After a pleasant lunch eaten on the sun-warmed rocks at the top of Yavin Falls, the group followed a shortcut back to the city—one that Fergis insisted shaved off nearly half the time. Whether or not that was true, it did bring them back early. The sun still sat high as they reached the Ironheart Estate.
Dhalia paused at the doors, stretching her arms overhead. "Who wants to train with me? Starting tomorrow."
Clara, her freckled face still glowing from laughter and roasted venison, raised a hand. "Me. Yesterday's running killed me."
Fergis gave an exaggerated groan. "Count me in. If we don't stay ahead of Elohan's madness, he'll start making us fight blindfolded."
Cane offered a shrug. "I'll join whenever I can. But my focus has to be on HAV production—navy's waiting."
Instead of heading inside, Cane peeled off his shirt and crossed the courtyard toward the forge. He slipped on his leather apron, muscles aching with anticipation.
Inside, everything he'd asked Sophie to acquire had been neatly arranged on the workbench: several small bars of rare metals and a large glass jar filled with light amber oil.
He pulled the cork and let a drop run across his finger. "Good," he muttered. The fluid was almost like cooking oil—low viscosity, non-conductive. Exactly what he needed.
"Zio's personality is electric enough without frying everyone she touches," he muttered with a wry grin. Her static charge had been growing stronger lately. Harmless now, but if it escalated? Accidental discharges could get serious.
He focused.
Cane remembered an old smithing technique that used electrical charge with goldwork—he didn't know the exact method, but he remembered the warnings. Use too much, and it ruined the metal. That's where limiters came in.
"Aluminum casing, copper coil, dielectric oil to absorb the excess," he murmured. "I'll do better—platinum for both."
He summoned a large bowl from his storage ring and poured in the oil.
Then, from his pouch, he withdrew a single platinum coin.
Gripping it, he sank into the metal.
Platinum welcomed him like an old friend—resplendent, steady, noble in its strength. It gleamed silver-bright in his mind's eye, brilliant without glare.
He unmuted the metal with the soft ring of bells—a familiar, grounding sound. The platinum responded, flowing and reshaping into dozens of narrow tubes, each less than an inch long. Hollowed and smoothed, they slid one by one into the bowl, submerging into the light oil.
Next came the coils—delicate, hair-thin spirals woven into the core of each tube. He took his time, meticulous with the shaping. Then he sealed both ends, rounding the edges, reinforcing the outer shell.
The final step was a meld—not deep enough to disturb the oil chamber, but just enough to bind the tubes into a flexible matrix. A wide, elegant bracer began to take form, designed to slide up the wrist and rest on the forearm.
Cane withdrew gently, correcting imperfections and purging any trace impurities on the way out.
When his eyes opened, the forge had gone quiet. Two things greeted him: the glint of polished platinum, and Sophie Sweetwater, watching from the doorway.
Sophie blushed as he caught her staring. "I was watching you work," she admitted. "It's… soothing. Like music."
Cane smiled, brushing sweat from his brow. "Let me see your arm."
She stepped forward without hesitation, extending her arm.
"You're so trusting," he said.
"I trust you," Sophie replied simply. "That's certain."
Cane slipped the bracer over her hand and eased it up to her forearm, adjusting the fit. "Just checking the dimensions. This is for Zio."
Sophie looked down at it, brow raised. "Looks beautiful. What is it?"
"Residual energy displacement um… thing," Cane said, then sighed. "Honestly, I don't even know how to label it yet. But if it works, it should bleed off her static charge before it builds to something dangerous."
"Smart," Sophie said. "Zio's probably the only one who could accidentally zap someone unconscious."
"I'll call this RED for short," Cane chuckled. "Let's make sure it doesn't come to that."
"Looks like the staff is lined up again," Sophie said, fingers laced with Cane's as they walked toward the gate.
Cane gave a light nod. "Rift's about to open. Maybe they're sending us off."
Sure enough, the shimmer of mana began to form a few meters ahead. As they approached, Relen stepped forward, composed and smiling.
"We look forward to your safe return, sir."
Cane offered a hand in farewell. "Thank you again—for everything."
Behind him, the double doors burst open. Clara, Fergis, and Dhalia came sprinting out, all of them bleary-eyed and disheveled.
"You all look like you just rolled out of bed," Cane said, grinning.
"We did," Fergis muttered, brushing hair out of his eyes.
Cane gave the staff a final wave and stepped through the rift, the others following close behind.
The dream had changed again.
No longer filled with fever or cries, the chamber held only quiet awe.
The infant no longer wailed. His limbs shimmered faintly—traced with silver-threaded veins, pulsing gently with light. His skin glowed with a warmth that mirrored the moonlit sheen of mithril.
The young parents sat close, faces alight with quiet wonder.
The old priest entered, robes brushing the floor, eyes fixed on the child.
"He's passed," the priest said simply. "He's one with the metal now. We will hold the naming at dusk."
Cane opened his eyes slowly. This dream felt… different.
No breathless panic. No clenching fear.
Just calm.
He sat up, rubbing the center of his palm. "Hair-thin… right into the flesh," he murmured.
The idea lingered. He could forge something like that—maybe something more.
But there wasn't time to dwell.
He dressed quickly and jogged down the stairs, past the sleeping quiet of the main hall, and out into the early morning air.
At the front gate, Clara, Fergis, and Dhalia were already stretching, bundled in light layers, huffing against the bite of the coastal breeze.
"CANE!" Dhalia called with mock exasperation. "Thanks for showing up."
Cane laughed. "How could I miss this?"
He led them down the familiar narrow trail that twisted toward the shoreline. Morning surf hissed in the distance, and the scent of brine and sea grass filled the air.
They reached the edge of the coast and turned left, jogging parallel to the waves. The rhythm was easy—steady.
After a few miles, Cane slowed to a stop at the base of a soft incline.
"That wasn't too bad," Dhalia said, catching her breath. Her hair was tied back, cheeks pink from the run.
"Do what you can," Cane told them. "Every bit helps."
He picked up a large stone and hoisted it overhead, then began walking slowly uphill.
Fergis mirrored him, grumbling under his breath, but keeping pace.
"I'll do five," Dhalia said, selecting a rock she could manage. Clara joined with her own, smaller weight in hand.
They climbed and descended in quiet determination. After an hour, Cane dropped his rock with a satisfied thud and dusted his palms.
The four of them turned back toward the estate, the morning sun warming their backs, the trail ahead easing with each step.
It hadn't been enough to exhaust them—but it was enough.
They were stronger today than they'd been yesterday.
And that was the point.
A while later, Cane, Dhalia, and Clara made their way toward History of Magic class. Two of them dragged their feet, wondering how they'd stay awake. The third—Clara—looked forward to napping.
Halfway down the hall, Cane spotted Zio leaning against the wall near the stairwell and waved her over. "Got something for you," he said.
Zio approached with the casual grace of someone who didn't like surprises and kept her hands carefully tucked behind her. "Food, maybe? I skipped breakfast."
Cane grinned and shook his head. "Better. RED."
Zio blinked. "Red?"
"Residual Energy Displacer," Cane said, handing her the sleek bracer he'd forged in the capital. "Slip it on—hand to forearm. Might take a little time to sync up."
Zio's eyes lit up—not because she thought it would work, but because someone had gone out of their way for her. "Thank you, Cane!"
She turned it over in her hands, admiring the fine craftsmanship. "Wow… It's really pretty, too. If this whole cadet thing doesn't pan out, you might have a future as a jeweler."
Cane chuckled. "Maybe so."
They walked the rest of the way together, parting ways just outside the classroom. Inside, Professor Wallen greeted them with a wide smile the moment he spotted Cane, which made both Clara and Dhalia exchange raised eyebrows.
Clara pressed the psi-rune behind her ear.
Clara:You and Wallen buddies now?
Cane: I guess? He's got two nephews in the navy and asked if I'd make them HAVs.
Dhalia:He did? What did you say?
Cane: I said yes. Of course.
Regardless of the favor, Cane still found himself fighting to stay awake. He occasionally shook his head to stay focused, but the lecture's slow cadence wasn't helping.
Clara, meanwhile, was fully committed to her plan. Her head rested on her hand, pen poised over an open notebook, breathing slow and even.
"Amazing," Dhalia whispered. "She's like a golem with a sleep enchantment. Just… clicks off."
Before Cane could reply, a familiar voice chimed from the overhead crystal.
"Good morning, everyone! This is Sophie Sweetwater, coming to you live from Sun Tower with your morning announcements."
Even Wallen paused, leaning against the podium as Sophie's bright voice filled the room.
"On the war front: With the Scorpion Strait blockade destroyed, both supply and commerce lines have been reestablished.
Fleet Admiral Rhiati had this to say: 'Every person in the Easternlands should personally thank Cane Ironheart and the brilliant students of the Magi Academy. Mark this day in your memory as the one that changed everything."
Heads turned toward Cane.
He smiled at his notes, not looking up.
"In Academy news: Students in the Advanced Metallurgy Class will receive placards for excellence, along with a banner to be hung outside the Main Crafts building.
And on the local front: It's Recycle Metal Day! Please take your metal scraps to the forge on the outskirts of town. This is Sophie Sweetwater reminding you—if you see someone without a smile, give them yours. I'll be back this afternoon with updates!"
The room gave a small round of polite applause, with a few students glancing toward Cane. He kept his eyes on his notes.
In Advanced Tactics class, Zio leaned back against the base of a wide oak, her thoughts still on Sophie's voice. There was something about it—soft but sure, like she really meant what she said. It made people relax around her.
They were deep in the woods again. Instructor Giya never explained why he held class out here, but no one complained.
"Zio," he called, "you were on the Twisted Snake operation. Tell us what happened."
Zio sat up. "Two scouts on deck. We took them out at the same time. We had a telekinetic standing by to muffle the noise."
Giya nodded. "A small but critical detail. Letting the guards fall to the deck or drop their weapons might have forced a full engagement. Was that Siya's idea?"
Zio shook her head. "Nope. Cane's. He had the whole thing planned out. Steps, backups, fallback signals—he even had a protocol for what to do if the ship raised the alarm before we were in place."
"He didn't ask for tactical feedback?" Giya asked, one eyebrow lifted.
"He did," Zio said with a shrug. "But no one had anything to add. It was tight. Cleanest op I've been on."
Siya, perched on a stump nearby, gave a quiet nod. "He deserves the credit. I've run quite a few ops, and I've never had one go smoother."
Zio glanced down at her hand, half-expecting the usual flickers of static. None came.
Grinning, she reached out and grabbed Yuta's arm.
There was no spark, no yelp. Just a frown.
Yuta stared at her, unamused. "You're lucky I like you."
Zio just grinned wider and flexed her arm. "This thing might really work."