The morning sun shone as the garden stood intact. mostly.
Fang had already cleaned up the last of the chaos Smoke had left behind the previous day, and now the clearing felt like a place with a rhythm. Almost civilized.
Isgram squatted near the edge of the clearing, frowning at the soil as if it had insulted him. He jammed a thick branch into the dirt, watching how deep it sank.
"This won't do," he grunted, yanking it back up. "Too soft. Too damn soft."
Fang glanced over from the cave's entrance, where he was fiddling with his mana stones, each one faintly glowing with that eerie, pulsing energy. "What won't do?"
"The ground. I need something stable if I'm gonna build a forge." He stood and dusted his hands off. "I'm thinking a stone platform built at an inclined angle would be the best choice."
Fang raised a brow. "You're serious about this."
"Dead serious," Isgram replied.
"We can't keep fighting with salvaged weapons and hope they don't snap the next time we swing 'em.
A nice good Double axe would do the trick.
Maybe even armor down the line.
And you too, you need a proper Katana.
Mana can run out, especially when you're a summoner."
Fang held up a mana stone between two fingers. "You're right. But today, I'm going to figure out what these two stones hide from me. It should work one way or another. just need to find a way to activate their souls."
Isgram glanced at it, then turned away as if that thing offended him.
"I still can't believe you're comfortable messing with those.
Soulcraft gives me the creeps."
"They're already dead," Fang said simply. "This is just what is left.
You want to build a forge. I want to build something else."
Isgram grunted. "Just don't die while I'm digging out a pit,
I am not going to waste it on burying you."
Fang smirked. "No promises."
Fang leaned against the garden fence, watching his companion as he measured the length with his footsteps.
"Do you even know how to build one?" he asked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
Isgram snorted. "I'm a dwarf, you asshole.
If I didn't pick up on my natural racial talents, I would be a shame to my kind. The question is how fast I can do it with what we've got."
Fang tilted his head in confusion. "When are you going to start then?"
He tapped the side of his head. "Already planning. We'll need stone, clay, and some kind of bellows.
might have to improvise that with wood and leather.
And something to serve as a chimney so I don't cook us alive every time I light it up."
"Sounds like a fun project for someone who has no tools," Fang replied dryly.
Isgram turned, pointing a thick finger at him. "You've got death magic. I've got fire magic. Smoke's got... well, he is good at killing shit. Between the three of us, we'll figure it out."
"Smoke is not helping with the forge."
Fang was surprisingly keen on keeping his summons away from this hazardous project
Isgram concocted.
Isgram replied with a nod.
"Then he can go dig holes somewhere else."
Fang chuckled and drank the rest of his cup of sage tea, which he had made this morning.
The idea of a forge was more than just practical. It was a statement of settling there.
Isgram had already begun marking a space, using his boot to trace a rough square into the dirt. "This'll do for the base. We'll build the forge pit here and insulate it with clay.
I'll need to find some iron eventually, but if I can just smelt scrap for now, it'll do. You keep experimenting with those stones. Maybe you'll figure out how to melt a sword out of a soul."
Fang raised a brow. "Very funny, asshole."
Isgram grinned, his fire-red beard twitching with the motion.
"While you play blacksmith," Fang said, pushing off the fence,
"I'll start meditating on these. I want to see what they really are."
Isgram gave him a half-wave as he stalked into the trees, muttering about bricks and airflow. Fang knelt near the garden, picked up one of the mana stones, and let its quiet, humming magic thrum through his fingers.
"Let's see what secrets you're hiding," he whispered.
Fang sat cross-legged on a flat stone near the edge of the clearing, far enough from the garden to avoid distractions but close enough to keep an eye on things. The mana stones lay in front of him. two in total. Faint pulses of violet and gray light flickered within each one, like coals just shy of catching fire.
He picked one up.
It was cool to the touch. Slightly rough. About the size of a walnut. It felt almost weightless, yet Fang knew what lives inside.
'First step: confirm stability.' He channeled a bit of his own mana into the stone, careful not to overload it.
The stone shimmered faintly, but didn't explode. Good. He increased the flow. Still stable.
'Now, lets see if I can use it.'Fang shifted focus, willing the death mana to leave the stone and start to envelop it from outside in a purple miasma.
The stone responded instantly. It began to pulse, absorbing the energy like a dry sponge. Fang kept it steady. No excess, no erratic flow. Controlled and direct.
After ten seconds, the surface of the stone cracked. Just one line.
Fang didn't stop.
'Come on, just work for once and be nice to me.'
Another ten seconds, and the stone was glowing from within, faint but steady. Wisps of shadow began to curl off it, twisting in the air like smoke in water.
The pulse shifted, internal now, not just absorbing mana but activating something.
He leaned back slightly, giving it room.
The stone burst.
Not violently, just a sudden snap of energy and a surge of black mist. A shape clawed its way out of the smoke. Four legs. Long ears. It staggered once, then stabilized.
A rabbit. No fur. No features. Just an animated silhouette of what it used to be.
Its head turned toward Fang. No eyes. But it looked.
Fang stood. He didn't speak. Just raised his hand and pointed left.
The shadow-rabbit twitched, then darted that way, weaving through the brush in total silence.
He exhaled and watched it circle back, then sit.
No fading. No collapse.
It was holding.
He squatted beside it, studying the surface. Slightly different from Smoke, but very similar as expected.
"Looks like the imprint determines the base behavior," he muttered. "This one's more basic. Not as aggressive."
He glanced toward the bag where the other stone was kept.
"One down."
------------------
Isgram wandered deeper into the forest, away from the garden, scanning the terrain for stone and metal deposits. The firewood slung over his shoulder was only a consolation prize
What he really wanted was clay for a forge.
He didn't ask Fang for help. The kid had his death stones to play with today.
Isgram needed some ores and preferably clay.
"I should check the river later for clay..."
The trees thinned slightly up ahead, revealing a slope dotted with exposed rock. Good spot to start.
He dropped the bundle and crouched to inspect a vein of iron streaked across the stone face. Not great quality. But it would do.
Snap.
A branch cracked behind him.
Isgram didn't turn.
He waited.
Snorting and heaving, a large presence was behind him, yet he was focused on his new ore vein.
Then the charge.
A boar. Huge. Easily the size of a horse, tusks jagged and yellow. It tore through the underbrush like a battering ram, locked onto Isgram's still frame.
Isgram just sighed.
When the beast was two meters away, he lifted one hand.
No words. No theatrics.
A column of flame erupted from his palm with the suddenness of a lightning strike.
white hot and dense.
It swallowed the boar mid-charge, incinerating it in less than a second.
No squeal. No drama.
One moment, there was fury and tusks. The next? ashes in the wind.
Isgram didn't even blink.
He lowered his hand and turned back to the rocks, brushing soot from his sleeve.
"Stay dead," he muttered.
"Anyway, where was I?"
The smell of scorched fur and meat lingered, but he ignored it. Found a thick stone with a flat base and wedged it loose. Then another.
'This is defintely Iron ore.'
He had no anvil, no tongs, no hammer, but he would make them all. Eventually.
Another gust of wind scattered the boar's remains.
Isgram exhaled through his nose and cracked his knuckles.
"Alright," he said to no one. "Time to get to work."