Kael wiped his soot-stained hands on his apron and approached the heavy stone table once again.
This time, his movements carried a gravity that made the air itself feel heavier.
"Listen well," Kael rumbled, his voice carrying the weight of a thunderstorm, "these weapons are no mere tools. They are living extensions of your essence. I named them after the ancient flames of the forge gods themselves."
He grabbed the cloth and yanked it away — revealing the masterpieces.
First, Kael reached for the first weapon — a massive sword that seemed almost too large for any normal person to wield.
The blade was deep crimson, with black veins of molten essence pulsing beneath the surface like living magma.
Runes were carved along the flat of the blade, shifting ever so slightly as if breathing.
The hilt was wrapped in black dragon leather, and at its pommel, a ruby burned like a tiny trapped sun.
"This," Kael said, almost reverently, "is Blazefang, the Devouring Inferno."
He turned toward Asher, the heat rolling off the weapon making the boy sweat.
"Forged from the heart of a fallen meteor and quenched in the blood of a fire drake," Kael continued, "this sword feeds on your fire essence. The more flames you wield, the stronger it grows. Each strike ignites the very air, and enemies who dare touch the blade will find their own energies combusting against them."
He shoved it into Asher's arms — and though it was absurdly heavy, Asher gritted his teeth and bore it, eyes wide with childlike wonder.
"But beware," Kael said. "The blade is hungry. If you lose control, it will burn you too."
Asher, of course, only grinned.
"Guess we're both pyromaniacs now, buddy," he whispered to Blazefang.
Kael ignored him and moved to the next pair of weapons.
He lifted two slender, double-edged blades that gleamed like frozen moonlight.
Each blade was etched with silver lines forming the shape of wings in mid-flight, and as Kael moved them, they hummed through the air like songbirds.
"Nick," Kael said, his voice lower, "you'll wield the Zephyr Talons."
Nick stepped forward solemnly.
"These blades were tempered with the breath of a Sky Serpent and cooled in the mists of the Cloudspire Peaks. They are light enough to ride the wind itself. Your strikes will be faster, lighter, and more elusive than any mortal eye can follow."
Nick tested them, feeling the whisper of wind form around the edges, boosting his movements naturally.
"Use them wisely," Kael warned. "Wind is freedom — but it's also merciless."
Nick nodded, a rare fire in his calm green eyes.
Lastly, Kael lifted the black velvet case, heavier than it appeared.
Inside were the most intimidating of the three weapons — a pair of daggers forged from silver so pure it almost seemed transparent, streaked through with living arcs of blue lightning.
The blades hummed constantly, as if barely holding back their own ferocity.
Their hilts pulsed with energy, and ancient runes spiraled down their grips like living vines.
Kael looked at Ethan with something dangerously close to respect.
"And you," Kael said, "will bear Stormlash and Thunderbite."
Ethan swallowed thickly.
"Forged from the remains of a Storm Leviathan, tempered in a bolt of pure skyfire. These daggers are volatile. They do not forgive weakness. They reflect spells, yes — but if your control wavers, they will overload and tear you apart from the inside."
Ethan picked them up—and immediately felt his body vibrate with raw power. It was like holding pieces of a living storm in his hands.
"And one more thing," Kael added, voice growing low and commanding.
"Each of these weapons is bound to you through a secret Art... Forger's Hands."
The boys leaned closer.
"Focus your will," Kael said, "and no matter how far your weapon may be, it will answer your call. Across battlefields, across storms, across death itself — these blades are yours, and yours alone. But if your will is weak, even Forger's Hands will fail."
He let that sink in, his voice crackling like embers.
Asher, of course, immediately tried to test it.
He dramatically threw Blazefang several feet away.
"Return to me, my fiery son!" Asher shouted, stretching out his arms.
The sword, after a suspenseful moment...
...whizzed back at him at full speed — so fast it knocked him flat on his back.
"Ow! Okay, note to self: don't call it 'son,'" Asher wheezed from the floor.
Nick facepalmed. Ethan barely held back his laughter.
Kael simply grunted, the closest he would ever get to amusement.
"Good," Kael said. "You're learning."
The boys stood there, holding weapons that pulsed with life in their hands, the weight of their new power settling into their bones.
They weren't just students anymore.
They were warriors being forged by fire, storm, and sky.
And the world would soon know it.