Gruntar's expression shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. His tone grew more serious.

"The last ability utilizes something called pulse energy."

"…Pulse energy?"

The unfamiliar term made my excitement pause, replaced with curiosity. "What is that supposed to be?"

Seemingly catching the confusion written all over my face, Gruntar continued his explanation without missing a beat.

"Simply put," he said, crossing his arms proudly, "you can shoot lasers."

"…Lasers?"

My mind instantly replayed the image of the steel golem from earlier—the blinding beam fired straight from its chest, melting everything in its path.

You're telling me… I can use that?

Before I could stop myself, excitement surged through me. I thrust my hand forward on instinct, my eyes practically shining.

Then—

Thud.

"Ouch!"

A sharp pain bloomed on my forehead as something heavy smacked me.

"Are you insane?!" Gruntar barked. "Are you trying to blow my workshop to pieces?!"

"Ah—!"

Only then did reality catch up with me.

Right.

This wasn't some empty training ground or abandoned ruin. I was standing in the middle of Gruntar's forge—his lifelong pride. The walls were lined with rare metals, half-finished masterpieces, and priceless tools.

If I had actually fired that thing…

…I probably would've erased half the building. Along with Gruntar.

"I—I got carried away," I muttered, rubbing my forehead in embarrassment.

"Tch," Gruntar clicked his tongue, though there was no real anger in his eyes. "Brats like you are always the same. You get a powerful toy and immediately want to fire it."

Then he paused.

And suddenly, a wide grin spread across his face.

"But," he continued, voice lowering with unmistakable excitement, "you should check it out later. Somewhere open. Somewhere sturdy."

His eyes gleamed like a craftsman admiring his finest work.

"It'll be amazing."

For a moment, the gruff dwarf before me felt less like a blacksmith and more like a proud artist unveiling his magnum opus.

And honestly…

Wow.

Standing there, arms crossed, soot-stained apron fluttering slightly from the heat of the forge, beard bristling with confidence—

Gruntar looked unbelievably cool.

This wasn't just someone who made weapons.

This was someone who lived for creation.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of what I'd been given.

"…I'll be careful," I said seriously. "I promise."

Gruntar let out a deep, booming laugh.

"Hah! That's what they all say. But fine—just don't embarrass my craftsmanship."

But there was one thing that kept bothering me.

Isn't this… too powerful?

It consumes barely any mana, yet the output is absurd. On top of that, it's likely something only I can even use properly. No matter how I look at it, this feels far beyond what an ordinary academy student should be carrying around.

When I voiced my concern, Gruntar's reply came without even a second of hesitation.

"Then just kill anyone who makes a fuss about it."

"…Ah."

So that's the solution.

Why didn't I think of that?

"Are you insane?"

I stared at him in disbelief, wondering if he'd finally lost whatever screws he had left. What kind of advice was that supposed to be?

"…Ahem. Forget I said that."

Perhaps realizing how ridiculous he sounded under my unamused gaze, Gruntar cleared his throat and awkwardly looked away.

Honestly. How could someone be this irresponsible?

This is exactly how cursed swords come into existence.

And how lunatics wielding them start popping up all over the continent.

I let out a slow sigh and rubbed my temples. Dealing with powerful artifacts was already troublesome enough—having an owner like Gruntar explaining them made it worse.

"Breakfast is ready!"

The door to the forge opened, and Lisa poked her head in, her voice bright and cheerful. Judging by the faint smell drifting in with her, she'd been busy cooking while we were arguing nonsense.

"Oh, already?"

"Mm. If you don't eat now, it'll get cold."

"Shall we go together, then?"

"Yes, alright."

I walked over to Elena, who was still curled up and sleeping soundly despite everything. Gently, I shook her shoulder.

"Elena, wake up. Breakfast is ready."

"…Mmm…"

She shifted slightly, blinking her eyes open with visible effort.

"Morning already…?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

She yawned softly, rubbing her eyes before finally sitting up. Seeing her like this—completely defenseless and relaxed—made it hard to believe what she'd gone through not long ago.

Once she was fully awake, we headed to the dining room together.

As we walked, my thoughts drifted back to the artifact again.

Powerful. Too powerful, perhaps.

If word ever got out, trouble would follow without a doubt. Nobles, professors, maybe even people far above the Academy would start asking questions.

For now, I'll keep it hidden.

And as for Gruntar's "solution"…

Yeah. Let's hope it never comes to that.

The hallway was quiet as we headed toward the dining room, our footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. Morning light filtered in through the tall windows, painting pale streaks across the walls.

Elena walked beside me, still a little groggy, her movements slower than usual. She let out another small yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked.

"…I think so," she replied after a moment, tilting her head slightly. "I don't really remember much. I just remember lying down, and then it was morning."

"That means you slept deeply," I said. "That's a good thing."

"Mm." She nodded, then glanced up at me. "What about you? You look tired."

"Do I?"

"Yes. A little." She studied my face with an oddly serious expression. "Did something happen?"

I hesitated. For just a moment.

"It's nothing," I said eventually. "I was just thinking about a few things."

Elena didn't look convinced, but she didn't press further. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back and continued walking, her steps light.

"…Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For yesterday. And… for always worrying about me."

I stopped walking for half a second before forcing myself to continue.

"You don't have to thank me," I replied. "That's just how things are."

She smiled faintly. "Even so, I'm grateful."

The corridor turned, and the faint clatter of dishes and voices drifted toward us—the dining room was just ahead.

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