The Ironworks buzzed with a sense of urgency as the earth trembled beneath it, each quake a reminder of the impending chaos. Amid the fervor of preparation, Kalem found himself called to a secluded courtyard at the edge of the complex. It was a place of innovation and experimentation, where a group of artisans and ruin-crafters worked tirelessly to create weapons and tools capable of withstanding the chaos of the Season of Fire.
This wasn't sparring or scavenging; it was something entirely different. For Kalem, it was an opportunity to push his craft in ways he hadn't imagined. But it was also a humbling experience. While his skills in forging and weapon design were respected, his knowledge of ruins—the intricate art of embedding magic into physical objects—was non-existent.
Tharic had made that clear before Kalem arrived. "Don't think for a second you're running the show here. You've got the eye for builds, sure. But when it comes to ruins? You're better off watching and learning."
Kalem accepted the challenge, determined to contribute however he could.
The courtyard was alive with activity. Tables and workbenches were covered in blueprints, tools, glowing crystals, and half-finished weapons. Artisans argued over designs, while ruin-crafters painstakingly etched shimmering patterns into steel. In the center of it all stood Tavian, the Ironworks' most skilled ruin-crafter.
Tavian was a wiry man with sharp features and an intense gaze that seemed to pierce through metal and bone alike. When Kalem arrived, Tavian wasted no time.
"Kalem, good," he said briskly, motioning toward a rack of unfinished weapons. "I hear you've got a knack for making things sturdy. We've got plenty of magic here, but not enough builds that can handle it. Think you can fix that?"
Kalem nodded, rolling up his sleeves. "Let's get to work."
Hours passed as Kalem immersed himself in the process. He worked alongside a team of smiths and crafters, fine-tuning weapon designs to withstand the strain of ruin energy. Axes were rebalanced, sword hilts were reinforced, and shield edges were tempered to prevent cracking under pressure.
Kalem's practical expertise quickly earned the respect of the others. Where some crafters hesitated, unsure how to balance functionality with the demands of magic, Kalem stepped in with decisive solutions.
"That blade's too narrow for the ruin's output," he said at one point, examining a glowing longsword. "Widen the base, or the energy flow will shatter it."
The smith nodded, adjusting the design while Tavian observed from a distance, his expression unreadable.
Despite his growing confidence, Kalem couldn't help but feel out of his depth when it came to the ruins themselves. He watched as Tavian and his team etched intricate patterns into weapons, their hands moving with practiced precision. The ruins glowed faintly, their magic humming in a way that Kalem could feel but not fully understand.
"What does that one do?" Kalem asked, pointing to a spiraling design on a shield.
"Energy dispersion," Tavian replied without looking up. "It channels shockwaves outward instead of absorbing them. Perfect for something like a Lava Worm's eruption."
Kalem frowned. "And it'll hold?"
Tavian smirked. "That's what we're here to find out."
The testing phase began in the afternoon. A section of the courtyard had been converted into a simulation area, complete with machines designed to replicate the crushing jaws of a Galgameth and the concussive force of a Lava Worm.
One by one, the weapons and shields were put to the test. The energy-dispersing shield held firm against a weighted impact that would have splintered ordinary steel. A halberd with piercing runes sliced cleanly through reinforced armor.
Not every test was a success. A longsword overloaded with ruin energy shattered into fragments, and a gauntlet's mechanism jammed during a stress test. Each failure brought groans of frustration, but Tavian was relentless.
"Again!" he barked. "Every mistake brings us closer to something that works."
As the day stretched into evening, the team finally achieved a series of breakthroughs. Tavian handed Kalem one of the surviving halberds, its blade glowing faintly with the power of embedded ruins.
"Here," Tavian said. "You've got a solid grasp of the physical work, and you're quick to adapt. Take this into the field when the time comes. Let's see how it fares in real combat."
Kalem hefted the weapon, feeling the faint hum of magic beneath his grip. It was lighter than he expected, perfectly balanced.
"Thanks," he said, his voice steady with determination. "I'll make it count."
As Kalem walked back toward the main forge, the Ironworks was bathed in the golden light of a setting sun. The tremors beneath the earth were more frequent now, each one a stark reminder of the chaos approaching.
Around him, preparations continued. Sparring matches raged in the distance, miners returned from scavenging trips with their hauls, and crafters worked late into the night, their forges glowing like beacons in the gathering dark.
Kalem tightened his grip on the halberd, his thoughts racing. The Season of Fire loomed closer with each passing day, and with it came the greatest test of his abilities yet.
He wasn't just fighting for survival. He was fighting to prove himself—to the Ironworks, to Vornar and Tharic, and most of all, to himself.
The forge had given him his tools. Now, he had to wield them.