Radeon went to work at once. He dragged heavy cabinets across the wide pathway and sealed the approach.

Anyone trying to barge in or steal a look would find nothing but a wall of wood.

From the outside, only the blast of hot air escaped, shimmering and distorting sight.

The swords had been sorted beforehand. Each one sang a different note when struck, and each note meant a different material hiding within.

He fed them into the furnace in measured batches. Most yielded nothing but common iron.

That was expected. What he hunted were the traces. Flecks of starlit iron. Veins of cloudsteam copper.

Starlit iron was among the most reliable materials for forging weapons.

Cloudsteam copper carried qi faster than any metal he knew, regardless of elemental affinity.

Either one alone was valuable. Together, they made a man who knew how to wield weapons peerless.

Radeon intended to forge a weapon. Ossuary Necropolis had furnaces of far higher quality, but he lacked the spirit stones and materials to justify their use.

The threads served him well as a primary weapon, but they faltered in prolonged close combat, especially against long reach arms.

They also struggled against distant enemies. The weakness would have to be addressed sooner or later. Since there was no immediate rush, Radeon chose now.

By the time the impurities were stripped away, only two ingots remained. Five kilograms of starlit iron. Two kilograms of cloudsteam copper.

Radeon set the remaining slag aside to be melted again later. Waste was a sin he could not afford.

He turned first to the common iron. He forged it into solid blocks, small and exact.

Precision instruments were what he needed, and ordinary iron infused with qi was ideal.

Circles. Squares. Triangles. Each shape repeated in two dimensions, then three.

Only then did he heat the starlit iron, waiting until it glowed a deep red.

Radeon milled the metal with his needles, hands steady and practiced. This craft was familiar to him. Too familiar.

He had started as a soldier once. Rank by rank, he climbed until someone decided he was worth the chance to cultivate.

From sacred cultivation lands to arcane wells dense with magic, this weapon had followed him through it all.

Through victories and retreats. Through thick and thin. His regret lingered in the heat.

He had never been able to swing it one last time at the end.

'Would things have changed if I did?'

Radeon drew in a slow breath. Regret had no medicine. He set it aside and returned his focus to the work.

The metal was reheated. He hammered carefully, opening the channel that would serve as the barrel.

When it cooled just enough, the needles returned to his fingers. He carved precise rifling along the inner wall, movements exact and patient.

He did not merge blade and gun into a single absurd whole. That idea belonged to fools.

The weapon remained single edged. The spine carried half the barrel.

The remaining half was forged into the sheath itself, molded entirely from cloudsteam copper.

It would serve both as housing and as a foundation for arrays.

When the structure held, he embedded two windstones where they fit naturally.

Radeon rested his hand against the hilt.

'Twenty two more slots, huh. The journey this time is going to be long.'

Radeon did not stop at the blade and the sheath. He began fashioning a magazine system next, built to ride along the sheath itself as if it belonged there from the start.

Five steel cases took shape under his hands, each one fitted to carry at least a thousand rounds, bullets no larger than a quarter of his little finger.

Small did not mean weak. If each slug reached the speed of sound, barriers cracked with far less qi than a heavy round would demand.

He etched every case carefully, line by line, then embedded hoverstones within each housing to cheat the weight.

After that came the array, powered by spirit stones, meant to guide every round into place and pull the next one forward without hesitation.

Jamming was the nastiest failure he could imagine. He wanted it dead before it ever had the chance to live.

Radeon also made one fed with a middle grade spirit stone. It had a crest shield shape, meant to hold ten thousand rounds.

Not because it was elegant, but because running dry at the wrong moment was a clean way to die.

For ammunition he used iron for now. He shaped the bullets, then inscribed them with copper ink he bought from the Ossuary Necropolis.

'I always need to make sure I don't run out of this stuff.'

The markings were not ornament. They were orders meant for the magazine's arrays.

Attract. Align. Present the next round cleanly. Then obey the barrel's array.

Once the bullet slid into the chamber, the next commands took over.

Spin true. Do not wander. Do not deviate as you travel. Stay centered all the time.

Four days passed, and Fay was still outside the rented kiln. She did not grow bored.

Radeon had left her with enough to keep her hands and mind busy, and she took care not to draw eyes.

Now and then she rode the bison in slow loops through the smelting quarter, just another trader's woman stretching her legs, nothing worth remembering.

That morning felt no different. Fay faced the blocked entrance, book in hand, prepared to lose herself in medical diagrams again.

Then the cabinets shifted. Wood scraped stone. One after another, they slid aside as if pushed by invisible hands.

The hot breath of the kiln spilled out in a gust. Radeon stepped through the gap.

Something oddly shaped hung across his back, wrapped and heavy. At his waist rested a straight sword.

Fay's eyes widened at the sight, but what caught her harder was his expression. Radeon was smiling.

It was not a wide grin. Just a simple curve of the mouth, quiet and pleased.

She had only seen that look on satisfied elders after a pill refinement or a treasure forging.

Fay walked closer and tried to hold herself like she belonged beside him.

"Master, what do you have there with you?" she asked, making her voice light, as if it were only small talk.

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