Today again, the forge was dominated by the sound of steel clashing, shouts, sparks, and heat.

When I first came here, Alice had mentioned something about the "festival work" in our conversation, and now it seemed to be reaching its climax. The blacksmiths were hammering away at the steel with an almost frenzied intensity, sending sparks flying. Compared to them, the master of this forge, Eisel, was taking things at an almost leisurely pace.

“Here, pour your magic and blood into this magic steel... as much as you’ve got.”

“Are you trying to kill me…? Well, I’ll do it as much as I can…”

I placed my hands on the half-forged magic steel and poured magic and blood into it until Eisel gave his approval. "Pouring"—though the steel itself didn’t literally absorb the blood. Magic was a different matter... or so the dwarf beside me had said. But that kind of knowledge was beyond me. I had no expertise in it, so I couldn’t say for sure. Either way, there was no point in overthinking it. My job was to do as I was told and leave the rest to the professionals.

After spending several days frequenting Eisel’s personal workshop—complete with an anvil and a roaring forge—the initial awkwardness I had felt about stepping into this place began to fade. Still, I could never quite get used to the stark contrast between his emotions and those of everyone around him.

—Well, considering I practically begged him to make me a sword, I wasn’t really in a position to say anything.

On one hand, the others were exhausted from preparing for the festival day after day. On the other, Eisel was pouring his time and skill into forging a single sword for a single client, hammering away at the steel with relentless dedication. Both were engaged in backbreaking labor, neither more noble than the other. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel it.

“I-I'm gonna die…!!”

“Hold on! If you slack off, the master will kill you for real!!”

“HUUUHHHHH—WORK IS THE BESTTTTTT!!”

The reactions were so wildly different. The other blacksmiths were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work, practically on the verge of madness—or rather, they were already half-mad and about to collapse.

“……”

Meanwhile, the man in front of me continued hammering the magic steel I had infused with blood and magic. He was utterly silent, yet his strikes were fierce and unrelenting.

As if nothing else mattered—no screams, no crackling flames—his mind was entirely consumed by the act of forging, as if thinking of anything else would mean his death.

“…He’s completely insane.”

The words slipped out, my face involuntarily twitching. It wasn’t an insult. Quite the opposite—I held the man before me in the deepest respect and awe.

To be able to dedicate oneself so entirely to a craft, to reach such mastery… It wasn’t something you saw every day. Even if our fields were different, that single-minded focus, that hunger—almost an obsession—was something I could understand.

“Alright, one more time.”

After several rounds of forging, I poured my blood and magic into the now-brilliantly glowing steel once more. Of course, this time, I didn’t touch it directly. If I did, my right hand would be charred in an instant.

“…Yeah.”

I poured for longer than the first time, watching as my blood evaporated upon contact with the searing steel. The moment it hit, it disappeared into steam, making me wonder if it was even having an effect. But I shook off my doubts and focused everything I had into the task.

The man before me was pouring his entire life into his craft, forging with everything he had. If that was the case, then I, too, had to answer with my all. I continued to offer my blood and magic without hesitation until he was satisfied.

How much time had passed? The sun, which had once shone so brightly overhead, had vanished, replaced by a pale moon peeking through the clouds. Before I knew it, only one forge remained lit—that of Eisel’s workshop. The blacksmiths who had been crying out earlier had already finished their work for the day.

“You can go home now. I’ll finish the rest. Come pick it up in three days.”

Suddenly, Eisel spoke, marking the abrupt end of our session. But by now, I had gotten used to his way of doing things.

“Got it. I’ll leave it to you.”

“Yeah.”

Though it was an end for me, Eisel showed no signs of stopping. He remained by the forge and anvil, eyes locked onto the steel, barely sparing a word in response.

I had heard that ever since he took on my request, he had barely slept, spending his days entirely within the forge. He often lost sleep over his work, they said, but this time was different—he had been at it longer than usual, and even the other blacksmiths were worried.

As his client, I felt that he didn’t need to push himself this far. But after seeing the way he worked, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“Good… good… You’re going to be a dragon-slaying sword…!!”

It was clear that Eisel was exhausted, his body on the verge of collapse. And yet, he was smiling. As if this was the greatest joy in the world.

“They say love makes the master… Seems that saying holds true.”

Few could match Eisel’s devotion to blacksmithing. This man had poured his very soul into his craft.

—I can’t compare to that.

The years of dedication, the sheer depth of his passion… Even though our fields were different, I knew I couldn’t match his intensity—not yet. It was a reminder that I had to push myself further.

—Until I was worthy of the sword he was forging.

With the sound of clashing steel behind me, I left the forge. There was nothing more I could do here. If I stayed, I would only get in his way.

“Let’s go, Freesia.”

“Hnn… Is it over?”

On my way out, I retrieved Freesia, who had fallen asleep in the workshop’s lounge at some point.

As expected, she couldn’t handle the heat. She had quietly retreated to a more comfortable spot, unable to bear the long hours of watching steel being hammered while occasionally supplying blood and magic.

“You know, you could’ve gone home first.”

She stretched with a yawn and shook her head.

“No way. Who knows? Maybe you were planning to sneak off to some shady shop.”

“I keep telling you—I’m not going to any shady shops.”

Seriously, was she still suspicious of that?

Grumbling at the continued false accusations, we left the workshop behind. I couldn’t wait for the sword to be finished.