The following morning...
Ashfall Village awakened as it always did.
The rhythmic sound of hammers striking iron echoed from every corner of the village.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
To outsiders, it was noisy.
To Ronan...
It was music.
He sat outside the forge polishing several farming tools while his father worked inside.
Ever since the talent examination, the whispers around the village had not stopped.
"So he was only average."
"I expected more from Gareth's son."
"He'll probably just become another village blacksmith."
Ronan heard every word.
He simply continued polishing.
---
Inside the forge...
Gareth silently observed his son.
"You aren't angry?"
Ronan looked up.
"A little."
His father nodded.
"Good."
"Why good?"
"Because anger isn't wrong."
"It's what you do with it that matters."
Ronan thought carefully before returning to work.
---
Near noon...
A luxurious carriage entered Ashfall Village.
Its polished black wood and golden crest immediately caught everyone's attention.
"An Imperial carriage?"
"What are nobles doing here?"
The carriage stopped before the village chief's house.
Several guards stepped out first.
Then...
An elderly man dressed in elegant crimson robes descended slowly.
His sharp eyes scanned the village.
Behind him walked two young attendants carrying several wooden boxes.
The old man frowned.
"So this is Ashfall Village..."
One of the guards bowed.
"Master Aldren."
"The ore samples from this region have always been of exceptional quality."
Aldren nodded.
"Let's see whether the blacksmiths deserve the mountain they were given."
---
Word spread quickly.
Every blacksmith in the village gathered within the central square.
Among them stood Gareth.
The elderly man introduced himself calmly.
"I am Aldren."
"Fourth Elder of the Crimson Forge Pavilion."
A wave of shock swept through the crowd.
The Crimson Forge Pavilion.
One of the most respected artisan organizations in the entire Gardenia Empire.
Unlike cultivation sects...
They judged people solely by their craftsmanship.
Their creations were sought after by nobles, Hunters, and even imperial generals.
Aldren continued.
"We are selecting apprentices."
"You will each forge one item."
"I do not care about your cultivation."
"I do not care about your status."
"I only care about one thing."
He lifted a worn hammer.
"Whether your heart belongs to the forge."
---
The competition began immediately.
Flames roared.
Metal glowed.
Hammers rang continuously.
Experienced blacksmiths displayed techniques they had practiced for decades.
Meanwhile...
Ronan quietly watched from the sidelines.
His eyes sparkled.
"So that's how Master Edwin folds steel..."
"And Uncle Borin cools the blade before striking again..."
He wasn't watching the finished weapons.
He was watching the people.
Every movement.
Every decision.
Every mistake.
He absorbed them all.
---
Hours later...
The competition ended.
Master Aldren inspected each creation one after another.
His expression remained unchanged.
Finally...
He stopped before Gareth's sword.
He examined it carefully.
Ran his fingers across the blade.
Then nodded once.
"A good sword."
"Genuine craftsmanship."
Gareth bowed respectfully.
"Thank you."
"But..."
Aldren continued.
"It lacks identity."
The square became silent.
"A sword should carry the heart of its creator."
"This..."
He returned the blade.
"...could have been forged by anyone."
Gareth accepted the criticism without argument.
---
As the crowd slowly dispersed...
A loud crash echoed from the forge.
Everyone turned.
Ronan had accidentally dropped a basket filled with old iron scraps.
Embarrassed, he hurried to gather them.
Master Aldren glanced at the scattered pieces.
Then suddenly froze.
His eyes narrowed.
He slowly crouched.
Among the broken scraps lay a tiny iron bird.
No larger than the palm of a hand.
Its wings were carved with incredible precision.
Its body perfectly balanced.
Despite being made from discarded metal...
It possessed remarkable elegance.
"...Who made this?"
The village fell silent.
Ronan timidly raised his hand.
"I did..."
"You?"
"Yes, sir."
"I used the leftover pieces Father was going to melt."
Aldren picked up the tiny bird.
His fingers gently traced its wings.
"This wasn't forged."
"It was shaped."
He looked directly into Ronan's eyes.
"Why a bird?"
The young boy smiled.
"Because..."
"I wanted to know if iron could look alive."
For the first time since arriving in the village...
Master Aldren smiled.
A genuine smile.
Not because the bird was perfect.
It wasn't.
There were countless flaws.
But...
It carried something many master craftsmen lost long ago.
Wonder.
He returned the little bird to Ronan.
"Young man."
"Never lose that question."
"What question?"
Aldren looked toward the Ember Mountains.
"'What else can iron become?'"
Most people forged weapons because that was what iron was expected to become.
Very few asked what it could become instead.
---
That evening...
After the Crimson Forge Pavilion departed...
Ronan stood alone outside the forge.
He held the little iron bird in his hands.
The setting sun reflected across its rough metal wings.
His father stepped beside him.
"So..."
"What did you learn today?"
Ronan looked toward the distant mountains.
"I don't want to make the strongest swords."
Gareth raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"I want to create things..."
"...that people have never imagined before."
A broad smile spread across Gareth's face.
"Then you've already taken your first step."
As night fell over Ashfall Village, the forge fires continued to burn.
Deep within the flames, a faint pulse of Earth Magna flickered in rhythm with Ronan's heartbeat, unnoticed by all.
Far away, within the Crimson Forge Pavilion, Master Aldren sat quietly in his carriage.
He opened a small notebook and wrote only one sentence.
"Ashfall Village. Boy named Ronan. Average affinity... Extraordinary eyes. Observe."
Sometimes...
History did not begin with kings.
Nor with prodigies.
Sometimes...
It began with a child who looked at a piece of iron and wondered what impossible thing it could become.
End of Chapter 21