We are accustomed to finding answers from various phenomena, always asking "Why?" Back then, there were many ways to obtain answers. But here, everything must be explored on one's own. Here, I am different—at least in terms of logical thinking. Even if I am nothing, the education I’ve received, whether voluntary or forced, has left traces in my thoughts, influencing my actions constantly. Hypothesis, negation, and negation again—methods like these. First, hypothesize and deduce a seemingly pusible theory, then continually modify and verify it, as long as it helps to get through the initial stages. The rest can be dealt with ter.

  Bran muttered to himself in the warehouse, and Hua Hua, as usual, remained a loyal listener, occasionally making a gurgling sound in agreement.

  Dani stood at the door of the warehouse with a worried expression. After a year of living together, she had grown somewhat used to Bran’s ramblings, which often made no sense. However, today, Bran's behavior was more extreme than usual. In the past, Bran would at least moderate his actions when Dani was around, but today, he seemed oblivious to her presence.

  It appeared that Bran had come to some sort of realization early in the day. He dove into the warehouse, and one weapon after another was forged—his magic fring, sighing, and confused. Even standing at the door, Dani could feel the storm of magic swirling around him: frustration, unease, as if searching for an outlet. Various metal ingots rapidly melted and formed, becoming sleek and powerful weapons. His speed of creation was increasing, leaving Dani stunned. Finally, when the st piece of material was forged into shape, Bran snapped back to reality, the setting sun casting its golden light.

  Seeing Dani’s worried face, Bran stiffly muttered, "I'm fine."

  ...

  On the way to the castle for dinner, Dani carried Bran, who was pale but unusually excited, talking non-stop.

  "It's not alive, just looks like it. Like wind blowing over withered grass, making it seem alive—alive is just a feeling we have, and that feeling is caused by the flowing wind. Magic is everywhere; it’s just the sensation created by the flow of magic. The magic found its own way out; the proportions of metals I melted together weren’t my conscious decision, but rather, I subconsciously melded them in a way that allowed magic to flow the easiest. I'm a medium. The weapon is also a medium. Everyone is. Wait, I need to go back and test it—whether the strength and toughness of the sword are optimal according to the magic’s flow. Damn it! It can't just look good. Let me down, Dani."

  "You need to eat first. After dinner, we can talk," Dani insisted, tightly holding Bran in her arms.

  ...

  At the dinner table, Bran was clearly distracted, eating quickly. The Duchess reminded him several times, "Slow down, slow down."

  Bran raised his head, gesturing with his knife. "Have you tried that sword?"

  "I have, it’s good."

  "The edge?"

  "Good."

  "The bde’s toughness?"

  "Very good."

  "How is it good?"

  "Everything is good."

  "Forget it," Bran muttered in frustration.

  It seemed Bran couldn't count on this tall northern nobleman to give any precise description. This wasn’t something the Duke could handle. All the Duke had to worry about was which vassal castle needed repairs this winter, which bridge needed maintenance, mediating disputes between knights, or handling quarrels with neighboring lords by letting their knights fight. If one side lost, the Duke would gather more people to regain face, or pay ransom to settle things.

  ...

  Further testing didn’t go smoothly. This world, this era, was primitive in its manufacturing processes. Many things felt like luck rather than skill, relying more on experience than precision. From the production environment to more accurate measurements, everything was beyond Bran’s control.

  Bran, once full of enthusiasm, quickly lost patience. Based on his understanding of how magic reacted, he recorded the rough mixing ratios of various materials and kept simple records. He no longer hoped for precise comparisons; recording had become a habit. The warehouse had essentially become a boratory, with all sorts of measurement tools, weights, and more neatly arranged on a rge ptform. This was Bran’s work of the past month, but he felt a sense of going down the wrong path. What had the original purpose been?

  For now, Bran couldn’t ask for too much. Sometimes simplicity was the best approach. He didn’t need to run the fastest, just faster than everyone else. Dani was now both pained and amused, as various weapons passed through her hands, hacked and sliced under Bran's instructions. Fortunately, the concerns Bran had didn’t come to pass. The weapons he created, following the flow of magic, were of great quality. At least, compared to the original weapons, they were overwhelmingly superior. This eased Bran’s worries, especially concerning the weapons given to Aisa and the Duke. He was afraid that when these two were in battle, they would pull out their mighty swords and get cut down by someone else’s bde, turning the whole thing into a farce. Bran seemed to ignore the fact that for skilled knights, distinguishing between weapons was second nature. His worries were rgely unnecessary.

  Bran's actions were often influenced by his past life. In his previous world, the quality of a sword depended on various data, such as the type of steel used, its hardness, and more. He hadn’t yet realized that magic here was far different, and so, he often overthought things. The influence of two different timelines was at py in his life, making him appear somewhat disconnected and, to be blunt, a little absent-minded.

  However, despite his fixation, the past period of busy work hadn’t been without results. Bran was finally able to use his hands more skillfully. He could sense and permeate magic, but when changing specific targets, he still had to make contact. With time, or rather, with habits formed in his previous life, Bran always used his right hand for manipution and his left hand as support. Yet, one day, driven by impatience, he realized he could use both hands at once. He became absorbed in the game of drawing circles with his left hand and squares with his right.

  ...

  It had been two months since Aisa took the two-handed sword from the manor. During these two months, gifts from the knights had gradually arrived. The white wolves in the manor had now grown to more than ten, and they were getting used to the environment, considering the manor their territory. The two leaders of the pack often lounged on the top floor, watching over everything below.

  Bran liked to stand at the door of the warehouse and watch Dani pying with the snow falcons. The manor now had four snow falcons, though Dani was only supposed to receive two. Now, the four falcons hovered around her all day. But Bran didn’t mind; he enjoyed seeing this scene. Dani looked beautiful at that moment, full of spirit.

  In the past few days, Bran had tried to learn horseback riding, but the colts collectively rejected him. Every time he approached, they would turn their backs and start kicking. Dani’s two tall horses were friendly to Bran, but he couldn’t climb onto them. Though the colts became docile when Dani was around, he didn’t want to keep bothering her. There was very little in life that came without effort, and Bran rarely helped with tasks like cutting grass or feeding them. As a result, the horses didn’t feel close to him.