The sound of fighting rings in the air. A person is beating down on a laughing person, their eyes shaking. They shine gold, glowing as he screams in pain and frustration, and sorrow. The being just laughs while he is being punched. The sound of metal clanging starts to fade in as a blacksmith hammers away at a sword. The scene seems to shift and the blacksmith in his forge, deep in thought. He snaps himself out of it and goes back to forging. He makes a white sword, imbuing it with holy magic from a gemstone inspecting it as he always does. The power imbued in the gemstone is one of radiance, meant to burn its targets. His trance is only broken once he hears a sheep’s bleating, an announcement that the clients have arrived. At first, he pauses, only turning to look at the sheep’s golden fleece and jade eyes. He chuckles a bit and pets the sheep on the head, the sheep purring like a cat. “Thank you Poi.” He walks out to the adventurers party waiting, observing each member.

The teenage mage in the back stares at a new oak staff while holding a simple wand. She seemed to be fantasizing about a future in which she is a powerful archmage, mumbling about wanting to be like the Silver Vixen. The blacksmith frowns a bit after hearing that name.

His attention turns towards the heavily armored figure with a shield. His armor is without a scratch, the shield as well. The blacksmith would’ve been impressed by it, if not for the fact that he should be the one that has the most damaged armor as the vanguard and ‘tank’ of the group.

He then looks towards the shifty figure that is pocketing knives. Wisteria sighs and the sheep waddles over and loudly bleats at the female thief. The sheep huffs and the woman slowly puts everything she was planning on stealing back.

Lastly, the blacksmith’s golden eyes fall onto the leader of the group, a lightly armored woman who is trying to corral the group, someone who the blacksmith would call unqualified to be the leader of any group. Nevertheless, she is the one that commissioned the sword from him. The blacksmith walks towards the counter and sets the sword down on a stand, showcasing it before they paid for the item.

Blacksmith: “That'll be 500 Lux.”

The adventurer leader whistles, “Pretty cheap. Lets hope its not a scam”

He sighs softly: “Come again soon”

Party Leader: “I'll come back for repairs!”

They leave while looking at the title of the shop, ‘Grande Wares’. Wister waves with a fake smile on his face. It fades and he goes to tend to his shop. Poi bleats to Wisteria and he nods, “All commissions are done for the day Poi. You can rest while I clean up.” He does nothing as time passes except rearrange the shop around and clean the dust. The sheep waddles towards the windowsill and jumps onto the ledge rolling over to lay on her back. She soon falls asleep and Wisteria turns to face her while holding his broom. He lets out a soft smile, wondering if this peace would last forever. Then he sighs, thinking to himself, “This is Vanahall. Nothing stays peaceful in this kingdom for long.” The blacksmith continues to sweep up inside the store while the sheep naps.

The blacksmith starts to reminisce about times past, how he used to be an adventurer, how his group saved so many lives. He sighs softly, shaking his head. “The past is the past. There is nothing I can do to change it. It would be better if I forgot.” He takes one last look at the sleeping sheep before putting the broom away, collecting each piece of armor to polish. He makes quick work, sometimes picking up the sheep to wake them up. The sheep would bleat, wondering why she is being woken up, only to be used as a brush for the armor. The sheep bleats, obviously annoyed and once he is done moves into the back. She waddles into what seems to be a bathroom and the sound of running water could be heard. Wisteria would chuckle and shake his head, putting the armor back and picking various weapons to sharpen. He decides to leave the staffs for last, wanting to finish those for last

Soon it becomes dusk, and Wister walks to the front to close up the shop, the hero's party runs in and complains to Wisteria, “Your damn sword wasn’t sharp enough! T-the monster is coming! You damn scammer, how could you sell this to us!”

Wisteria frowns, “Did you slash or stab?”

The party leader sounds rushed and scared, “SLASH!”

Wister: “You dumbass it's a greatsword with a sharp point and blunt edge which is not meant for slas-”

A loud bang erupts from the right wall, where there was once a wall is now a hole leading to the forest nearby, a monster with razor sharp hair and a humanoid appearance. The sound of liquid drops fill the room as all of the weapons and potions on the ground from the impact, mixing together into a sickly green liquid. Wister sent flying behind his counter as the party was scared, ready to attack.

The leader reaches for their sword but remembers that Wister was holding it, grabbing a random sword off the ground that landed in front of her. She holds it up to face the monster, her breath shaky as she tries to steel her nerves. She goes to take a step but freezes up as the monster’s yellow eyes glare at her, as if to watch what her reaction would be. Then a sound from behind the adventurer catches the monster’s attention. The others realize the monster isn't looking at them, but whatever is behind them. They turn to look and see something slowly rising.

Wister gets up from the counter and glares at the monster. He takes his glove off and picks up the greatsword once more. The party is in awe, witnessing no signs of injury from that fatal throw outside a few scratches and splinters. Wisteria grunts and spits out a piece of rubble, “Fucking hell that hurt.”

He drags the sword on the ground with sparks emitting as the blade scrapes on to the rubble. His right glove is torn by the fingers as he holds the sword, repairing as he walks by taking matter from the ground to repair it. A power that the party had never seen before. The blade is sharp around the edges now, albeit a bit deformed.

The party yells at him that the head is too hard to stab through. He huffs, “I know that!” He rushes in at an incredible speed. The monster roars and throws its javelin-like arms at Wister. Wister shifts his body to the side and jumps on top of the arm. The creature hardens its long snow-white hair, and makes each strand home on Wister. As he travels along the creature's arm, he dodges most of the  hardened hair strands, but he still keeps running forward. He swiftly makes his way to the creature's face while the hair strands follow behind. As he reaches its face, the monster opens its gigantic mouth attempting to bite Wister. Wister quickly moves away, sliding across its shoulder and to the air. The hair strands end up crashing into the monster’s gaping mouth, causing internal bleeding.

As the monster wails in pain, Wister bolts forward and pierces the monster’s ankles. The monster falls backward, exposing its unarmored belly. Wister jumps in the air, preparing for a powerful thrust. The monster throws all of its strands at the falling Wister. Wister parries all of them mid air, until finally reaching for the body. He goes in and plunges the sword into its stomach. The sword glows, igniting the insides of the monster. Flames erupt from parts of the body, and the smell of burnt flesh fills the area. The monster wails and wails. 

Wister lets go of the sword and grabs its head with his left hand as it scratches at him to little effect, cutting his shirt and skin. Wister doesn’t flinch as he repeatedly slams its head into a broken counter, yelling, “THIS IS FOR MY WEAPONS! THIS IS FOR MY SHOP! THIS IS FOR MY POTIONS! THIS IS FOR MY WALLS!!” The monster fully turns to gold and he stands straight, sighing.

He looks back at the party and frowns, “You are all idiots. Don’t you know how to hunt?” His glove is off as well as his clothes torn, revealing the burn scars on his arm. He walks and touches the wall to repair it and the door slowly within 5 minutes, then starts to fix the stands and clean the potions. The sheep emerges as well, a towel wrapped around her body as she holds a broom in her mouth. She hands the broom to the battered Wisteria and uses her horns to move the large scale rubble outside of the hole as Wisteria sweeps, an obviously annoyed face painted on. The leader is astonished, trying to find the right words to her question, “Who… in Asphol are you?”

Wisteria looks over at her, his golden eyes glowing as the tips of his hair turn purple. “I'm the best blacksmith to ever exist, now get the asphol out of my store.”