Chương 422: Chapter 410 - Tempering in Silence

The Fourth State, huh? Alonso knew that was the next crucial step in their progression, and that their current SP was, by native standards, the sweet spot for the transition. However, while the others would probably sit down and work through the schematics, for him it would not be that straightforward.

After all, each of his States had been built upon one of his Combat Realms — from the First, Enemy as Self, now renamed as Understanding of Duality, to the Second, Understanding of Intent, and finally the Third, Understanding of Self. The problem was simple: he had yet to reach his Fourth Combat Realm. In truth, he didn't even know what concept he could build upon next. The first had been forged during Pangea, born from combat awareness and perception.

The second had grown from his interactions with Darius and his way of the sword, giving birth to No-Strike. The third had drawn from the beastmen's path, the Way of the World, and had eventually led him to the microcapacitors and Path of Shards. But now… what remained? Should he put an end to this approach and do it the normal way? But… could he? After all, he had started down this path because of his unique condition. He had to synchronise with both Houston and Darius, and all three had to advance at once.

That required something deeper than nodes and structural alignments. It demanded a concept vast enough to encompass three independent minds and three distinct ways of being.

"Are you alright?" Alonso blinked, snapping back to the present as his gaze found Imani.

"Yeah, all good," he replied.

"So, confident you can make it to the Fourth?" Imani looked toward the horizon for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Yes. With time, patience, and repetition, any metal can be forged into a good blade. The body is not so different." Alonso let out a low whistle and smiled.

"That was deep. I like it."

"What about you?" Imani asked, turning fully toward him now. Alonso held his stare for a moment, then exhaled lightly.

"I'll manage… somehow." Imani studied him for a heartbeat longer, as though weighing the words beyond their surface, then gave a small nod.

"Alright then," Imani said.

"Give me your gear. I will speak with Master Forger Berhaim and have him temper it for you."

"Huh?" Alonso blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"My gear? As in… all of it? Do we even have enough coins for that?" Imani allowed himself a small, knowing smile.

"We sold a considerable portion of what we acquired. Leonie entrusted me with our general reserves as well. It should suffice to bring most pieces to at least the Third Tempering. As for your swords…" He paused slightly.

"We secured additional feathers for it. We will bring them to the Fifth." Alonso's eyes widened. He didn't know the exact figures, but he understood well enough how costly it was to temper Grade 4 gear.

"Do we really… have that much?" he asked.

"It's fine," Imani replied calmly.

"I receive a 20% discount as a worker in the blacksmith workshop, and I can temper the others' Grade 3 gear myself. Yours are the only pieces we need to pay for."

"I see," Alonso nodded. It made sense. Even so, it was a considerable investment in him. He felt the weight of it, and the trust that came with it. He adjusted his setup and began removing his gear piece by piece, handing each item to Imani with care. Imani gathered everything, storing part of it in the Storage Bag Alonso had lent him earlier, then gave a final nod and turned to leave. Alonso watched him for a moment before stepping forward slightly.

"By the way… since I don't really have anywhere to be right now… mind if I stick around at the forge for a bit? Might get some fresh ideas while watching you hammer things into submission." Imani gave him a sideways glance, then shrugged with a faint smile.

"The air is thick with smoke and stubbornness. If that inspires you, you are welcome." They made their way through the quieter district of the city, following narrow stone streets worn smooth by years of footsteps and cart wheels. Wooden signs creaked gently above shop entrances, and the scent of fresh bread drifted from a nearby bakery. When they reached the blacksmith's workshop, heat rolled out through the open entrance.

A middle-aged man with a thick moustache and soot-darkened forearms looked up from the outer forge as they approached. His hammer paused mid-swing, and a broad grin spread across his face when he spotted Imani.

"Back already?" he called with an easy grin. Imani inclined his head and laid Alonso's gear across a heavy oak table. The man gave the pieces a quick glance, then turned toward the interior of the workshop and raised his voice.

"Berhaim! Imani's here. Got somethin' for ya!" From the deeper chamber, a bald, broad-shouldered man stepped out, wiping his hands on a dark apron. His eyes were sharp despite the years etched into his face.

"Well now," Berhaim said, voice rough with a lilting edge.

"What've ye dragged in this time, lad?" After a brief exchange and a few firm words, Imani placed a bag filled with tempering materials and a heavy leather pouch of silver coins on the table. Berhaim lifted the pouch, weighed it in his palm, and gave a satisfied nod.

"Aye. That'll do." He rolled his shoulders and set to work without further ceremony. Imani then moved toward an anvil at the back of the workshop, clearly familiar with the space. He set down his shield and warhammer with care, tied an apron around his waist, and selected his tools with steady precision. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

From the Storage Bag and the pack slung over his shoulder, he withdrew a stack of Grade 3 pieces the others had entrusted to him, dozens in total. He arranged them methodically along the bench and brought out the tempering materials corresponding to each item. Then he lifted the first piece, positioned it on the anvil, and began to work. Alonso stood in the corner, quiet, simply watching. For once, his mind did not churn.

There were no spars with Darius, no silent revisions of technique, no replaying of battles frame by frame. He was simply present, standing within the heat and rhythm of the forge. Minutes passed, marked only by the steady fall of the hammer and the layered clang of other blacksmiths at work. Those minutes stretched and softened into hours. The sun shifted across the sky, and long shadows crept through the open entrance of the workshop. One piece after another was tempered, quenched, refined. Alonso did not speak.

He did not retreat inward to his virtual world. He observed reality as it was. The sparks rising and dying in midair. The heat pressing against skin. The glow of metal at the brink of change. The smoke curling upward in slow spirals. Each element part of a whole. Each transformation earned through pressure. Imani glanced at him from time to time as he completed more than a dozen pieces, yet he too said nothing. Hours later, Berhaim stepped forward and placed the tempered gear before Alonso.

(Grade 04, TS: 5) Sky Blades of the Giant-Slayer [+6% PPA, +12% Internal EM conduction] (Grade 04, TS: 3) Ring of the Withered King [+5. 2% PPA, +10. 4% EM wave output] (Grade 04, TS: 3) Hanging Judge's Boots [+5. 2% PPA, +10. 4% Reaction speed] (Grade 04, TS: 3) Hanging Judge's Greaves [+5. 2% PPA, +10. 4% Sensorial perception] (Grade 04, TS: 3) Hanging Judge's Vambraces [+5. 2% PPA, +10. 4% Reaction speed] (Grade 04, TS: 3) Hanging Judge's Vest [+5. 2% PPA, +10. 4% Body durability] (Grade 04, TS: 3) Hanging Judge's Cloak [+5. 2% PPA, +10. 4% Sensorial perception] Alonso accepted them with a quiet word of thanks and began changing into the new set, his movements unhurried. He felt the difference the moment each piece clicked into place, his strength, awareness, clarity, and every aspect of himself rising to a new level. His fingers lingered on the hilts of the blades a moment longer than on the rest.

Beyond the visible enhancements in stats, he could feel the subtler shifts. The EM conduction flowed more smoothly through the metal. The durability felt denser, more compact. The weight had settled into a steadier balance, as though the blades themselves had grown more certain of their purpose. He gave a single, controlled swing. The edge parted the air cleanly, leaving a faint whisper in its wake. Good swords. Imani watched him, hammer resting across his shoulders, posture relaxed.

"So," he asked calmly, "did you find what you were looking for?" Alonso remained silent for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the open doorway where the evening light had turned amber, casting long shadows across the workshop floor.

"No," he said at last, a faint smile touching his lips. Imani gave a small shrug.

"Some answers take their time."

"Indeed, my friend," Alonso replied softly. He secured the last strap and began walking toward the exit. Halfway there, he paused and turned his head slightly.

"I will be leaving Riviera for a while. See you… in some time." Imani met his gaze and smiled. A moment later, he emptied the Storage Bag and tossed it back to him.

"I have a hunch you'll be needing it," he said simply. Alonso caught it and held his friend's gaze for a moment before nodding.

"Take care," Imani said.

"You too."

The room was quiet except for the slow rhythm of their breathing. Alonso leaned over her one last time, brushing his lips against her shoulder, then along the curve of her neck. Ayu tilted her head slightly, eyes half-lidded, fingers tracing lazily down his back as if reluctant to let him go just yet.

"You always look too serious after," she murmured, a faint smile playing on her lips. He huffed softly.

"Do I?"

"Yeah." She reached up and caught his jaw between her fingers, thumb brushing his lower lip.

"Like you're already halfway somewhere else." He held her gaze for a moment, then kissed her, his mouth claiming hers as her grip tightened slightly. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers for a brief second. Then he stood. The air cooled quickly against his skin as he reached for his clothes, movements calm and methodical. Ayu remained on the bed, sheets loosely wrapped around her waist, watching him in silence until he was almost finished.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked. Alonso fastened his belt and the sheaths of his swords.

"I'm not sure."

"That sounds like a long time," she said, smiling… though there was a heaviness behind it. Alonso said nothing. He didn't know what he was looking for himself, nor how long it would take to find it. There were no manuals. No scripts. No written paths for the road he walked. He had to carve his own. Ayu watched him for a long moment. She knew he wasn't going out for a quiet stroll or some peaceful retreat. She knew him well enough to understand what he was about to do. He would push himself.

Push until something gave, again and again, until he either broke or prevailed. Such a path… was painful. And not only for him. Yet… it was his path. And she would not stand in its way. She would stand with him… even when that meant letting him walk ahead alone. When Alonso finished, he looked back at her and smiled. That bright yet gentle smile he reserved only for her. He stepped forward and gave her one last deep kiss. When their lips parted, Ayu felt a pulse brush against her mind.

It carried warmth, and with it those childish visuals they still sent each other. This one showed a cartoon version of herself sitting in meditation, flames rising around her before bursting outward as she launched into the sky and shattered mountains with her fists, laughing as triumphant music blared from nowhere. Alonso grinned. Ayu sent one back. It showed a stylised version of Alonso, shadows and stars flickering around him as he walked a long road with both blades at his sides.

Creatures and monsters rose to block his way, yet he pressed on, step after step. The path grew steeper. The foes grew larger. Still, he advanced. At last, he reached the summit of a towering peak. And there she stood, wrapped in fire, the same cartoonish version he had made of her, smiling as the rest of them appeared behind her, their manifestations unfolding one by one. Together, they turned toward the horizon. Alonso smiled. A whole story told in the span of a breath. And its meaning was clear. He had his path.

He would persevere. And he was not alone. They shared one final look. Then he turned and left. Alonso walked out of the house, then beyond the town, his form wrapped in Path of Shards as he muted his presence… and blurred across the horizon.