“So, you’ve finally returned, boy.” He looked at the basket in Derb’s hand. “Did you bring something back as an apology?” Derb looked down at the 3 remaining ham and cheese sandwiches… He was going to save those for later... Handing them to his master in defeat he paused. He knew he needed his permission for the sword but was he really going to do it? Especially after how rude Derb had been earlier. After a deep breath he decided to just ask the question on his mind.

“Teacher… I was thinking about getting a weapon to defend myself.” The teacher was already halfway through one of his sandwiches when he heard that. “Why would you ever need one? This whole village is safe boy. Besides, it’ll be a while before you become combat-ready, at least a year.” Derb anticipated this, “If it’d take me a whole year to be able to fight with magic don’t you think I’d need something in the meantime, just in case something unexpected happened?” Gerald opened his mouth to refute, then went deep into thought. “Boy, what weapon did you have in mind?” Derb smiled, he was getting his cane! “I spoke to the blacksmith Deitre about getting a cane sword and he agreed to-”

“HE WHAT?” His teacher interrupted. The old man grabbed both his shoulders… hard. “THE DEITRE BRAVE?!” Derb shook his head up and down furiously. It was a miracle the house hadn’t come down during his teacher's outraged shout. “HOW DI-" A chair fell over from the powerful display, and his teacher realized he was going too far. ...ahem... How did you get that man to agree on making you a sword?” Derb was confused at the question… “I just spoke to him about it… He was a bit angry at first but as we kept talking we became friends. I’m meeting him for more sandwiches tomorrow.”

The old man let go of the kid’s shoulders, “Haha… this kid is blessed by the gods. Hah… HAHAHA!” Oh no, Derb knew where this was going. “If you really are blessed by the gods… then you must be able to survive anything, right? Child?” Derb watched on in complete horror as his teacher started manifesting a goddamn motherloving lightning bolt in his hand. The lightning was crackling around him and singing the floor with just its power. He looked just like Zeus, if Zeus had lost a few pounds, and was 100 times scarier.

Derb knew he couldn’t run from this one. “Wait a second! What’s so important about this guy!?” The old man didn’t release the lightning spear in his hand, only increasing the power behind the bolt at the question. "You really don't know, do you?" He looked angrier than ever but began answering. “He’s a famous blacksmith, known for his top-quality mana weapons… they’re near impossible to get, even if you had the money.” Derb understood now, making friends with a dude like that was probably hard. Mana weapons were probably pretty powerful too but there was something he didn’t get. why did he assume he'd get one?

“He didn’t say anything about making me a mana weapon. I think I’m going to get a regular sword.” This earned a horrendous laugh from the old man, lightning smashing into the floor like a storm. “Do you think he’d be the type to half-ass his work? The man’s a master crafter, not some paltry metalsmith. Tell him to make an inferior weapon boy, I dare you, I’ll be there to clean your stain off the ground.” Again with the thunderous voice... At least he wasn't infusing it with too much magic this time. He was only given more questions from the rant. “Then who created all the tools around here? If Deitre didn’t make them, is there another crafter in the area?” There had to be someone who made the tools, buying them from somewhere would have been too expensive.

He didn't expect Gerald's response. His teacher had a grimace on his face, and he released his lightning bolt without blowing up the house. “Those were his son’s creations, I advise you to not snoop into his business any more than that kid. A man deserves his secrets.” Derb nodded, remembering how Gerald had used the same words for him when he first came here. He was just happy to not be barbecue at this point. “So uhh, about the weapon...” Derb coyishly asked. the old man sighed. “Of course I’ll pay for it boy, I wouldn’t be your teacher if I allowed this chance to pass.” Gerald took his arm and put it on top of Derb’s head. “You’re a good kid, even if you infuriate me sometimes, I’d never take this chance away from you because of some petty envy. ”

Derb was touched, mentally and physically exhausted, but touched. “Thank you, teacher! Maybe if I get close enough to the blacksmith he might even make one for you!” He saw the greed in his teacher’s eyes from that statement. He almost felt guilty knowing that he’d never stoop so low as to ask the blacksmith for a favor like that. “I knew I made the correct choice turning you into my student, come here!” His teacher went in for a hug, which derb reciprocated. However, as Derb was being embraced he felt the familiar sense of danger crawl up his spine.

“As a reward, you’ll get another dose of the mana baths. I want you to become peerless, after all.” Derb was desperately trying to wriggle his way out of the Gerald’s grip the moment the old man said reward. He looked like a cat when a toddler hugged it too hard. “Teacher, there’s no need! You’ve done enough for me already! I wouldn’t want to impose any more than I already have!” The old man wasn’t convinced and was already throwing in the ingredients, all while holding Derb with one arm over his shoulder. “Don’t worry boy, the slight heat from the last few were only to speed up your terrible mana capacity growth. Now that your mana is decent enough for a few spells we can let practice and time do the work.” He put the boy down in front of the tub, and let the boy feel the water. Derb felt like he would cry when he felt how nice it was. “Unrobe yourself already, we might as well discuss your sword while you soak.” It took Derb about 5 seconds before he eagerly jumped into the bath.

“I’ve already decided on some sort of cane sword… though I’m up for suggestions if you have any.” His teacher looked at Derb like he was a moron. Which was honestly fair. “Why would the great blacksmith Deitre waste his time making a gimmick, boy? I will not stand for it.” This shocked Derb, the idea was so amazing in his mind! What did his teacher see wrong in it? When he asked he was torn apart. “I doubt there’d be many places that won’t allow you entry with a weapon, and those that are closely guarded would still take your cane as a precaution. Not to mention how even a weapon with moderate reach would make a terribly long cane. If you really want support for walking, then how about a spear?”

That… that wasn’t why he wanted the cane though… He tried to lead the conversation away from ugly weapons. “Would I be able to use a spear with my attributes?” Bingo, the old man became silent for a second, deep in thought. “You’re right, your weapon would need to be fast and flexible in close situations… Just get a sword boy, there’s never a situation In which one wouldn’t come in handy!” Derb thought about it… a sword did sound pretty neat if a bit basic. He thought that maybe he would want a shield, maybe it'd be too much clutter at that point. “I’ll ask him for one tomorrow. Hopefully, he’s still in a good mood.” He finally got out of the bath, feeling refreshed. He wanted to sleep soon, the faster he got that sword the faster he’d be able to call himself a warrior.

After night passed, Derb woke up refreshed. With no nightmare today anf his mind cleared he started meditating. He would have gone early in the morning but he thought that’d be rude. After about an hour he headed into the village, cursing how far his teacher’s home was from anyone else's. After a small stop to talk to the children he ‘saved’ yesterday (Apparently, no one had believed them about the demon) Derb finally arrived at the blacksmith’s workshop. He walked in to see the blacksmith focused over the forge, and felt a strange sense of deja vu “Hey, Deitre! The old man agreed! Why didn’t you tell me about how good you were at making swords?”

The blacksmith felt his temper flare up but calmed it immediately. He knew the kid was a good person, just a bit of an idiot. “Shut up for a second boy, see that forge blower over there?” He pointed next to the forge, at a giant object that looked like a broken accordion. “Help me heat the forge or I’ll cancel your project.” “What!?” Derb couldn't have that! He wondered about how badly his teacher would hurt him if he came back empty handed. Derb hurried over to the blower. The thing must have weighed over fifty pounds… “what do I do with it!?” The old man was still [founding away at the sword, even then he still managed to answer. “Just push down on the handle you dunce!” Hurtful… Derb began to pump air as fast as he could into the forge. He wondered if it was too much, until he heard Deitre's voice. “Hahaha! Keep it up, lad! At this rate, I’ll be done within the hour!”

An hour!? Derb wouldn’t be able to hold up that long! He was running out of breath as they spoke! just a few moments of constant repetitive pumping had passed and Derb knew he wouldn’t last the next 20 minutes, let alone an hour. He knew he had to try something. He recalled the sense of power when he overfilled himself with mana. He closed his eyes and started to clear his head while pumping. The boy was trying to meditate while moving, something he’d hadn’t yet done before. His ragged breathing and heat blowing off the forge weren't helping much to provide a sound environment either.

After a few minutes in the darkness, he started to feel the familiar feeling of mana all around him. It wasn’t as dense as when he was sitting properly, and he couldn’t make out any of his surroundings. It was enough though. Derb started pulling all the mana he could from his surroundings and used it to strengthen his body. The strength and speed increase was barely noticeable, but he was feeling more rejuvenated as he breathed the mana in and out. It wasn’t until ten minutes passed before the blacksmith spoke again. “Stop for a bit boy, the fire is perfect.” Derb could barely nod before he collapsed, still breathing in mana and healing his ravaged body.

Derb was happy for a break… his body felt like it wouldn’t handle another minute. The relief was short lived, as only 10 minutes passed before Deitre required him once again. “What are you dallying for, boy! BACK TO THE FLAMES!” At the sound of his booming voice, Derb jumped up and started pumping, too tired to even complain about the break.

After an hour and a half of hellish fire the boy, now covered in soot, and the uproariously laughing man were finally done with the project. “Oh… oh god...” the boy gasped for the dirty but now cold air around him. He felt like his lungs were on fire, hell they probably were. “You… do this every day? What’s wrong with… oh my god, I’m dying.” The man helped Derb up, still laughing furiously. “Boy! You must be my good luck charm! The magic impurities on this blade are next to none. This might just be my greatest work!” Oh, so that’s why the man was so happy. He looked at the blade, it was massive, about five feet long and four inches wide, yet the blacksmith was moving it around with one hand. Whoever got this better be proud, Derb worked extremely hard on it.

“Boy, I’ve decided, this weapon will be yours.” What!? That couldn't happen! Derb could barely carry that thing, let alone swing it! “Why have you decided that?” He asked, trying to hide his dissatisfaction and panic. He absolutely couldn't take one so big; he had to be adamant. The answer he got was quite surprising, however. “I started making this from before the moment you came in, months of hard work to perfect my craft. But the impurities in making swords so big always ruined their mana stability, making them worse than trash. I don’t know what you did but the mana impurities in the air seemed to stop affecting the blade. It’s better at circulating mana than even some of my daggers.” The blacksmith looked derb in the eyes once more, just like yesterday. Though the sadness and pain from last time weren’t there, only the pride in creating a masterpiece could be seen.

How could Derb turn down such an amazing weapon? “Take it, boy, there’s no chance at helping me much more in the forge without at least strengthening yourself, so use this sword as training… ah.” The blacksmith paused… he was getting ahead of himself, and boy did Derb notice. With a big smile, Derb replied. “If you want me to help you so much then I’ll gladly take it! Just ask teacher for the cost, don’t charge him too much though, or I’ll feel guilty. How much does a sword that big cost anyways?” Deitre, embarrassed at the accusation of wanting company, dropped the naked blade directly onto Derb’s arms. the blade was dull, but the weight still felt like derb got smacked by a club. “I’ll discuss payment with your master once I properly finish the sword. You can go and clean yourself boy, you look like you came out of a coal mine.” Derb looked at his once white robes and arms, completely covered in ash. He had no doubt his face wasn't an exception. “Ah, I guess you’re right, let’s talk about the sword later, I think I know why the impurities were removed.” This raised the old man’s eyebrow and Derb could almost see a smile on his face as the blacksmith replied. “Oh? Well, then I have no reason to refuse, do I?”

After leaving the workshop he went directly to his teacher, how would he react to the news that the sword was already done? He was happy to think the old man would praise him, he’d been getting fewer of those since Tiffany got mad at him. Once he reached the old man's house he burst inside. He found the old man, who was sitting and reading a book, with Derb’s imp at his side trying to take a peek. None of that mattered to Derb as he quickly informed his teacher. “The blacksmith already completed my weapon! With my help, of course. You should have seen it! It’s massive, I could barely carry it!” The praise didn’t come, the old man only facepalmed at his student's remark. “Child, in what way is it good that you can barely carry your weapon?” Derb looked blankly at his teacher, then at the imp, who stared blankly back. He then realized how stupid he was for accepting the sword. His teacher rose from his seat and stretched. “Come, let’s ask him for another, it won’t be too hard.” the man said noncommittally

“No!” Derb backed away as if he'd been told his father died. He wasn’t just going to waste the goodwill of the blacksmith! “I want this one, Deitre said it was his masterpiece!” His teacher looked at him strangely, “What do you mean, boy?” Derb explained. “He told me this one had the ‘least impurities’ of all his weapons, even his daggers, or something.” His master froze… clenching and unclenching his hands. “What you’re telling me, boy, is that after the Deitre Brave created his best weapon yet, something close to that of a spirit weapon. His first thought was to give it to you?” Derb nodded, it wasn’t that hard to get, was it? Also... "what's a spirit weapon?" Lightning crackled in the old man’s hands for a second at his student's horribly ignorance. it went as soon as it came as he just sighed defeatedly. “Alright boy... let’s retrieve your sword. ” and thus a very satisfied Derb and an old man wondering if there really was such a thing as divine blessings went into town. Both ready to receive Derb’s facny new sword.