I can manipulate magnetic fields at will.

That fact alone had already crossed the line of interesting and entered the realm of dangerous—or at least, dangerous in the right hands.

"But do you have the materials prepared?" I asked. "I remember hearing that the original process required quite a few rare minerals."

Grundar let out a rough laugh and scratched the side of his head.

"That's the problem," he admitted. "Back then, I was obsessed with the theory. I never thought I'd actually get a chance to make it again. I'd half given up, so I didn't bother gathering everything."

In other words, the idea was sound, but the preparation wasn't.

Grundar suggested that for today, we simply confirm whether the concept was still feasible with modern techniques. Under normal circumstances, that would've been enough for me too.

But…

I glanced at the cluttered workshop, at the old forge that had shaped countless masterpieces, and at the dwarf standing before me—one of the few craftsmen in the Empire whose work could genuinely be called legendary.

This wasn't just a test.

This was an opportunity.

"If that's all," I said, meeting his gaze, "what exactly do you need?"

Grundar blinked, clearly not expecting that question.

"You mean… you're willing to get the materials?"

"If it's possible, yes. Right away."

For a brief moment, he simply stared at me. Then his lips curled into a wide grin.

"Hah! You're as reckless as ever, lad."

He turned and began rummaging through his storage shelves, pulling out boxes, opening drawers, muttering to himself as he checked his inventory.

"Let's see… mithril dust, got some. Spirit iron shards, a bit left. Ether crystals—low quality, but workable…"

One by one, he listed the required materials, occasionally clicking his tongue in annoyance, occasionally nodding in satisfaction.

Then he stopped.

His movements slowed, and he stroked his thick beard thoughtfully.

"There's one thing I don't have," he said at last.

I held my breath.

"Magnerium."

"…Magnerium?"

Grundar looked back at me. "A rare mineral that reacts sharply to mana-induced magnetic fields. Without it, the core won't stabilize. I used the last of mine decades ago."

For a split second, I almost laughed.

Because of all the materials he could've named—

I had that.

The reward package that had arrived recently from Anna flashed through my mind. I hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, just skimmed the list and stored everything away.

But I remembered clearly now.

Magnerium had been included.

I'd thought it might be useful someday.

I just didn't expect that "someday" to come this fast.

"…If that's the only missing piece," I said carefully, "then I might be able to help."

Grundar's eyes narrowed. "Might?"

I reached into my spatial storage and pulled out a small, sealed container. Inside, a dull gray mineral rested quietly, its surface faintly shimmering as if reacting to the mana in the air.

The moment Grundar saw it—

His eyes went wide.

"By the forge…" he whispered. "That's Magnerium. And not the cheap stuff, either."

He leaned closer, inspecting it like a starving man who'd just been handed a feast.

"Where in the hell did you get this?"

"Let's just say I have good connections," I replied vaguely.

Grundar burst into laughter, loud and booming enough to shake the workshop.

"Hahaha! Fate really is a funny thing. To think this old dream of mine would resurface like this…"

He straightened, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by something sharp and focused—an expression I'd only seen on true craftsmen when inspiration struck.

"If you're willing to part with this," he said seriously, "then I'll make it worth your while. I won't just try—I'll pour everything I've got into this piece."

That was exactly what I wanted to hear.

I nodded. "Then let's do it."

Grundar grinned, his thick fingers tightening around the Magnerium container as if he were holding a sacred relic.

"With this… I can make it right now," he murmured, his voice trembling with excitement.

He placed the container down with exaggerated care, as though even a careless breath might damage it, then spread a tattered blueprint across the workbench. The parchment was stained with oil, burn marks, and countless corrections—clear proof that it had been revised again and again over many years.

Straightening his massive frame, Grundar reached behind him and hefted an enormous hammer onto his shoulder. His eyes shone as he turned toward Vermut, a wide, boyish smile breaking across his rugged face.

"Vermut! Light the furnace!" he declared. "It's time to sing the song of steel!"

"…You really never change," Vermut muttered.

Still, despite the grumbling, he stood up from his chair and faced the cold, lifeless furnace. Raising one hand, he calmly gathered mana.

"Fire Ball."

It was a simple spell—one that even novice mages could cast. A small sphere of flame shot forward and vanished into the furnace's mouth.

For a brief moment, nothing happened.

Then—

Whooom.

The furnace roared to life, flames blooming and twisting inside as if awakened from a long slumber. The iron walls began to glow faintly red, and waves of heat rolled through the workshop.

The blacksmith shop, which had been icy and still only moments ago, quickly filled with intense warmth. The air shimmered, metal tools clinked softly as they expanded from the heat, and the familiar scent of burning coal and molten iron spread through the room.

Grundar threw his head back and laughed.

"Ahh… that's it! That's the sound I've been waiting for!"

He rolled his shoulders, setting the hammer firmly in both hands, his expression shifting from excitement to absolute focus.

"This isn't just another weapon," he said, eyes fixed on the blueprint. "With Magnerium involved, even a single mistake could ruin everything."

Vermut crossed his arms, watching the flames dance. "So? Confident?"

Grundar's grin returned—sharp, unwavering.

"Confident?" he echoed. "No."

Then he stepped toward the furnace, heat reflecting in his eyes.

"I'm certain."

As the flames raged higher, the first true strike of the hammer rang out across the workshop—

Clang!

The song of steel had begun.

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