Damian and Ashan stood before a weathered building, its faded exterior hinting at years of wear and tear.
"So, this is your workshop," Ashan remarked, his tone more curious than critical.
Damian glanced at the boy. "It's not much to look at, huh?"
Ashan smiled lightly. "A blacksmith's skill isn't in the walls of their workshop. No matter the place, blacksmithing is blacksmithing. Wouldn't you agree?"
Damian's lips twitched upward into a proud grin. "You've got the heart of a true craftsman, kid. That's exactly how a blacksmith should think."
They entered the workshop, revealing a chaotic interior. Tools and unfinished weapons were scattered everywhere, a testament to Damian's relentless work ethic.
"Don't mind the mess. Use this table," Damian said, clearing off a spot. Then, he gestured toward a small room. "You'll find tools and materials in there. Be careful not to hurt yourself. If you need help, just call me—I'll be working on my own projects."
"Before I start, I need to fulfill my promise," Ashan said, pulling the mysterious liquid bottle from his coat.
Damian's eyes widened. "Hmm… It looks bigger when you see it up close."
Ashan handed him a few papers.
"These came with it. According to the documents, the liquid is compressed in this bottle with a spell. Another spell prevents mana from entering it. To use it freely, we need a place that mana can't reach."
Damian scratched his head.
"That's a problem. Mana is everywhere. We'd need a mage to help suppress it, and that's not exactly easy or cheap."
Ashan smiled. "I have a solution. But first, you must promise to keep what happens here a secret."
Damian hesitated but then nodded. "I swear. What's your solution?"
Ashan raised his index finger.
[Shield Magic: Mana Resistance]
A wave of light spread through the room, blanketing it in an invisible barrier.
Damian's jaw dropped, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Shall we begin?" Ashan asked, as though nothing unusual had happened.
"H-How did you… Is that shield magic? Only professional mages can—"
"I told you I had a solution," Ashan interrupted. "Don't ask how I can do it. Just know that I can."
Damian sighed, scratching his head.
"Unbelievable… A child casting a spell like that. Your parents must be proud."
"They don't know I can do things like this," Ashan replied simply.
"You're joking."
"No. They truly don't," Ashan said, meeting Damian's incredulous gaze. "But you promised to keep this secret."
"Fine, I don't know." Damian muttered. "Let's get to work."
He handed Ashan a clean glass bottle, and Ashan carefully unsealed the mysterious liquid's container. A strange scent filled the air, sharp and unfamiliar.
"It's strong…" Damian muttered as Ashan poured some of the liquid into the new bottle.
"Is this enough?" Ashan asked.
Damian nodded, taking the smaller bottle.
"Keep this one too," Ashan said, handing him the original.
"It's safer here. I'll come back to use it again."
"Alright," Damian agreed, tucking both bottles safely away.
...
The hours that followed were a whirlwind of activity. Damian tried to focus on his own work, but his gaze kept drifting toward Ashan.
Ashan worked tirelessly, shirtless, his lean yet muscular frame gleaming with sweat. He heated metal with expert precision, shaping it into thin strings of varying thickness. His focus was unbreakable, his movements fluid and deliberate.
Damian couldn't help but marvel.
He's not just a student—he's a prodigy. That muscle tone, that skill—it's as if he's spent years in the forge.
Ashan moved on to carving coastal wood. The pieces began to take shape, resembling halves of a fruit at first. But as he worked, it became clear they were components of something entirely unique.
Damian scratched his head, utterly baffled.
What in the world is he making? Strings, carved wood… It's not a weapon. Is it an experiment?
Unable to decipher Ashan's intentions, Damian returned to his work, though his curiosity lingered.
…
Evening came, and Damian finished his work, realizing how much time had passed. He glanced at Ashan, who was putting away tools and wiping the sweat from his brow.
"It seems you've finished your work. May I see what you've made?" Damian asked, his curiosity impossible to suppress.
Ashan nodded, lifting the object he had been working on all day. Damian's eyes widened as he saw it—a slender frame of coastal wood with six strings stretched across it. The metal strings gleamed under the dim light, and the wooden body was polished to perfection.
"What… is this?" Damian asked, bewildered.
"It's a musical instrument," Ashan replied calmly. "Something I designed myself."
Damian stared at it, wide-eyed. "A… musical instrument? I've never seen anything like it. What does it do?"
Ashan grinned. "It creates sound—music. You'll understand when you hear it."
Damian rubbed his chin, still staring at the instrument in wonder. "So, did you decide on a name for it?"
Ashan nodded, his lips curling into a faint smile as he gently ran his fingers across the polished wood. "Yes, I've decided to call it... Guitar."
"Guitar," Damian repeated, letting the word linger on his tongue as though trying to grasp its essence.
"It's simple, yet it feels… fitting. A name that suits its uniqueness."
Ashan's gaze softened as he looked at his newly crafted instrument, his expression filled with quiet pride.
"Yes, it should be."
To be continued…