The sandstorm kept them inside for the entire day.
Wind howled outside the hut, grains of sand rattling against the walls like impatient fingers, but inside it was quiet. Too quiet, almost. The three of them sat around, doing absolutely nothing productive, and enjoying it more than they expected.
The villagers had left them some simple bread in the morning. Dry. A little hard. Still warm when they received it.
Raul tore off a piece and chewed thoughtfully.
"…You know," he said, "this isn't bad."
Victor stared at him. "You were eating roasted monster meat two days ago."
"Yeah," Raul replied, unfazed. "And now I'm eating bread without worrying something's going to jump me in my sleep. That improves the flavor."
Arin snorted softly and leaned back against the wall. Only then did he notice how heavy his arms felt, how his shoulders sank the moment he stopped holding himself upright. Nothing was demanding his attention. Nothing was chasing them. For once, he let himself stay still.
They spent the day like that, eating, resting, and talking about nothing important. Plans came up, loosely. Training schedules. When to head out. How long should they realistically stay in the village.
"Captain rank feels… far," Arin admitted at one point.
Raul shrugged. "Everything feels far until it isn't."
Victor nodded. "And at least here, we're not dying while trying."
That alone felt like progress.
The next morning, the storm was gone.
The sky was clear, pale blue stretching endlessly above the desert. The air still smelled faintly of dust, but the village was already alive again, people moving, talking, working as if yesterday's wall of sand had never existed.
Victor was the first to move with purpose.
"I'm checking out that old smithy," he said, already halfway out the door. "No way I'm wasting free time."
Raul followed immediately. "I'm coming. Someone has to watch you not blow yourself up."
Arin sighed, grabbed his cloak, and went with them.
The smithy stood a little apart from the main cluster of huts. The structure itself was solid, with stone walls, a reinforced roof, and a wide open space inside. Dust had settled everywhere, but nothing was broken.
Victor's eyes lit up the moment he stepped in.
"Oh yeah," he muttered, walking around. "This is good."
There was a proper forge. An anvil. Tool racks. Bellows that still worked after a bit of testing.
Raul crossed his arms. "Looks abandoned."
"Unused," Victor corrected automatically. "Big difference."
Arin glanced around. "So… can you work here?"
Victor nodded. Then paused. His brow furrowed.
"…We don't have raw materials."
The smile faded a little.
"No iron ingots," he continued, checking storage crates. "No scrap. Nothing to melt down."
Raul clicked his tongue. "So close."
They stepped back outside, and that's when they spotted Kel walking down the main path, carrying a bundle of tools over his shoulder.
Victor waved. "Hey! Kel!"
Kel looked up and smiled. "Morning, kiddos."
Victor jogged over. "Quick question, do you know where I can get materials to forge weapons?"
Kel's eyes widened slightly. "Oh? You're the blacksmith?"
Victor puffed his chest just a little. "Guilty."
Kel laughed. "Well, materials are scarce around here. We reuse what we can. But… you're lucky."
"Lucky how?" Raul asked.
"There's a black iron mine nearby."
Victor froze. "…Black iron?"
"Wow," Victor said a second later. "That's pretty neat."
Raul frowned. "What's black iron?"
Victor turned to him, suddenly serious, instructor mode fully activated.
"Regular iron is bottom-tier low-level material. Cheap. Easy to work with. Most town weapons are made from steel made with it," he explained. "Black iron is a step up. Steel made from it is about fifty percent more durable and holds an edge longer. Better armor. Better weapons. It's an upper-tier low-level material."
Raul blinked. "So… stronger stuff."
"Yes," Victor said patiently. "That's what I said."
Kel chuckled. "Kid knows his stuff."
Victor grinned. "Well, I AM a Blacksmith after all."
"So where's the mine?" Arin asked.
Kel pointed south. "About thirty kilometers south."
Arin winced. "That's far."
Kel nodded. "We only mine once every six months. Supplies are low right now. I'm still using tools older than you three combined. If you want to go, talk to Rasir first."
"That sounds fair," Raul said. "Thanks, Kel."
Rasir listened quietly as they explained.
"So you want black iron," he said at last. "Kel told you about the mine."
"Yes, sir," Arin replied. "We'd like permission to go."
Rasir nodded slowly. "It's not a secret. There's plenty there. But monsters show up often."
"What kind?" Victor asked.
"Stoneback Lizards," Rasir said. "Lizards with hides like rock. Tough, territorial."
Raul cracked his knuckles. "Sounds manageable."
Rasir gave him a long look. "Overconfidence kills faster than monsters."
Raul straightened. "Yes, sir."
Rasir sighed, then waved a hand. "You may go. Be careful."
"We will," Arin said.
The rest of the day passed quickly.
Victor worked in the smithy, repairing their weapons and armor as best he could. Raul helped where he could, mostly by holding things and being yelled at. Arin prepared supplies: bread, dried food, water, and fire-starting tools. Mining equipment was borrowed and packed carefully.
Before sunset, Arin slipped away from the village paths and headed east.
The wind had calmed. The sand lay flat, undisturbed, as if the desert itself were holding its breath.
He stopped in front of the hut at the edge of the village and hesitated, just for a moment, before knocking.
The door opened.
Mina stood there, dark eyes steady, expression unreadable as ever. But she had come quickly. That alone said enough.
"I'll be gone for a few days," Arin said. "Three. Maybe four."
He didn't explain where. He didn't need to.
She studied his face, as if committing it to memory, then gave a small nod.
"…Be careful," she said.
The words were simple. Earnest. Not a warning, an expectation.
"I will," Arin replied.
For a second, neither of them moved.
The wind brushed past, tugging at his cloak, rattling the doorframe softly. The village lay behind him. The desert lay ahead.
Mina smiled then. Not bright. Not forced.
Just enough.
Arin nodded once, turned, and walked away.
She watched until he was gone.