Chapter 625: Chapter 624 – Many Hammers.

“Oh, Professor Wayland, I thought you went home. Have you had a change of heart? Will you join me in tomorrow’s lecture?”

Arion floated around with a smile on his catlike face as he saw his favorite partner walking down the hall and back into the Runic Department. Roland, however, was moving quickly as if in a hurry. His steps were fast, and each time his metallic boots struck the polished floor, they made a sharp clanking sound.

“No, that’s not it. Could you look at this list, particularly this student?”

“The event list? Is there an issue?”

The cat was confused by the request but chose not to ask questions. Instead, he looked at the part of the parchment Roland was pointing to. There were several student names written there, but Arion could not see what the problem was.

“This event is for the younger students. Is there something wrong with their registration?”

Arion tilted his feline head to the side, his tail flicking once in curiosity. Roland did not answer immediately. He stared at the parchment as if the inked letters were mocking him. His eyes lingered on one name written neatly among the rest: Lucienne Arden.

It had been some time since he had seen his younger sister. Their father had taken her away from the institute, mostly because of her involvement with Viola Castellane. Viola had bullied his sister until Roland put an end to it, but there were still many people at the school who could make life difficult for her. He assumed their father, Wentworth, decided to keep her away to prevent more conflict between the families.

‘Why did he decide to bring her back, and did the Headmistress know about it?’

Roland wondered as he looked at the parchment. Arion seemed unaware of the situation, but the Headmistress had known about the Robert incident and likely knew more than she admitted. He began to suspect he had been deceived.

‘Did she do this to keep me here?’

His relationship with his sister had not been long, but he had always felt a need to protect her. Perhaps the Headmistress understood this. Even if she allowed him to avoid teaching, she must have known that as long as Lucienne was at the institute, he would stay to watch over her. He wondered if the shrewd magus had arranged things so that his participation in the coming competition would not free him from his duties here.

“She got me.”

He whispered to himself, having convinced his mind that this was true. Although it was not the worst possible outcome, he still had to worry about his sister becoming involved with the other students. Perhaps their father believed that his new position as Marshal would keep people away, but Roland was not so sure about that.

“Oh? What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Roland sighed and took back the parchment.

“Professor Arion, could you do me a favor?”

“Of course, my friend. What is it?”

“Could you look into this student’s situation? If I remember correctly, she was taken away from the institute by her parents.”

Arion raised one of his paws and nodded.

“I will ask one of the assistant professors to look into it. It is wonderful to have more help around here, and I owe it all to you.”

“Yes… more help…”

While Arion was quite giddy about the whole situation, Roland felt betrayed. If he had known his sister was returning, he might not have taken the deal, since he would have come back anyway to keep an eye on her.

‘I need to make more protective golems. Maybe I should place them around the institute to watch over her when I am not here…’

His mind was already abuzz with countermeasures for his sister’s arrival, yet the situation was not entirely bad. He had been unable to stay in contact with her because he was still hiding from their father. Even though he was a faculty member, it would have seemed suspicious if he maintained contact with his younger sister for no clear reason. However, if she were returning to the institute, that problem no longer existed.

‘I could probably bring her back to Albrook, have her see Robert too… but I can only hope she is not returning too soon.’

Although his sister’s name was on the list, she had not yet entered the institute grounds. Roland knew the rules, and if they were followed, she could only reapply at the start of the next semester. If she passed the required tests, she would be admitted. The Headmistress could accelerate the process, but she rarely involved herself in such matters, as doing so would make her intentions too obvious.

Roland left the Runic Department with a heavy expression. The faint rustle of parchment sounded in his hand as he folded the student list. The air outside had cooled, and the sun was sinking behind the horizon. He paused for a moment before glancing at the Headmistress’s hidden tower. The tower rose above the rest of the institute, though most people were unaware of its existence.

After a short pause, he turned and walked toward the teleportation gate chamber. He went through the usual process and waited several minutes for the mage on duty to allow him to pass. Without looking back, he stepped through the gate and vanished from sight. His departure did not go unnoticed, as one person was observing him.

“I suppose he has realized part of my plan, but not all of it…”

The Headmistress whispered to herself. Within the quiet of her office, she held a cup of green tea in her hands.

“I wonder what he will present for the event? I bet it will be something surprising.”

Yavenna’s gaze lingered on the faint ripples in her tea, the golden surface reflecting the lamplight. The scent of mint and jasmine filled the air as she pondered the situation. A faint smile crept onto her face, showing that she was enjoying herself, something she had believed lost long ago.

“I hope you will not disappoint me, Roland Arden.”

For a moment, she focused on the residual distortions in space left by the teleportation gate. Her smile slowly faded as her eyes drifted toward the continental map on the table. Her gaze settled on the northernmost part of the kingdom, and she remained silent as she considered something quietly.

“Welcome back, boss!”

“Good to see you too, Bernir. We have not had time to talk. Has everything been well?”

Roland had finally returned to his workshop and now sat before the main display panels. Bernir had been waiting to greet him, and his cheerful expression showed that he was in good spirits.

“Aye, things are going well here. Production has been up, and people have begun asking questions about our prosthetics. I feel that it is about to happen!”

Bernir raised his prosthetic hand and clenched it tightly. His fingers reacted instantly, showing that he had fully adapted to the latest modifications. Mana flowed smoothly through the runes, and they pulsed gently across the metallic framework.

“Have you tried the sleeve?”

“Yes, but it chafes a bit after a while and does not feel right.”

Roland nodded. The prosthesis came with a glove and a sleeve to cover the pulsating runes that some people preferred not to see. In the future, he hoped these prosthetics would look more human. There were various substances in this world that resembled silicon or rubber, and with the right one, he hoped to mimic the look of skin to cover these limbs. This technology would certainly be sought after, and if the prosthetics were to replace true limbs, they would need to look like them.

“How about the other models and the addons?”

“Those work well, though some are harder to handle. It is mostly about the weight; it takes some time to get used to it, but there are benefits. I can even hold searing blades and bolts without a problem. It makes some techniques much easier to use.”

Bernir rubbed his beard with his metallic hand. Roland noticed that the fingers were a bit discolored from touching hot metal. For a craftsman like Bernir, who did not possess a proper combat class with a stat multiplier, handling certain materials was more difficult. Roland could touch such materials with his bare hands, but the prosthetic made this process much easier.

There were other ways to use this technology without cutting off human limbs. One approach involved exoskeletal limbs that responded to mana phantoms, while another used golems that could mimic human movement. There was also the possibility of developing remote control systems, but this was a field he had not yet found the time to explore.

“So, what are we doing next, Boss?”

Bernir’s eyes sparkled, as it had been some time since they had worked on something creative.

“There are a few things we will focus on in the future, but before that, should you not take care of yourself first?”

“Huh, what do you mean, Boss?”

“I mean your level. You are ready to become tier three.”

“Ah, that…”

Bernir had been crafting a great deal of high-level equipment lately. Craftsmen gained a large amount of experience when they successfully worked on advanced gear. His assistant was skilled and capable, and he had finally reached the threshold, yet for some reason, he had not taken the next step.

Regretfully, Roland could not make Bernir one of his vassals. Just as with his wife, the skill did not work on anyone who lacked a combat class. Bernir also could not take a similar vow to the one Robert had made, which granted him a runic skill, because he was not a knight. The world was harsh toward people with manufacturing or management-type classes. However, to Roland’s surprise, something did happen, and Bernir was quick to bring it up.

“Well, actually, I’ve gained this strange title lately…”

“You did? Can I?”

“Go ahead, boss.”

Roland was capable of reading people’s levels, attributes, and even their skills and titles if he focused on them long enough. He usually avoided doing so since it felt like an invasion of privacy, so he made sure to ask permission whenever he used this ability on someone he knew.

“That’s… kind of vague. Does it do anything?”

Roland read the short description, but it did not reveal much. Bernir only shrugged since he was not sure either.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel any different, and I don’t think I’ve been seeing any ghosts either!”

Bernir laughed out loud, but then paused as he remembered something.

“I did have a few strange dreams lately though…”

“Strange dreams? Like what?”

“I felt like I was floating out of my body and could see myself sleeping, but it didn’t last long.”

“Hmm…”

Roland thought about it for a moment. Titles were never given without reason, so there had to be some cause behind it.

‘Could it be due to the prosthetic limb?’

That seemed like the most likely explanation. The mana phantoms appeared to be made of mana, but in truth, they were extensions of a person’s soul or true self. Perhaps using prosthetic limbs that required synchronization with the phantom had triggered this title. Still, he was not sure whether it offered any real benefit, since it was only a title and not an actual skill that could be used.

“I wonder if it will affect your ascension ritual. We should probably go ahead with it while I’m still here,” Roland said as he stood up from his seat. The room Arthur had been using to record memories was now free, so it was a good time to help Bernir take the next step. Bernir’s wife had already advanced and become a Master Armorsmith, which left him behind.

“Aye, I suppose I should get this over with, but don’t expect too much, boss. You know how it is…”

Bernir looked down at his artificial arm and frowned slightly. Both of them knew that lost limbs would not be restored through the ascension ritual, which meant he would have to face it with only one arm. With such a disadvantage, it was possible that he would have to settle for a lesser class, perhaps an Advanced Armorsmith or a High Blacksmith, which were not nearly as prestigious.

“Let’s take it slow first. Look at the options you have, but I’m more interested in your new title. It might offer a new solution.”

“Aye, hope it does.”

Bernir chuckled, and the two made their way to the white room. Once Bernir was ready, he activated the ascension crystal, just like the others before him. Roland watched the consoles and noticed immediately that his friend had not abandoned the trial. Instead, he had chosen an option inside, as the time he was spending there was longer than usual.

‘Did he find something worthwhile?’

Roland wondered as he monitored the readings, curious how being attuned to a soul might affect a class. He remembered a witch spiritualist who could control phantoms and disabled him instantly without lifting her crooked finger. Yet she had been a mage, and Bernir was a blacksmith with little mana. Even if he managed to use spiritual magic, he would likely pass out after casting a single spell, so he wasn’t sure what the title was good for.

*****

“Haven’t been here in a while.”

Bernir opened his eyes and found himself standing in what looked like a village square. The air was heavy, still, and strangely familiar. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Before him stretched a mist-shrouded settlement nestled between two cliffs. The smell of wet stone and forge smoke lingered in the air, a scent he remembered well.

“Just as gloomy as I remember it.”

This was his ascension trial space and his old home, where he had grown up. He took a few slow steps forward, his boots crunching against the cobblestone path. Everything was as he remembered it: the rough stone dwellings carved into the mountainside, the central forge darkening the sky with its smoke, and the half-finished statue of the dwarven god of crafting. Only now, there were no people. No ringing hammers, no laughter, no shouts of miners returning with ore. Just silence.

“I wonder what those old bastards would say if they saw me now.”

He glanced at his arm where his runic prosthetic should have been, but it was gone, replaced by a stump. Just as he expected, bringing it into the trial was impossible.

“Aye, they’d probably still laugh at me. What’s a blacksmith without his dominant smithing arm…”

His life in the village had never been easy, as the dwarven craftsmen resented him for having a human parent. In the end, he was forced to leave after his father died in an accident and his mother was killed by a monster attack, leaving him orphaned. Without his father’s help, finding work became impossible, and some of the surviving residents even blamed him for their misfortunes.

The memories of those old days still haunted him from time to time, but he had managed to bury them beneath years of hammering and laughter shared with Roland, his wife, and the arrival of his child. Still, standing here now in this echo of his childhood, those memories returned.

The forge loomed ahead, its cold chimney rising into the gray fog. Bernir could almost hear the sound of molten metal being poured and the hiss of quenched steel. He half expected to hear his father’s gruff voice calling his name, telling him to fetch more ore and hold the tongs tighter.

“I should probably see what my options are. The boss will help me get through this.”

He clenched his only fist and moved forward. Although the mountain was tall, there was no leaving this village. The mist surrounding it would not let him through, and whenever he tried, he always ended up back in the middle of the square.

As with other ascension trials, this one presented its challenges in a unique way. For him, it took the form of his old home and the dusty forge his father had used. His parents had been strict but kind. Each time he came here to gain a new class, he remembered both the good and the bad days they had shared.

“Let’s see… the hammer collection is larger than usual, and some of them look quite nice.”

Inside his father’s forge stood an anvil in the center and many differently shaped smithing hammers on a nearby workbench. The trial would begin once he chose one of the hammers and struck the anvil with it.

“Wait… what is this one, and why does it look like that?”

While most of the hammers were made of various grades of metal, one stood apart. It was different and unique, and he found that he could not take his eyes off it.

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