Northern, pressing the back of his neck, strutted gently. Originally, he was going to fight the leader himself, but he had better things to do than tussle with a bunch of kids.
First, Eleina was probably going to be back in a couple of days; there was an assignment which he had not even started.
He had been taking advantage of the private forge to refine the Red crystals-Rethium- instead.
Second, along with that assignment, Northern had decided it was time for him to forge himself a new sword.
Although whatever sword he forged for himself would be primitive in nature and be lacking compared to an item, still, he wanted to bond to something of his own effort.
And this was to mark his continuation into the exploration of how to create items that are attached to the soul.
With Chaos Eyes, he had been able to peer into the tapestry of essence of every mundane item created and had suspected the possibility of it being tied to the soul.
But all that items had to show for their peerless reputation was not their attachment to the soul alone, but also their order.
Item orders were the feature that made these weapons incredibly different from mundane ones.
Orders of items are skills imbued in them by the memory of their source; it is like an ethereal string that weaves their purpose of existence.
With something like that almost impossible to imbue into a mundane item, a mundane item would forever be a mundane item.
And this was the wall Northern wanted to break before transferring to the Artificer course and also learning all there is to learn there before advancing to another course.
But he still needed to speak to Professor Heimburger about it before going ahead with his plan. However, the thought of walking all the way to that place made him hesitant.
It was not the strength to walk that he lacked; it was because the walk was going to be ultra boring. He could not run or use Shadow Step because he needed to avoid being seen.
Especially when he was aware that the Professor was vigilant of him.
Third was the dungeon. Northern needed to explore as much of it as he could before the festival began.
So that when the festival began, he would have enough fragments to copy talents.
After helping Aster and copying Lennister's talent, his fragments had reduced tremendously, only enough to copy one more A-class talent with a couple of fragment changes left.
Hence, he needed to stack up as many fragments as he could and take advantage of this penalty to get many talents and evolve them before he moved on to the next rank.
And lastly, Northern had cooked in his mind how he was going to show his might to the whole academy and make them all crumble in shock.
Appearing before the disciplinary leader and defeating him was in no way the perfect stage for him to reveal himself.
So, he chose to back away from it.
If Aster managed to defeat the leader then it was good; if not, that was also good. Nothing affected his plan in any way.
Aster would end up being the one getting hurt. But Aster was not the only guinea pig he was using for this event.
All of the Starchasers were... and that was why he made Aster be the one to fight the leader.
The chatterbox did not need to win; all he needed to do was fight. The others would notice and would be convinced of the same power.
This way, they would come to him too and seek growth. And through this event, Northern would be setting the stage for the Milhwa festival.
And most importantly, a greater stage for destruction. He was cooking something really evil. So evil that he could not help but grin wickedly as he thought about it.
Northern finally approached the private smithy, nestled in the embrace of the serene stream.
The sound of water cascading over smooth stones filled the air, harmonizing with the occasional chirp of unseen birds.
Northern settled down, resting a little bit before bringing out the refined Atherium ore.
He looked at the bluish iron bar with a slight spark in his eyes, his mind racing as possibilities of its final form and how powerful it would be filled his thoughts.
Never had he thought he'd enjoy blacksmithing so much.
Northern began by kindling the forge. He worked the bellows with steady rhythm, coaxing the embers into a roaring fire.
He arranged the coal methodically, ensuring even distribution for consistent temperatures.
The heat began to rise, the forge glowing a fiery orange that danced shadows across Northern's determined face.
His hands moved with a mix of precision and instinct, a witness to his ever-growing understanding of the craft.
The Atherium ore rested in his hands for a moment longer before he placed it carefully into
He watched as the bluish hue shifted, a faint shimmer of energy escaping from the surface, reacting to the intense heat.
It was a sight he never tired of a subtle reminder of what he had to do to get it to where it was. Every time he looked at it, he felt pride rise in his chest.
As the ore softened, Northern retrieved his hammer. He placed the glowing metal on the anvil and struck it with purposeful force.
Sparks flew, illuminating the smithy with bursts of light.
Each strike was deliberate, shaping the Atherium while Northern's Chaos Eyes tracked the essence flowing within the material.
"Focus," he muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the hammer.
Both the Atherium and Rethium, after dealing with them, he had known for the better that they required a deeper understanding and a connection to their ethereal nature to forge
There was a carefulness he needed to employ when handling both materials and possibly all materials from the rift, so as not to render them useless.
Considering this delicateness that came with handling rift materials, Northern could understand why not just any blacksmith could forge with them.
Chaos Eyes guided him, revealing the intricate patterns of soul essence within the Atherium. It wasn't just about shaping the metal physically-he had to align its essence with his intent.
Northern's strikes became more deliberate, the rhythm of the hammer on the glowing Atherium resonating like a heartbeat in the quiet forge.
The metal began to take on the rough shape of a sledgehammer head, its edges uneven but brimming with potential.
As the forging continued, Northern paused to adjust the embers in the forge, ensuring the heat remained steady. The glow of the Atherium intensified with each strike, the bluish hue shifting to a deeper, more vibrant shade.
He could feel the energy within the metal responding to his efforts, as if the material itself recognized his intent.
This was the advantage of choosing to subdue it the way he did, and what he meant by bringing out the greatest version of its potential.
Moreover, as he was forging the material into something it somehow found comfortable
being, the process was smooth and enjoyable.
"This is going to be fun..."