Vale looked at the young man with open curiosity as the words sank in.
"You want to tell me a story?" he asked again, his tone laced with amused intrigue.
Ali nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes. You see, you remind me of a dear friend, someone who once told me this story. I thought it only right to pass it on."
Vale let out a quiet chuckle. "Alright," he said. "Go ahead."
The moment he agreed, steel began to move behind Ali.
Metal bars, fragments, and half-formed blades lifted into the air, gliding effortlessly into the workshop as though guided by unseen hands. They aligned themselves above the forge, rotating slowly, shaping and reshaping with deliberate precision. Vale watched the display with fascination before returning his attention to Ali.
"Wonderful," Ali said, pausing as he brought a hand to his chin. "Now… where should I begin?"
He stood there for nearly a full minute, the forge humming softly as molten light flickered behind him. Then his eyes lit up.
"Ah, I know."
Ali met Vale's gaze and began.
"Long ago, in the age of the First Creator, there was a great war. It was waged by the Old Gods, beings who despised the First Creator and everything he had made. They called his creations, people, worlds, even existence itself, cancers upon the cosmos, corruptions that needed to be erased."
Vale listened closely, his attention fully captured.
"But the First Creator was not powerful enough to fight them alone," Ali continued. "And when all seemed lost… a cohort of heroes appeared."
Vale raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Their leader wielded power equal to that of the First Creator himself," Ali said. "Together, they would come to be known as the Seven Founders."
Ali began listing them, counting on his fingers. "The Founder of Change. Rejection. Destruction. Weapons. Incandescence. Rules."
Vale frowned faintly. "That's only six."
Ali smiled.
"The seventh, and their leader, was known as the Father of Flaws."
The name lingered in the air.
"He and the First Creator fought side by side," Ali went on. "Together, they slew two of the most powerful Old Gods. But in doing so, they realized a terrible truth."
Ali's tone darkened.
"These enemies could not truly be defeated, not without destroying everything the First Creator had made. To win outright would mean annihilating all realms, all people… everything."
Ali paused, allowing the weight of that revelation to settle.
"So instead," he continued, "they sealed their enemies away. The First Creator and the Father of Flaws forged a prison devoid of all concepts, no time, no space, no identity, and locked the Old Gods within it. And so, the war ended."
Ali looked at Vale. "Do you think they lived happily ever after?"
Vale closed his eyes briefly and let out a soft scoff. "Based on how you asked that," he said, "I'm guessing they didn't."
Ali laughed, delighted. "You're a sharp one."
He continued, his voice lowering.
"After the war, the Father of Flaws married the woman he loved, one of the founders, a hero in her own right. Together, they watched over the cosmos. In time, they even had a child."
Ali smiled faintly. "They were happy. Truly."
Then his smile faded.
"But that happiness didn't last. When the child turned ten, the Father of Flaws sensed something was wrong. His power began to destabilize, drawn toward the very prison he had created. He realized that if this continued, the seal would break… and the Old Gods would be freed once more."
Ali's voice grew heavier.
"He consulted the First Creator, his old cohort, and his wife. But they all refused to let him seal himself away to prevent the catastrophe. The First Creator could not help, his power was spent, still recovering from the war."
Ali exhaled slowly.
"So the Father of Flaws made a decision."
The forge crackled behind him.
"He sealed them all."
Vale stiffened.
"Every member of his cohort. His friends. His family. Even his wife, sealed away so they could never search for him, never free him."
Ali hesitated before continuing.
"Even his son was sealed. The child possessed the same power. The Father of Flaws split his son's body and soul apart, separating them… and then, finally, sealed himself away in an unknown place, condemning himself to eternal imprisonment."
Silence followed.
Vale had listened without interruption, his expression tight and focused.
"What happened to the son?" he asked quietly.
Ali burst into laughter. "How should I know?" he said cheerfully. "My friend hasn't told me that part yet."
Vale stared at him, eyes slightly widened, before Ali wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and grew serious once more.
"So now let me ask you something," Ali said, his gaze sharp and intent. "Do you think the Father of Flaws was wrong?"
He stepped closer.
"In his attempt to protect everything, he doomed those he loved most. Was he a savior… or a tyrant?"
The forge crackled.
Ali waited for Vale's answer.
Vale met Ali's gaze and answered in a steady, measured tone.
"He was neither."
Ali blinked, then stumbled back half a step in genuine surprise.
"Each of them acted according to what they believed was right," Vale continued calmly. "Even when he sealed everyone away, he did it because he thought it was the only path left. Those aren't the actions of a tyrant or a savior, they're the actions of a person."
For a moment, Ali simply stared at him. Then his expression shifted, amusement breaking through.
"Man, you really are righteous, aren't you?" he said, barely holding back a laugh. "But… I think you're right."
He turned slightly, voice softening. "After all, the leader used to be human as well."
That caught Vale's attention.
"Human?" Vale repeated, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"
Ali smiled, warm and knowing. "That," he said lightly, "is something you'll have to figure out on your own."
Vale chuckled quietly, accepting the answer.
He found himself lingering on the story. It wasn't entirely unique, tragic legends of sacrifice were common, but it hadn't felt dull or hollow. It was a story about a hero who gave up everything to protect others. Something about it resonated with him.
'Is it just a legend,' Vale wondered, 'or something that actually happened?'
The thought lingered longer than he expected.
Before he could speak again, a sudden loud noise erupted behind Ali.
The young man turned just in time to see thick clouds of steam billow violently from the forge. Molten light flickered within, shadows dancing along the stone walls. Ali grinned broadly.
"Looks like it's time to work seriously," he said. "I'll talk to you again once I'm finished."
With that, he stepped forward and vanished into the rising steam.
Vale watched the cloud for a while, then closed his eyes. The forge came alive, hammers striking steel with sharp, rhythmic force, metal hissing as it was plunged into water. Each sound echoed through the workshop, heavy and deliberate.
The more he thought about the story, the more it intrigued him. There was a strange familiarity to it, as if he had heard it before. Maybe in another form. Maybe in another life. Even so, it felt… comforting, for reasons he couldn't explain.
He didn't dwell on it for long however.
Ember stirred.
The small wyvern crawled down from Vale's shoulder, stretching its wings slightly as it woke from its nap. Almost immediately, Vale sensed something off. Ember was uneasy.
Then the sounds of hammering faded.
Footsteps approached.
Vale opened his eyes just as the steam parted. A dark figure emerged from the cloud, carrying two long, slender blades wrapped in cloth. Ali stepped into the light, soot clinging to his apron.
The moment Ember saw him, the wyvern recoiled slightly, a low, uneasy sound rumbling in its throat.
Vale tried to sense Ember's emotions. Confusion came first, then something else.
Fear.
He didn't understand it, but there was no time to question it now.
Vale stepped forward and reached for the cloth-wrapped blades. "Did you make them well?" he asked.
Ali grinned confidently. "Of course. They're my finest work. Trust me."
Vale smiled as he pulled the cloth away.
The blades were flawless.
They were thin, yet unmistakably sturdy, each just under a meter in length. The onyx-black blades absorbed the forge light, while the handles bore faint golden accents, simple yet elegant. Vale tapped one gently with his metallic arm, listening as a clean, resonant ring echoed through the forge.
He nodded, satisfied.
"They're perfect," Vale said sincerely, bowing slightly. "Thank you."
Straightening, he added, "I should pay you now."
He reached into his pocket for the medallion, but Ali stopped him with a raised hand.
"No charge," Ali said casually.
Vale tilted his head, genuinely confused. "Why?"
Ali's grin turned mischievous.
"Because," he said, "you listened to my story."