Leaving the quiet shade of the ancient oak tree behind, Sylas led Aster back down the winding path toward the village. Kayler remained hidden away in Aster's soul—or perhaps he was just sulking—while Cane glided silently beside Sylas, his faint mystical glow blending into the afternoon light.
As they neared the edge of the village, a heavy, rhythmic rhythm began to echo through the air. Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sylas guided Aster toward a massive wooden house. Sparks occasionally drifted out of the open high windows, and the intense heat of roaring furnaces bled through the thick timber walls. The unmistakable scent of burning coal and hot iron hung heavy in the air.
"Here we are," Sylas said, his voice competing with the racket. He reached out and pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The noise instantly doubled. Inside, the building was sprawling and chaotic. Dozens of people were hard at work—some were pumping giant bellows to feed the blazing fires, others were pouring molten metal into molds, and several were furiously hammering glowing red steel on heavy anvils, shaping swords, axes, and daggers.
Aster stared, wide-eyed, taking in the sheer scale of the armory.
Before they could take more than a few steps inside, the heavy thud of boots shook the floorboards. The crowd of workers seemed to part naturally as a massive figure walked out from the back of the forge, wiping sweat from his brow with a thick forearm.
Aster instinctively took a half-step back as the massive figure stopped right in front of them.
The blacksmith was a mountain of a man, his skin bronzed from years of working over the hot furnaces, and his thick arms covered in soot. He wiped his sweaty brow with a stained towel, his booming voice easily cutting through the loud clang-clang of the hammers behind him.
"Sylas!" the blacksmith roared, giving the tired mentor a grin that showed off a missing tooth. "Thought you were out scouting the perimeter. What brings you to my forge? And who's the scrawny kid?"
Aster opened his mouth to protest the "scrawny" comment, but Sylas just sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.
"He's with me, Garrick," Sylas said, gesturing to Aster. "He's a new summoner, but his partner is being... uncooperative. We need a basic, sturdy practice sword to get him started on the fundamentals. Something that won't break on the first day."
Garrick the blacksmith tossed his towel over a massive shoulder and looked Aster up and down, sizing him up. "An uncooperative spirit, huh? Sounds like a handful. Alright, kid, let's see what we can find for you."
Garrick grunted, crossing his massive arms over his chest. He looked Aster up and down one more time, his analytical blacksmith eyes assessing the kid's posture and build.
"Alright, kid," Garrick boomed over the sound of a nearby anvil. "Before I just hand you any piece of steel, tell me: what are you actually good at? Ever held a weapon before, or am I going to have to worry about you cutting your own foot off?"
Aster rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit self-conscious under the giant man's gaze.
"Well... I've never really fought with a sword," Aster admitted. Then, his eyes brightened a bit as he remembered his past. "But I used to play around with a bow and arrow back home. I practiced a lot, and I'm actually kinda good at it."
Garrick raised a thick eyebrow, nodding slowly in approval. "Archery, huh? An eye for distance and a steady hand. That changes things. You've got the back and shoulder muscles for pulling a string, but a sword is a whole different beast."
Sylas, standing to the side with his usual dark circles under his eyes, crossed his arms and looked at Aster. "An archer? That's interesting. It makes sense why Kayler is an eagle—eagles have the best eyesight for hunting from above."
Garrick turned and started walking toward a massive rack of finished weapons against the wooden wall. "Come over here then, eagle-boy. If you're used to a bow, a giant heavy broadsword will just ruin your balance. Let's find you something light and quick."
Sylas suddenly froze. His eyes, usually half-closed from exhaustion, snapped wide open. He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand, a look of pure shock washing over his pale face.
"Oh wait..." Sylas muttered, his voice rising in excitement. "Our Lord Neolux! He is also an archer, and his heart-companion is an eagle too!"
Aster blinked, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. "Wait, really? The leader of the whole cathedral?"
"Yes!" Sylas turned to Aster, his dark circles seemingly forgotten for a moment. "Lord Neolux is one of the most powerful guardians we have. His eagle transforms into a legendary, divine bow. It makes perfect sense now! Kayler isn't defective, Aster. He's a divine eagle, just like Lord Neolux's companion. They are incredibly proud creatures. Kayler probably looks down on you right now because he knows how powerful his true form is, and he's waiting to see if you're actually worthy of wielding him!"
Garrick paused, holding a light iron blade in his massive hand, and let out a low whistle. "Lord Neolux, huh? Kid, if that stubborn bird of yours turns into a bow like the Lord's, you've got some massive shoes to fill."
Aster swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a lot of pressure. He looked down at his own chest, where Kayler was resting inside his soul. A divine bow... He could definitely use that, but first, he had to survive long enough to make the stubborn bird actually listen.
Aster looked from Sylas to Garrick, his brows furrowing as he tried to process the information. "Wait, so if Lord Neolux's soul weapon is a bow... does that mean he only uses arrows? What happens if a monster gets too close to him?"
Sylas shook his head, a wry, slightly reverent smile touching his lips.
"No, definitely not," Sylas said. "Lord Neolux uses a sword as well. In fact, he's a master swordsman."
Aster blinked, confused. "But I thought you said his eagle turns into a bow?"
"It does," Sylas explained, leaning back against a sturdy wooden pillar. "But his raw magic is simply too strong. He is on an entirely different level, Aster. Even when he is using a regular, forged sword—not his soul weapon—he can channel so much power through the blade that it doesn't even matter. He can literally slice through an Upper-Tier monster with a standard piece of steel."
Garrick grunted in agreement, tapping the flat of the blade he was holding. "It's true. I've seen the Lord in action. When your magic density is that high, a regular sword becomes a deadly relic in your hands. He doesn't need his soul weapon for everything."
Garrick let out a booming laugh, tossing the light iron sword back onto a nearby table. "Well, if you're meant to be an archer like the Lord, there's no use starting you on the wrong foot! Come with me, eagle-boy."
The massive blacksmith turned and walked toward the very back of the noisy forge. Aster and Sylas followed close behind, dodging the sparks flying from the anvils. Garrick pushed past a heavy leather curtain, leading them into a separate, much quieter room.
The air here smelled less like burning coal and more like polished cedar wood, leather, and goose feathers.
Aster's eyes widened. The walls were lined with racks upon racks of beautifully crafted bows—longbows, recurve bows, and short bows made from flexible ash and yew wood. Below them stood huge wooden barrels overflowing with thousands of arrows, their fletchings neatly sorted by color.
"This is my personal stock," Garrick said proudly, gesturing to the room. "Since your eagle won't turn into a weapon yet, we'll get you a regular bow to practice your aim and forms. But remember, you're still practicing the sword with Sylas later! An archer who can't handle a blade in a pinch is just monster food."
Aster walked up to one of the racks, tracing his fingers along the smooth wood of a sleek recurve bow. For the first time since he got here, he felt a spark of familiarity.
Suddenly, inside Aster's mind, he felt a faint, arrogant nudge from Kayler. The stubborn bird seemed to peek out from Aster's soul, looking at the wooden bows with absolute disdain—as if to say, 'Those cheap sticks are nothing compared to me.'
Garrick noticed Aster staring at the wooden bow, but then the blacksmith paused, rubbing his thick, bearded chin thoughtfully.
"Hm... but then again," Garrick grunted, looking from Aster to the racks of bows. "We don't actually know what weapon your animal will turn into. Sure, Lord Neolux has an eagle that turns into a bow, but soul weapons are tied to the person's soul, not just the beast. For all we know, that stubborn bird of yours might decide to turn into a spear, a dagger, or a massive broadsword just to spite you."
Sylas nodded from the doorway, his sleepy eyes narrowing in agreement. "He's right. Soul companions are unpredictable. Assuming he'll be a bow just because he's an eagle might get you killed if he turns into something else entirely."
Garrick walked over to a different rack and picked up a sturdy, well-balanced practice sword, holding it out toward Aster.
"So, maybe you should get a sword and practice with it too," Garrick said, pressing the hilt into Aster's hands. "A sword is the foundation of all close combat. If you can master the footwork and the balance of a blade, you'll be ready for whatever weapon that bird finally decides to give you."
Aster gripped the leather-wrapped hilt. It felt heavy and foreign compared to a bowstring, but as he looked at the gleaming steel, he felt a sudden surge of determination.
Deep inside his soul, Kayler let out another sharp, haughty chirp, as if challenging Aster to actually try and wield it.