Having followed Lano and a few other officers up some of the tallest trees around, she gazed off her high perch onto the land ahead.

The forest went on but not forever, ending at a river beyond which lay a vast field of green riddled with hills.

A field which, lay taken over by a massive encampment.

“We are on time.” Zarkon mused to the elders.

“Hm, those numbers…” Tenen grumbled.

“Once we are at the fort, I will hand each of you an equal force from my elites. We must take to the front and cause as much damage as possible ourselves before the Blood Lords join the fight.” Zarkon added.

“It seems as we have little to no other choice of action.” Lano agreed as he leaned off the tree’s bark, holding onto a branch with one hand and keeping his mask tightly to his face with the other. Erika could almost peak under it if he didn’t, and she did try. “Troublesome.”

The encampment ahead was lively with many kinds of life…and unlife. Banners which Lano pointed out to Erika to be Human-made up little of the armada, most were Ghouls, vampiric minions. While…

“Those long tattered ones, they’re different.” Erika mused.

“I don’t recognize those banners either.” Tenen realized.

“I do.” Lano then grumbled, “Demons.”

“Shit.” Zarkon sighed, “So it’s true, the bats got reinforcements. Let’s go.” He and the Elders leaped off their perches, Erika having to slowly make her way down, she eventually caught up with them below.

Falling down to the ground onto her knee, all around her their own army marched onward. Glancing ahead she saw Zarkon lead the Elders off, all but Lano who turned to her briefly. “You will not fight with me, join your friends, they will need you.” He told her and left after them.

Fine, not that I wasn’t going to.

Erika thought, annoyed at him even speaking.

Where were you…

Letting go of her anger, she turned to the march, moving to look for the recruit regiment. Finding them at the back and with the carriages of resources they had brought with, no longer pulled by unwilling and tired beasts of burden but instead by looming Draem whom most stayed clear from.

Walking past one of the colossal beasts, she gently ran her palm over its scales whilst it slowly went by.

Erika walked over to Kei who paused in her steps at the sight of her. Saluting, “Elder Lano requests I remain with your unit.” Erika said.

Kei rolled her eyes but smiled and tapped her shoulder, “It’s fine kid, we’re a river away from the enemy, lose the pleasantries.” Then turning to the solemn bunch marching a few feet behind, “Ya heard? The princess is back under our ranks.” Nudging her forward, Kei then continued on with the march.

Erika, having joined ranks with her peers, remained quiet. Her solemn expression fitting in fully with the surrounding atmosphere of anxiety.

All but Gray who walked up and elbowed her, “I heard, rounded up those big goliaths all by yourself?” He asked with his usual mocking smirk.

Erika elbowed him back, “I’m not in the mood.”

Gray sighed, “Are any of us?” he said, glancing back at the rest. “Zombies one and all.”

“Can you blame us?” Gerick grumbled, “Del, Lizbeth, Gale and Lune left. Thorn is…”

“Dead.” Drun added, “Like the fucking coward he is-”

“What do you know?” A voice rarely heard then bitterly asked.

As the regiment turned to Celest, who’s reddened eyes glared dead at Drun.

“What do you know?” She asked, pain filling her voice. Her hand shook as it clenched her pole-blade, the wooden shaft creaking under her force. “Did you know him? Did you know what he was? What he wasn’t?”

“I-” Drun tried to speak but was given no quarter.

“You didn’t know him, you didn’t know a damn thing about him!” Celest exclaimed, tears now streaking down her eyes as she collapsed onto her knees, Gula and Tejil rushing to help her up.

“Hey…hey…” Tejil whispered, holding the agonizing Celest close as she dove into her chest, letting it all out.

“She…” Gray nudged Erika, “You know.” He whispered.

I didn’t know…

Erika thought, never even stopping to think of those close to Thorn, and how they must feel now.

For the first time, Erika took full stock of Celest. Long dark hair and yellow eyes, much paler than her own gold. Nowhere near as large and strong as Gula but also not as petite and short as Tejil, Celest never stood out during physical training. She never stood out at all, always quiet, always watching from the side.

Grimacing, Erika approached the grieving girl, coming to a kneel right next to her. “I’m sorry.” Erika said in draconic, none of them understanding her.

“W-What?” Celest asked, her red flushed expression peeking out to meet Erika’s sullen gaze.

“I apologized, in a language I learned just yesterday, fighting the demons who slew Thorn.” Erika explained, “I never even knew this language existed, my father-My family, has always been secretive about their worlds. You could also say that…I barely knew them. I’ve always just watched them from the sidelines too and…I lost them, and I don’t know if I’ll ever find my way back.”

Erika unstrapped her dagger’s sheath from her belt, “You lost someone too, and I cannot imagine the pain of knowing…knowing you’ll never see them again. That is why I apologise, in the language that slew his killers. And, I want you to have this.” Erika forwarded the dagger to her. “The weapon which made it possible.”

Celest stared down at the dagger, a blank expression filling her.

“I know, it does nothing for your grief.” Erika said, “But just beyond this forest, I want you to point this dagger at those who lay there. Point your grief with it, don’t let the grief lead the way but lead it yourself right into the enemy’s heart.”

Celest slowly and carefully took hold of the dagger’s grip.

“B-but…” Celest whispered, “It’s your fault too.”

Suddenly she unsheathed the weapon, Gula being too slow to react and Tejil unable to hold her back, Celest slashed at Erika.

The blade’s tip going right across Erika’s right eye as the shards separated, three blades cutting across her eyelid and socket, just barely missing her actual eye as she lay still. Flinching slightly, Erika did not move, only continue to gaze at Celest with her other eye as the right lay closed and dripping blood.

Celest pulled and pushed at the dagger but, it no longer moved, as the shards returned to reform the blade.

“I’m sorry, but I also knew you’d react this way.” Erika sighed as she stood back up, “I don’t know if I wouldn’t react the same either, I cannot blame you for doing so.”

“Hey…” Dust grabbed Erika’s shoulder, “None of us think it’s your fault, you did everything you could to survive.” He then glared down at Celest, “And you, why take it out on her? Get a hold of yourself god damnit.”

Taking in a deep breath, “Let go of me.” Celest growled, pulling herself out of Gula’s grip, she stormed off, leaving them in silence.

Until, “Oh…she left with the dagger.” Gray mused, gaining himself an annoyed punch in the shoulder by Dust.

And Gray went flying into a bush, groaning as he pulled himself out now covered in leaves and mud. “What’d I say?”

Dust sighed, “Let’s go.”

Tejil walked over to Erika, cloth in hand as she began wiping away at the still trickling blood. “Ah, why is this happening?” the little Lycan whimpered.

“Te-Tej-Tejil” Erika tried to take the cloth out of her hands but said hands were just too quick. “It’s fine, really. It’s just a scratch.”

Tejil pulled away, stared briefly then shook her head, “No…No that’s most definitely leaving a scar.”

Erika’s eyes narrowed at her words, reaching up with her right palm, she felt the cuts run from her brow down to beneath her lower lashes. “The past me, might of panicked…” Erika whispered to herself.

“But-” Tejil stuttered.

“It’s fine, I’m not Lune, scars make up the warrior I want to be.” Erika assured.

“Oh, right sorry.” Tejil muttered back.

“Either way…” Gray grumbled as he walked back over, “You’re out of a weapon, maybe it’s time to check back on pops.”

“Yeah…” Erika sighed once more, “Sorry, It wasn’t mine to gi-”

“Ah don’t worry about it, come on~” Gray urged, putting his hands over their shoulders and leading them off.

“Fine, fine.” Erika grumbled.

“Ah-Wai-Am I coming alo-” Tejil stuttered.

“Come on, come on~” Gray continued to lead them off.

“I guess I am?” Tejil squeaked.

-

-

The large steaming wagon pushed onwards alongside the rest with great ease, a roaring steed of an engine powering it forth as its eight wheels moved of their own volition. At times, a bellow of steam would blast out of the top, alongside many smaller bursts of dark grey smoke.

Mechanised in and out, within a work of both war and art was taking place.

As both his massive hands worked in tandem, metal rang on metal as heat escaped and mana sparked.

A challenge Jared had not faced before, as the material itself was fighting back.

Pouring his raw strength into both holding the blade down and hammering it into shape, the metal pushed back, trying to rise as it shuddered and pulsed out magic.

Electricity ran through his body, shocking him.

Flames burst out of the sides, licking at his skin and searing his cloths.

Most of his assistants stood far, watching in both confusion and horror. Never before had they seen something like this.

“Pops this is too much!” Exclaimed one of the three, “What’s with this thing’s power!?”

But Jared simply chuckled, “It’s the Dragon blood my boy! No! This is just enough!” He exclaimed, his entire form shuddering with the metal as his fur stood on end, every ounce of his power being set upon the task before him.

Each strike of his hammer rung throughout the mobile workshop, sparks of electricity and flame leaving the blade’s surface with each hit.

“You do not accept me do you!?” Jared exclaimed, his fiery eyes gazing deep into the metal. “The blood…The metal, it knows! It knows me not of its kind! Haha!” He chuckled, striking down once again but…

A sudden rush of light burst out from the blade before the hammer even struck, surging through the hammer’s handle and bursting it into splinters.

Jared breathed heavily as he watched the hammer’s head fall down to the floor, a loud clang filling the workshop as it did.

“Shit.” His eldest son swore as he too turned to see the destroyed tool, having been feeding the flame nearby with a bellow. “What now?” He asked, his gaze rising to his father who’s expression had hardened briefly.

“A Silverhide promised to make something, son.” Jared said simply, forwarding his now empty palm open towards him, “I will make this weapon. Bring me it.”

“It?” His son repeated in confusion.

“My war hammer, Chester. Bring me my Valrog.” Jared said.

“But…” Chester tried to argue, but the sight of his father’s eyes gazing down dead set into the metal, made him understand. “Alright, Duncan, Rica take over.” He told the other two, “Trist clean up the mess.” Chester briefly left the workshop, rushing to the wagon’s front where they stored resources and weapons for the journey.

A rather clunky metal chest stood out amongst them all, laid out in a corner, Chester struggled to heave it out and into an opening. Kneeling down before it, he took a deep breath, gazing at where a plate of metal lay popping out from the rest of the chest.

Suddenly his fist crashed into the plate, bending the metal and forming a fist-shaped crater within it, gears inside the chest began to click and move. Removing his fist, Chester watched as the plate retook shape, reforming into a flat slab of metal.

And the chest clicked open.

Raising the top, he moved the white cloth which lay over its contents, revealing the hammer.

Pitch black wood made up the hilt whilst crimson red leather formed the grip, then the hammerhead itself, glistening at the touch of light, a dark blue metal bar shaped into a fist riddled with the carving of what seemed like burns and flicking flames.

Taking hold of the hammer with the cloth, still he felt the weapon’s rejection of him.

Chester grimaced, “Still you reject me eh? Well, I guess your owner still breaths, and he calls for you.” Nodding to himself, Chester rushed back into the workshop, glancing about at his brother and sisters working, he turned to his father who stood waiting.

Holding the metal down with one hand, the other lay raised towards him.

Chester felt it, he felt the hammer pulling towards that massive hand.

Until suddenly it soared out of his grip, bashing into Jared’s open palm, he gripped the metal fist tightly as it pushed and pushed against him.

Abruptly then the weapon paused, and began to resonate, like a chime the sound filled their ears.

Jared immediately flipped the weapon over, grabbing it by the handle, he raised it aside.

Gripping the blade barehandedly, he quickly dumped it into the pool of molten metal nearby. Pulling it out a few moments after, he slammed it back onto the enormous anvil before him.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2uU6OJV65w

Feeling the metal push back, he put his entire weight down upon it, gazing it up and down…Still not a dent had been made in shaping it.

“I will make you, as I made Valrog, as I made Drakanar. I will make you.” Jared vowed, raising Valrog high, the air around the hammer suddenly began rushing.

Bellowing out, Jared bashed the Warhammer down, the air around it forming into a hammer-shaped aura.

Without even touching the metal with the hammerhead proper, the aura of condensed air around it clashed with the lightning and flame, bashing through the magic and digging into the metal.

Raising Valrog off, Jared grinned widely, as he saw the dent that was made.

“You may hold a dragon’s blood within ye, but you’re in my lair now. Let us dance.”

Jared struck down, again and again with keen accuracy, beating through the fire and light with raw air pressure and physical strength. Turning the slab about as it pushed and pulled like a wild beast, yet he held it still and steady.

Slowly, over the passing days, Jared did not sleep, did not eat or drink.

As his sons and daughters took turns aiding him, his entire focus was on shaping this blade.

Three days in, he locked the blade in place with belts and chains, moving on to making the handle and hilt, he took out of his best materials to give this weapon life.

Draem Forest Oak for the wood, Wyyrm fangs and Basilisk eyes for cosmetic additions, Treant slime for the glue and hellhound hide for the leather.

As the slab of an unsharpened blade rattled and fought against its restraints, restraints which had to be replaced daily. Jared worked nearby, breaking, carving and constructing three parts for the weapon.

Taking account for the blade’s shape, having mostly formed it into a long wide sword, at the center lay a diamond-shaped cluster which had shown the most resistance. The blade’s core, which had given him little choice but to leave as is. Thicker than the rest of the blade, and knowing how its user would fight with it, Jared had an idea.

Alongside the hilt, Jared made two shield-like parts, using the molten metal in all three.

Five days in, Jared had barely seen the light of day as it peaked through the workshop’s doors.

Moving to the blade then, he pulled it out of its restraints and began sharpening its edges. Breaking through three sets of equipment, finally he managed to finish the edge.

Attaching then the two shields on each face of the core cluster, he entered the blade into the unfinished hilt, putting it all together with the Treant slime to seal all parts into one another.

Lastly, he began wrapping the prepared hellhound leather around the grip, using a small amount of his remaining Treant glue.

Yesterday, “Duncan said you might need more Trea-” Rica began saying as she walked into the workshop, finding the weapon ready and chained up to the anvil, she glanced down to see her father collapsed asleep on the floor with his back to it.

An accomplished smirk across his face as he mumbled to himself in dreamland, “Hah…ha…t-Hmph-told ya I’d-Grr-make ya.”

Rica sighed, putting her basket away, she took hold of two sheets of cloth, covering both the weapon and her father.

Today

As all three of them climbed up the stairs at the back of the mobile workshop, Gray held tightly to the railing whilst knocking on the door. Once, twice, on the fifth time knocking they heard the sound of rattling metal and something falling.

“Oh golem shit-Coming!” Jared’s voice called out, “Fuck treant all over my-Shit!” The sound of large footsteps getting closer were accompanied but things falling and being set down, until finally, the door shuddered as if something had bashed into it.

Slowly, it opened just a bit, enough for Jared’s face to be visible peeking out. His left eye almost closing up as his right lay forced wide open, dark bags laying under both.

“Yo Pops, everything good?” Gray asked with concern.

“Urg, yeah kid, come on in all…six-three of ye.” Jared said, opening the door fully and stumbling over something as he did. Holding himself from falling by leaning back into the smithy, he smiled awkwardly as Gray, Erika and Tejil entered.

“Is it done?” Erika asked, her eyes immediately falling upon the covered up over-sized anvil.

Pulling himself together, “Yeah, as promised kid.” Jared said, looming over them as he stood behind, he gently pushed Erika forward towards it. “Look it over.” He told her, and carefully Erika began pulling the cloth off.

“If ye don’t like something don’t ye mind sayin,”

Revealing first the dark brown butt of the hilt, forking into three, two sharp fangs with glistening gold and black on either end with the grip coming out of the center, a sphere of sapphire taking to a coil of dark red leather. The grip then took to a second sapphire sphere, the same as the bottom recreated into the hand-guard which also forked into another two fangs, these though facing down and towards the first two.

“The grip should be perfect for ye hand’s size and comfortable, it may look thick and heavy but it’s actually surprisingly light.”

The grip itself was thin enough for her to hold, but the entire hilt alone seemed large enough to be a weapon.

Then began the blade, large and wide blueish silver which after a foot’s length shrunk, still wider than any blade she’d seen held. It continued for three more feet before slowly expanding, reaching two tips and then collapsing back, a diamond shape of almost two feet with a wooden shield at the centre carved with protective runes.

“The mixture of ore used will give ye a sturdy blade that shouldn’t be too hard for ye to wield either,”

Then came the rest of the blade, a straight shot of silver-blue taking up to the tip, another four feet long.

Fully revealing it, Erika’s eyes lay wide.

“It’s the first try, but if ye want any changes made just ask kid. This thing might as well be my best work yet!” Jared exclaimed with a laugh.

“No, it’s perfect.” Erika said, hovering her hands over the grip. “Thank you.”

Holding back a sniffle, Jared cleared his throat before speaking, “Well then do me a favor in return princess, give her a name.”

Pausing right before taking hold of it, “A name?”

“All great weapons deserve a name, both maker and wielder must agree on it, then the weapon will decide.” Jared said.

Erika nodded and paused for a long silent moment of thought, “My…mother, once told me an old human story. Of a great sword which would cleave wicked monsters out of the very sky, accepting only the truest to wield it. A blade that could cut mountains in half, break the rush of great rivers and clear off storms.”

Erika took hold of the grip, expecting a great weight, she instead found she could lift it with some effort.

Same as before, she felt something…

Energy, it creeped out of the grip and into her palms, suddenly rushing through her entire body and dancing with her own mana.

Her own magic and the weapon’s synergized, and then she spoke the words.

“I will name it…” Mana surging out with her voice, “Durendal.” She said in draconic, “Durandal.”

“Durandal?” Jared repeated, “I like it.” Gesturing then at the surging of energy through the blade, “And I think it does too.”

As suddenly the metal shuddered, and a wave of blue-gold energy rushed out of the shield-center, engulfing the blade. Following the rush of mana, cracks formed along both the top and base of the blade, but not the center diamond, turning most of the blade into shards which held together with the blue-gold mana.

“Question…” Gray then mused, glancing over the weapon’s size…the workshop, and then the door. “How do we get it out?”

"H-How...will you carry it around?..." Tejil then asked.