Adam watched Elliot frown at the glowing metal, his silent smile and hands trembling around the blackened pincers. He could feel the boy's eagerness as if it were his own.

No.

His wrist itched as well. It wasn't to earn points or get his answer; that had flown to the back of his head. It was to create something different from weapons or armor. A tool to brighten Elliot's face each time mockery made him doubt his dream—a whispered reminder, "Nothing's impossible."

Under his guidance, the pounding of Elliot's worn hammer echoed against the scalding white metal. Sparks flew around his short frame, sweat glistening between his blond brow, yet his smile never faltered.

Even as Adam asked him to fold the cooling metal and heat it again, he simply nodded. When the unusual demand to twist the blazing ore came, he did it without asking why. He would see and understand.

After a dozen repetitions, Adam divided the metal into five sections. "Now's the time to have fun. Pauldrons, greaves, bracers, and a cuirass. Say if you want to add anything to our baby."

"Anything?" Elliot's eyes lit up. "Can we make spiked pauldrons and bracers?"

"Sure."

Adam nodded, and Elliot continued. "What about making the golem's hand shoot from its arm? Can we give it twin blades? Wait! Can we make it breathe fire?"

His voice grew breathless as the ideas danced through his mind. The surrounding students' eyes sparkled, too. From two, they became six, with many more glancing at the growing crowd.

"I like your first idea most." Adam's gaze fell on the miniature molds, and he chuckled. "You can work your other ideas in future projects, with material that can support the strain of so many enchantments."

They exchanged a knowing grin before metal tolled under Elliot's strikes. Carefully, he shaped the pauldrons, then the greaves, and finally the gauntlets. Yet, he never stopped gasping at Adam's efficiency—not in movement, but in clever tricks.

Like a sculptor, Adam created solid mana constructs on which Elliot pounded the red metal not only to shape it but also to engrave its surface with stylish motifs. The smoldering pieces took the shape of pauldrons from which polished blade hilts erupted as if they were planted on the metal instead of the dangerous spikes Elliot had requested. Bracers ornamented with half-spheres that gave off a sensation of power emerged next, before they tackled the greaves.

Instead of a single piece, they opted for a flexible design of several rounded plates that snapped together. Finally, the students gasped when Elliot pounded the last adornment into the cuirass and threw everything into a tube of acid.

On his side, Adam sewed hard leather into a belt from which a red cloth outlined with golden threads extended down. After all, he couldn't leave their poor baby naked. He added golden chains and cloths to the side, already imagining how they'd ruffle when the golem would move.

The crowd swelled, students drawn by the chuckles and relentless hammering. Viktor, who had marked Adam as the losing party in their wager, frowned from the station he had been inspecting. This was his routine—give the class something to craft while he advised the students. But not today. The ruckus he had dismissed grew louder with each minute, enough for even his oldest students to watch curiously from afar.

He clapped his hands with a weary sigh. "Back to your stations!"

Yet, no one even gazed at him, as if their eyes were glued on whatever Adam and Elliot were crafting. He grumbled beneath his bushy moustache, his steps heavy as he approached.

When he pushed through the crowd, the students who had only looked at him with utmost respect throughout the years grumbled. They pushed him back before one turned, yelling.

"Stop pushing!" His face instantly turned ashen when he saw who he had scolded. "I-I mean..." He shoved the students before him. "Make way for Teacher Viktor!"

Awakened by the shout, the crowd parted like a wall. Viktor squinted at their shenanigans first, then his moustache twitched at what he saw.

Elliot was polishing cast metal, but its form was what made him pause. Arms, legs, a torso, and a faceless head, all glistening with the earthy sheen of Thyrium. Yet, he could tell the resilient metal had something more to it, a suppleness it shouldn't possess. He saw it when Elliot brought the cup-shaped tool to shape the tail of rivets and nails.

"We don't need them." Adam's answer was unorthodox and too confident for a student he had never taught.

Yet, his remark died in his throat when Adam simply slotted the edges of the limbs to the torso. Elliot secured them in place with gentle hammer strikes as if they were stubborn pieces of a puzzle. And they surprisingly held...

He shook his head, walking back to advise actually hard-working students. That thing, no longer than his forearm, looked nothing like a construct. At least, not yet. No enchantments, no intricate protocols to make that toy react. This was no golem, and he wouldn't believe his Joshua could make one, much less regular students.

Still, he said in a weary voice. "Everyone, back to their stations. Adam... continue whatever you're doing without distracting others." His gaze lingered on Elliot a second too long, and beneath his moustache, the corners of his lips slightly curved. "Decent smithing, Elliot."

Elliot watched him leave, eyes wide, face burning with more than the furnace's heat. "That's the first time he complimented me..."

"Wait to hear from him once we're done, then." Adam shrugged as he sliced the golem at the wrist.

He stuffed the hollow channel with a chain connected to its hand, then pinched the edges to shrink them—just enough for the fist to shoot if sufficient pressure came from the inside. After a soft tug that didn't cause it to come out, he grabbed a beast core of the third tier with a satisfied nod.

"Time to enchant and turn it into a real golem."

Yet, he froze for a heartbeat, watching the other students drag their feet to their stations. Even behind their anvils, they continued to observe him work. Not with mockery or malice. With glistening eyes. Hopeful smiles—they wanted to see them succeed.

The core flew up before landing in his palm, realisation dawning on him.

Why did he help Elliot, and why did Viktor compliment the boy?

Because there were no enemies in this forge. Only proud enchanters, some arrogant, others flawed, but each strived to better themselves.

Well, he couldn't let their hopes down.