Goulth nodded with an intense expression. “Use my hammer. It’s the best one for the job.”

Red was surprised by this. The man never allowed him to use his hammer before, claiming it to be a personal gift he received a long time ago. He didn’t know what made his master change his mind, but he followed his instructions.

He knew the hammer by heart at this point, so he didn’t have any trouble finding it amidst the various tools. It was heavier than what Red was used to, but he could tell it was an excellent tool.

“You’ll need to fold the metal about ten times so the Dark Iron is evenly distributed along the length of the weapon.” Goulth said. “However, for that you’ll need to hammer the lump into the rough shape of the weapon first.”

Red nodded. He knew all of this already, but this was also his first time doing it, so he appreciated the blacksmith’s instruction.

With the boy’s approval, the blacksmith dragged out the lump of metal from the furnace onto the anvil. Red was ready to hammer it down, but he suddenly hesitated.

‘What am I doing?’

Goulth noticed this and frowned. “You need to be quick! We don’t want the metal to cool down!”

Red looked at his master, noticing his urging expression. He could see the anxiety and worry in the blacksmith’s eyes, and he knew that his success was more important for the man than for himself. It was at that point that he knew the answer.

It was no sudden enlightenment or something of the sort. The boy knew the answer to the man’s question the entire time, but he had chosen to ignore it. This was because of a single reason.

Red was always searching for an answer that would make his master happy, and not for the truth.

He was always hoping to fulfill his master’s expectations, but he couldn’t fool both of them any longer. It wouldn’t be fair to this man that had helped him so much.

“What are you waiting for, kid?! We need to move now!” Goulth’s voice became more frantic.

Red didn’t hesitate any longer, and his hammer struck the lump.

…

The forging process lasted for more than four hours, and it was one of the most exhausting endeavors Red ever took part in. Even when heated to its utmost, the Dark Iron alloy was unyielding. It took every ounce of his strength to fold the metal onto itself, a task that only got harder with every repetition.

When that was done, it was time for Red to shape the blade. The boy already had a weapon in mind, so he didn’t hesitate to put his hammer to work.

Red was focused on his work, so he couldn’t observe his master’s expression. However, he could feel Goulth’s fluctuation storming around with heavy emotions. The man never said anything, though, and let the boy do his work.

This was the first time Red ever tried to forge this kind of sword and with this type of difficult metal, so the task got much harder as it went along. To his surprise, though, that was when Goulth spoke up.

“The tip needs to be flatter.”

Red froze for a second. Still, he followed the man’s instructions. Goulth didn’t stop there either.

“This side is uneven.”

“Strike here now.”

“Flatten this part.”

Every advice was on point, as if the blacksmith knew exactly what kind of weapon Red planned to make. Once they were done shaping the blade, it was time for the quenching and tempering.

Goulth also assisted with this process, and Red didn’t offer any protest. The sudden cooling from quenching would help give the blade hardiness, while the slow tempering process would help give it flexibility, something that would keep it from breaking from severe impacts. Not that this metal seemed to suffer from either of these risks, but the blacksmith always made it clear how important these two processes were in the forging of a good weapon.

So Red listened to him, and once they were through with this, the blade was finally ready.

It was a dark grey short-sword, roughly fifty centimeters long, although one might confuse it with an oversized dagger. The blade was wide and heavy for a sword of this size, being five-fingers wide at the pommel, but it tapered off on both sides at a sharp angle towards the point, forming what looked like a tall triangle with its shape. There were also two fullers along the wide sides of the blade, something that helped lighten the already heavy weapon.

It looked unusual for a weapon, and yet from Goulth’s expression he recognized it very well.

“Cinquedea.” the man said with a saddened expression.

Indeed, this was the weapon Red chose to make. A faithful recreation of something his master once showed him from that blacksmithing book of his.

“It’s a heavier short-sword, proper for dealing deeper cuts.” Red said. “It might not be as swift as a normal short-sword, but I think it’s a good fit for my combat style.”

The blacksmith didn’t say anything. Indeed, Red had failed his task completely, but the boy wasn’t disheartened.

He looked at his master. “I have always enjoyed learning new things, but I have never been a very passionate individual. My primary goal has always been to survive, and one of the few enjoyments I take out of life is from the feeling of discovery and self improvement as I move along with each day… I take an interest in learning new practices, but that interest only goes as far as how it can benefit me towards these goals in the long run.”

Goulth’s expression faltered, but he remained silent.

Red sighed. “I tried it. I watched you and how you spoke about your passions, how you seemed to become a different person every time you worked in this forge… Yet, I wasn’t able to spark that feeling you always seemed to talk about, no matter how interested I was in blacksmithing. I don’t feel excited once I look at my works, or feel a drive to create something different, something that belongs to me. All I see when I’m done working is a useful tool.”

The boy could feel the man’s emotions wavering even more through his fluctuation, but he knew he needed to say this. It was what Goulth was owed, after all.

“Maybe these emotions don’t exist in me.” Red said. “Maybe there is something out there I have yet to find that will spark that fire in my heart. Whatever the case, I know for certain that nothing I’ve done until now has been it.” he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be the disciple you want me to be.”

Deep down, perhaps Goulth always knew this but chose to ignore it, so eager was he to have someone finally show interest in his trade, someone to pass on his knowledge. Maybe he hoped that with time he could awaken the passion for this process in this emotionless disciple of his, but Red knew himself better in the end. He wasn’t changing. He wasn’t growing.

Ever since the day he awoke in that underground, the boy had been one calm lake - unchanged in his feelings and ideals. This didn’t mean he was completely distant - he still felt a sense of responsibility and loyalty to the people that helped him. Yet, Red never felt any kind of strong emotional attachment towards anyone or anything.

He didn’t feel sad when he saw a dying Viran in the underground. He only thought it was a pity someone as strong as him would die in that kind of dark cave.

He didn’t feel bad about Narcha’s struggles as a friend. He only felt sympathy for her as a fellow cultivator.

The boy was still willing to be selfless and put his own best interests aside to help those close to him. Yet, he could never pretend to feel the way people wanted him to feel.

This was his spirit - practical, cold, and cynical. An ugly face to put towards the world, and yet Red never shied away for accepting himself as he truly was.

This was the truth Goulth deserved to know.

The blacksmith smiled with a defeated expression. “I see now that I have asked too much of you. I’m sure you have the capability to become a great blacksmith, yet I also tried to pass all my hopes and dreams onto you… It was unfair.”

Red shook his head. “I should have told you the truth sooner. I took advantage of your eagerness to teach and became your disciple and yet chose to ignore everything else that came with it. It was not something I should have done to someone who decided to help me.”

Goulth laughed with a sad expression. “Look at what you’re saying, kid! You’re barely ten, yet you speak as if you have lived tens of years more than me. Such worries and deep considerations aren’t something a child should have to worry about. Just let me take the blame and be done with it!”

Red frowned but didn’t offer any rebuke.

The blacksmith looked back at the dark sword. “I have always considered myself a failure to my predecessors. Possessed of the passion and talent for crafting, yet unable to continue in this path because of my poor aptitude in cultivation. It was my responsibility to find someone to carry on in my stead, to not let this knowledge die with me… Now that I say it out loud, how ridiculous does it sound? What kind of master looks for a disciple only to pass on the weight of his lifetime of hopes and dreams onto them? It’s not right. This responsibility, this failure… It is mine to carry alone.”

Goulth got up and approached the newly crafted weapon.

“You can come back tomorrow to collect your weapon. I’ll have it sharpened and ready by then.” he said. “I want to be alone for now.”

He didn’t look at Red as he spoke.

The boy hesitated, but he still walked out. Red still wasn’t sure whether his choice was for the best, yet he believed in one thing.

It was always better to know the truth, no matter how hurtful it might be.

Perhaps it was time he considered applying that line of thought to others in his sect too.