The sun hung low on the horizon as Kain stumbled along the dirt road leading back to Vulcan's workshop. The crude goblin spear he had taken from his attacker now served as a makeshift crutch, the splintered shaft digging into his palm with each agonizing step. His leg throbbed with every movement, blood seeping from the wound despite the torn cloth he had hastily wrapped around it.
The path wound through a small hamlet outside the town gates. People glanced at him as he passed, their faces a mixture of curiosity and unease. He caught snippets of hushed whispers.
"Is that blood?"
"Did he come from the dungeon?"
"tsk Poor kid..."
Kain avoided their gazes, his jaw clenched as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The weight of the stares pressed on him like the heavy air of the cave he'd just escaped. He didn't need their pity. He didn't need their questions. He just needed to reach Vulcan's workshop.
The gate to the town loomed ahead, tall and imposing with iron reinforcements. The guards stationed there straightened as he approached. One of them, a burly man with a pike, stepped forward.
"You've seen better days, kid," the guard said, his tone gruff but not unkind. His eyes lingered on Kain's bloodied leg. "What happened?"
"Goblin dungeon," Kain replied, his voice hoarse and strained. "Just need to get through."
The guard exchanged a glance with his companion but didn't press further after checking Kain's id. "Go on, then. Get that wound looked at."
Kain nodded in thanks and limped past the gate, entering the surprisingly bustling streets of the town. Merchants called out their wares, children darted between carts, and the smell of baked bread and roasting meat filled the air. The normalcy of it all was almost jarring after the dark, oppressive cave.
He passed by the river that ran along the town's center, its gentle current glinting in the fading sunlight. For a brief moment, Kain stopped and stared at the water. It was calming, soothing even, but the pain in his leg pulled him back to reality. He gripped the spear tighter and pressed on.
Finally, Vulcan's workshop came into view. The forge's chimney belched black smoke into the evening sky, and the rhythmic clang of hammer on metal echoed through the street. Kain stumbled to the door and pushed it open, the familiar scent of molten steel and oil washing over him.
Vulcan, a broad-shouldered man with a brown beard and soot-streaked arms, looked up from his work. His eyes widened as he took in Kain's state.
"By the flames, boy, what happened to you?" Vulcan barked, setting down his hammer.
"Goblin dungeon," Kain said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I made it out."
Vulcan hurried over, guiding Kain to a stool. "You're lucky you're not dead. Sit still. Let me take a look at that leg."
As Vulcan began tending to the wound, Kain leaned back, exhaustion finally overtaking him. The warmth of the forge and the steady presence of the old blacksmith made him feel, for the first time since entering that cursed dungeon, that he was safe.
"I'll show you how to forge something better than that stick you're holding," Vulcan muttered as he worked. "But first, you rest. You've earned it."
Kain nodded weakly, his grip on the goblin spear loosening as his eyes fluttered closed. The journey back had been brutal, but he had made it. And as the sound of the forge filled his ears, he allowed himself a small, tired smile. He was alive, and that was enough for now.
The days stretched on as Kain lay on the floor in the corner of Vulcan's workshop, his injured leg propped up on a pile of coal. The sharp pain of the goblin's spear wound had dulled to a steady ache, but every attempt to move sent a twinge up his thigh. It was frustrating, being unable to do much besides sit and watch as Vulcan worked at the forge.
The blacksmith wasn't a towering man, his broad shoulders and thick arms moving with practiced precision. The clang of his hammer striking hot steel echoed through the workshop, mingling with the hiss of quenching metal and the crackle of the roaring forge. Kain couldn't help but watch, transfixed, as Vulcan transformed raw materials into tools and weapons.
"You keep staring like that, boy, and I'll start charging you for lessons," Vulcan said one day without looking up, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Kain shifted awkwardly, adjusting his leg. "I'm just... watching. Trying to figure out how you do it."
Vulcan snorted, wiping sweat from his brow with a soot-streaked forearm. "Figuring it out, huh? That's good. Can't keep swinging a hammer around the way you have been you need to understand the rhythm of the work. Steel doesn't shape itself, you know. It takes patience—and a lot of sweat."
Kain's gaze lingered on the glowing blade Vulcan was working on, its edges taking form under each strike of the hammer. The way Vulcan moved fascinated him—every motion purposeful, every strike measured.
"What are you making?" Kain asked after a while.
"Simple hunting knife," Vulcan replied. "Not flashy, but it'll do the job. The world's full of folks who think big swords win every fight, but the right blade in skilled hands? That's what really counts."
Kain frowned, his fingers twitching slightly. "I wish I had something like that... back in the cave."
Vulcan paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the boy. "You made it out, didn't you? That means you already have what matters most—a will to survive. A blade's just a tool. It's what you do with it that counts."
Kain nodded slowly, his fingers brushing against the rough bandages on his leg. The memory of the goblin dungeon still haunted him—the sneering faces, the suffocating dark, the sharp pain of the spear that nearly ended him.
Vulcan returned to his work, the hammer ringing out once more. "When that leg of yours heals up, we'll see if you've got the hands for forging. But for now, rest. A wounded smith's no use to anyone."
Kain sighed, leaning back against the wall. The warmth of the forge and the steady rhythm of Vulcan's work were oddly comforting, lulling him into a quiet calm. For now, he could do nothing but watch and wait. But as he studied the way Vulcan brought steel to life, a spark ignited within him—a desire to learn, to grow stronger, to be ready for the next fight.
The goblin's spear had almost taken everything from him, but Kain vowed that the next time he faced danger, he wouldn't just survive—he'd win.