The forge had always been a second heartbeat in Logan's life—steady, stubborn, scorching.
The clang of hammers on iron, the hiss of water on steel, the soot that clung to skin and lungs. It was honest. Brutal. And once, Logan believed it was all he needed.
But now, everything felt... wrong.
The walls were too narrow. The heat too shallow. The sounds too loud yet distant. Like space itself had grown elastic, warping at the edges of his vision.
Harold handed him a pair of gloves without a word. Logan pulled them on, shoulders set. Morning light streamed through the slatted window, carving long golden bars across the floor.
"Work the bellows. Keep the fire breathing."
Logan nodded and moved to obey. His arms moved with practiced ease—but inside, something churned. Every motion felt like it rippled through more than one version of space, like his hands passed through multiple forges before arriving here.
He stumbled slightly, blinking hard.
Harold caught it. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Just... heat got to me."
Harold grunted and returned to shaping the blade. Logan watched his father's shoulders—tight, locked in stress that had nowhere else to go.
The clang of metal rang out again. Familiar. Comforting. Wrong.
Logan adjusted the bellows. But the air shifted differently now. As he moved, a faint shimmer blinked at the edge of his vision—and the Protocol screen appeared unbidden before his eyes.
[Hidden Protocol Trigger – Detected]
New Mission Unlocked – Category: Aspect Forge
Title:The Hollow Ingot
Description:
Within iron lies memory. In heat, structure. In rhythm, distortion. The Void remembers all crafts once lost.
Objective:
Forge a standard utility blade, but within the core of the metal must be a "void trace"—an impossibly thin gap running along its center, invisible to the eye but palpable to Logan's instincts.
Success isn't about strength… it's about controlled absence.
Steps to Completion:
Metal Preparation: Smelt ore normally. During the pouring, intuit the exact moment to pause the flow—leaving a thin strand of space inside the mold.Cooling Phase: Do not quench. Let the blade cool suspended in still air. Any breeze, even breath, will warp the void trace.Tuning the Absence: Use forge-sand and a tuning fork to "listen" to the hollowness. Too tight, it fractures. Too wide, it rings dull.
Reward:
– +10 Aspect Points
– +15 Spatial Awareness
– Unlock: Voidline Sensitivity (Perceive absence embedded in solid material)
– New Item: Hollowsteel Knife (Unstable Voidblade)
Logan stared at the prompt.
Everything about it was absurd. Forge a gap? Shape something that wasn't there?
Still... the idea pulled at something buried deep beneath his skin.
When Harold stepped outside to argue with a courier, Logan moved quickly.
He took scrap ore and stoked the crucible. No enchantments. No Essentia flares. Just memory and silence.
Step One.
He poured the molten steel—and just as the flow arced toward the mold, his pulse jumped.
Now.
He stopped the pour for just a breath—creating a break in flow so thin it should've ruined the blade.
But the metal rejoined itself in midair. The center flickered—just once—and then the mold hissed.
Step Two.
He didn't quench it. Just suspended the mold in a quiet alcove above cold steel.
He held his breath.
The cooling took longer. Every minute sharpened the tension in his bones. Even a cough, a gust, might twist the voidline and ruin everything.
When the metal dulled, he moved to the table.
Step Three.
He dusted the blade with forge-sand and tapped a tuning fork against the edge.
Instead of the usual metallic resonance... the sand lifted, shimmered briefly, then settled again.
He tapped once more.
The center of the blade did not vibrate.
It refused sound.
The screen flared.
✅ Mission Complete: "The Hollow Ingot"
+10 Aspect Points
+15 Spatial Awareness
New Skill Unlocked:Voidline Sensitivity
– You now perceive hollowness embedded in density.
Item Created:Hollowsteel Knife (Prototype)
– Cuts along spatial inconsistencies
– Ignores frontal resistance on aligned vectors
– Durability: Low
– Warning: May resonate when observed by powerful Essentia users
The blade looked like ordinary steel.
But Logan could feel it. The edge didn't reflect light—it dismissed it. Like its shape was implied rather than forged.
He wrapped the blade in cloth and stashed it under the workbench.
But when he turned—
Harold stood at the doorway, frowning.
"What were you doing?"
Logan froze. "Practicing."
Harold crossed the room and pulled the blade from the cloth. He examined it, turning it slowly, noting the faint groove running down the middle.
"This is flawed."
"It's deliberate," Logan said. "An experiment."
Harold gave him a look.
Logan took a breath. "I had an idea. If we could forge light, efficient weapons that bypass resistance rather than brute through it... maybe commoners, even low-core hunters, could fight better. Survive better."
He gestured to the wrapped blade. "That groove? It's not a crack. It's a redirection path. It doesn't cut—it phases."
Harold raised an eyebrow. "That came to you this morning?"
"Yeah. I don't know why... it just felt right."
The silence between them stretched.
Finally, Harold reached for a hardened beastbone fragment hanging by a hook. He placed it on the table and pressed the Hollowsteel blade against it—slow, no pressure, no enchantments.
The blade slid in.
Clean.
Effortless.
Harold looked up sharply. "Make another."
Logan nodded and repeated the process. Half an hour later, a second blade cooled beside the first—just as strange. Just as light.
His father said nothing for a long moment. Then:
"You'll still work the forge. Still pull your weight. But... you'll do this too. Every week."
He didn't smile.
But he didn't throw the blade away either.
And in the language of fathers and sons, that was almost affection.
That night, in a tower high above the capital, Commander Boris sat behind a mountain of paperwork, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Another patrol report from Sector Twelve. Another document labeled: "No anomaly detected."
He sighed.
"Anything from Logan Von?" he asked without lifting his head.
An officer nearby shook his head. "Nothing, sir. Just routine movement. He's working at the forge with his father. No magical surges. No essence readings. He's... quiet."
Boris muttered a curse under his breath.
"Run another report in the morning," he said. "And prep a personal briefing packet. I'm meeting the Queen at sunrise."
He stared at the blank edge of his desk.
He still had nothing.
Which meant he'd have to walk into the throne room with theory, not evidence.
And that could be more dangerous than any magic.