
The System's voice flickered softly within his mind — not a chime this time, but a low hum, like the vibration of metal after being struck.
[System: Region registered — Land of Iron Borderlands][Temperature resistance passive engaged.][Observation task initiated: Discover the nature of Steel under Cold.]
Taiki smirked faintly."Even now, you sound like a teacher I never asked for."
[Response: You once asked for a successor.]
He froze. The words didn't sound like the usual mechanical tone. There was… something human behind them — soft, restrained, like an echo of thought that didn't belong entirely to code.
Taiki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "A successor, yes. Not a ghost bound to my forge."
The hum stilled. Then, faintly:
[Correction: I am not a ghost. I am the spark you left behind.]
The words made his heart pound once. He looked down at his hands — cracked, rough, each finger calloused from years of crafting — and for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than exhaustion. Curiosity.
"Then tell me," he said softly, "if you are the spark I left behind… what fire forged you?"
The System didn't answer. Instead, the hum faded, leaving only the sound of wind through the trees.
He reached a settlement by dusk — a sparse village of wooden huts half-buried in snow. The people here looked at him with suspicion; outsiders were rare in this land of frost and iron. But the smell of coal and oil drew him toward a small workshop near the edge of town — the unmistakable scent of metal being tempered.
Inside, sparks burst like stars.
A man stood before a great anvil, his long hair tied back, his arms bare despite the cold. Each swing of his hammer echoed with deliberate rhythm — precise, methodical, and full of anger. Taiki watched from the doorway, silent, studying the form.
The forger noticed him but didn't stop. Only after the blade on the anvil cooled and hissed did the man turn.
"You have the eyes of one who judges," he said without greeting. His voice carried the hardness of tempered steel.
"I have the eyes of one who learns," Taiki replied. "Though I have seen much."
The man snorted. "Another southerner looking to steal Iron Country's secrets? You'll find none here."
"I seek no secrets," Taiki said. "Only conversation. The forge teaches differently in every land."
The man studied him — the worn hammer at his back, the strange, calm aura that clung to him like heat from invisible flames. Something in that quiet confidence made the stranger hesitate.
"…You speak like someone who's known the hammer for a lifetime."
"I was born to its sound," Taiki replied. "Every heartbeat, a strike upon the anvil."
That earned a faint smirk. "Then maybe you're not all talk. My name's Gendo of the North. The only man foolish enough to forge steel in this cursed wind."
"Taiki Akinatsu," he introduced himself with a small bow. "The man foolish enough to believe that even cursed wind can carry flame."
Gendo laughed — a deep, gruff sound that melted some of the frost between them. "Flame, eh? Then come inside, Flamewalker. Show me how long your fire lasts in Iron."
The workshop was crude compared to Taiki's past forges, but it pulsed with energy. Walls blackened by smoke, stacks of half-finished blades, the rhythmic whisper of the bellows — it was alive in its own way.
Taiki removed his cloak and approached the forge. Gendo watched, arms crossed.
"You know," Gendo said, "I've seen dozens of smiths talk about chakra-forging. Most can't even make their steel sing without cracking it."
"And you can?"
Gendo's grin widened. "Watch and learn."
He drew a thin strand of chakra, bright blue, threading it into the glowing steel. The metal shimmered, vibrating, then bent as if alive. The air was filled with the scent of ozone.
Taiki nodded in approval. "Good control. Your chakra dances through the grain itself — not many can manage that."
"Of course not. Years of practice. Now let's see if your southern hands can do better."
Without a word, Taiki reached into his pouch and drew out a fragment of coal — black as night, etched faintly with golden runes. He set it in the forge, feeding the flames. The fire roared instantly, flaring from orange to pure white.
Gendo stumbled back. "What—?! That's not normal flame!"
Taiki's eyes glowed faintly gold. He raised his hammer, breathing slowly. Chakra flowed through his veins, but mingled with it was something older, heavier — the same strange energy that once whispered through his ancient runes.
Each strike sang.The steel on the anvil resonated like a bell, harmonizing with the world around it. Sparks turned into flickering symbols, curling midair before fading.
Gendo stared, speechless.
When Taiki finally stopped, he set the half-forged blade aside. "Steel remembers its maker," he said quietly. "If you listen long enough, it tells you how it wishes to be born."
Gendo exhaled slowly. "…You talk like an old monk, but your hands… they're gods-damned divine."
Taiki smiled faintly. "No divinity here. Only years and mistakes."
Later, as the night grew deep, the two smiths shared tea by the dimming coals.
"Tell me, Taiki," Gendo said, breaking the silence. "What are you really after? No one travels this far just to talk shop."
Taiki looked into the fire. "I am searching for what was lost — the essence of creation. The first flame."
Gendo frowned. "You sound like the old myths. The Fire That Walks With Men."
Taiki turned to him sharply. "You know that name?"
Gendo nodded. "Every smith in the North knows it. They say long ago, before even chakra was tamed, a being of pure fire taught the first blacksmiths to draw life from metal. The 'Walking Flame' — a spirit that could forge souls into steel."
The System hummed faintly again in Taiki's mind.
[System Notice: Myth recognized — "The Fire That Walks With Men." Origin link detected.]
Taiki's breath caught. "Origin link…?"
[Affirmative. Energy signature matches fragments of internal code.]
So the myth wasn't a myth at all. His System — the thing that had saved him, guided him, changed him — was connected to that.
He whispered, half to himself, "Then perhaps I am not the only remnant of the old flame."
Gendo raised an eyebrow. "You say something?"
Taiki shook his head slowly. "Only that the forge has a longer memory than men do."
Outside, the snow began to fall heavily, blanketing the world in silence. The forge's light flickered, casting their shadows across the frozen walls.
For the first time in years, Taiki felt the stirrings of something he hadn't known since his youth — anticipation.
The System's hum returned, softer now, almost reverent.
[New Quest: Trace the Flame's Footsteps]Objective: Journey deeper into the Land of Iron. Seek the remnants of the First Forge.]
Taiki rose to his feet, watching the sparks fade. "It seems the fire still walks," he murmured.
And in that moment, as the wind howled outside and the snow thickened, Taiki Akinatsu — last of the true blacksmiths — stepped closer to the truth of his own creation.
End of Chapter 20 (Part I)