The forge burned low that morning, sending waves of heat through the room. Eberhard stood at the center of it, staring at the scattered blueprints and chunks of unshaped metal on the table.
His hands trembled slightly as he picked up a small metal tube, turning it again and again in his palm.
It was strange. He had never seen anything like this before, yet his mind drew its image perfectly. A long barrel… a chamber… something that fires metal faster than an arrow.
He did not know where the thought came from. He just knew it worked.
Behind him, several Ether students stood, whispering among themselves. Marin and Lys were both there, confusion painted clearly on their faces.
"What is he doing?" Lys muttered, crossing her arms.
Marin tilted her head. "He said he wanted to build something called a 'gun.' I have never heard of that word."
"It looks like a weird tube," another student added. "What is he even planning to do with that?"
Eberhard ignored them.
His attention stayed fixed on the shape in his mind. He began sketching on the metal with a sharp engraving pen, muttering under his breath as he worked. "If the bullet slides through this chamber… the air pressure must push it forward. The spark needs to ignite the powder…"
His fingers moved almost by instinct, connecting each part. The more he shaped the barrel, the more the design in his head became real.
There was a moment when he froze completely, as if his body remembered something his mind had long forgotten.
The faint smell of smoke filled his senses, and for a heartbeat, he saw flashes of light, someone pointing this same weapon.
He shook his head to clear the image.
Hours passed. The blacksmith, who had allowed him to use the forge, leaned over with growing disbelief. "You actually made that thing work?"
"I think so," Eberhard replied softly. He ran his hand along the weapon's metallic surface. The cold metal gleamed faintly in the light of the forge.
On the side, he had carved a single word: Weiss.
He loaded a small metal bullet into the chamber and stepped back. "Everyone, move away."
They did. The students watched nervously as Eberhard aimed at a pile of discarded armor plates. He took a breath, then pulled the trigger.
BANG!
A sharp, thunderous sound tore through the forge.
Smoke burst out, and the metal plate shattered cleanly in half.
The echo of the shot lingered in the air for several seconds before fading into silence.
The blacksmith's jaw dropped. "That… that thing just destroyed solid steel."
Even Marin stepped closer, eyes wide. "You made that out of scraps?"
Eberhard nodded. He smiled faintly, the realization hitting him. "I guess so."
He picked up a small pocket knife from the shelf. "For close range."
The blacksmith laughed in disbelief. "Kid, you might be insane. But that's genius-level work."
Before Eberhard could reply, a bell rang outside. All the Ether students were summoned back to the main hall.
The man who had spoken at the ceremony stood before them again, his voice calm yet powerful. "Students of the Ether division. Your destination will be East Mire. You leave today."
Murmurs filled the room.
He handed each of them a folded paper. "Inside are your objectives. Complete them, and your group's score will be evaluated accordingly."
The Ether leader, Lys, opened her letter and read aloud, "Retrieve the lost relic from the ghost town of Old Renn. Confirm its origin and return by the end of the fifth day."
The group exchanged uncertain looks. Eberhard frowned slightly. "A ghost town?"
Luke nodded. "They say it's cursed. But it's our first mission. We have to do it."
Marin and Irmina both looked uneasy. The group quickly began packing their equipment and planned for the journey.
Eberhard, meanwhile, stayed silent, analyzing each part of the paper's instructions. The words lost relic struck him strangely.
He muttered, "Relic… memory… something left behind."
Marin glanced at him. "You think it's something important?"
"Maybe."
That afternoon, they departed on horseback. The journey took three long days.
They passed through vast fields and shallow streams, with the mist of East Mire growing thicker the closer they got. By the time they saw the silhouette of a mountain range, fatigue had already taken over most of the group.
Irmina stopped her horse at the base of the slope. "We climb from here."
Eberhard looked up. The mountain stretched high into the fog, its surface covered with moss and slippery stones. "It's going to take hours."
"Then start now," Irmina said.
The climb was difficult.
Many slipped and fell, though no one was seriously injured. Eberhard helped Marin more than once, pulling her up by the wrist when she lost her footing.
The fog thickened, and by the time they reached the summit, the ghost town came into view.
Old Renn lay in ruin. Roofs had collapsed, walls were swallowed by vines, and faint traces of once-lived lives scattered across the ground.
The air was unnervingly quiet.
Lys raised her voice. "We'll set up camp here. We search tomorrow."
Night fell quickly.
Most of the group slept early, but Eberhard stayed awake near the edge of the camp.
He was cleaning the gun, testing its weight and aim again. The metallic sound echoed softly under the moonlight.
He muttered to himself, "Why do I even know this? What kind of place did I come from?"
He stared at the weapon for a long moment, feeling the unease rise in his chest.
The sound of its firing earlier kept replaying in his mind, followed by that flash of memory.
"Could it be…" he whispered. "Something I created?"
"You're still awake?"
He turned. Marin stood behind him, her face half-lit by the campfire. She walked over and sat beside him.
"I couldn't sleep," she said quietly. "You're strange, you know that?"
Eberhard smiled faintly. "I get that a lot."
She looked at the gun in his hand. "That thing you made… it's frightening. But impressive. You think it'll help us?"
"I hope so."
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the soft hum of the wind through the ruins.
Then Marin spoke again, her voice softer this time. "You know, I used to live in a place not far from here. It was a fishing village. My family wasn't rich, but we were happy."
Eberhard turned to her, sensing something heavier beneath her words.
"One night," she continued, "the river flooded. I tried to help my mother, but she was trapped under a broken beam. My father… he didn't make it either."
She smiled bitterly. "I was the only one who survived. Since then, I promised myself I'd get stronger. Maybe strong enough to save others next time."
He didn't say anything for a while. Then he whispered, "That's… a good reason to fight."
Marin looked up at the stars. "What about you, Eberhard? Why did you come to Blackfen?"
"I want to find something," he said. "Or maybe someone."
"Your parents?"
He nodded slowly. "They disappeared years ago. If I can graduate, maybe I can join expeditions outside the safe zones. Maybe I'll find something they left behind."
Marin smiled gently. "Then we both have our ghosts to chase."
The silence returned, but it was lighter this time.
Eberhard looked at her face illuminated by the silver light. For a moment, he felt a strange warmth in his chest, one he had not felt in years.
She wiped a tear from her cheek and laughed quietly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to cry."
"It's fine," he said. "Sometimes it helps."
They lay back on the grass, side by side, looking up at the countless stars scattered above.
Marin whispered, "Do you think this world will last forever?"
Eberhard closed his eyes, recalling the memory of the gunshot, the fading world, and the voice from his dream.
He whispered back, "I hope so."
Neither spoke again. The campfire flickered beside them, and before long, both had fallen asleep beneath the pale light of the moon.
Somewhere in the distance, a faint sound echoed, a whisper that only Eberhard heard.
[The past follows you, Eberhard Weiss.]