Chapter 21: Forged in Fire and Trust
The Forger's Fire
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the rhythmic hammering finally ceased. Dain let out a weary sigh, his muscles aching—but his hands still itched to forge more. The forge’s breath curled the air, each wave warping the outline of the boy who refused to break.
A sudden clap rang out, startling him.
He turned to see a young noble, flanked by a knight, a maid, and a butler. Though his attire marked him as noble, it was the quiet authority in his posture—the unshakable confidence—that truly struck Dain.
A system prompt flickered before Rin’s eyes.
[Charisma - 8 Activated]
Dain swallowed hard, suddenly more aware of himself—his sweat-soaked clothes, his trembling hands, his empty stomach.
But none of that mattered.
The noble boy’s eyes swept over the forge, then locked onto him.
“I need the best forger,” Rin said.
Dain didn’t even hesitate. “I can forge,” he said instantly. “I won’t charge a fee—just give me materials… and food.” His voice was steady, but his body wasn’t. His fingers twitched, aching to hold a hammer again. He had nothing—not strength, not food—only the desperate need to forge before hunger killed him.
Rin’s gaze shifted to a knife resting on the anvil, its blade glinting in the dim light. It wasn’t just steel—it was hunger shaped into metal.
“That knife,” Rin pointed, “how much for it?”
Dain shook his head immediately. “Just take it. Take anything,” he said quickly. “Just... let me keep forging.”
Rin frowned slightly. “What material did you use for that knife?”
Dain hesitated. “…My plate.”
Darius, the knight, narrowed his eyes. “No way. Even if it’s just a common-tier knife, you can’t forge something like that from a plate.”
Dain let out a tired, humorless laugh. “Believe me,” he muttered.
Rin studied him for a moment—then nodded. “I do.”
Lucien, standing beside Rin, frowned. “But why? Why melt your own plate to make a knife?”
Dain gave a wild grin, his eyes burning with desperation. He let out a low chuckle, more hollow than amused. "A plate doesn’t fill your stomach. But a blade—" he ran a trembling finger along the knife’s edge, "—that might buy me a meal." He exhaled shakily. "Or at least, keep me alive long enough to make the next one."
A long silence followed.
“…Elysia,” Rin said quietly. “Give him something to eat.”
Elysia stepped forward, offering a basket of fresh fruit.
Dain froze, as if the fruit might vanish if he touched it. His hands hovered above the basket, trembling—caught between instinct and disbelief. The scent of ripened fruit teased his senses, a smell he hadn’t known in days. He hadn't eaten properly in days, but the hunger in his stomach was nothing compared to the hunger in his hands—the need to create, to forge, to make something that lasted.
“…Go on,” Rin said, his voice softer.
Dain slowly picked up a fruit. Took a bite. Flavors burst on his tongue, and for the first time in days, his body stopped screaming at him.
Rin watched him in silence, then spoke again. “You’re an amazing blacksmith, Dain.” His voice was calm, but certain—as if the words were absolute truth.
Dain looked up, confused.
“I want to recruit you,” Rin continued. “For now, rest. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”
Dain wiped his mouth, his fingers tightening around the fruit. "...Why?"
Rin tilted his head. "Why what?"
Dain frowned. "Why me? I have nothing. No workshop. No name. No—"
"You have hands that refuse to stop," Rin interrupted. "You burn, even when there's nothing left to burn."
A pause.
"I need someone like that."
Dain swallowed. No one had ever spoken to him like this before.
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Two years ago, Stonebrook Village bled under unfair taxes. Dain’s father, the village chief, stood against the baron, leading a strike with other chiefs. But the baron didn’t just want obedience—he wanted a lesson. That night, knights came. They cut down Dain’s parents before his eyes, but left him alive—a warning to all. When he begged the villagers for help, they looked away. Fear made them silent.
That night, Dain understood. He had no one. But he still had fire. Still had iron.
"If no one will remember my father’s name… I’ll carve it into history myself—with my blood, sweat, and steel."
The evening stars shimmered above.
But for Dain, the brightest thing wasn’t in the sky. It was the boy standing before him—offering him a chance to keep forging.
“Dain had been forged in fire. Now, for the first time, he was being tempered by trust.”
The Seeds of Trust
The morning sun painted Duskwind Manor in gold as Rin prepared for his journey to Willowshade Village. His destination had once been prosperous, but after the devastating attack, it had yet to fully recover. Though the village’s mana vein had been restored, the loss of life remained irreversible.
When Rin arrived, the sight was as grim as he remembered. The once-thriving settlement was now home mostly to elders and children—the youth had been lost in the chaos of war. Their lives had not changed much; mana had never been a problem for them. Their struggle had always been something more basic—food.
They were farmers, bound by a single principle: Live with dignity or die trying. Never accept charity.
Rin had learned this the hard way during his first visit. He had offered food, only to have it politely refused. And when he offered again today, the result was the same.
Elysia frowned, frustration creeping into her voice. "Why won’t they accept the food? They need it."
Lucien shook his head. "Is their pride really more important than their children's lives?"
Rin exhaled slowly, watching the villagers toil under the sun. "They're not refusing out of arrogance," he explained. "They are farmers who believe in hard work, not handouts. Even if I give them food today, there's no guarantee for tomorrow. They are teaching their children not to be tempted by temporary relief. They want them to build a future with their own hands, not depend on others."
Elysia bit her lip. "But... they’re dying."
Rin's eyes darkened with resolve. "Then I won’t give them charity. I’ll give them something permanent."
Turning to Darius, he issued a command. "Gather all the villagers near the chief’s house."
Darius bowed. "Yes, Young Master."
As the villagers assembled, whispering amongst themselves, Rin stepped forward. His voice was clear, unwavering.
"I know you don’t believe in me. You don’t accept temporary solutions. I respect that." His gaze swept over the skeptical crowd. "That’s why I won’t offer food. Instead, I offer work. You will continue to farm, but under my direction. I will manage everything—from resources to sales. You only need to grow the crops and sell them to me. Do you accept?"
Silence fell over the crowd. Then, murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Is it okay to believe him?"
"He’s a noble..."
"But he’s still a child..."
"Nobles aren’t innocent."
An old man—his face lined with years of hardship—stepped forward, arms crossed. "And why should we trust you, noble boy?"
Lucien and Elysia clenched their fists, anger flashing in their eyes at the villagers’ hesitation.
Even Darius and Ronin looked displeased.
But Rin’s lips curled faintly. "Do you have anything to lose?" He turned to the village chief, his tone softer but no less firm. "Do you think I’m lying? I, who don’t even need to leave my manor, am standing here under the blazing sun, sweating, working—just like you." His gaze hardened. "I’ve already promised you jobs. So, believe in me. Just trust yourselves. I’m not offering charity. I’m offering a deal. If I break my word, you lose nothing. But if I’m right… you gain everything."
The villagers remained uncertain—until Rin pulled something from thin air. With a flick of Rin’s wrist, light cracked open the air. Two hulking machines emerged from thin space, their metallic frames glowing faintly with etched blue runes. Mana hummed through the soil like a heartbeat returning to the land.
Dust swirled as gasps erupted from the crowd. For a second, it felt like magic had kissed their broken land.
Elysia and Lucien spoke at the same time. "Rin, where did you—?"
Darius and Ronin took a sharp step forward. "Do you have a Storage Bag?!"
But their voices barely registered over the stunned silence of the villagers.
A little girl tugged at her father’s sleeve; her eyes wide with wonder. "Daddy... what is that?"
The middle-aged farmer wiped his tears with trembling hands. His voice cracked with emotion.
"...A dream. The dream of every farmer."
Magic Tractor
A marvel of magical engineering.
Highly efficient, reducing labor time by tenfold.
Its price? 1 high mana stone or 10,000 small mana stones—an amount a common farmer could never hope to afford in a lifetime.
Only high merchants and noble estates could own such a tool.
One of the farmers finally found his voice. "Are you... really giving this to us? It’s too expensive."
Rin shook his head. "I’m giving it to the village to use. Any of you can take turns operating it."
Silence. No one dared to step forward.
Then, a small girl barely in her teens raised her hand. "I want to try."
Rin approached the tractor and tapped its core latch. With a soft click, the compartment opened—revealing a rune-etched socket.
“Storage,” Rin said softly. A shimmer flickered—and from the void, a medium mana stone dropped into his palm like summoned lightning. He placed it into the socket.
The runes flared to life.
A soft hum echoed from the machine as light pulsed through its frame, awakening the magic woven into its design. The wheels shifted, and the air tingled with raw mana.
He stepped back and looked at the little girl. With a gentle nod, he said, “Go ahead.”
Her wide, eager eyes sparkled as she climbed, her hands shaking slightly as she started the engine. A low hum filled the air. The moment she drove onto the farmland, a bright, unrestrained laughter spilled from her lips.
A young boy turned to his father, excitement bubbling over. "Dad! I want to ride it too!"
The father, seeing his son's pure joy, hesitated—then stepped forward. He climbed onto the second tractor, gripping the controls with trembling hands. A second hum echoed across the fields.
One by one, the farmers followed.
For the first time since the attack, Willowshade wasn’t just surviving. It was living.
Rin watched in silence, then turned and left without a word. He didn’t wait for thanks. He didn’t need it. The laughter was enough.
But the villagers noticed.
They saw his back—a back too small to lift a hammer yet burdened with the weight of an entire village.
A child, yet his shadow stretched impossibly far.
[End of Chapter]
What should Dain forge next?
