Greg's hand closed around the hammer inside Hammy's clear body, and for a moment, nothing happened, but then everything happened at the same time. The hammer was shaken until it started to crack.

Slowly, the hammer appeared not just broken but shattered, eventually breaking into pieces that transformed into tiny golden lights spreading through Hammy's jelly-like body like ink in water. The slime chirped in surprise but didn't pull away as the light spread from Hammy to Greg's other hand, up his arm, through his chest, and into his whole body, making him feel warm all over, almost to the point of pain.

Greg gasped as the energy flowed through him. This experience was different from the system's previous forced access, which had been a cold and mechanical method of granting abilities to people.

This was a living thing that had been waiting for decades, maybe even centuries, for someone worthy enough to use it. The light focused on the stump of his severed arm, and Greg was amazed as it began to take shape.

It was not skin nor metal, but it was something in the middle. A prosthetic arm made of pure golden energy that turned into something that looked almost real.

Its surface featured intricate patterns resembling illuminated circuit boards. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and they responded to his thoughts just as his original arm had. But this was an upgrade—more powerful, more advanced.

He had a lot of knowledge in his head, but it wasn't as overwhelming as before. His manner was calm and patient, like a teacher helping a student instead of forcing them to download information.

He now knew what the Thoughtforged technique really was. Not only making things with willpower, but also knowing the true nature of materials so well that the line between thought and creation disappeared completely.

The pain from his wounds didn't go away, but it became easier to deal with as his mind became clearer. Greg took a deep breath, then another, on purpose to slow down his racing heart.

The anger that had taken over him a few minutes ago was still there, but it wasn't in charge anymore. He still felt deep, real grief for Hilda, but it wasn't drowning him.

He could see past all the feelings and pain that were there. And they could think beyond them.

"Greg?" Marina's voice was careful and unsure.

She'd come up slowly, weapons drawn but lowered, clearly not sure what to expect. "Are you all right? What just happened?"

Greg looked at his new arm, flexed his fingers again, and felt the power flowing through it. "I think I finally get it," he said, and his voice was back to normal.

It was not the same cold emptiness as before, but not quite the same person who had entered the fight. "What it means to forge without losing yourself along the way."

Agatha's laughter had stopped above them. Greg had never heard anything like it before when she spoke. Uncertainty. "That light... that bright light! N-No way, this is impossible!"

Veldway had come out of hiding and was staring at Greg with a pale face. More specifically, the golden fake arm.

"Impossible," he said. "That signature... that work of art..."

"I know it when I see it, but it can't be. It has been sixty years since that hammer was lost. Everyone who knew where it went is dead."

"Not everyone," Greg said as he looked at Hammy.

The slime had settled on his shoulder and was chirping happily as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Someone made sure it would be found."

"Put it somewhere that someone would eventually find it. Waiting for the right time."

"The First Hammer," Veldway uttered, his voice barely audible. "The first Thoughtforged Hammer!"

"The one that all the others copied! The person who came up with the method made it." He looked at Greg with a look of awe. "Do you know what you have in your hands and what you have become?!"

Greg said, "I'm starting to."

He closed his eyes and reached inside himself, looking for the skill he had been given before. It was there now, forever, a part of who he was, but it felt different.

Like he had been given the whole manual instead of just a few pages. "Now I think it's time to end this."

He didn't have to push it any more. He didn't have to get angry or hurt himself to get to the power.

Greg just thought about what he needed, and metal did what he wanted. The broken Calamity's debris rose into the air, not pulled but invited, and it changed shape as it moved, following his will.

But what he made wasn't weapons. Not completely. Not anymore.

It only took a few seconds for the first thing to take shape. It was a shield, but it also made a barrier that would keep anyone behind it safe.

It was of SSS-rank quality, crafted with a strong understanding of both offense and defense, as well as destruction and protection. He threw it at Tunner, who caught it with a surprised shout.

Then there were gauntlets that made the wearer stronger and more accurate so they could protect themselves without hurting anyone else. For Marina, who saw them with tears in her eyes.

There was a bow that shot arrows of light, with each arrow capable of being either beautiful or deadly, depending on the user's intent. For Elwen, who took it with shaking hands.

Greg created a series of items, each one reflecting a combination of his learned skills. Not completely peaceful nor just violent.

Tools that could be used for either purpose, depending on who used them and what their hearts told them to do. This represented the third approach that the person in the cave had discussed. Not denying who he was or giving in to destruction, but combining both into something new.

"You haven't learned anything!" From above, Agatha yelled, and her three Calamities got ready to fight. "You're still making weapons of violence and still loving who you are!"

Greg calmly said, "No," and raised his prosthetic arm.

He felt the power respond as golden light pulsed through the circuits. "I'm accepting who I want to be! There is a difference between them!"

This time, he reached out with his mind not to the debris but to something else. He reached through the dimensional fabric and into the pocket dimension where Veldway's creations still existed.

The living weapons had tried to stop their master from leaving. Greg could sense them as they were confused, frustrated, and lost without a clear goal.

"I'm not your enemy," he said, sending his thoughts across the distance. "I'm not your boss either, but I get you."

"I know what it's like to be made for one thing and have a hard time finding meaning in anything else."

"If you want to help and choose your own purpose, then fight with us. Not because someone told you to, but because you want to."

Nothing happened for a while. Thereafter, the air around them started to sparkle, and doors opened.

Many of the living weapons, similar to a large number of others, appeared. Living weapons came through, but they didn't attack the Brotherhood. They were lining up, making a defensive ring, and when the three Calamities attacked again, Veldway's creations fought them head-on.

Veldway said, "They're listening to you," in shock. "They've only ever listened to me, and even I couldn't fully control them."

"But... h-how can such a thing...?"

Greg said, "Because I'm not trying to control them."

"I'm giving them a choice. There is a difference."

The fight changed right away. The noise was deafening as living weapons fought against corrupted constructs, but the living weapons fought together and with a goal, which the Calamities' stolen parts didn't have.

They were protecting and defending, and they chose to stand up against destruction not because they had to, but because they wanted to. Greg focused on the main Calamity, Agatha herself.

She was huge, three hundred feet of twisted metal and stolen souls, but he could see her now.

That was the real her with the weak points. The stress fractures happened where she didn't have full control. These were the times when she wasn't sure of her beliefs.

"Hammy," he said to the slime on his shoulder.

"We're going for a ride."

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