The forge burned brighter than usual as Logan Mercer prepared for his new path. Vorn gave him three days to create prototypes that would travel into the black market and start a chain of events he could not fully predict. The air around the forge shimmered with heat and faint magic as he experimented with beastbone fragments and the new magic cores. Every step felt like walking deeper into shadows but also deeper into purpose. He had spent his whole life working in controlled workshops on Earth. Now he was building weapons in a realm where magic and metal mixed in ways no engineer had studied.

He set the magic core on the workbench. It pulsed like a heartbeat. Logan felt a faint vibration when he touched it. Energy lived inside it waiting for direction. He remembered how crystals back home responded to electrical flow. This felt similar but more fluid as if the crystal responded to his thoughts. He held it in his palm and tried focusing. The glow brightened. When he relaxed it dimmed. The connection unsettled him yet fascinated him.

Rhea walked into the forge carrying a stack of damaged shields. Her armor clanked with each step. You have not rested since dawn Logan. You look like you are trying to fight the entire realm with one forge.

Logan did not look up. Kind of feels like that.

Rhea placed the shields down. You do not need to drown yourself in this work. The black market is not a race. Your life does not depend on three days.

Logan paused then shook his head. Actually it might. If I fail to make something good Vorn will assume I am useless. If word spreads that I am weak then every group in the realm will come to claim me. If I make something strong then at least I have leverage. Leverage buys time. Time keeps me alive.

Rhea studied him carefully. You are different from the first day we found you.

Logan looked at his hands. I did not come to this world by choice. But I can shape what happens now.

He turned back to the workbench and lifted a beastbone piece he had been shaping for hours. It was thin yet strong. It reminded him of carbon fiber layers pressed together. The grain ran in tight patterns that gave it flexibility without losing durability. He had already designed a reinforced short blade. But now he wanted something more. Something that would show Vorn and future clients that Logan Mercer was not just a craftsman. He was a creator.

He heated a small section of metal and combined it with beastbone layers. When he placed the magic core near the blade a faint spark danced across the edge. Rhea flinched. Is that safe

Probably not Logan answered. But necessary.

He touched the core to the blade. The spark jumped again. He could feel the energy traveling through the bone structure like water through channels. He had never felt anything like it. Metal on Earth was dead. But this material responded. It adapted. It accepted the magic.

He attached a small slot in the handle where a tiny shard of the magic core could fit. When he inserted the shard the blade hummed with low vibration. Faint blue lines formed along the edge like the weapon had veins of light. Rhea stepped back.

Logan what did you just make

He lifted the blade. It weighed almost nothing yet felt solid. A shock reinforced short blade Logan said. The magic shard increases cutting stability. Makes the blade less likely to shatter. And maybe a little sharper.

Rhea blinked. That is not a short blade. That is something else entirely.

A prototype Logan said. A starting point.

He placed the blade aside and moved on to the crossbow. The one he reinforced during the fight gave him ideas. He replaced the bow arms with beastbone strips. He carved channels for magic energy. He shaped the bolt track for smooth release. Then he attached a small core fragment near the trigger mechanism. When he tested the draw it felt smoother than the best mechanical bows he had ever used.

Rhea raised an eyebrow. You are making two weapons instead of one

Logan leaned forward. If Vorn is taking these to the black market they will define my reputation. I cannot let that be average. If I am doing this I am doing it right.

Rhea sat on a stool across the forge. She watched him work with an expression between admiration and sadness. You remind me of someone. Our old royal smith from the Northern Kingdom. He was skilled beyond any warrior. The king forced him to work day and night. When the wars grew worse they locked him in his forge. He was never seen again.

Logan froze.

Rhea continued. I do not want that future for you.

Logan turned his gaze to the glowing coals. I will not let myself be locked up. Not by a kingdom not by mercenaries not by anyone. That is why I need strength. Tools. Influence. Information. The black market gives me connections without chains.

Rhea shook her head. It also gives you enemies without warning.

Logan smiled faint. Then I will build faster than they can chase.

Hours passed. Logan shaped metal beastbone and core fragments until his hands felt raw. By sunset he had two completed prototypes. The short blade hummed with magic that did not flare out or explode. The crossbow was balanced perfectly. He fired a bolt at a wooden target. It sank halfway through as if the wood was soft clay.

Rhea stared with wide eyes. You made weapons fit for a kingdom.

Logan wiped sweat from his forehead. That is the problem. I made them for the black market.

She stepped closer. Logan. Think carefully. Once these leave your hands you cannot pull them back.

I know.

Once the realm sees these they will want more.

I know.

Once Vorn sells these every faction will fight to claim you.

I know.

And still you want to continue

Logan looked at her with steady eyes. I came from a world where weapons were controlled by governments corporations and strict laws. Here the laws are weak broken or nonexistent. If I do nothing this realm stays trapped in chaos. If I build something I can shape its direction. I do not want to rule. I want to survive. To create. To choose my path instead of being dragged.

The forge quieted. Rhea finally nodded. Then tomorrow we face whatever comes next.

That night Logan did not sleep. He sat with the prototypes laid out on the table. The weapons glowed faintly in the moonlight. They were not just tools. They were the beginning of something much larger. A future built on choices decisions and risks. A path that would lead him into deeper battles and darker alliances.

He whispered to himself. Three days. And the world already feels heavier.

But it was his choice now. And he would carry it.