The next three days melted into a new rhythm, an industrial pulse that redefined life in the clearing.
The sound of dawn was no longer the song of Pidoves, but the Fuuu-WHOOSH of Kael starting to stoke the fire in the forge. It was followed by the rhythmic CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! of Seiko and Tyla, a heavy hammer and a light one, striking metal in a cadence of work.
It became the new religion, and iron was its only sacrament.
The Earth Team, now made up of six of the strongest young warriors, made the round trip to the ore vein twice a day, their baskets loaded with the 'blood of the mountain'.
The Smoke Team, under the obsessive direction of Rorin and Tama, had perfected the construction of the charcoal mounds. The clearing was now perpetually under a light haze of sweet wood smoke, and the piles of shiny black charcoal grew every day.
But the heart of the camp was the forge.
Tyla was paying the price of her apprenticeship. By the second day, her hands were covered in blisters that broke and bled, only for her to wrap them in strips of leather and keep striking. Her shoulders, accustomed to the quick tension of a bow, now burned with the dull ache of endurance work.
Seiko gave her no respite.
"Cold!" he would shout, signaling that the metal had lost its forging heat. "Don't strike cold metal! You're wasting your strength and cracking the iron! Back to the fire!"
"Slower!" he yelled at her on the next attempt. "You are striking before my hammer is up! We are a team! Feel the rhythm! One-two, one-two!"
"It's not a dance, Tyla!" he roared when she missed a strike and hit the stone anvil, sending a sharp pain up her arm and splintering her hammer. "It is a fight! Control the hammer or the hammer will control you!"
Tyla gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with tears of frustration and smoke. She said nothing. She simply picked up the spare hammer, nodded to Kael to stoke the fire, and waited for the metal to glow again.
Seiko watched her. 'She is tough,' he thought. 'Tougher than the iron she is striking.'
Acies had become an indispensable part of the process. The Pawniard moved around the forge like a priest in a temple. He held the tongs, stabilized the metal, and watched every strike with predatory intelligence. He seemed to thrive in the stifling heat, his metallic body shining with an oily luster from the smoke and soot.
On the afternoon of the third day, they were working on the third spearhead. This was the largest one yet, designed for Kael's own spear. The work was heavy, and Tyla was reaching her absolute limit.
"Heat!" ordered Seiko. "One last time! Let's define the edge!"
Kael pumped the bellows, sending a blast of white air that made the forge roar. Seiko and Tyla shoved the metal into the heart of the flame.
"Now!" shouted Seiko.
They pulled the incandescent spear out. Tyla positioned herself, her muscles trembling from the effort of three days.
Seiko struck first, flattening the edge. 'CLANG!'
Tyla followed. 'Clang!'
The rhythm was good. 'CLANG! clang! CLANG! clang!'
They were in the zone, the sweat, the smoke, and the sound binding them in a single purpose. The metal was thinning perfectly.
"Almost!" shouted Seiko. "One harder strike, Tyla! Here!"
Tyla braced herself. She raised the hammer higher than usual, putting her whole body weight into it.
But exhaustion betrayed her. Her hands slipped on the sweaty handle. The blow, instead of hitting flat, hit the edge of the metal at an angle.
'SKREEE!'
The hammer rebounded violently. The spearhead, struck sideways, jumped from Seiko's tongs. It flew through the air, a red-hot projectile, spinning directly toward Tyla.
Tyla screamed and fell backward, raising her arms to protect her face.
Time seemed to freeze.
Kael shouted. Seiko lunged forward, but he was too far away.
And Acies moved.
The Pawniard didn't jump to protect Seiko. He didn't jump to protect Tyla. He jumped toward the spear.
He moved faster than Seiko had ever seen him move. In a blur of black steel, he intercepted the spearhead in mid-air. His claws didn't try to grab it; his blades deployed.
With a metallic SHRIIIING, Acies struck the spear in the air, parrying it.
The red-hot spearhead hit the dirt ground, bouncing harmlessly.
Tyla lay on the ground, breathing hard, unharmed.
Seiko spun toward Acies, his heart in his throat. "Acies! Are you...?"
Acies landed on the ground between Tyla and the forge. He straightened up, not like the small broken Pokémon Seiko had found, but with a stance of absolute power.
And then, the light enveloped him.
It wasn't a soft light. It was a harsh, bright white light, like the flash of magnesium, like the heart of the forge.
Tyla sat up, her eyes wide. Kael stopped pumping the bellows, his mouth open.
Acies's body stretched, growing in height. The blades on his arms lengthened, becoming sharper, crueler. The blades on his torso fused and grew, forming segmented plate armor (armour). The helmet on his head became more complex, sharper, like the visor of a dark knight.
The light faded, revealing the new being.
He was no longer a foot soldier. He was a commander. A Bisharp.
He stood as tall as Seiko's waist, his body a polished black and deep blood red. The blades on his hands were now full gauntlets, with a silver shine that surpassed even that of the iron they had just forged.
The Bisharp flexed his new blade-claws, emitting a sharp metallic sound. SHING.
Then, with terrifying calm, he walked toward the spearhead still smoking on the ground. He picked it up with his claws, immune to the heat, and placed it back on the anvil, as if to say: "The work is not finished."
He turned and looked at Seiko. His red eyes shone with a sharp, cold intelligence. He was no longer just a tool. He was a partner.
Tyla stood up, trembling. "Seiko... What...?"
Seiko let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, the first in days.
"That, Tyla," he said, his voice full of wonder that matched hers.
He picked up his hammer. He looked at his Bisharp. At his apprentice. At the spear on the anvil.
"Kael," called Seiko, his voice now full of renewed authority. "Stoke the fire. This edge isn't going to finish itself."
Kael, shaken from his awe, nodded and returned to the bellows with an almost religious fervor. He had witnessed a miracle, not from a god in the sky, but one born of iron and will.
Seiko stood next to Tyla, putting a gloved hand on her trembling shoulder. "Breathe, apprentice. And watch. The Guardian of the Forge has reminded us of the pact."
Seiko turned to the anvil, with Bisharp now at his side, a steel sentinel.
"The work," he said, "Always continues."
[N/A: On Patreon we're currently ten chapters ahead. This is the schedule I'll be using: since my time zone is GMT-3, I'll be posting two chapters a day and updating two chapters on both Patreon and Webnovel]