Chapter 88: Safe Hollow Thrives

*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Iron Confederacy Border, Safe Hollow Town*

Morning in Safe Hollow carried the scent of coal smoke and roasted bread. A dozen work stations hissed like dragons breathing in unison, the rhythmic clang of hammers and knives and training blending with laughter and chatter. Children darted between the huts, dodging buckets of water. The settlement's single dirt road pulsed with life. Miners heading to the new quarry. Hunters returning with fresh meat. Potioneers squabbling over herbs.

Demir leaned against a fence post, wiping soot from his hands. The air of change was exhilarating. The humans had begun to advance, not just survive.

"Morning, Demir!" called Thalia from the well, her crimson hair tied back and sleeves rolled high. "Another dozen people got the Bzzt thing last night!"

Demir grinned. "Excellent. Hard work is paying off."

She nodded enthusiastically. "One of the bakers got a new title, she swears. Now her loaves rise like clouds. And the alchemist? He brewed a potion that doesn't taste like boiled moss anymore."

Across the square, Roderic limped out of the infirmary, half grinning despite the bandages still wrapped around his chest. "Even the tailor got a Bzzt. He said his sewing needle glowed for half a second before he stitched an entire coat without tearing the fabric once. I think your speech got to them."

Demir smiled faintly. "Hard work is the new magic. The system's just teaching us the long way."

"Then I hope it teaches me how to fix this damn leg," Roderic muttered, before Thalia slapped him on the arm.

By midday, the forge was a storm of heat. Demir stood over the anvil, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hammering a spearhead into form while his two apprentices watched nervously. Sweat dripped from his forehead, hissing when it hit hot metal.

"Hit it harder, Lira," Demir said. "You're not swatting flies. You're convincing the metal to behave."

The tiny woman gave a determined swing, almost knocking the billet off the anvil. Sparks scattered across her boots in golden arcs.

"Good! Now do that forty more times."

Her groan was drowned by the clanging around them. Hammer Dropper Arlo, the taller apprentice, laughed through his soot-covered beard. "At least you didn't drop it this time!"

Safe Hollow's forge had become a meeting point. People lined up daily for tools, armor, advice. The miners wanted sturdier picks. The guards begged for better shields. Even the cooks requested sharper knives.

But Demir had a plan to make a proper hammer and forge area. He'd requested help from Marco, who already had self training in building houses from his time in the secluded valley.

Demir worked with calm, deliberate rhythm. Each strike, each tempering, was a step forward. The charged flashes didn't just come to him now. They came to everyone willing to work for them.

He was making a full set for Sin and Timmy. His bold friends needed better equipment, and Demir was determined to provide it.

And yet, for all the progress in steel and sweat, his eyes often drifted toward the forest edge.

Toward her.

Asena.

The giant silver wolf had been seen three times this week. Usually at dawn, prowling just beyond the palisade, watching the humans with the calm arrogance of a queen inspecting peasants.

No one dared approach her. No one, except Demir.

That afternoon, he set off from the forge carrying a bundle of meat and a wooden bowl. He walked to the offering stone he'd carved, beyond the settlement, where claw marks scarred the nearby trees. Asena's territory.

"Alright, mighty Asena," he muttered, setting down the meat. "Round... six, I think."

A low rumble vibrated the air. The bushes trembled. Then, out she came. Sleek, monstrous, eyes like molten silver catching afternoon light.

Demir tried not to flinch. "Good girl. See? I brought dinner."

She sniffed once, growled once, then devoured the offering in two bites. When Demir cautiously sat on a rock nearby, she turned, glared, and flopped to the ground with her back facing him.

"Okay," he said. "I'll take that as a maybe."

Over the next days, his attempts to "tame" her became the settlement's favorite gossip topic.

Marven and the hunters often found him standing stiffly a few meters away from the wolf, holding absurd gifts. A blanket ("she shredded it"), a shiny bracelet ("she buried it"), or once, a smoked rabbit ("she sneezed on it").

When he read a half-burned 'Beast Handling for Beginners' scroll that suggested "assert dominance through direct eye contact," he tried.

Asena bared her fangs, and he nearly tripped running backward.

From a nearby tree, Marven's laughter rang loud enough to scare the crows. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Demir," she said later, still giggling as they sat by the campfire. "You can't treat her like a pet. She's older than the woods themselves, probably."

"I know, but if I can't win her trust, how can I even think of taming something?"

Marven stretched, leaning back on her elbows. "Come on, let's return to smaller hunts. A fox. Or a squirrel. Something that won't eat you if you blink wrong."

He grinned. "Fine. But if I die, tell them I died bravely trying to make friends."

The next morning, they tried again. "Operation Small Beast," Marven was calling it.

For hours, Demir and Marven crept through the forest, whispering, tripping, and occasionally arguing about whether an animal was "tameable" or "dinner."

They tracked a wild hare. Demir baited it with carrots, whispered soothingly, reached out. And it bit his finger again.

Marven doubled over laughing. "Congratulations, you've mastered Bite Resistance!"

Then they tried a squirrel. Demir extended his hand again. The squirrel jumped on his shoulder, chittered in triumph, then stole the shiny button from his vest and vanished.

"Natural thief," Marven said between laughs. "You found your spirit animal."

Finally, they stumbled upon a small squirrel stuck in a vine snare. Demir carefully freed it, offering food, staying calm. And this time, the squirrel stayed. It even circled him once before darting away into the trees.

"Got it," he said softly, grinning wide. "Finally got it."

"Guess that squirrel liked your attitude better than the wolf does."

He chuckled. "I'll take what I can get. Okay, squirrel, I'm releasing you. I can't take care of you. Aaand he's gone."

Days blurred in the rhythm of progress.

By dawn, Demir forged. By noon, he taught apprentices. By dusk, he tried taming Asena. By night, he repaired the guards' weapons by lamplight.

Safe Hollow thrived.

Interference numbers were diminishing. But people's craft increased. "We're hitting a curve," Demir explained. "Advanced titles will be harder to get."

Hunters learned "Steady Aim."

Healers gained "Healing Touch."

Farmers discovered "Crop Sense."

Demir didn't even have to give orders anymore. People came to him with suggestions.

Roderic oversaw guard rotations.

Thalia coordinated crafting trades.

Priestess Neya finally brewed stronger healing draughts than tier one.

And Demir forged new sets for Sin and Timmy. Full C grade. With set bonuses, they were better than loot drop C grades. Demir also etched runes on them, but without stones to complement the runes, their effects were lessened. The twins thanked him profusely. Their friendship was turning into brothers' routine.

But peace never stayed long.

One morning, Huntress Elandra arrived at the forge, breathless and pale. "Beast tracks," she said. "Outside the northern ridge. Not Asena's."

Demir frowned, wiping sweat from his brow. "Show me."

They walked through the treeline. There, between the ferns and moss, were three sets of prints. Clawed, wide-spaced, heavy. The soil was pressed deep.

He crouched, touching the earth. "Three-toed. Deep heel mark... heavier than goblin scouts."

Elandra crossed her arms. "They were here at dawn. Moving fast."

Demir straightened. "They're scouting. Looking for something."

"Us?"

He nodded slowly. "What else."

That night, the forest was restless. Even the insects went quiet. The usual chirping and rustling had vanished, replaced by oppressive silence.

Demir stood near the wall, hand on the hilt of Wolf's Vow, scanning the trees. Moonlight painted everything silver and black.

Then he heard it. A long, low howl rolling across the valley.

Asena's voice. But not her usual call. This one was sharp, urgent, echoing with warning.

Demir's heart pounded. "You sense them too, huh?"

He could almost swear she heard him. Because the next moment, her silhouette appeared atop the distant ridge, silver fur gleaming under the moonlight. She didn't look back, but her tail flicked once. Acknowledgment, or promise.

The town's fires dimmed late that night, casting long shadows across Safe Hollow. Demir sat on a wooden stool, exhausted but alert.

He glanced at the still-glowing sword by his side. His own craft. His symbol of progress. Wolf's Vow pulsed faintly in the darkness.

The wind whispered through the trees like distant footsteps.

He could feel it. The forest watching.

Something moving beyond the silver wolf's gaze.