Unlike the magnificent cities of the Gardenia Empire...
Or the hidden valley where Crystal and Kieran lived...
There existed countless ordinary villages scattered throughout the Melika Realm.
Places where no great sects resided.
Where no emperors walked.
Where life was measured not by glory...
But by survival.
One such village was Ashfall Village.
Nestled beside the Ember Mountains, it was known for only one thing.
Iron.
The mountains surrounding the village contained rich veins of ore, drawing blacksmiths from nearby towns.
The ringing of hammers against anvils had become the heartbeat of the village.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Inside a modest forge, flames roared as a middle-aged man repeatedly hammered a glowing piece of metal.
Sweat rolled down his weathered face.
His arms were thick with years of hard labor.
This was Gareth.
The village blacksmith.
And beside him...
A boy no older than six struggled to lift a bucket nearly half his size.
"I... I got the water, Father."
The blacksmith looked over before laughing.
"You're getting stronger, Ronan."
The boy grinned proudly despite his aching arms.
"I'll be helping you forge swords soon."
Gareth chuckled.
"First learn how not to spill half the bucket."
Ronan looked down.
Water dripped from the wooden bucket, leaving a trail behind him.
"...I almost made it."
"You almost did."
His father smiled warmly.
"And that's enough for today."
---
Ashfall Village wasn't wealthy.
Most families worked from sunrise until long after sunset.
Children learned trades almost as soon as they could walk.
Some became hunters.
Some became miners.
Others...
Blacksmiths.
Ronan had never questioned it.
He loved the forge.
The heat.
The sparks.
The smell of molten metal.
Most of all...
He loved watching ordinary chunks of iron slowly become beautiful weapons.
To him...
It looked like magic.
---
That evening...
The forge welcomed an unusual visitor.
A Hunter wearing a Bronze badge stepped inside.
His leather armor was torn, and his sword had several deep chips along its edge.
"Evening, Gareth."
The blacksmith smiled.
"Back already?"
"The Forest Wolves were more troublesome than expected."
He placed his sword upon the counter.
"Think you can save it?"
Gareth inspected the blade carefully.
"It'll take a few hours."
"No rush."
The hunter sat near the doorway.
His eyes eventually wandered toward Ronan.
"You helping your father?"
The boy nodded enthusiastically.
"I'm going to become the greatest blacksmith in Gaia."
The hunter laughed.
"Gaia?"
"That's a big dream."
Ronan puffed out his chest.
"Father says small dreams don't make your heart beat faster."
The hunter blinked.
Then looked toward Gareth.
"You really taught him that?"
The blacksmith shrugged.
"I'd rather my son fail chasing a mountain..."
"...than spend his life staring at pebbles."
---
Late that night...
After the hunter had left...
Gareth called Ronan outside.
The stars illuminated the quiet village.
He pointed toward the forge.
"What do you see?"
"Our home."
"What else?"
"The forge."
"The chimney."
"The anvil."
Gareth nodded.
"When people think of a sword..."
"They praise the swordsman."
"When people think of armor..."
"They praise the knight."
He looked at his rough hands.
"Almost no one remembers the blacksmith."
Ronan frowned.
"Isn't that unfair?"
"It is."
"So..."
The boy's eyes shone with determination.
"I'll make sure they remember."
Gareth smiled.
"How?"
"I'll forge weapons so amazing..."
"...that everyone will want to know who made them."
Silence followed.
Then...
The old blacksmith burst into laughter.
"Good!"
"That's exactly the answer I wanted."
---
The next morning...
The annual talent examination arrived.
Children from nearby villages gathered before a small stone hall.
Unlike the grand academies of the Empire...
This examination was simple.
A single Magna Resonance Crystal rested upon a pedestal.
One by one...
The children stepped forward.
Some caused faint lights to appear.
Others...
None at all.
Finally...
"Ronan."
The young boy stepped forward confidently.
He placed both hands upon the crystal.
A deep brown light slowly emerged.
The crystal displayed the symbol of Earth.
One of the examiners nodded.
"Earth affinity."
"Moderate compatibility."
Another examiner frowned slightly.
"No secondary affinity."
"No exceptional resonance."
"Average talent."
Those words echoed through the hall.
Average.
The children whispered among themselves.
"So he isn't special."
"I thought he'd be amazing."
"Guess not."
Ronan quietly stepped away.
His excitement had disappeared.
---
That evening...
He sat alone behind the forge.
His father eventually found him.
"...They're right."
Ronan muttered.
"I'm just average."
Gareth sat beside him without speaking.
After several moments...
He picked up an ordinary iron hammer.
"Take this."
Ronan accepted it.
"It's heavy."
"It is."
"Do you think the hammer cares whether the person holding it is talented?"
The boy blinked.
"No."
"Exactly."
"The hammer only asks one question."
"What question?"
"Will you keep swinging?"
Ronan looked down at the worn tool in his hands.
His small fingers tightened around the handle.
The disappointment in his eyes slowly gave way to determination.
"...I will."
Gareth smiled.
"I know."
Hidden behind the forge, unnoticed by father and son, a tiny strand of Earth Magna drifted toward the young boy's hammer before quietly disappearing into the iron head.
Neither of them saw it.
But somewhere deep beneath the Ember Mountains...
Something ancient responded ever so slightly.
The journey of a future master craftsman had quietly begun.
End of Chapter 20