The forge burned bright long before dawn.The familiar rhythm of hammer and anvil filled the small workshop, echoing through the quiet town of Ravelton like a heartbeat that never stopped.
Stephen stood by the door, clutching the thin towel his father had tossed him earlier. The heat inside was unbearable, the air thick with the scent of metal and smoke.
His father stood before the furnace, sparks reflecting in his weary eyes as he shaped molten metal with steady, powerful strikes. "You're early," he said without looking up.
"You told me to wake before sunrise," Stephen replied.
A faint smirk tugged at the man's lips. "Good. You listen."
He quenched the blade he'd been working on, steam hissing as the red-hot metal met water. Then, turning to his son, he nodded toward a rack at the far end of the forge. "Pick a weapon."
Stephen hesitated. The rack held everything — axes, hammers, spears, and swords of every size and style. Most were plain, forged for hunters who came through town for repairs. A few, though, gleamed faintly, the runes etched along their hilts faintly glowing in the firelight.
He walked past the larger, heavier weapons and stopped before a simple light sword — its blade slender, elegant, and unadorned except for faint azure veins running along the steel. The moment his fingers brushed its hilt, a strange warmth pulsed through his palm.
"This one," he said quietly.
His father looked up, his expression unreadable. For a moment — just a fleeting second — something flickered behind his eyes. Regret? Pain? It was gone before Stephen could be sure.
"That blade was forged from starsteel," his father said after a pause, voice softer than usual. "It's light but sharp — meant for precision, not brute strength. Are you certain?"
Stephen nodded. "It feels right."
His father studied him for a long moment, then turned back toward the forge. "Then keep it close. But know this — a weapon only answers to one who's earned it. If your heart wavers, even the finest blade will betray you."
Stephen ran a thumb along the blade's edge, the faint hum of energy vibrating against his skin. "Then I'll make sure it doesn't."
Later, behind the forge, the ground was scorched and cracked — a silent witness to years of training. His father stood across from him, arms folded, eyes as sharp as ever.
"Today," he said, "you'll learn what it means to cultivate through struggle."
He gestured to the basin beside Stephen. It was filled with glowing beast crystals, their faint light dancing across the ground. "You'll draw energy from these while maintaining combat form. Every swing, every stance, every breath will shape your body and your soul. If you can't endure this, you won't last a day inside the rifts."
Stephen gripped the light sword and took his stance. His father nodded once, then moved aside.
"Begin."
Stephen swung.
The first strike sliced through the air with a faint whistle. He focused on the rhythm his father had taught him since childhood — inhale, swing, exhale, step. With each motion, he tried to guide the faint mist of transcendent energy from the crystals toward himself, pulling it inward, letting it flow into the quiet depths of his soul sea.
At first, the energy resisted, dispersing like smoke through his fingers. But the longer he moved, the more his body began to burn. His muscles ached, lungs strained, and sweat stung his eyes — yet beneath the exhaustion, a strange warmth began to stir.
The blue sprout within his soul sea glowed faintly, its roots reaching further into the soil of his being. Wisps of translucent energy followed each of his movements, drawn from the crystals into his body.
His father's voice broke the silence. "Don't chase the energy. Let it come to you. The more you struggle, the more it slips away. Let pain be your focus — let it teach you where your limits are."
Stephen's breathing grew ragged, but he didn't stop. His swings grew slower, heavier — but also steadier. The sword blurred faintly with each motion, the faint azure veins in its blade pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Hours passed. The sun crept high, then began to fall again.
By the time his father called out, "Enough," Stephen's hands were raw, his arms shaking so violently that he could barely hold the sword upright.
He fell to one knee, chest heaving. The crystals in the basin had dimmed, their glow almost gone. A soft pulse of light flickered from the bracelet on his wrist —
[Level Up: Novice, Level 2 → Level 4]
His father crouched beside him, inspecting the now-dull crystals. "Not bad. Your soul sea absorbed nearly half their energy."
Stephen looked up, sweat dripping from his chin. "Half?"
His father smirked faintly. "You'll do better tomorrow. Once your body starts to break, your soul will open wider to survive. That's when true absorption begins."
He stood and helped Stephen to his feet. "Keep this up, and you'll hit Level 6 before the week's end. After that, you'll earn the rest with your own hands — in the rifts."
Stephen's fingers tightened around the sword's hilt. "You mean I'll go alone?"
"You'll hunt alone," his father corrected. "That's how every hunter learns. You'll gain merit points and real combat experience — and if you're sharp enough to stay alive, you'll return stronger."
The words were harsh, but not unkind. They carried the quiet pride of someone who believed in him — even if he would never say it outright.
Stephen glanced at the sword, the faint blue veins in its blade pulsing softly as if resonating with his heartbeat.
"I'll be ready," he said quietly.
His father watched him for a long moment before turning away. "You'd better be. The world beyond those walls doesn't care about bloodlines or names — only strength."
As his father walked back toward the forge, the last rays of sunset painted the metal walls gold. Stephen stood alone in the courtyard, his body aching but his spirit burning.
The faint projection on his bracelet flickered again, confirming what he already felt deep inside.
[Level Up: Novice, Level 4 → Level 5]
And somewhere within his soul sea, unseen and silent, the azure sparrow stirred beneath the mist — its eyes glowing faintly, watching the young boy who was finally beginning to awaken in more ways than one.