The old man's murky eyes swept back and forth over Roy several times.
His gaze wasn't that of someone looking at a ten-year-old child; it was more like he was appraising a piece of ore of uncertain quality, examining its texture and searching for its flaws.
"Have you make something?" the old man snorted, his voice as raspy as two pieces of iron grinding together. "Brat, where do you think this place is? A vegetable market? If you want me, Tessai, to work, you'd better have the qualifications."
He pointed to several swords hanging on the wall.
Each one had an ancient shape, but the cold light flowing along their blades made the temperature in the whole room drop a few degrees.
"My name is Tessai." The old man picked up his hammer again, and rather than speaking to Roy, it seemed more like he was stating a fact. "In my life, I've only forged for three things. First, big shots who can pay a fortune. Second, exceptional materials worthy of my skill. Third, a real man worth my effort."
He glanced at Roy, who had arrived empty-handed, his look carrying undisguised contempt. "Which one are you?"
Roy knew this kind of provocation was expected.
A master who could see the flaw in his short sword at a glance wouldn't simply agree to a strange kid's request.
"I don't have money," Roy admitted frankly. "As for materials, like I said, I'll figure them out myself. And as for whether I'm a real man…" He paused, looking directly into Tessai's eyes with neither servility nor overbearingness. "That's something you'll need to give me a chance to prove."
Tessai hadn't expected this kid to be so calm, completely unfazed by his imposing manner. He was a little intrigued.
"Prove? How will you prove it?"
"You are a master of forging." Roy offered a subtle compliment. "What you know best is fire, iron, and control. I think someone who can't even control the most basic fire definitely wouldn't be qualified to have you work for them."
Tessai put down his hammer and narrowed his eyes. "Oh? What are you saying? That you understand fire?"
"I know a thing or two."
"Ha ha ha ha ha!" Tessai burst out laughing as if he'd heard the most ridiculous joke, the sound so loud it shook dust from the ceiling. "A Konoha-nin dares to talk about 'fire' in front of an old man who's been forging his entire life? Fine, let's see exactly how much you know!"
He pointed to the massive forge beside them.
The fire was blazing, glowing bright red.
"See that bellows?" Tessai said. "You're going to pull it. For the next three hours, I want you to keep the fire in the forge at exactly this temperature. Not higher, not lower. When the coals run low, you add them yourself. Can you do it?"
This was a test that seemed simple on the surface but was, in reality, exceptionally harsh.
The temperature of the forge was controlled entirely by the force and rhythm of the bellows.
Pull too fast, and the fire would rage too fiercely; pull too slow, and the temperature would drop.
Maintaining a constant flame for three consecutive hours required extremely precise control over strength and rhythm, as well as incredible endurance and focus. It was a task that should have been impossible for a ten-year-old.
"I'll do it." Roy didn't hesitate. He took off his jacket.
He walked up to the forge. A wave of scorching heat hit him in the face, making it hard to breathe.
He grasped the rough wooden handle of the bellows; it was heavy in his grip.
He didn't start immediately.
First, he stood quietly for a full five minutes, observing. He looked at the color of the flames, listened to the sound of their burning, felt the changes in heat. He was using his own method to understand the nature of this fire, committing all its parameters to memory.
Tessai folded his arms and remained silent, just watching as if enjoying a show.
Roy moved.
He pulled the bellows. His movements were neither fast nor slow, possessing a unique rhythm.
With each push and each pull back, the force was astonishingly consistent.
He wasn't using brute strength; instead, he applied his most refined chakra control techniques, using exactly the right amount of force on the bellows without a single iota wasted.
Under his control, the forge fire burned steadily, without the slightest fluctuation.
Minutes ticked by.
It was hot.
Damn hot.
Sweat quickly soaked through Roy's inner shirt, streaming down his cheeks and evaporating instantly as it hit the floor.
The temperature in the room was terrifyingly high; he felt like his lungs were about to catch fire.
The wooden handle of the bellows grew heavier and heavier.
Yet, his pulling rhythm never changed by a single degree.
His focus was intensely concentrated.
At this moment, he wasn't just working the bellows; he was training.
It was a form of practice more tedious and far more demanding of mental fortitude than controlling leaves or even the Thunder Annihilation.
One hour passed.
The amused expression on Tessai's face had vanished, replaced by a flicker of seriousness.
Two hours passed.
Tessai's brow was furrowed.
He realized that this kid's concentration was almost inhuman.
He was like a statue; aside from the arm working the bellows, not a single other part of his body moved unnecessarily.
At two and a half hours, the coals in the forge began to run low, and the fire weakened slightly.
Roy, who had kept his eyes closed, suddenly snapped them open.
Without stopping the rhythm of the bellows, he used his free hand to precisely grab the coal shovel, scooping up exactly three pieces of coke and tossing them into the heart of the forge with perfect accuracy. The entire motion was fluid, and the rhythm of the bellows remained undisturbed.
The fire dimmed for only an instant before regaining its original brightness.
Finally, three hours were up.
When Roy let go, he swayed and nearly collapsed.
His lips were parched and cracked, his face pale, and his entire body looked like it had been pulled out of water.
He looked at Tessai, his voice a little hoarse. "I did it."
Tessai was silent for a long time.
He walked over to the forge and checked the temperature himself.
It was no different from when he had left three hours earlier.
He turned his head and looked again at the boy standing before him, drenched in sweat. His expression had completely changed.
"You're a monster," he finally said after a long pause.
"Now, am I qualified?" Roy asked.
"Yes," Tessai nodded. "But the matter of materials, how do you plan to solve that? Let me tell you, even if you sold all of Konoha, you wouldn't get much chakra metal."
"I'll find a way," Roy replied.
Tessai stared at him for a moment, then suddenly grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. "You don't need to."
He walked to the very back corner of the forge, and behind a pile of scrap iron, he laboriously dragged out a heavy, locked wooden chest.
He opened the lock. Inside the chest lay several ingots of metal that glowed with a strange, faint blue light.
It was the chakra metal Roy had been dreaming of.
"This is a bit of my private collection I stumbled upon when I traveled the land in my youth. I'd planned to use it to forge my final masterpiece," Tessai said, looking at the metal with complex emotions. "But I never found a 'subject' worthy of it."
He looked up at Roy.
"Now I have."
He didn't mention payment.
At his level, wealth was already something external.
What he wanted was the opportunity to pour his final passion into creating a perfect work.
Roy, through three hours of inhuman focus, had earned that opportunity for himself.
"Kid, what's your name?" Tessai asked.
"Roy."
"Alright, Roy." Tessai closed the chest. "Tell me, using these treasures, what kind of sword do you want to forge?"
Roy looked at the pieces of chakra metal and slowly exhaled.
"A sword."
"A sword capable of carrying thunder."
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