Oscar sweated profusely under his uniform. He was at the crucial part of the armament refinement: creating a formation to bind the metal, the tusk, and the beast's core formation into a complete armament. His hands shook from the memory of the many failures he had done during his training.

"Are you going to start? It's not good if the material begins to cool." The proctor advised.

"I understand. I'm thinking about the formation that can make this work." Oscar placed the section of the core's formation he had separated on the material. The formation began to shine, and smoke hissed as it embedded itself into the molten metal.

Oscar lifted his hammer, eyeing the formation. It comprised five nodes, each connected to the nodes next to them and the node opposite them. Outside, there were lines of Ein that were not connected on the other end, where he had cut it apart.

Now the task had fallen on Oscar to reconnect these lines to his new formation in a strong configuration to bind it. But the hardest part was to figure out the new formation.

Placing the nodes in the correct places to meld the materials while setting up the connection to the core's formation was mind-boggling. Oscar watched the molten material carefully and analyzed it in his mind.

His hammer fell swiftly onto the bottom of the molten plate. Quickly, he rushed to the very top. Swords required a sharp tip but a good base for the hilt.

These two nodes he placed represented those two places. But now came the tricky part of placing the nodes in between. Oscar glanced at the disconnected lines of the and the nodes he had placed.

Images of many different configurations passed through his mind, but he could not decide. He needed to know more. Oscar traced his hammer across the molten material, feeling every single bit of it while plotting a course for his nodes.

He opened his eyes and swung his hammer again, creating four new nodes to calm the disconnected lines and place them in the spots he deemed appropriate. The furnace continued to burn without care as Oscar's labored breathing fanned the flames.

The proctor gazed at Oscar's current configuration, crossing his arms in thought.

'The hardest part is the initial step of where to bind those straggling lines of the beast's core. If the formation is adequate, then he has succeeded. However, if the formation is too weak, it will break down.'

Oscar regained control of his breathing and began his next layer of nodes. As he did, the molten plate began to mold into a long shape resembling a sword. Next was the placement of the lines; each step of the way, Oscar made sure to reanalyze the material's makeup and began lines to connect the nodes.

Lines were placed straightforwardly, but others were placed to circle to the other side.

'Almost there.' Oscar was close to reaching the ends of the sword, the first two nodes he had placed earlier. With a final sequence of lines, he connected these two points to the rest of the formation. Every single node shone brightly like stars as the lines pulsed.

There was one final step to do now.

The long slab of metal was quenched into a long bucket of glacial oil. As the cold settled into the blade, the formation began to dim as if withdrawing within the metal.

In the middle of all the smoke and vapor from this chemical reaction, Oscar heaved a relieved sigh and lifted the blade. It was a fine long blade with good sharpness, but Oscar's face fell when he held the blade in his hands and poured his Ein into it.

The Ein did not flow well into the blade like a spanning river that was blocked off at each stream. Oscar understood that this meant the formation failed to do its job correctly and that the materials conflicted with one another.

It was a close success but a failure nonetheless.

Oscar threw the blade back into the large crucible to melt. It was heartening to know the materials could be reused. He cursed in his heart while gripping the hammer as he waited; if the test didn't require integrating the beast core's formation, he would have succeeded.

But the test could not be changed. Oscar had only two more tries now. He ran over the mistakes in his mind, thinking about the factors involved.

…….

"Don't you think you're rushing your disciple too much?" Remulus Grant, the Pavilion Master, rubbed his clean-shaven bald head.

Draven, the Warden, was with his master on the same terrace of the Abyss Prison where they met earlier. They were drinking tea, courtesy of Remulus, who remembered the horrid tea from last time. This time, he made sure to bring the good stuff.

"Rushing him?" Draven downed his tea, and smoke huffed out of his helmet. "What in the world are you saying? Before you talk about how a master treats his disciple, you should correct your own mistakes."

Draven poured himself another cup without reservations. Since his master had put this tea out, he would not hesitate or show respect.

"This kind of attitude and your madness is why I sent you here." Remulus sighed.

"What did you say, you shitty old man?" Draven's voice rang through the dark waters, and a large creature, obscured by the darkness save its one large pale eye, approached.

"Calm down." Remulus pushed a plate of cookies over. "You have no one but yourself to blame for your situation. I only did what I did as the Pavilion Master and kept you from others. But don't worry. The time will come when you be unleashed outside."

"Is the situation that bad?" Draven scraped his finger around the rims of his teacup.

"At the very least, you should attend the meetings with Robert and the others. As long as you don't come out for too long." Remulus glanced at his wayward disciple with a sigh but a gentle light in his green eyes. "The situation was stewing for many years before my time as the Pavilion Master. Ever since the discovery of that thing in the Ashen Grove."

Draven passed the plate of cookies back to Remulus. "At least we have the so-called Grade Nine prodigy in our midst."

"Speaking of that child, Gilbert, Robert has decided to take him under his wing as a disciple," Remulus smirked teasingly. "Will you two continue your rivalry with your disciples?"

"What an idiotic thing to consider. Robert can do what he wants. I won't let Oscar interact with a single scrap of Robert's influence. He has far better things to do than entangle with some grade nine pup, like passing the one-star examination." Draven scoffed.

"That brings us back to our previous question. Why did you rush him into this?" Remulus asked. "He could have practiced more at the Foundry."

Draven looked up at the vast darkness of the lake's depths. "I want to push him. There is no shame or risk in failing. If he fails, he can understand and grow from it, but if he passes, then his efforts are validated. He's grown well, understands his shortcomings, and continually builds on himself."

"A good student." Remulus sipped his tea.

"Yes. It may be a snail's pace, but he's constantly improving." Draven was still looking up. "He may never make a mark on history or maybe waste away, held back by his limits one day, but I can be proud to say he is my disciple."

Draven could almost see Oscar's hammer hitting on the anvil.

Remulus crossed his arms. He could tell Draven was smiling under that helmet. 'What is this? So he can still make a face like that?'

Remulus smiled and stood up. "I'm satisfied. As your master and adoptive father, I'm glad for you."

Draven remained silent and nodded slightly. "Then, as your adoptive son's disciple, Oscar deserves something."

Remulus laughed heartily. "You always try to take something at every chance. Didn't I say to let him prove himself in the Ashen Grove?"

The space cracked in front of him, tearing apart into a vortex. Remulus stepped through and space repaired itself before Draven.

"That old man…." Draven's eyes remained on the spot where Remulus had left. He remembered a scene from long ago. When he, as a young child, sat at the same table as Remulus, eating a good meal together, laughing as Remulus told several jokes.

Draven stomped his feet; the tables and tea set shattered into pieces, and the terrace grounds began to crack as he growled.

Draven closed his eyes to calm down, and a sudden memory flashed into his mind. It was Oscar eating without reservation at the last feast. "Maybe I should have told some jokes."

…….

Oscar bashed his hammer down.

The node shone after it was stamped on the molten material.

This was his third and final try. Oscar refused to let it just end right here. He clenched his teeth, and his eyes went bloodshot as he tried to feel everything, even placing his hand on the molten piece to feel it directly himself, steaming and hissing as the glove started to catch fire.

"Are you crazy?!" The fabricator was shocked.

However, Oscar was deaf to his screams and finished his formation. After he quenched it, Oscar felt the blade had a different air around it.

His fingers tapped on the metal, and it rang like a bell. His Ein flowed easily into it.

This was a true grade-one armament.

Oscar held it out to the fabricator. "Please check it out!"