The Smith’s Children (鍛冶の子供たち / Kaji no Kodomotachi)

The first sound was steel on steel.

Not the clean ring of a temple forge, but a messy, overlapping rhythm that sounded like the whole town was arguing with hammers. Iron shrieked on grinding wheels. Someone cursed loud enough that even the wind couldn't swallow it.

The smell followed.

Smoke. Coal dust. Hot oil. With every step, the air grew heavier, sitting on Hajime’s tongue like a bitter film. It reminded him of the Celestine armories, but this felt rougher.

Redforge spread out below them, squatting low across rust-colored earth. Stone houses and metal-roofed workshops clustered around a wide central street. Chimneys stuck up everywhere like blunt spears, each coughing its own thin column of smoke. Sparks jumped from open forges, little orange stars that died before they touched the sky.

“Wow,” Hajime breathed.

Children ran between the buildings with wooden swords and slings. A girl dragged a hammer half her size back toward a forge while an older man shouted for her to drop it.

“Welcome to Redforge,” Rei said. “It's been a long time since I was here.”

Izumi coughed into her sleeve. “There's so much smoke in the air.”

“Eh, I bet we'll learn to love it,” Hajime said.

She laughed softly.

They followed the main road toward the heart of town. Men and women in leather aprons glanced up as they passed, eyes lingering on Rei’s coat, Izumi’s cloak, and Hajime’s plain clothes that did nothing to hide the aura around him.

A Celestine commander. A Verdant Lord. And the thing no one yet knew how to name.

Hajime felt the looks settle on his back like extra weight.

He fought the urge to hunch and cover his face.

“Keep your posture, idiot,” Rei said quietly.

“Helpful,” Hajime muttered, but he straightened.

They passed a rough practice yard marked out by trampled dirt and faint chalk lines. Teenagers drilled with wooden staves while an instructor barked corrections. At the edge, younger kids fought over a bent metal plate like it was a treasure.

“Mom, look!” a boy yelled, swinging the plate like a shield and nearly falling over.

“Watch what you're doing before you crack your head open,” a woman called back from a stall without turning.

Beneath the noise, Hajime felt a steady pulse. Seiki hummed here, not like a holy choir, but like a furnace that refused to go out.

Rei slowed in front of a wide doorway belching heat.

Above it, a hand-painted sign read: KATO FORGE.

“Here,” Rei said. “He owes me.”

“You say that about everyone,” Hajime said.

“Because everyone practically owes me one way or the other,” Rei replied, stepping inside.

Heat wrapped around them like a blanket. Inside, the main forge glowed white-orange. Sparks leapt every time a hammer fell. An older man with a shaved head and soot-blackened arms looked up from the anvil. His eyes narrowed, then widened.

“Kurayami,” he said. “I really thought you died this time.”

“Not yet,” Rei said. “You still working with scrap?”

The man snorted. “You still walk in here asking for favors instead of paying.”

Rei’s mouth twitched.

“This is Kato,” he told Hajime and Izumi. “He complains, then does good work.”

“I do excellent work,” Kato said. “Who’re the kids?”

“Hajime Takeshi and Izumi Rin.” Rei rested his hand on the hilt at his side. “I need Seraphion checked.”

Kato’s expression changed at the name. “You mean the blade that damn angel gave you?”

Rei unhooked the sword and laid it on the bench.

Kato’s joking mood faded. He slid both hands under the blade like he was lifting something sacred and angry. Light ran along the edge when he tilted it.

Kato looked up. “We heard about Solarii and Hayate. My deepest condolences.”

“We can't change the past. All we can do is keep pressing forward,” Rei said. “Without Izumi and Hajime leading our army, we would have fallen.”

“Is this the boy who carries Adam's Will like the prophecy says?” Kato asked.

The air tightened around the words.

Hajime’s shoulders stiffened. Izumi’s gaze flicked to him, then back.

“You heard right,” Hajime said quietly. “I carry Adam’s Will.”

Kato looked him over again. “You’re smaller than the stories I heard growing up.”

“Sorry, I couldn't meet your expectations...” Hajime said.

Kato snorted. “I'm just messing with you. Either way, I don’t get paid enough to poke around into something like that.”

He jerked his chin toward the doorway. “Actually, looks like I spoke too soon.”

Hajime opened his mouth to ask what he meant.

He felt the answer before he saw it.

A controlled presence brushed against his Seiki, like a hammer held ready between swings. The forge seemed to lean toward the entrance. Hajime turned.

A woman stepped through the doorway, framed by the light of the furnace.

She wore travel leathers over a fitted, muted crimson vest. Thin plates reinforced the vest and shoulders without limiting her movement. Her dark hair was tied into a high knot, a few strands loose around a face marked by old, pale scars. A short cloak hung from one shoulder, its clasp shaped like a blooming branch.

A signet ring with the Crimson Legion crest gleamed on her finger.

“Hm,” she said, taking in the room in one glance. “I knew the forge felt busier.”

Kato straightened. “Lord Kiraha. I thought you were still in Barakos.”

“Just passing through,” Kiraha Mokuren said. “The capital’s loud as hell lately with all the tournament fights. I came to check on my uncle’s shop before I dive back into politics and bloodbaths.”

Her eyes settled on Hajime.

They stayed there.

“So,” she said. “You’re the vessel, huh.”

Hajime swallowed. “I'm Hajime Takeshi, the Vessel of Adam’s Will you speak of. It's nice to meet you.”

Kiraha’s gaze dropped to his hands, where faint gold-silver Seiki still clung from the last fight. “The color fits the story,” she said quietly.

Her attention shifted to Rei. “Kurayami. I heard you lived but lost Lord Hayate in battle. I was so relieved to hear Solarii still stood after the battle.”

“I heard you were busy at your border dealing with the Thorned Pact,” Rei said.

Kiraha’s mouth curved. “Politics is war where everyone fights with paper and pride. I prefer honest weapons and field experience.”

Izumi stepped forward and bowed her head slightly. “I'm I-Izumi Rin of the Verdant Veil, former Lord of Eryndral. Thank you for holding your line and keeping them from joining the Chainbound Doctrine.”

Kiraha studied her, then gave a small, honest nod. "I've heard about you, Izumi. It's great to finally meet you."

“I’m sorry about Hayate,” Kiraha said. “He was loud, but he was loyal to the end. The alliance between your people and the Celestine Order was easier to trust with him in it.”

Izumi’s throat worked. “He died standing.”

“Hmph, I believe that,” Kiraha said.

Silence hung for a few breaths, broken only by the roar of the forge.

Then she let out a slow breath and looked back at all three of them.

“You walked out of a burning capital and came straight to a village forge,” she said. “You’re clearly after more than fresh air.”

Rei did not bother with soft edges.

“We need the Crimson Legion,” he said. “The Dawnleaf Accord has been weakened now with Izumi resigning as a Lord for the Verdant Veil, and Hayate's passing.”

Kiraha’s eyebrow rose. “So, you need us in on your alliance...”

Hajime stepped forward.

He tightened his fists.

“I don’t want angels, demons, or even Wills deciding what humans fight for,” he said. “If Adam’s Will can help build something human at the center of this, I’ll use it. If not, I’ll still fight for it without him.”

Kiraha watched him without interrupting.

When he finished, she tilted her head.

“You sound like someone who already watched the end once,” she said.

She looked at Kato. “Give us a bit.”

Kato grunted and wandered to the far end of the forge, banging around loudly with scrap metal and pretending not to listen.

Kiraha leaned against a worktable, crossing her arms.

“I’m still just a Lord of the Legion,” she went on. “Only Commander Rokuro Kaizō can agree to the kind of alliance you’re asking for.”

“So we need Rokuro,” Rei said.

“You need Rokuro...” Kiraha agreed. “The best way to put him in a good mood is with a good ol' fashion strength match.”

Hajime met her eyes. “Can you get us to him?”

“I'm actually supposed to ride back at dawn,” she said. “If I arrive with you three, even the loudest skeptics will stop talking long enough to listen.”

“So, that’s a yes?” Hajime asked.

“It's a deal,” she replied.

Izumi’s shoulders eased.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Save it for when Kaizō answers you,” Kiraha said. “Until then, rest. Eat. Let Kato fix that sword before it snaps, Rei. You’ll need everything tomorrow.”

Hajime hesitated.

“Actually,” he said. “There’s one more thing I want.”

Rei’s groan was automatic. “Please no.”

Kiraha looked amused. “You don’t even know what he’ll ask.”

“I know this face,” Rei said. “That’s his ‘I want to get stronger’ face.”

Hajime ignored him.

“I want to fight you,” he said to Kiraha. “Just once. No weapons or Wills. Only Seiki and what our bodies can dish out.”

The forge quieted.

Even Kato looked up.

Hajime’s cheeks warmed, but he didn't back down. “Solarii was chaos, and I need to know where I actually stand. Against a real Crimson Lord would be an awesome test!”

Izumi rubbed her temple. “You can barely sleep on your side without wincing.”

“That's why this is perfect,” Hajime said. “If I can still stand after trading with her, it means I’ve become stronger with my human strength.”

Kiraha studied him, Seiki steady and unreadable.

“You want a human fight,” she said. “Pure Seiki, is that right?”

“Exactly,” he said.

Her lips curved into a small smile.

“Lucky you, this country loves stupid courage,” she said. “Fine. We’ll give the village something to stare at.”

She nodded toward the training yard outside. “We’ll use the ring.”

Kato snorted. “I’m not fixing him up if he gets hurt! This damn sword is giving me trouble as is.”

“Don't worry... it will be me,” Izumi sighed.

They stepped back into the harsh, smoky daylight.

Word travelled faster than they did. By the time they reached the training square, the teenagers were gone. A dozen younger kids clung to the edges of the chalk circle, whispering and pointing.

“Lord Kiraha’s fighting.”

“Who’s the guy with her?”

“His aura feels weird!”

The ring itself was simple. A circle scratched into packed dirt. Scuffs and footprints from old matches marked the ground. It smelled like sweat and dust and faint blood.

Kiraha shrugged off her vest and handed it to a watching boy. Under it, she wore a sleeveless shirt that showed the clean lines of muscle in her arms. Scars crossed her shoulder and upper arm, pale against her skin.

She stepped into the center and raised her voice.

“Are you ready?!”

The kids answered with a cheer.

Hajime rolled his shoulders and stepped into the ring opposite her. Gold-silver Seiki stirred under his skin in response, trying to rise. He forced it to compress, packing it down into his muscles and bones until it felt like a heavy second heartbeat.

Izumi and Rei stood at the edge. Izumi’s hands already glowed faint green-pink, ready. Rei folded his arms, expression flat, eyes sharp.

A small girl at the edge of the ring took a breath and threw her arm up.

“Begin!”

Hajime pushed off the dirt with a burst of Seiki, closing the distance fast. His first punch shot straight for Kiraha’s chest, air snapping around his fist.

She was gone before it landed.

She slid a half-step aside, hand snapping out to slap his forearm and carry the punch past her shoulder. Her other fist buried itself in his stomach.

The hit was clean and heavy. Air ripped out of his lungs. His knees dipped before he forced them to lock.

“First lesson,” Kiraha said, voice firm and calm. “You packed Seiki in your arm. You're thinking like a brute farmboy. Put it in your hips and back if you want to track a living target.”

Hajime coughed, dragged in a breath, and forced the pain down.

Right. Whole body.

He circled her, eyes on her shoulders, not her hands. His Seiki spread wider now, running down his spine and into his legs along with his arms. He stepped in again, jabbing for her face before snapping a hook toward her ribs.

She blocked the first, rolled with the second, still grunting when his knuckles dug into her side.

“That’s better,” she said. “Did you feel that difference? Your joints moved together in unison. That's the beauty of human strength and our living essence, Seiki.”

Her leg swept toward his ankle.

He hopped, almost late, and her foot brushed his heel instead of taking him out.

She came back with a short cross that clipped his jaw and sent him stumbling sideways.

“Second lesson,” she said. “Your Seiki’s leaking off you like steam. I'm sure you've seen demons shape it into claws or humans make weapons or shields from it. You can also shape it into armor under your skin. Feel your Seiki compress into your tissue fibers.”

Hajime closed his eyes for a heartbeat and pictured the light inside him sinking deeper. Not a wild flame, but a dense heat wrapping his bones and muscles. His skin tingled as the ache shifted.

He opened his eyes and raised his hands again.

“Good,” Kiraha said. “Again.”

She came to him this time.

Her steps were short and precise, each planting with intent. Her fist snapped at his face. He got his forearm up in time. The impact jolted his bones, but the reinforced limb held. Another strike went for his ribs. He twisted, letting it slide off muscle instead of cracking anything.

They traded in quick bursts. To the kids, it looked like a blur of limbs and dull, heavy impacts. To Hajime, it turned into breath and timing. He let Seiki pulse where he needed it a heartbeat before contact.

“Keep breathing with the hits,” Kiraha told him between blows.

He inhaled when her fist slammed against his face, exhaled as he shot a tight cross into her midsection.

She hissed air between her teeth and smiled.

“There's hope for you.”

Sweat ran down both their faces now. Dust clung to Hajime’s clothes. The bruises in his ribs from Solarii and the bandits screamed, but he forced them to the edge of his focus.

Kiraha shifted.

Her right shoulder dipped a little. Her front foot slid.

Hajime saw it.

He let Seiki surge down his leg and snapped a low kick for her ankle instead of her thigh. Just as she started to step over it, Hajime twisted his hip at the last second, shortening the arc, and his foot caught her clean.

Her balance faltered.

She slapped a hand to the ground, rolled, and came back up with dirt streaking her arm.

The kids shouted.

“Ohhh, no way!”

“She actually fell!”

Kiraha shook dust off her fingers and laughed.

“Third lesson,” she said. “We adapt faster by being pushed past the human limit barrier.”

Hajime panted, chest burning. “The what?”

She stepped in again.

This time her pressure rose. Hajime felt it as a weight on his skin. Her next combination came faster. Jab. Hook. Low kick. Elbow. He blocked some, slipped others, and took a few straight on his reinforced arms.

She kept talking even as she fought.

“Don’t stare at my hands. Watch my center.”

Her foot slammed into his shin, and pain shot up his leg.

He answered with a tight uppercut that brushed her chin.

He grinned through bloody lips. “You're a very violent teacher.”

“Stop flirting with me,” she said.

The world narrowed to a circle. To her, to him, to the dirt under their boots.

She changed the rhythm without warning.

Her front foot hit the ground harder. Seiki flared under it. The small shock snapped through the ring, popping dust up in a ring around her. Hajime’s stance wobbled.

Her elbow slammed into his chest. Sending Hajime through the dirt.

He hit the ground on his back and rolled, grit scraping his cheek. For an instant, the sky was just a pale blur overhead. At the edge of his awareness, in a deep quiet place, he felt Adam like a presence behind a door.

"Stay out of this, and let me learn."

He dug his fingers into packed dirt and forced himself up.

His legs shook, and his lungs burned like they were full of smoke.

Kiraha watched him, eyes sharp.

“Can you still guard?” she asked.

He brought his hands up.

They trembled, but they rose.

“Then the fight’s still on,” she said.

He laughed once, breathless. “You really are cruel.”

“Last push, Hajime. Show me how stubborn you can be.”

They stepped toward each other.

His body felt like scrap held together by will and Izumi’s future healing, but his Seiki stayed with him.

Kiraha vanished for a brief moment in time before appearing an inch from Hajime's face.

No clean counts, no simple pattern. Every hit landed heavier than it should have on worn bodies.

Finally, she slipped inside his guard and planted her palm on his chest.

The shove was almost gentle.

He hit the dirt and stayed there, staring at the faint smoke-stained blue overhead. The ring of kids leaned in around him like a broken halo.

Kiraha’s face appeared above his.

“Well done, kid,” she said.

She helped him to his feet. Her grip was solid, steady, and she pulled him up like he weighed nothing.

“You lose,” she said.

He wheezed out a laugh that hurt his ribs. “So what’s my grade?”

She looked him over, head to toe.

“Right now, you’re high-grade ore that still thinks it’s a piece of rust,” she said. “You need a lot more heat and pressure to become a masterpiece.”

She leaned in a little, lowering her voice so only he could hear.

“Last lesson,” she said. “Adam didn't win because he was the strongest thing in creation. He won because he refused to stay the same as yesterday. Never be satisfied with who you are at the end of the day.”

Hajime met her gaze, breathing finally slowing.

“No worries there,” he said.

“Good,” she replied.

Izumi stepped into the ring with a put-upon sigh, hands already glowing. “All right, that’s enough hitting each other while half-healed,” she said. “Hold still before I let you limp into Barakos.”

Hajime hissed in pain as her Seiki sank into his bruises. Warmth spread through his ribs and jaw, turning sharp pain into heavy aches.

“You did well,” she murmured. “For someone who apparently hates his health.”

“You really think so?” he asked.

Before she could answer, Rei chimed in. "My little prodigy is growing up."

Kiraha pulled her vest back on and rolled her shoulder once.

“Make sure to get something to eat and rent a room at the Inn,” she said. “At dawn, we'll ride for Barakos.”

She glanced at Hajime one last time.

“Don't forget what you learned here today. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Hajime looked past her, toward the distant, faint red glow on the horizon where the capital’s forges burned. The weight of Adam’s name settled on him again.

It still felt heavy, but for the first time, it also felt like something he might grow into.