Chapter 344 - "Blades of Cosmos"

The forge crackled and roared around them, rivers of molten metal hissing softly as they flowed through carved channels in the stone floor. Sparks leapt with every breath of the furnace, and the air pressed heavy against the skin, thick with heat and iron.

Durgan and Thrain were still staring at Luca.

Not aggressively. Not dismissively.

But with the kind of attention reserved for something that had just violated common sense.

Luca let the silence stretch for a heartbeat longer—just enough.

Then he lifted his hand.

The ring on his finger caught the forge-light, a simple band at first glance, unassuming. He slipped it off slowly and held it between his fingers, raising it to eye level.

"How about this?" he said.

Durgan frowned immediately.

Thrain blinked once.

For a long second, neither spoke.

Then Durgan snorted. "Have the hammers finally knocked sense out of your head, boy?"

Thrain crossed his arms, gaze sharp. "What do you mean?"

Luca smiled.

Not smug. Not arrogant.

Just... confident.

He turned slightly and reached into the air beside him.

There was no bag. No pouch. No container.

His hand vanished into nothing.

A breath later, he pulled out a solid ingot—dense, metallic, still faintly warm from some earlier forging. He let it drop into his palm with a dull thunk.

Thrain’s eyes widened.

Before either dwarf could react, Luca casually tossed the ingot back toward the empty space—

—and it vanished.

Gone.

The forge seemed to hold its breath.

Durgan’s brow furrowed deeply. He leaned forward a fraction, eyes narrowing as if trying to see through the air itself.

"...What," he said slowly, "did you just do?"

Thrain didn’t answer.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.

"...No," he muttered. "That’s not—"

Luca held up the ring between his fingers again.

Durgan’s eyes snapped to it.

Realization hit both dwarves at the same time.

"Storage artifact," they muttered together.

Luca nodded, perfectly satisfied.

Thrain staggered back a step.

Then another.

"...No," he said again, louder this time. "No no no no no—this isn’t possible."

He dragged a hand through his beard, eyes wild now, pupils sharp with obsession.

"How?" he demanded of the air itself. "How is this possible? No dwarven forge—no rune lattice—no spatial anchor has ever been able to—"

He turned in a slow circle, gesturing wildly.

"Why is this in the hands of a human?"

"Why hasn’t a dwarf made this?"

"Why, gods above and below, WHY—"

He stopped abruptly and rounded on Luca.

"What is this?!"

Durgan stepped forward, extending a hand. "Give it here. Let me see it."

Luca didn’t hesitate.

He flicked the ring toward Durgan casually.

Durgan caught it—

"Hand it over."

Thrain moved faster than anyone would have thought possible.

His hand snapped out, snatching the ring from Durgan’s grasp mid-motion. Durgan stiffened, half-offended, half-amused.

"Oi—"

Thrain wasn’t listening.

He was already examining it.

Turning it. Tilting it. Holding it close to the forge-light, squinting at the surface as if the metal itself might confess its secrets.

"...Runes," he muttered. "Yes, spatial compression glyphs—but this structure—this flow—no, that’s wrong—"

He flipped it, inspecting the inner band.

"...These transitions shouldn’t be stable," he whispered. "The collapse rate alone should—"

His hands trembled.

Finally, slowly, he lowered the ring and looked at Luca.

For the first time, he looked... lost.

"How did you get this, boy?" Thrain asked quietly.

"Who made it?"

"Tell me. Quickly."

Luca met his gaze calmly.

"Can I get some black mythrill?"

Thrain’s jaw clenched.

His teeth ground audibly.

For a moment, it looked like he might explode.

Then—he nodded.

Once. Decisively.

"Yes."

Luca pointed at himself.

Thrain frowned. "What?"

"I made it," Luca said simply. "Well—me and the Tower Master. But without me..." He shrugged lightly. "No one else could make it."

Thrain stared at him.

Then his eyes narrowed—not in anger, but realization.

"...Your space element," he said.

Luca nodded.

Durgan exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You really do possess a miraculous element."

For once, there was no mockery in his voice.

Thrain rubbed his face with both hands, then laughed—short, sharp, disbelieving.

"Space and time," he muttered. "You really are absurd."

He looked back at Luca. "How did you do it?"

Luca thought for a moment, then explained calmly.

"When I use Moonslayer, I expand my meridians internally," he said. "Not to increase output—but to increase capacity. I thought... if I can expand space inside my body, why not inside an artifact?"

Thrain listened intently.

So did Durgan.

"So I shaped the internal space first," Luca continued, "then anchored it with runes. The ring doesn’t store things—it makes room for them."

Silence followed.

Both dwarves slowly nodded, understanding dawning piece by piece.

Then Durgan’s eyes sharpened.

"...Did you use the same principle to endure the hammers?"

Thrain’s head snapped up.

His eyes widened.

"...So that’s it," he breathed.

Luca nodded again.

The forge roared on around them.

And between fire, metal, and impossible ideas—

Two ancient dwarves stared at a human who had rewritten rules they had spent lifetimes obeying.

The forge roared steadily, heat pressing in from every direction as Elder Thrain finally tore his gaze away from the ring and fixed it squarely on Luca.

"...So," Thrain said slowly, eyes sharp again, smith’s instincts fully awake, "how do you plan to exchange for the black mythrill?"

Luca paused.

He leaned slightly on his crutches, thinking—not rushing, not posturing. Then his eyes lifted.

"How about this," he said. "I’ll create storage rings. A few of them. With the help of a dwarven forge."

Thrain stiffened.

Luca continued calmly, "Of course, I can’t stay here long. The most I can do is set the process—teach the method, guide the forging, stabilize the runic framework. After that, it’s up to you."

The forge seemed to quiet for a fraction of a second.

Thrain’s eyes widened—genuinely, unguardedly.

"...Are you," he asked slowly, "are you willing to share the process with the dwarves?"

Luca nodded without hesitation.

"Yes."

There was no arrogance in it. No false generosity.

He knew the truth.

Without his space element, no one could actually complete a functional ring alone. But for the tech-mad dwarves—the method itself, the theory, the attempt—was priceless.

Thrain sucked in a sharp breath.

Then he laughed.

A deep, booming laugh that echoed off the forge walls, startling sparks from the furnace.

"Done!" he declared, slamming his hammer down onto the anvil. "Hah! Done! You drive a hard bargain, boy—but one I gladly accept!"

His expression sharpened instantly, professional again.

"So," Thrain asked, already halfway into the future, "what do you want to forge?"

Luca’s posture straightened.

His eyes hardened—not cold, but focused.

"An armor set," he said. "One that suits me. And my twin sabers."

Thrain nodded once. "Then let me see them."

Luca reached into his own storage ring without hesitation.

The twin sabers emerged from it—dark, bright, their presence immediately shifting the mana flow in the forge. He handed them over carefully.

Thrain took them.

He looked at the sabers.

Then at Luca.

Then back at the sabers.

Then at Luca again.

"...Just where in all the hells," Thrain muttered, "do you get this kind of treasure, boy?"

Luca answered honestly, "From the academy weapon selection ceremony."

Thrain blinked.

Then nodded slowly. "...I see."

He studied the sabers again, tracing the edge with his eyes, feeling the pressure they exerted on the world around them. Then he sighed—long, heavy, almost regretful.

"...Such a waste."

Luca frowned immediately. "What do you mean?"

Thrain glanced up at him. "The way you’ve been handling these treasures," he said bluntly, "is wasteful."

Luca stared. "...Huh?"

"These," Thrain continued, lifting the sabers slightly, "are blades of the cosmos itself."

The forge-light reflected strangely along their edges.

"The cosmos will nurture them," Thrain said. "They are meant to be placed within it. There, they will grow. Evolve. Become far stronger than they are now."

Luca’s confusion deepened. "Placing them... in the cosmos?"

Thrain didn’t explain.

He simply handed the sabers back.

Luca took them absentmindedly, mind still stuck on the words blades of the cosmos, his thoughts spiraling into questions he didn’t yet have answers for.

As he did, Thrain spoke again.

"Your armor," the elder said firmly, "I will forge it myself."

Luca’s eyes widened.

For a heartbeat, he forgot the heat, the pain, everything.

Then he nodded deeply. "Thank you, Elder Thrain."

Thrain waved him off gruffly. "Go. I need time. And quiet."

Luca bowed once more, then turned, motioning for Durgan as he began to leave the forge.

They had taken only a few steps when—

"Durgan," Thrain said.

Durgan stopped immediately.

Thrain’s gaze hardened as he looked at the older dwarf. "You stay. I have something to discuss with you."

Durgan narrowed his eyes slightly but nodded. "...Very well."

Luca glanced back once.

At the blazing forge.

At Elder Thrain.

At Durgan, standing still as stone.

A giant question mark practically hovered over his head.

And with that thought, Luca stepped out of the forge—unaware that behind him, two ancient dwarves were about to have a conversation that would ripple far beyond stone and fire.