The fires of the miners' barracks flickered low as Kalem sat cross-legged on his cot, examining a piece of luminite he'd unearthed earlier that day. The faint glow of the mineral danced across his face, illuminating the notes scrawled in his journal. His fascination with the rare ore consumed him, and he barely noticed the shadow that fell across the doorway.
"You've got the eyes of someone looking for answers," a gruff voice interrupted.
Kalem looked up to see a figure leaning casually against the doorframe. The man was older, his face weathered and lined, with a scraggly beard streaked with gray. His clothes were simple but carried the marks of a life spent underground—dust-covered and patched in places.
"Graven," the man introduced himself, stepping into the room. His gait was slow but deliberate, his eyes sharp and assessing.
Kalem had heard of Graven. Among the miners, the old man was something of a legend, known for uncovering rare veins of ore in places others had given up on. His methods were unconventional, and his behavior often dismissed as eccentric.
"I've been watching you, boy," Graven said, his voice rough but measured. "You've got potential, but you're wasting it swinging that pick like a brute."
Kalem straightened, caught off guard by the comment. "I'm doing my best," he said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.
"Your best? Ha!" Graven barked a laugh. "Your best is just brute force and luck. That'll get you through the day, but it won't get you far in this valley—or life."
Kalem frowned, unsure whether to take the criticism as an insult or advice. "And what would you suggest?"
Graven smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "You've got the drive, I'll give you that. But you're blind to the flow of the earth. Mining's not about strength—it's about listening. Feeling. Moving with the stone, not against it. You've got a lot to learn, boy, but if you're willing, I can teach you."
Kalem hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I'm willing."
"Good." Graven's grin widened. "We start tomorrow."
The next day, Kalem found himself in a less-traveled section of the mine, following Graven as the old man moved with surprising agility through narrow tunnels and jagged pathways.
"This here," Graven said, gesturing to the rock walls around them, "is where you begin. Feel the stone. It's alive, in a way—holds mana, just like us."
Kalem frowned. "Mana? In the earth?"
Graven nodded. "Aye. The earth breathes, boy. You channel your mana into it, and it'll tell you where the treasures lie."
The concept intrigued Kalem, who had been experimenting with mana control in his own way. Under Graven's guidance, he began practicing how to focus his energy, placing his hands on the cool stone and letting his mana flow into it. At first, the results were subtle—a faint warmth, a sense of resistance—but over time, he began to notice more. He could feel slight vibrations, shifts in the density of the rock, and the faint pull of minerals hidden within.
"You've got the knack," Graven said one day, watching Kalem locate a vein of copper almost instinctively. "But don't get cocky. The earth can be as fickle as it is generous."
Graven's lessons extended beyond the physical act of mining. He spoke often of balance and harmony, of the need to respect the forces at play rather than dominate them. Though he never used the term "battle aura," Kalem couldn't help but notice the similarities to what he had been trying to master.
"Strength is nothing without control," Graven said during one of their sessions. "You think a dwarf cracks a stone because he's stronger than a human? No, it's because he knows how to strike. Where to strike. Precision beats power every time."
Kalem nodded, taking the words to heart. He began incorporating these lessons into his training, refining his movements, and focusing on control rather than brute force.
As the weeks passed, Kalem's progress became undeniable. His mining improved significantly, and he started uncovering high-quality ores that others had overlooked. The other miners began to notice, and whispers of admiration—and jealousy—started circulating.
Graven, however, remained unimpressed by the attention. "Ignore them," he said gruffly when Kalem mentioned the miners' remarks. "You're not here to impress anyone. You're here to learn."
Despite his gruff exterior, Graven began to warm to Kalem. Over shared meals and late-night conversations, the old man revealed fragments of his own story—a life spent chasing riches, losing friends to the mines, and finally settling into a quieter existence.
"You remind me of me when I was your age," Graven admitted one evening. "Hungry for more. Just don't let that hunger blind you."
One night, after an especially long shift, Kalem sat with Graven near the mine's entrance, watching the stars. "You've taught me a lot," Kalem said, his voice quiet but sincere. "But why? Why help me?"
Graven shrugged. "Maybe I see potential. Maybe I'm bored. Or maybe I just like the idea of passing on what I've learned. Doesn't matter why, does it?"
Kalem smiled, nodding. "No, I suppose it doesn't."
As they sat in silence, Kalem felt a deep sense of gratitude. Graven's guidance had not only improved his skills but also deepened his understanding of himself and the path he was on. The old miner had become more than a mentor; he was a catalyst, pushing Kalem closer to his goal of mastering battle aura and becoming a blacksmith capable of shaping the future.
With Graven's guidance, Kalem's confidence grew, and his understanding of mana control deepened. He was no longer just a laborer in the mines—he was a student of the earth, learning its secrets and harmonizing with its rhythms.
But Kalem knew that his journey was far from over. Graven's lessons were only the beginning, a foundation upon which he would build something greater. The next steps would be his alone to take, and he was ready for the challenges that lay ahead.