As Atlas followed behind Veloran, Seraphiel went back toward the Spirit carriage.
Before entering it, she looked at Atlas’s back one last ti and let out a small breath in relief.
’Haha, at least one thing went correctly...’
Veloran had accepted Atlas inside.
For soone like Veloran Azatelth, that alone ant the hardest part was already cleared. He did not accept visitors easily, did not care about most noble nas, and did not move just because soone brought rare materials. If he had invited Atlas inside after testing him once, then it ant he had seen sothing that caught his interest.
Seraphiel entered the carriage.
The door closed behind her, and the Spirit carriage slowly lifted from the ground without making a sound. A faint silver glow moved beneath it, then it turned and left the hut area.
Inside the hut, Atlas stepped forward while following Veloran.
The inside was not what he expected.
There was no large forge, there were no weapon-making machines.
There were no hanging swords, rows of tools or roaring fire, and not even the basic hamr that a craftsman should have.
Instead, the hut looked simple.
There was a wooden table, a few chairs, shelves on the wall, a small stove in one corner, and several ordinary-looking objects placed neatly around the room. The place was clean, but it looked more like a quiet living space than the workshop of the greatest craftsman among Angels.
Atlas looked around for a bit while walking.
The furniture looked ordinary at first glance, but when he focused properly, he could sense Spirit inside them.
The table had Spirit flowing through its legs. The shelves had thin runes hidden under the wood grain. Even the chair near the wall had a faint Spirit pattern resting inside it. It looked like Veloran had turned simple furniture into sothing more useful without making them look special.
Atlas did not speak.
He only followed with slow steps.
After walking for a few monts, Veloran ca to a stop in front of an empty area of the hut.
Then he spoke without turning back.
"Take out the Whirlstone and drop only one drop of your blood on it. Then we will begin the process."
Atlas frowned.
’Huh?’
For a mont, he did not understand what Veloran was talking about.
Wasn’t he going to make a weapon for him?
Atlas looked at the old-looking craftsman’s back and thought silently.
’Why blood? And why does it sound like the weapon is already going to start forming?’
Veloran turned slightly and saw Atlas’s confused expression.
He shook his head.
"You don’t know how a TRUE craftsman crafts a weapon, do you?"
Atlas beca even more confused.
"True craftsman? Isn’t every craftsman a true one?"
Veloran shook his head again.
"No, your interpretation is incorrect boy, it is TRUE craftsman, not true craftsman."
Atlas stared at him.
Veloran continued in a plain tone, as if he was explaining sothing obvious.
"It is a stage. A TRUE craftsman does not need a hamr and fire to make a weapon. Materials are still needed, of course, but the process itself does not need to be done physically."
Atlas listened and widened his eyes slightly.
Then he nodded, though his thoughts were not as calm.
’Hah, I don’t know anymore. What kind of craftsman doesn’t need a hamr and forge to craft a weapon?’
But he did not say that out loud.
This world had too many strange things already. Relics that could bind contracts; Carriages that could move through air with the help of Spirit. The Codex could write Attributes and swallow bloodlines. If a craftsman could make weapons without touching a forge, Atlas could only accept that this was another high-level thod he did not understand yet.
He slowly took out the Whirlstone and showed it on his palm.
The crystal carried a slight green hue inside it, and even in the simple room, its surface looked clean and valuable.
Atlas looked at Veloran.
"So, I have to drop my blood on it?"
Veloran nodded.
"Yes. Then I will begin the process. The weapon will take shape on its own."
Atlas’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"On its own?"
"It can beco a sword, a saber, a spear, a hamr, or sothing else. The form depends on your soul. If your soul wants to cut everything in front of it, it may beco a sword. If your soul wants to crush what stands before it, it may beco a hamr. If your nature leans toward piercing, binding, dragging, tearing, or sothing more specific, the weapon will follow that."
Veloran looked at the Whirlstone again.
"Until it forms, even I will not know what it is."
Atlas nodded slowly.
He did not understand everything, but he understood enough.
’So, the weapon will form as a reflection of .’
That made Atlas a little more cautious and curious both, but he did not step back.
A weapon made this way might fit him better than anything he could choose by normal thinking.
Atlas took out the small knife he always carried for butchering animals or cutting simple things during travel. He held the Whirlstone in his right hand, then used the knife in his left hand to make a small cut on the surface of his right thumb.
The cut was tiny.
Atlas made it with precision.
Blood welled up imdiately.
He slid the knife back into its place, then transferred the Whirlstone onto his left palm. After that, he held his right thumb over the crystal.
The Whirlstone’s slight green hue moved faintly inside.
It seed to react before the blood even touched it.
Atlas watched closely.
Then the drop fell.
Drip.
The blood pressed against the Whirlstone’s surface.
At first, Veloran stretched his hand slowly toward it.
He felt nothing wrong happening, so he thought the process was going normally.
But just then, the Whirlstone shook violently.
The blood drop was sucked inside without a crack forming on the crystal.
The next mont, intense brightness spread across the whole hut.
Veloran’s eyes widened.
’Wh-What in the world?!’
The light was strong enough to blind even him for a short mont. He tried to understand what was happening through sight first, but the brightness was too much. So, he imdiately used his ’perception’ instead.
And then he saw it.
Atlas stood frozen.
The Whirlstone was hovering in front of him, humming softly, as if it had already recognized him as its master before the forging process even truly began.
Veloran’s expression changed.
He did not wait for more understanding.
’There’s no ti, Let’s do it!’
From his stretched hand, invisible threads erged.
They were not physical threads.
Atlas could not see them clearly with normal sight, but his Spirit senses reacted faintly as those threads drifted toward the hovering Whirlstone. They moved slowly at first, then wrapped toward the crystal’s surface.
The mont the first thread touched the Whirlstone, Veloran clenched his jaw.
"Kheuk!"
His thoughts sharpened imdiately.
’What in the world is this weapon to release this much ’Essence’?’
The pressure coming from the Whirlstone was not normal.
It was only one catalyst.
An Epic-rank catalyst, yes.
But the reaction it gave after touching Atlas’s blood was far beyond what Veloran had expected. It was no longer behaving like an ordinary crafting material. The crystal had already chosen, already started responding, and now its inner Essence was rushing outward as if it had been waiting to take form.
Still, Veloran held on.
He did not pull back.
The invisible threads continued wrapping around the Whirlstone, turning and rotating around it in layered patterns. Each thread guided the Essence instead of forcing it. Veloran did not strike, hamr, burn, or cut the material. He only controlled the process and prevented the material from wasting itself.
Finally, the shaking stopped.
The Whirlstone turned completely white.
It looked as if the crystal had lted, but it did not drip or fall apart. Its compact form softened into light, then slowly stretched.
The small crystal began to lengthen.
A long white form took shape in the air.
Atlas stared at it without moving.
The forming weapon was still glowing completely white, so its final surface could not be seen yet, but the outline continued to grow longer. It did not look like a sword. It did not look like a spear either.
After a few monts, the right end of the stretched form curved.
Then that curve extended forward.
Veloran’s eyes widened.
For the first ti since Atlas entered the hut, the greatest craftsman among Angels looked genuinely surprised.
’A... a scythe?’
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