Ray chuckled. "Alright. We'll buy one, then I'll take you ho before heading to the workshop."
The other students barely glanced at them. This scene had beco routine.
Vivienne's Awakening Ceremony during her second year with the family had also caused a quiet stir. Not because her martial soul was powerful, but because she had none at all. Such cases were exceedingly rare. As a result, she studied in the ordinary section of the academy.
As she grew older, her beauty beca impossible to ignore.
Girls envied her, boys stared, and trouble followed naturally.
Ray had stepped into more than a few fights because of it. Once, surrounded and outnumbered, he had shielded Vivienne with his body, taking every blow ant for her.
The next day, he hunted down the ringleader and fought him relentlessly until fear replaced arrogance.
Since then, no one dared bully Vivienne again.
From the age of eight onward, Ray had taken on the responsibility of walking her to and from school, his small shoulders carrying a burden he accepted without complaint.
After buying snacks, he escorted Vivienne ho, dropped off his schoolbag, and changed into oil-stained work clothes.
Gilbert's workshop awaited.
And forging had long since beco part of his life.
"Ray's here!" A young man in his early twenties called out cheerfully the mont Ray stepped into the workshop. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles thickened by years of blacksmithing.
"Frederick," Ray greeted with a smile, already loosening his sleeves. "What task has the teacher arranged for today?"
Fred grinned and jerked his chin toward the inner rooms. "Plenty of work waiting for you. Go take a look yourself. Honestly, I'm jealous. You're still so young, yet Teacher already piles more work on you than on ." As a blacksmith, the workload directly translated to inco. More work ant more trust, more skill, and more pay.
Ray chuckled softly. "If I'm already comparable to you, then why hasn't Teacher let forge large components yet?"
"That's because he wants your foundation to be rock-solid," Fred replied matter-of-factly. "Now stop chatting and get moving. If you waste ti, you won't finish everything in two hours."
Gilbert's workshop was small, consisting of only three people: Gilbert himself, Fred, and Ray. Before Ray's arrival, Fred had been Gilbert's only disciple.
After Ray passed Gilbert's trial, he officially beca the second. From his second visit onward, Ray had begun addressing Gilbert as "Teacher."
Gilbert was an uncompromisingly strict master. His standards were high, his discipline relentless, but he taught with sincerity and precision. Often, Ray felt that he learned far more in the workshop than he ever did at the academy.
Each of them had their own workspace. Gilbert would bring in raw or semi-processed machine components from outside and distribute the tasks.
Simpler pieces were given to Fred and Ray, while Gilbert personally handled the most complex components.
Once a week, each disciple received direct instruction. On other days, they were expected to complete assigned work independently. The more they forged, the more their skills improved, and the more money they earned.
Ray entered his personal forging room. Unlike the ssy front hall, this room was ticulously organized. Every tool was in its place, the floor clean, the workbench spotless.
Raw materials lay neatly on the forging table, alongside a blueprint detailing today's task.
When Ray first arrived at the workshop, Gilbert had forced him to do nothing but pound iron for three entire months.
Those two hours each day had been pure tornt, ant to train his force transmission, control, and ability to absorb recoil.
At the ti, Ray had thought those days endless.
That brutal foundation paid off.
Over ti, Ray grew stronger, his hamrs gradually replaced with heavier ones.
After three months, he was allowed to refine tal. A year later, he could forge the simplest components. Half a year ago, he advanced to dium-sized parts. Gilbert had begun comparing him to Fred with increasing seriousness.
Yet in all three years, Ray never once complained.
After carefully studying the blueprint, he understood today's assignnt. He needed to forge ten armored ankle-joint components for machine suits. They were spherical in shape. If cast with a mold, two presses would suffice.
Forging them by hand, however, demanded far greater precision.
Blacksmithing was ranked by refinent. A Hundred Refined component ant it had been hamred and purified a hundred tis. Above that lay Thousand Refined tal, vastly superior but far more difficult to achieve.
Ray was not yet capable of true Thousand Refinent, so such tasks were rare.
He activated the workbench. The platform split open, revealing the forging furnace beneath. tal ingots were secured and fed into the furnace. Soon, they glowed red-hot.
Ray picked up his hamrs.
They were a pair of glossy black tungsten hamrs, similar in size to the ones he had used years ago, but vastly different in quality.
Gilbert had personally forged them as a gift after Ray's first year in the workshop.
Each hamr weighed over forty kilograms, a weight that would exhaust most adults. In Ray's hands, however, they felt natural, almost light.
The heated tal glowed crimson. Ray struck from above with his right hamr while the left rose to et it from below, lifting and shaping the tal in a smooth, practiced rhythm.
The room filled with sharp, tallic dings as the forging began.
Blacksmithing was not brute labor alone. It required perception, judgnt, and intuition.
Gilbert had always emphasized that tal had veins, just like living beings. Only by sensing its vibrations and flow could a blacksmith truly master it.
In this regard, Ray was gifted.
Unknowingly, the mont Gilbert gave him those tungsten hamrs marked his true recognition as a blacksmith.
Though his monthly inco was modest, Ray saved carefully. A small portion was reserved for Vivienne, the rest given to his mother to support the household.
He was only nine years old, yet compared to his peers, he carried himself with remarkable steadiness.
Two hours passed swiftly. With a final precise strike, Ray completed the last component. He exhaled deeply, wiped the sweat from his face, and admired the ten gleaming ankle joints before him with quiet satisfaction.
He had co to enjoy forging. Swinging the hamr felt liberating. Sotis, he entered a strange state of harmony where his hamr, the tal, and his heartbeat seed to align.
During those monts, the quality of his work soared, earning rare praise even from Gilbert.
"Teacher."
Ray turned to find Gilbert already inside the room.
Gilbert inspected the finished components carefully, nodding slightly before handing him a stack of paper bills. "This month's wages. Your work is solid."
"Thank you, Teacher!" Ray accepted the money eagerly, his face flushed with excitent as he stuffed it into his pocket.
Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "You've never looked this happy over your wages before."
Ray took a breath, eyes shining. "Teacher, I've saved enough to buy a spirit soul!"
Gilbert froze briefly before asking quietly, "You've reached rank ten?"
"I should be there soon," Ray nodded.
For once, Gilbert smiled faintly. "Good luck."
Ray packed his finished components and left in high spirits.
Watching his retreating figure, Gilbert shook his head softly, the smile lingering. "At least now, that child is finally acting his age. It's a pity his martial soul is Silverfalls Vine… no matter what spirit soul he obtains, it may all be—"
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