"Don’t get ahead of yourself," the instructor said, voice sharp but not unkind. "You’re not crafting that gauntlet yet. You’re here to learn first."
Lee beckoned him over to another workbench, this one littered with strange tools and what looked like broken scraps of enchanted gear.
"You want to handle a ceremonial gauntlet?" Lee said, setting down a thick iron rod etched with runes. "You’ll need to understand more than just heating and hammering."
"You’re book-smart," he said finally. "I can tell. But have you ever actually handled mana before?"
Elias hesitated, then shook his head. "Not directly."
Lee gave a low grunt. "Thought so. Then forget the hammer for now. We start with basics."
He reached over to the cluttered table and picked up a plain iron rod — no enchantments, no fancy alloys. Just iron.
"Mana," Lee said, "is life. Energy that flows through everything. The ground. The air. Metal."
He tapped the rod lightly against the table.
"Not every metal holds it equally. Some reject it. Some drink it in. Some... adapt."
Lee set the rod down and grabbed two small, rough nuggets from a tray — one a dull gray lump, the other faintly shimmering even under the forge's dim light.
"This," he said, holding up the dull nugget, "is plain Ghost Iron. Nothing special yet. This" — he lifted the shimmering one — "is the same metal, but attuned."
"Attuned how?" Elias asked, narrowing his eyes.
Lee grinned faintly. "By absorbing ambient mana, over years. Sometimes centuries. When a material naturally absorbs enough mana of a certain affinity — fire, water, earth, whatever — it changes. It becomes... more."
He tossed Elias a small, battered vial half-filled with a translucent liquid.
"Mana-reactive oil," Lee explained. "Drip it on metal. Watch how the mana responds. It's a basic test to find out if a piece is attuned — and to what."
Elias uncorked the vial carefully, dripping a single bead onto the dull Ghost Iron first.
Nothing.
The oil just sat there, glistening.
Then he dropped a bead onto the shimmering nugget.
Instantly, the oil spread outward in a ripple of soft white light, almost like frost creeping across glass.
"That ripple means attunement," Lee said. "This piece is Air-aligned. Subtle. Light. Good for speed-enhancing enchantments."
Elias stared, fascinated.
"So affinities aren't something you add," he said slowly. "They're... already there?"
Lee nodded. "Exactly. You can nudge a material toward an affinity during special forging processes, but it’s tough. Natural attunement is prized because it’s stable. Predictable."
He pulled out a rough list and slapped it onto the table between them — a simple chart scribbled in neat handwriting.
Basic Affinity Reactions:
- Fire: Oil ignites briefly, leaving scorch marks.
- Water: Oil beads up and rolls off unnaturally fast.
- Earth: Oil sinks inward like it's being absorbed.
- Air: Oil ripples outward quickly.
Elias absorbed every word like a sponge. It wasn't complicated once laid out plainly — but it opened a whole new world.
And Lee wasn't done.
"Most smiths can't afford to specialize," he said. "They learn a little about everything. But if you want to really craft with magic-bearing metals?"
He jabbed a finger at Elias’s chest.
"You need to feel mana. Shape it the same way you shape heat or weight. Otherwise, you’re just bashing expensive scrap."
Elias nodded slowly.
It made sense.
Too much sense, really.
Lee smirked, seeing the understanding in his eyes.
Lee paused, almost as if debating with himself, then grabbed a small chunk of another metal from a different box.
This one shimmered strangely — not just one color or feel, but two at once. Almost like looking at mist caught in sunlight.
"Since you’re learning fast," he said gruffly, "might as well teach you this too. Advanced affinities."
He set the chunk down carefully in front of Elias.
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"Some materials absorb more than one type of mana. When that happens, you get compound affinities."
He pointed at the shimmering metal.
"This here’s a natural Light-affinity ore. Light is a blend — Fire and Air mana, harmonized just right."
Elias leaned in closer, studying it.
"And if the balance is wrong?"
Lee chuckled. "Then you just get a mess. Flickering energy. Instability. At best, the material refuses enchantment. At worst? It fractures the first time someone swings it."
He grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled a rough diagram:
Basic Compound Affinities:
- Light = Fire + Air
- Ice = Water + Air
- Lava = Fire + Earth
- Poison = Water + Earth
- Storm = Air + Lightning
"Advanced materials," Lee said, tapping the paper, "are rarer. Harder to find. Stupidly expensive. And unless you really know what you’re doing, harder to work without ruining them."
He gave Elias a sharp look.
"Which is why most crafters eventually specialize in an affinity after learning the basics of them all.
Elias responded “Alright,I think i understand now.”
"Good. Now," he said, rolling up his sleeves, "let's get you dirty."
He picked up the Ghost Iron and Mirror Nickel, tossing them onto the anvil with a metallic clatter.
"Your first real lesson: bonding two mana-reactive metals without blowing up the forge."
Elias straightened, eyes narrowing as he studied the two metals.
Ghost Iron was faintly pale, almost translucent in certain lights. Mirror Nickel, on the other hand, gleamed like polished glass, unnaturally reflective even under the forge's dull glow.
"First thing," Lee said, folding his arms, "you don’t just mash 'em together and hope for the best. Mana-reactive metals hate being forced. You have to coax them into bonding."
Elias nodded, setting the Ghost Iron into the furnace first. The temperature had to be just right—too hot, and Ghost Iron would shatter internally. Too cool, and it wouldn't meld at all.
As the metal heated, Lee continued, voice calm but sharp.
"Always remember: when working with mana-reactive materials, listen to them, there is always some sort of sign often verbal or visual when they are ready to be molded.
Elias leaned in, focusing. Sure enough, there was a faint, almost imperceptible thrumming building as the Ghost Iron warmed.
"Now, add the Mirror Nickel. Slowly. Let them talk to each other first."
Following instructions, Elias carefully introduced the Mirror Nickel to the furnace. A different vibration filled the air—lighter, sharper, like a high-pitched whistle.
"They're... arguing," Elias muttered without thinking.
Lee chuckled. "Exactly. If you force the bond now, they'll crack apart. You have to ease them into harmony."
He demonstrated with a small motion, rotating his wrist as if folding something delicate.
"Use your mana. Lightly, not directly—imagine you’re... smoothing tension between two old rivals."
Elias hesitated, frowning slightly.
"How... exactly do I do that?" he asked.
Lee blinked once. Then twice.
"You don’t know how to thread mana into a material?"
Elias shook his head slowly. "No one ever taught me."
Lee stared at him for a long moment, a complicated expression crossing his face—half disbelief, half something almost like awe.
"You’re telling me," Lee said slowly, voice flat, "that you've been forging at this level without even weaving mana into your work?"
Elias shrugged, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
"I just... work the metal. Listen to it. Shape it."
Lee let out a low whistle and muttered under his breath, "Monsters come in all shapes, huh."
He shook his head, then straightened.
"Alright, forget finesse for now. Basics. Mana is like another limb. You have to feel it, not force it."
He reached out, tapping Elias lightly on the chest.
"Start here. Focus on your core. Picture a small flame—or a well, or whatever image works for you. Pull a thread of that energy up. Light, steady. Not a flood."
Elias frowned, closing his eyes. It was harder than it sounded—like trying to flex a muscle he didn’t know he had.
After a few awkward moments, something stirred inside him. A faint current, sluggish but real.
"Good," Lee said, seeing the slight tension in Elias’s posture shift. "Now, guide that thread through your arm, into your hand."
It felt like trying to push warm smoke through a hose.
But slowly—slowly—Elias managed it. A faint warmth spread to his fingertips.
"Now brush the metals with it," Lee instructed. "Don't shove it. Brush, like you're wiping dust off glass."
Elias obeyed, a thin trickle of mana trailing from his fingertips toward the two heated metals.
Immediately, he felt something shift—the resonance between the Ghost Iron and Mirror Nickel smoothed, the sharp dissonance fading slightly.
Lee grunted in approval.
"There. Now they're actually willing to listen to you."
Elias let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain.
Lee watched him closely, still clearly baffled.
"You've got instincts better than half the ranked crafters in the city. And you did it blind."
He crossed his arms, studying Elias like a strange new puzzle.
"You realize that most smiths spend years just learning to get a metal to listen to them. You’ve been doing it raw. No wonder your mundane work is so sharp—you’ve basically been walking without realizing you had legs."
Elias just gave a small, sheepish shrug.
"I just... followed what felt right."
Lee chuckled, the sound low and rough.
"Feels right? Kid, you’re either a natural-born freak or the gods dropped you off early."
He straightened.
"Either way, from now on, you’re using mana properly. No excuses."
He jabbed a finger toward the billet forming between the two metals.
"Now, guide them the rest of the way. You’ve got a thread. Time to start weaving."