Chapter 7: First Steps

  The rhythmiging of metal against metal filled the air, a steady beat of determination and progress. The fe was alive with the hiss of burning coals, the glow of molteal illuminating the sweat-soaked faces of those w tirelessly. Sparks flew as Cire struck the heated steel with precise, measured force, shaping it with each powerful blow. The st of scorched iron mixed with the thick, smoky air, creating an atmosphere that was both suffog and invigorating.

  And here I was, standing at the anvil, my hands ed tightly around a heavy hammer, trying to follow her lead.

  It had been five days since I had started learning bcksmithing under Cire’s guidance. Five days of burned hands, ag muscles, aless corres. My body screamed in protest with every swing, but I pushed through.

  I could tell I was learning unnaturally fast but it was harsh yet, for the first time since awakening my ability, I felt like I was on the brink of something.

  Cire had been brutal but fair. No wasted movement. No unnecessary flourishes. Every strike had a purpose. Every mistake unished with more work. Ae the exhausting process, I found myself drawn to the craft in a way I hadn’t expected.

  “Yripping it too hard,” Cire muttered without even looking up, her own hammer ing down with a g that sent a fresh burst of sparks into the air. “If your fingers lock up, you’ll lose trol. Let the hammer’s weight do half the work.”

  I exhaled through gritted teeth and adjusted my grip. The steel bar before me was glowing a deep e, heat radiating off it in waves. I raised my hammer and struck, aiming to ftten the imperfes. The vibration jolted through my arms, but the strike nded solidly. Better than before.

  “Not bad,” she admitted begrudgingly. “But you’re still too slow. If this were a battle, you’d be dead.”

  I snorted. “Good thing I don’t pn on f swords mid-fight, then.”

  Cire rolled her eyes but smirked. “Still, you’re pig this up faster than I expected.”

  She was right. The process of f was beginning to feel... natural. More than just an acquired skill. It was as if my ability—Creation—was guiding me, helping me uand the flow of metal, the bance of heat and force. It robably much different from Cir ability but I could feel it. I hadn’t fully grasped its potential yet, but with every piece I shaped, I could feel something unlog within me.

  Then, it happened.

  As I lifted my hammer for arike, I felt a strange pull—a sensation deep within my core. Instinct took over. Instead ing the hammer down, I focused, letting my ability guide me. The glow of the fe dimmed slightly, and the steel beh me shifted—not from the fory hammer, but from something deeper, something intangible.

  I saw it before I uood it. The metal, once rigid and unyielding, seemed to melt at the edges, shifting into the shape I had envisioned before I had even struck it.

  Cire’s hammer stopped mid-air.

  “What the hell was that?” she asked, her voice ced with suspi and curiosity.

  I blihe pieetal on the anvil was no lohe rough, half-formed bde I had been shaping. It was refined, almost unnaturally smooth.

  “I… I don’t know,” I admitted. But deep down, I did.

  Cire stared at me for a long moment, then sighed. “You really don’t do anything normally, do you?”

  I shook my head, still trying to process what had happened. “Guess not.”

  She studied the pieetal again before nodding to herself. “Alright. You should be able to make a small on even if barely now.”

  I had tried f ons before. Small attempts, crude and unfinished. But never had I crafted something I could fidently p someone’s hands—a on worthy of battle, worthy of survival.

  But now… now it was different.

  The realization burhrough me like molten steel. If I could manipute the material, tweak its very position with my ability, then maybe—just maybe—I could fe something real. Something worthy.

  I grabbed a fresh piece of raw iron and pced it into the r fe, watg as the heat licked hungrily at the metal. The fmes daheir refles swirling in my eyes as I focused—not just on shaping the dagger, but on infusing it with something more.

  I reached out with my ability. It was subtle at first, a gentle hum beh my skin. But as I trated, I felt the metal shift—not melting, not bending, but ging on a fual level, like I was creating something new alltogether.

  A deep golden glow pulsed from within the ore, different from the fiery e of heated material. The impurities ial burned away, dissolving as though the material itself obeyed my will. The position refiself, being something purer and stronger.

  Cire had stopped w. I could feel her eyes on me, her breath held in quiet disbelief. But I had no time to aowledge her. My focus was absolute.

  With tongs, I pulled the glowial from the fe, pg it onto the anvil. The energy c through it resonated in my bohis wasn’t just f anymore.

  It was creation.

  I raised my hammer and brought it down.

  G.

  The sound rang through the fe like a bell of war. The impact sent sparks casg through the air, the raw power of my ability syng with the physical force of the hammer’s strike and the phoenix heat. Each hit shaped the bde, not just with brute strength, but with precision. The dagger wasn’t f only through trial and error—it was beily what it was meant to be.

  The more I struck, the more my ability pulsed through me, guiding each motion. The shape refiself—a yet deadly curve, the perfect bance of weight and sharpness. I felt its potential, its... Hunger for purpose.

  I quehe bde in oil, steam hissing as the metal locked into its final form. My heart pounded as I lifted it, iing its edge uhe dim glow of the fe.

  The dagger was beautiful.

  It wasn’t just a pieaterials. It now had a real prupose, it made its presenown to the world. The edges gleamed unnaturally, the metal imbued with something different then normal craftsmanship. A on crafted not just by skill, but by will.

  Cire let out a slow exhale. “That… That’s not f.”

  I turripping the on tightly, feeling its ban my palm. “No,” I admitted, a slow grin f. “It’s creation.”

  With this, I felt like I was finally starting to uand what creation was.

  Still, the idea that I had learo craft a funal on in just five days was wild.

  Of course, that wasn’t the only thing I had done during that time. Hunting for my own materials had bee a y, so Lay and I had joined several hters on daily expeditions. It was exhausting, but rewarding. My level had climbed to 11, while Lay had reached 14. It might not seem like much, but after level 10, the experieneeded to advance became expoially harder to gain.

  But I hadn’t just improved my ability to fight. I had started to build.

  Using what I had learhrough f, I had applied my growing knowledge to reinf and upgrading the defenses around campus. The walls weren’t perfect yet—I hadn’t had time tthen every oint—but I could fidently say that no monster under level 15 would be able to breach the areas I had reinforced with many materials.

  And that… that meant something.

  I still didn’t fully uand the extent of my ability, but ohing was being clear—Creation wasn’t just about crafting ons. It was about shaping the world around me.

  Cire crossed her arms, iing the dagger I had just finished. She tur over in her hands, running a finger along the bde’s edge.

  “gratutions, Elian. In just five days, you’ve learned enough te a funal on. That’s amazing.”

  I grinned, feeling a swell of pride in my chest. But then—

  “Of course,” she tinued, levelih a critical stare, “you still have a long way to go. The edge needs refining, the handle could use better weight distribution… but overall?” She exhaled, giving a small smile. “I’m impressed.”

  [Ding]

  [The proficy of Creation has increased.]

  [Creation I: 51%]

  I exhaled slowly, gng at my status. My ability was evolving—little by little, every moment I spent learning was reflected in its progression.

  “This is thanks to you, Cire,” I said, giving her an appreciative nod.

  She scoffed, turning her head away. “Bah, with your talent, anyone could’ve taught you. You would’ve reached this point no matter what.”

  I shook my head. “Maybe. But you were the one who showed me the way. And I’m grateful for that.”

  She didn’t respond immediately, but I caught the fai blush creeping onto her cheeks before she turned away.

  “Whatever,” she muttered. “I’ve got more work to do. Go away.”

  I chuckled. As friendly as ever.

  But more importantly—my status.

  [Status]

  Name: Elian

  Level: 11

  Titles: [Divine Mortal]

  Domain: Creation

  Achievements: [First Step iion] [The Phoenix’s First Step] [Giant Syer]

  Attributes:

  Energy: 130/130

  Agility: 14

  Strength: 14

  Endurance: 12

  Intelligence: 26

  Creativity: 30

  Luck: 10

  [Free Points: 25]

  Ability: [Creation I]: 51%

  Sub Ability: [Phoenix I]: 75%

  Divinity:

  Divine Essence: 5

  Faith Points: 0

  [Mission]

  Details Unlocked at Higher Levels

  [Status end]

  My mastery over Creation rogressing rapidly ever since I began learning form Cire. The more I worked with it, the more I felt myself uanding its potential. But as I stared at my status, a question had been gnawing at me for some time now.

  What is Creation, truly?

  Was it simply the ability to shape materials? Or was it something deeper?

  To create something new in this world…

  Could I only work with existing matter? Or could Creation truly allow me to craft something from nothing?

  The thought sent a chill through me.

  I closed my eyes, fog inward. An experiment.

  I imagined a gun—a simple design, something I had seen before. I trated, trying t it ience… but nothing happened.

  I felt the faiwinge of my ability responding, but it wasn’t enough.

  I’m going at this the wrong way.

  Creation wasn’t about simply willing something ie was uanding every piece of it. The material. The ahe position. The purpose.

  If I couldn’t simply create from nothing, what if I worked with what I already knew?

  I shifted my focus. Instead to materialize somethiirely new, I thought of something familiar—the dagger I had just fed.

  I pictured every step in my mind. The heat of the fire. The weight of the hammer. The impact of each precise strike.

  My energy moved.

  I felt the pull of my ability—this time, stronger. My body remembered the motions, the i. And as I trated, I felt something form in my hand.

  My eyes snapped open.

  A dagger—identical to the one I had fed—sat in my palm.

  My breath caught.

  I had do. I had truly created something.

  A slow grin spread ay face.

  I finally uood.

  Creation wasn’t about summoning something from nothing—it was about maing what I had already fed and created within myself.

  But there was still work to do.

  It had taken me five whole mio form this dagger. That was too slow.

  And worse—I could feel my energy tied to it. The bde wasn’t perma. It would fade if I didn’t maintain it.

  Still…

  This was my first true step toward unlog my chosen path over the real power of my ability.

  I couldn’t stop the ughter bubbling up in my chest.

  I had do.

  But now?

  Now, I o master it.