CHAPTER 93: THE IMPOSSIBLE AGAIN

Grey stood by his anvil, exhausted but focused.

Resting on a cooling stone was his creation: a sleek, simple, double-edged dagger. It wasn’t large or flashy, but the lines were incredibly clean, and the surface had a muted, dark luster, indicating superior heat treatment.

Ignis paused. He slowly reached out and picked up the dagger.

The instant his calloused, knowing hands gripped the hilt, his eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t even looked at the blade, but the balance was immediate and perfect.

He then ran his finger—protected by his gauntlet—along the edge. He paused, inspecting the minute details of the grind and the final finish.

Then, he lifted the dagger to his eye and focused his own aura, looking deep into the steel.

What he saw was a revelation: the internal grain structure was incredibly fine and uniform, the sign of meticulous, repeated folding and perfect temperature control during the drawing phase.

The rhythm Grey had fallen into had not been for show—it had been textbook perfection.

Ignis brought his steel rod to the side of the dagger and struck it lightly.

CLIIIING!

The sound was pure and bright, ringing with a profound, clear resonance that suggested zero internal flaws or impurities. It was the sound of metal realizing its ultimate potential.

Ignis slowly lowered the dagger, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were shining with a profound, almost reverent respect.

He looked from the dagger to Grey, then back to the steel.

"The forging technique is flawless," Ignis stated, his voice a low, heavy rumble that nonetheless commanded the arena.

"The edge geometry is surgical. The material has been refined to its absolute peak capability."

He held the dagger up for all to see.

"This is not just a weapon made by a student," Ignis concluded, his voice rising in astonished praise.

"This is a Masterpiece of Control. I cannot detect a single internal imperfection. The tang in the forging was a sign of true, deep focus."

He slammed the dagger onto the anvil, the perfect ring echoing one last time.

"C Class... Grade: Masterwork!"

The arena erupted. The C Class students, led by a screaming, ecstatic Lenore, went completely wild.

Even Rendo looked back, his confident expression replaced by outright shock. Grey, though exhausted, let a triumphant smile finally spread across his face.

The single word—"Masterwork!"—delivered by the highest authority on metallurgy, detonated in the arena.

The ensuing chaos was total, completely eclipsing the excitement of the shooting competition.

Lenore was the first to react, instantly transforming into a screaming hurricane of pure joy.

She leaped into the air, her fists pumping furiously, tears of elation streaming down her face.

"He won! He won! MASTERWORK! Grey did it!" she shrieked, jumping up and down, completely oblivious to the thousands of eyes watching her.

Her fierce loyalty was repaid tenfold, and she made sure everyone knew it.

Blaze stood frozen for a split second, his jaw slack, before he too erupted.

He let out a primal yell that sounded more like a battle cry than a cheer. He threw his arms around the nearest C Class students, shaking them wildly, shouting and screaming in elation.

"We did it! We won! Take that, S Class!" Blaze roared, pointing an imaginary sword toward the stunned S Class section.

The energy he released was so potent it seemed to displace the very air around him.

Though Zenon always maintained his stoic face, but this time, the victory had dissolves his stand, a faint smile spread on his face as his lips curved up.

His fists were balled, the excitement piercing his wall of indifference.

Aeron was jumping up and down, hugging his nearby classmates, pulling them in his celebration.

He couldn’t believe what was happening right now.

No one had any expectations from Grey, for them it was just filling the seat and joining the competition in name.

But the impossible was happening again. And everytime this happened, which has been happening quite often since a few months, the man responsible for it had always been Grey.

The collective C Class contingent immediately dissolved into a mob, chanting Grey’s name, their spirits soaring to an unprecedented height.

Grand Elder Ignis remained standing by the anvil, the finished dagger in his hand. His reaction was the most significant, precisely because of his status.

His profound astonishment was evident. The usual severity of his face was softened by awe.

He ignored the cheering crowds, his focus entirely on the weapon and the young man who made it.

He lifted the dagger and held it so the light caught the clean, dark steel. He didn’t just see a weapon; he saw an impossible anomaly.

"Masterwork... from a student who has never touched a forge." Ignis thought, shaking his head slightly.

The utter perfection in the folding and structural integrity meant one of two things: either the boy possessed an innate, divine connection to the metal rarely seen outside of dwarven myth, or he had learned a century’s worth of technique in mere hours.

He looked at Grey, his eyes narrowing slightly, not with anger, but with intense, calculating curiosity.

He held the dagger as if it were a delicate, invaluable artifact. The decision had been made—this C Class boy, Grey, was no longer just an Academy student; he was a phenomenon that demanded close, personal investigation.

Grey, finally pulling himself from the exhaustion, watched the pandemonium with a tired, proud smile.

He saw Lenore’s wild joy, Blaze’s deafening pride, Zenon’s smiling face and Aeron jumping in excitement along with his mates from the C class, and most importantly, the look of genuine, awestruck respect on the face of Grand Elder Ignis.

Affinity increases with Grand Elder Ignis, he recalled the mission reward. It was clear the system had banked on this exact reaction.

He had fulfilled this one event requirement, secured a massive victory for C Class, and earned the attention of one of the Academy’s most powerful and discerning elders.

The fatigue was immense, but the victory was priceless.