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Chapter 1 – Part 7F
(First Expedition Tease & Personal Project)
The outskirts of Ashen Hollow stretched into rolling hills, broken patches of forest, and scattered stone ruins. Dust clung to the soles of Jofyn's boots as he walked, the faint hum of his Forge Core resonating through the shards in his robe.
"Ah, fresh air," the robe muttered, voice faintly annoyed. "And yet you drag me into every thorn, pebble, and mud puddle. Why must you suffer like this?"
"Because," Jofyn replied, "this is where I learn. The library teaches theory. The forge teaches craft. But out here… out here, I survive."
He stepped carefully around a fallen log, eyes scanning for suitable materials. Crystals glimmered faintly in the earth, shards of low-grade elemental stones scattered across the ground. Each one called to him, a subtle pulse he could feel through his core.
"Focus on the material, not the sparkle," the robe quipped. "Otherwise you'll be kneeling in mud for a day, just to realize it's worthless."
Jofyn smiled faintly, crouching to examine a small vein of crystal embedded in a rock. He traced it with his fingers, feeling its rhythm, its color, and its potential. Blue. Third-rank crystal. Slightly unstable but malleable. Perfect for his first experimental infusion.
Hours passed. Sunlight slanted lower, shadows creeping across the forest floor. Jofyn's hands were streaked with dirt, sweat, and crystal dust. He had fashioned a small container from carved wood and woven shards, layering it with threads from his robe for enchantment.
"Not bad," the robe remarked, floating slightly as it adjusted around his shoulders. "Look at you, turning scraps into… potential. I almost admire your stubbornness."
He laughed softly. "Almost?"
The robe flared slightly, playful. "Almost. I am a garment of personality and wisdom, not unconditional praise."
As he worked, the subtle pulse in his chest intensified. A distant vibration reached him, faint but insistent—like a heartbeat out of sync with the world around him. Something watched. Something old. Something curious.
Jofyn froze, hands stilling over the shards. A faint mist rose from the forest floor, curling toward him. He could feel it pressing lightly, testing him.
"Ignore it," he whispered to the robe. "Not today. Today, it's about craft."
The robe hummed in agreement, though faintly skeptical. "Always about craft with you, isn't it? Fine. But keep an eye on the heartbeat in the mist. It's not ordinary."
He returned to work, layering crystals and enchanted threads, whispering subtle glyphs into the fibers. Slowly, painstakingly, the small device began to pulse with energy. Not loud. Not flashy. Just a faint, steady beat of magic—an echo of his forge, an extension of his first-layer Forge Core.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden streaks through the broken trees, Jofyn leaned back, breathing heavily. The first practical creation of his personal project—small, humble, imperfect, but alive—rested on the forest floor, humming faintly like a heartbeat.
"Not bad for a first day," the robe muttered. "And you thought you were alone out here. Ha."
Jofyn let the soft smile linger. He didn't yet know what awaited deeper in the forest, or in the dungeons that occasionally surfaced nearby. But he knew one thing—every shard, every crystal, every ounce of sweat and careful thought, would be a step toward mastery.
And as the faint glow of the device pulsed softly, he felt the first real stirrings of something beyond craft, beyond Forge Core—something that whispered of destiny, of hidden potential, and of the companions he had yet to meet.
For now, the forest was quiet. The shadows lengthened. But even in that stillness, creation had begun.
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