In front of me there are two swords. At first glance it’s hard to tell which of the two is better if you’re not an expert. One is shinier, its surface smoother, and it has less slag. Both are forged in exactly the same way—or at least that’s the idea.

  However, they can’t deceive my eyes.

  The sword forged with my steel is certainly better than the other. Fifty more points of attack for a weapon of this kind is hardly a minor improvement. Twenty-five percent is more than I expected. If both weapons clashed, the one forged with my steel would clearly win.

  Even though I didn’t forge it myself.

  It was necessary to commission both from Aneth, but it still hurts. I doubt I’d be capable of quenching a sword correctly with my current abilities, much less making ones of this quality. Aneth is a great blacksmith. If it weren’t for my brothers’ help, I wouldn’t have had the money to make them.

  Even though the swords as they are would be more than enough proof that my steel is superior, I don’t want to settle for that.

  I can’t disappoint my brothers now.

  Yesterday the order I placed with the guild arrived, and I have about a day before my father returns.

  Honestly, I don’t understand why no one has thought of using acid until now.

  At least not until I look at the three organs lying on a blanket on the kitchen table in my workshop. Just seeing them is enough to make me want to vomit. Their smell causes a physical revulsion, as if it burns my nostrils and churns my stomach.

  And that’s without considering that one small mistake could burn off my entire hand.

  As a container to store the acid I have a vase that we used in the mansion to decorate a hallway with flowers. I plan to return it when I’m done.

  If it hasn’t melted.

  I also have two more containers, made by an alchemist, with stoppers to preserve the acid, but those are better used later.

  The first challenge is extracting the acid with the means available. The problem is that any small mistake could be very costly. The caterpillars these come from are capable of melting armor and bone.

  Unfortunately, I haven’t come up with any decent method to extract it.

  In the center of the vase I placed a punch whose tip sticks out just enough inside it. With my blacksmith gloves and wide wooden tongs I grab one of the caterpillar stomachs—or at least that’s what I assume they are.

  I placed the vase outside the building and prepared an iron plate to act as a shield in case of splashes. It won’t stop the acid from passing through, but it will give me an extra second to move away.

  From behind the plate I press the organ against the tip of the punch as hard as I can.

  Immediately I notice the iron dissolving, and soon a yellow liquid begins to accumulate at the bottom. I hear a hiss and see smoke rising from the lower part of the vase where a drop has slipped down.

  The liquid gradually becomes clearer until it turns a pale yellow, almost transparent.

  I did it!

  When the drops stop falling, I throw the organ into a bonfire I had prepared beforehand and use my fire magic to burn any trace that might remain. I’m sure the smoke produced when burning it is toxic.

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  Fortunately, the vase seems inert and doesn’t react with the acid. It’s already bad enough that a whole punch is mixed in there. At least I managed to obtain a decent amount of acid.

  I approach the vase to move it when I realize the liquid has the characteristic aura of magical materials.

  Now that is a surprise.

  Material Virtue has risen to lvl 3.

  In reality, the acid isn’t even that useful for blacksmithing. If I manage to show my father how useful it can be, it could become a good source of income for the family.

  Alchemy, medicine, craftsmanship, or even as a thrown weapon—those are uses that easily come to mind.

  The reason no one has decided to extract it until now is the danger.

  I repeat the process two more times. I don’t want to know what would happen if one of those organs rotted.

  Actually, it pains me to burn them. Their interior is resistant to the acid, and I’m sure someone could make good use of them—but that someone isn’t me.

  By the time I finish, the day has advanced and it’s already time to eat. I take a short break away from the area affected by the acid before continuing.

  Diluting the acid brings its own complications.

  I refuse to touch the vase directly with my hands. I take a barrel of water from the workshop and place it on the patch of grass already affected by the acid. I doubt anything will grow there for quite some time.

  With some tongs and a shovel I lift the vase and try to pour the acid little by little. I probably should have known it wasn’t a good idea, but at least the acid that falls outside the water doesn’t land on the wooden barrel or on my feet.

  The water begins to bubble, releasing steam. It’s not thick smoke, just water vapor generated by the heat of the reaction.

  To be completely honest, I have no idea what I’m doing.

  If I dilute the acid too much it won’t be useful, but if I don’t dilute it enough it will destroy the sword.

  If I had time, I would run more tests.

  For now, it’s better to play it safe. I won’t have more swords to experiment with.

  I grab a long wooden spoon and use it to stir the water in the barrel thoroughly. It doesn’t seem to react.

  I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

  I decide to try my luck with the sword.

  I soak a cloth and gently wipe it over the surface of the blade. It takes me a while to realize I diluted it too much.

  It’s after repeating the entire process twice that I begin to see a change on the blade of the sword.

  Little by little the surface loses its uniformity and reveals a beautiful pattern formed by a lighter, brighter color and a darker one. Then I notice a third bluish color intertwined with the other two.

  I don’t know its name, but I’ve analyzed it before in other swords forged by Aneth.

  I admire the sword in my hands.

  It’s beautiful.

  Although the pattern still isn’t perfectly defined. It’s difficult to get the exact acid ratio right—and even more so without the proper tools.

  Looking closely, I notice that the blue mineral isn’t fully integrated into the alloy.

  Maybe I could make an even better alloy if I add other things to the steel?

  I decide to analyze it with my eyes of the artisan to make sure there hasn’t been any change in its statistics.

  I can barely keep myself from trembling with nervousness when the information appears before me.

  And then my heart skips a beat.

  The weapon’s information has changed.

  I’m sure of it.

  I even run to check the other sword just in case.

  The effect has improved.

  It’s a simple effect—it just prevents the sword from losing its sharpness—but it went from 20% to 25%.

  And it happened because of the acid.

  I remember the aura it had when I extracted it from the organ.

  This is even better than I expected.

  This really is a sword I can show Father.

  —

  “I still can’t believe you got engaged, Lisa.”

  “He’ll come in a month for the engagement celebration, so you’ll have a chance to meet him.”

  We’re standing in front of my father’s study, catching up while we wait for him to finish speaking with Fred and Rob.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me what you’re carrying there?” she asks after holding back for a while.

  “It’s a surprise. But you can come in with me to see them when I show them to Father.”

  “Hm. And where’s my gift?”

  “I didn’t have time,” I protest weakly.

  “You can come in now,” Fred says, opening the door.

  “Saved by the bell,” Lisa whispers with a mischievous smile.

  I walk into the office with my sister. My father is sitting behind the desk. Rob gives me an encouraging nod.

  “Father. I have something to show you.”