Barnard chuckled softly, his deep voice grinding like iron scraping against stone.
"I like your words, kid…" he said, lifting a glowing red-hot piece of metal from the forge. Flames danced wildly around him, casting the silhouette of a man who seemed to have stepped out of a war long past. "I might consider joining you."
Hiori raised her head, eyes sparkling. "Wait, really?!"
Barnard glanced half-way over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth… then casually replied, "No."
The clang of hammer striking metal echoed sharply. Silence immediately engulfed the room, as if every particle of air froze at his response.
"…What?" Hiori said flatly, disbelief written all over her face.
"Instead of standing there stiff like a pillar," Barnard continued without turning, "you better help me here. Prepare the charcoal, turn the cooling wheel, and don't touch anything that's glowing or hissing. If you can last half a day without causing chaos… then maybe we'll talk about me joining you."
Without hesitation, Hiori rolled up her sleeves. "Alright then, consider this part of the trial. If this is what I have to do… I'm ready!"
Barnard gave a faint nod, then resumed hammering the hot metal with a precision and strength that belied his age. The sound of metal on anvil mixed with sparks from the fire created a symphony of hard work—and amid that roar, Hiori began her tasks, turning the cooling wheel and tending the charcoal, trying to match the rhythm of the legendary blacksmith who had long retired from the world.
Behind the smoke and flames, two generations met. And there, unbeknownst to them… an alliance began to form.
Hours passed. The sun tilted toward the west, casting an orange glow that bathed the old workshop. Smoke from the forge slowly rose to the sky, swirling among the silhouettes of trees, while the scent of burning iron still stung the air.
"That's enough!" Hiori suddenly shouted, her voice thick with frustration. She threw the broom to the floor, causing a loud thud that echoed through the workshop. "This is driving me crazy! I came here on an important mission—not to be your servant!"
Barnard didn't respond immediately. He just glanced at Hiori from behind his soot-smudged glasses, then went back to hammering a sword blade.
Hiori stepped forward, breath heavy with emotion. "I've swept the floor until my hands trembled, fired up the forge until my eyebrows nearly caught fire, even changed the charcoal countless times! You're just toying with me, aren't you!?"
The hammering stopped.
Silence crept in like fog, holding the workshop's breath for a moment.
Barnard gently set down his hammer and turned to face her.
"If you want me to fight alongside you, there's one important thing you need to understand, young one…" His voice was calm, yet deep and sharp. "Before you raise your weapon and beg for battle, learn to bear the burdens unseen by the eye. War isn't just about strength... it's about will and sacrifice."
He stepped closer, his old eyes piercing into Hiori.
"If sweeping floors and tending the forge can make you give up… how will you face the real hell?"
Hiori fell silent. Her breath was still heavy, but the anger in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by shame and… a hint of respect.
Barnard turned and walked toward the wooden table where an unfinished weapon lay.
Hiori took a deep breath, then picked up the broom she had thrown earlier. She gathered the dust and metal scraps again—this time without complaint. Though her body was tired, there was a new determination in every move she made.
Minutes later, Barnard's deep voice broke the quiet of the afternoon.
"Hey, time to head out. The shop's closed," he said as he extinguished the forge's fire.
Without protest, Hiori followed the blacksmith outside. The evening breeze greeted them, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers from the fields surrounding Winak village.
But Hiori's eyes immediately fixed on Barnard's gear: a large, full backpack, a pouch of tools hanging from his waist, and a rolled-up old cloth whose contents were a mystery.
"You… carry all that? Is your home far?" she asked, puzzled.
Barnard looked over slowly, his face relaxed yet meaningful. "What are you talking about? I've packed all my things."
Hiori's eyes widened. "To—where?" she asked uncertainly, half hoping, half disbelieving.
But Barnard just smiled—a thin but warm smile revealing a side of him long hidden behind his sternness.
"Aren't you in need of help?" he said lightly. "And I… need a new journey."
Hiori was stunned, eyes wide. "Wait… don't tell me…"
"You're coming!" he declared, his voice almost like a child who just got a rare toy.
Barnard nodded slightly. "But I have one condition."
Hiori tensed immediately. "What is it?"
"Never throw a broom in front of me again," Barnard said flatly.
And for the first time since their meeting—both of them chuckled softly, friendly, on the first steps toward a greater destiny.
Hiori walked casually beside Barnard, her hands tucked in her coat pockets. "So… Barnard, can you tell me about your past?" she asked, glancing at him.
Barnard sighed, as if the cold evening air brought back the shadows of his memories. "Uh… where to start…" he muttered, his voice heavy as if stirring up old memories.
"Start with the coolest part," Hiori teased lightly.
Barnard chuckled, his rough laughter echoing faintly along the quiet village street. "Alright… Back when this world wasn't noisy and full of machines like now… I was the smith of the celestial warriors. Swords that could slice through clouds, shields that could withstand falling stars—I made them all."
Hiori's eyes widened a little. "Seriously? You're like a walking legend."
Barnard shrugged. "Maybe. But every weapon I forged had a price—not just gold, but blood, lives, and oaths. When the Heavenly War broke out, I crafted weapons to slaughter the dark creatures… and also my own comrades."
Hiori fell silent, letting their footsteps speak for a moment.
"After that," Barnard continued, "I swore never to forge instruments of killing again. I retired here in this village… hoping the world would forget my name."
"But the world can't forget greatness," Hiori whispered, her voice carried by the wind.
Barnard smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe the world's just waiting for when I return… to bear that burden once more."
The evening wind swept their hair. In the distance, the silhouettes of mountains and red clouds painted a majestic sky.
Hiori looked at Barnard more deeply this time—not just as an old blacksmith, but as part of an unfinished legend.
"I don't know what kind of burden you carry, Barnard," Hiori finally said, "but if I can, I want to help lighten it."
Barnard stifled a small laugh. "You talk like a hero, but we're just about to fight the world."
"Sometimes," Hiori smiled faintly, "being a hero isn't about winning… but about who's still standing at the end."
They continued walking—two small figures in a world much bigger than themselves, each carrying a small flame that would never be extinguished.
Hiori walked slowly, frowning, her mind full of questions. She looked at Barnard suspiciously, as if she just realized something strange.
"Wait a minute…" Hiori muttered, squinting. "Isn't the Heavenly War supposed to have happened 478 years ago? So… how old are you now?" she asked, half-serious, half-shivering.
Barnard just sighed deeply, as if expecting the question. "Hmm… I was still a teenager then, about in my twenties," he answered casually, kicking a small pebble on the road.
"Huh!? What the heck is that!?" Hiori stared wide-eyed, nearly stumbling over her own feet. "Are you even human or not!?"
Barnard chuckled, his voice heavy like grinding stones. "I'm not fully human, kid. I'm a Dwarf," he said, patting his chest proudly.
Hiori blinked, confused. "What!? Isn't the Dwarf race… you know… short, bearded, and always drunk in a tavern? How come you're tall? That's not fair!"
Barnard laughed, his expression full of nostalgia. "Ah, well… my mother was human. My father was a Dwarf. I'm… a mix—half Dwarf, half human."
"A mix, huh?" Hiori scratched her head. "Like… milk coffee?"
Barnard burst out laughing, his voice echoing along the narrow street. "You could say that. I got my height from my mom and stubborn strength from my dad."
Hiori nodded, finally accepting the explanation though still a bit skeptical. "No wonder… stubborn as a limestone rock."
Barnard smiled widely. "And I also have a long lifespan, like my dad's race. Dwarves live for hundreds of years, kid. If you think my age is weird now, you haven't met my grandma… she's still alive and fierce."
Hiori chuckled softly, feeling her journey had become a lot more interesting with this strange story.
"Wow… This world really is full of surprises," Hiori murmured as she stepped forward again, now with renewed spirit.
The sky above them slowly turned orange, marking the beginning of a greater adventure waiting at the end of the road.