Beating iron to the tune of my heart, beating iron to the call of my soul.

  How long had it been since I started? A month maybe? Two? I didn’t know, all there was in moments like these were the hammer and the iron and my conviction. A cyclical loop of muscular agony and ethereal exertion, there were rumours starting to float around, and questioning words when my friends and the random passerby found me in a rare moment of rest.

  They were starting to suspect that it wasn’t a test, at least not the original smith’s endeavour that they assumed. They were starting to see that something had changed in me, something fundamental.

  Fuck 'em, let them speculate and create their rumours. None of them would dare accuse the village elf of being a witch, and my eyes. My eyes were practically violet. I’d seen them in the river, staring down at my tired body during one of the few times I decided to break routine. My mother was on the verge of telling the prodding fools what that means for an elf. Only holding back out of respect for my request.

  Why didn’t I want them to know? It wasn’t like I couldn’t pretend to be a mage, what was I afraid of? That people would see me differently? There was a reverence for the wielders of mana when the storytellers recited their tales by the bonfire’s light, but I didn’t know if that translated to my circumstances.

  I wasn’t anything impressive after all.

  I’d just been making over two thousand nails every single day for the past however long this hell started at the behest of an ecstatic mother. That was funny, seeing how her eyes glinted with delight whenever we talked about magic. I felt kind of bad that the woman hadn’t awakened her own reserves yet.

  It was just hard for elves apparently, compared to humans at least. It could take centuries for an elf to awaken, in that time the only hope they have at getting stronger was to kill monsters and shit, and that process was slow.

  I didn’t have to worry about that though, I had a demon in my soul who got the hard part of being a mage all done for my convenience. All I had to worry about was my hammer, the metal, and mana. Swirling and flowing and raging—

  The currents had gotten stronger, so much that it hurt, the many pathways directing the ethereal energy weren't growing fast enough to accommodate. I didn’t know what any of that shit meant, just an educated guess since my demon hadn’t been communicating for the past bit. A concerning development but honestly I was glad I didn’t have to deal with its interruptions.

  The price to that was I’d been made a hapless fool surrounded by much too many mysteries. So I focused on what I did know. Mana grew with use, and my tolerance to it grew in kind, and the more I grew the more I could train the more I could push. A perfect loop of growth for those insane enough to pull through with their dedication.

  I was insane enough, kind of.

  My mother had given me time to meditate and condense the mana in my river, but it hurt. Like crushing and tearing and burning and—

  And so many things condensed into a point, so I hadn't been doing that, I’d been practicing my control instead. Creating a small ball of mana outside my body the size of a nail and just…focusing on its integrity. I didn’t ever bring it into the real, holding it then would require much more control then I was capable of, but I was getting better. My mother might’ve known I was lying, but she wasn't stopping me. Probably assuming I needed a break or some shit. Which I did, I just didn't take one.

  But in that moment was the hammer and the metal, and my very first sword! I was curious as to why Yormir decided to push for this, but I wasn't complaining. Swords were cool, and I got to make one! It cut into my usual nail making but also provided something of a cerebral challenge.

  I had to be careful to use just the right amount of strength, I couldn’t recenter it if I fucked up like with the nails. Too much and I’d disfigure the steel, too little and I wouldn’t get the durability I wanted.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  That was where the tapping came in, to test, and to listen, before I brought down a proper strike to the heated metal. It wasn’t my first time making a blade, but it was my first making a sword, so I didn’t recognize all the cues from the World. That was fine, I’d get there. Hells, If Armageddon wasn’t coming I might’ve focused all my time into becoming a proper smith. Shit was actually really fun once I started learning how to make tools.

  I tapped, listened, then struck.

  “Good,” Yormir grunted as he looked over my shoulder. “Let it cool in the air, then put it back in the forge and start bevelling.”

  “I got the shape?” I asked as I wiped away sweat from my brow.

  “You did.” he smiled.

  “Alright.” I smiled back, holding the metal that’d become a sword with my tongs, waiting for the glow to disappear. I didn’t know why we didn’t just quench it instead, but my father was the master smith and I was the apprentice.

  Maybe he didn’t want to waste oil, maybe we'd quench it later.

  I didn’t know, and I wouldn't until we got to that point.

  There was one constant with the enigma that was my father, and that was being shit at properly explaining things. I had to learn how to make nails from just…watching. He didn’t teach me the intricacies of molding, tempering, or heating. Just gave me the hammer one day and told me to make some nails. Fucking awkward ass first attempt that was, but look at me! Making a proper sword.

  A gladius to be exact.

  I put the metal back in the furnace once it had cooled, I noticed a gaggle of children running past the smithy in something of a hurry. I turned to give my father a questioning glance and he just shrugged, nodding his head at the heating metal.

  It reached a nice temperature, how did I miss the whispers? Must've been the fatigue getting to me. Once I started bashing metal while infusing my body with mana then I wouldn’t need to spend all day on the endeavour. As it stood I could only manage four strikes alongside the constant drain of my reserves.

  A panicked child went to talk to her father in hushed whispers and he scrunched his brow before shoeing her off. I turned to give Yormir another glance but his gaze was steel in its unmoving desire to see me forge the gladius.

  I gave a cheeky grin and started whistling as I bevelled the blade. My father’s brow twitched in irritation and I almost let out a chuckle. He was the only one in the family who didn’t know how to whistle, and teasing the brick of a man was quite entertaining.

  I was, admittedly, a bit of a bitch. But that was fine! Who wasn’t really?

  I bevelled the blade into a proper edge, flipping it over to do the same on the other side. There was some commotion around the village then, but my father didn’t tell me to stop. So I didn't.

  I cooled the blade and went over the process all over again, slowly carving a proper edge. I kept the streets in my peripheral vision though, if only out of curiosity for what was going on. The uncharacteristic silence accompanied a strange frenzy of activity, one that even a few adults had joined in on.

  I kept hammering, and let mana escape my pathways into my body.

  Until the bell rang thrice through the village.

  I stopped, and turned to my father once more, he was looking in the direction of the temple with a scowl.

  He sighed then turned to me. “Go, I'll grab your mother. It’s probably nothing but we can’t ignore the bells.”

  “What about the sword?” I whined.

  “We can’t ignore the bells,” He said with slight bit of authority.

  I sighed and nodded, walking over to the temple. My home was to the south of the village, right next to a grand road leading to the center, so it didn't take all that long. I found people running too and fro, alongside a crowd of whispering fools surrounding the entrance to the temple. I grunted and walked over to the crowd, poking a woman I recognized.

  Rea turned to scowl at me, but softened her gaze once she realized who it was. “Yir, hello.”

  “Hello?” I said with a raised brow, that was oddly clipped. “What’s going on, why is the village in a frenzy?”

  Rea pursed her lips and sighed. “We..the elder doesn’t want to spread any panic.”

  “Am I the type to panic?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Just tell me, I buy your bread enough to have earned some courtesy.”

  “Go see for yourself,” Rea waved to the crowd.

  I scowled at the secrecy but went into the mass of humans anyway, pushing my way through. Most of them were actually nice enough to move out of the way when they felt my pushing, but there were a few who didn’t get the hint.

  Eventually I made it to the front, and was made a witness to half a dozen corpses of green.