Cale's eyes slowly fluttered open. A bright, almost blinding light shone down from above, making him squint as his vision adjusted. His head felt heavy, his limbs sluggish, as though waking from a deep and unnatural slumber.

  As his sight cleared, he took in his surroundings. He was lying on a stark white bed, the sheets crisp and untouched. The walls were tiled in pristine white, sterile. The room was small, featureless, save for a single door at the far end. There were no windows, no furniture—just him and the empty silence.

  "Ah, right... I drank that disgusting potion and fell asleep," Cale muttered to himself, voice still thick with grogginess. He let out a yawn, stretching his arms over his head, his muscles stiff from inactivity. He kicked his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering drowsiness.

  A thought crossed his mind as he rubbed his eyes. "I wonder what they did to me while I was asleep."

  He stood and walked towards the door, pcing his hand on the handle. He gave it a firm twist—locked. His expression darkened slightly as he let out a quiet sigh.

  "Should I try to open it?" he mused aloud. His fingers twitched against the handle, a flicker of defiance stirring within him. But then he remembered how he had been scolded the st time he had tried something simir. He exhaled sharply and let go, deciding against it.

  Turning his back to the door, he gnced around the empty room. There was nothing but the bed, no distractions, no clues. His fingers instinctively twitched, craving movement, something—anything—to focus on. He raised his hand, and a small, marble-sized orb of metal floated up from the bed’s metal frame, glimmering as it hovered in his palm.

  He walked to the right side of the room and slid down against the wall, letting out a quiet huff. His gaze dropped to the floor as he began to shape the small ball of metal, his focus narrowing. His fingers worked fluidly, molding the metal as if it were cy.

  First, he crafted the figure of an armored warrior, its body stout and strong, a symbol of a great hero. Then, beside it, he shaped another—this one monstrous, with jagged horns and cwed limbs. The vilin to his hero. He smirked to himself as he held them in his hands, his imagination taking over.

  "I, Cale, the great hero of Arkanthar, will sy you, foul monster!" he decred dramatically, his voice filled with childlike excitement.

  As if responding to his words, the small metal figurines began to move. The hero raised its tiny sword, the monster shifting as if preparing to strike. Cale’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he willed the battle to begin.

  With a sharp flick of his fingers, the hero lunged forward, its miniature bde glinting under the sterile light. The monster met its charge with a low, metallic growl, swinging its jagged cws toward its foe. The hero twisted at the st second, narrowly dodging the strike, then countered with a precise ssh across the monster’s side. A faint spark crackled from the contact, as if the tiny figures carried a pulse of energy within them.

  Cale grinned, shifting his focus to weave the movements of his warriors. He made the monster stagger back, clutching its wound, but it quickly recovered, its heavy horns lowering like a bull preparing to charge. With a stomp of its cwed feet, it propelled itself forward, barreling toward the hero.

  The hero braced, raising its sword, but the impact was too strong. The hero was knocked back, skidding across the floor before regaining its footing. Cale clicked his tongue. "That was close… but the hero never falls so easily!" He clenched his fist slightly, and the hero responded, standing tall, shaking off the attack as if it felt no pain.

  With a new surge of energy, the hero dashed forward, dodging another wild swipe from the monster. It slid under its opponent’s legs and sshed at its exposed back, the metal bde carving a deep groove. The monster roared—a high-pitched screech of metal scraping against metal—before whirling around, swinging its tail like a whip.

  The hero leaped over it with ease. Cale’s fingers twitched, refining every detail of the battle. Sparks flew as the two figures cshed again and again, locked in a dance of power and speed. The monster’s cws shed out in rapid succession, but the hero parried with skill, deflecting the blows before pushing forward with a decisive strike to the chest.

  The monster staggered, metal limbs twitching, its strength fading. Cale leaned in, whispering, "And now… for the final blow."

  The hero raised its sword high, the metal humming as if charged with an unseen force. With a single, precise strike, it brought the bde down, cleaving straight through the monster. The enemy trembled, its form cracking before it crumbled into tiny fragments of liquid metal, pooling at the hero’s feet.

  Cale exhaled, releasing his hold over the metal. The hero stood victorious, its bde still gleaming, standing tall over its defeated foe.

  He stared at his creation, heart pounding with exhiration. The control, the power—the metal obeyed him instinctively, like an extension of his own will. His mind buzzed with possibilities, ideas forming for greater battles, stronger warriors.

  He grinned to himself. "Not bad… but next time, let’s make it even better."

  With a flick of his wrist, he gathered the metal pieces and began reshaping them, ready to create something new.

  Cale didn’t know how much time had passed—minutes, maybe hours. He was too absorbed in what he was doing, completely lost in the delicate art of shaping the metal with his will. The figurines danced in his hands, shifting, moving, battling as his imagination guided them.

  Then, a sudden ctter shattered his focus.

  A metallic object hit the floor with a sharp cng.

  Cale's gaze snapped up, his fingers stilling mid-motion. Standing just a few feet away was a gray-robed man, his lower face hidden behind a white cloth mask. His hands trembled, eyes wide—so wide they looked as if they might pop from his skull. At his feet, a metal tray had fallen, sending several gss vials rolling across the floor. One of the stronger gss containers had tipped over, its dark liquid spilling the floor.

  Cale stared at him, uncertain what to say. His heart pounded. Had he done something wrong?

  The robed figure didn’t speak. Instead, with a sharp intake of breath, he spun on his heels and bolted from the room.

  Cale’s gaze remained fixed on the now-wide-open door. The hallway beyond stretched endlessly in both directions, dimly lit and silent.

  Slowly, he stood.

  He took a hesitant step forward, peeking outside. His head turned left, then right.

  Then he saw them.

  A group of gray-robed men rushing toward him.

  His stomach twisted.

  He stepped back into the room just as they arrived, filing in with swift, purposeful movements. Their presence was overwhelming, their sheer number making the small space feel even tighter. Cale kept his expression neutral, but his fingers curled at his sides.

  One of them stepped forward, taller than the rest. He scrutinized Cale with calcuting eyes, sweeping his gaze from head to toe as if trying to unravel a puzzle. After a long moment, he turned his back to Cale and spoke in hushed tones to the rest of the group.

  Cale couldn’t hear their words, but he didn’t need to. The tension in the room spoke volumes. Something about him had unsettled them.

  Then, as suddenly as they had arrived, one of them rushed out of the room, his robes swaying behind him.

  Cale shifted on his feet. "Did... did I do something wrong?" he asked, his voice cautious, uncertain.

  "No," the tall man finally answered, his voice even but unreadable. "Go to the bed and lie down."

  Cale hesitated. His instinct was to question, to demand answers, but something in the way the man spoke left no room for argument. Reluctantly, he walked back to the bed and sat down on the edge, swinging his legs idly.

  He cast a sideways gnce at the group, who had gathered together, whispering in hushed voices. Every now and then, they flicked their eyes toward him, their expressions unreadable, like schors studying a specimen.

  His gaze shifted toward the door as the sound of wheels rolling across the floor reached his ears. A metal cart was pushed inside, its contents gleaming under the artificial light. Strange metal devices covered its surface, unfamiliar and foreboding.

  Cale tensed as they moved the cart next to him. Without a word, they began their work. Cold instruments pressed against his skin, measuring, probing. They waved strange devices over his arms, his chest, his forehead. Some let out quiet hums, others clicked or beeped softly.

  He didn’t flinch, didn’t compin, though unease prickled at his spine. He sat still, allowing them to do whatever it was they needed to do. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be a hero. And heroes didn’t let fear control them.

  After what felt like an eternity, the examination ended. The robed figures exchanged gnces, their murmurs carrying an edge of uncertainty.

  Then, without expnation, they all turned and left—except for one.

  The st remaining man adjusted his robes before speaking. "Miss Isa will come and take you to your room."

  That was all he said before walking toward the door. He stepped out without another gnce, closing it behind him with a dull click.

  Silence returned.

  Cale stared at the door for a few moments, the weight of the interaction settling on him. His mind buzzed with unspoken questions. What had they been looking for? Why had they seemed so unnerved?

  But no answers came.

  With a quiet sigh, he turned back to the metal in his hands, letting it shift and shape beneath his fingers. The figurines took form once more, and as they moved, so did his thoughts—drifting between wonder, unease, and something he couldn’t quite name.

  Igor heard the door to his room open, but he didn’t lift his gaze. The sound of footsteps echoed against the polished floor as someone entered, but he remained focused on the paper in front of him. The words on the page demanded his full attention—or at least, they should have. Yet, something about this particur moment made him pause.

  Only when he finished reading did he finally look up.

  His piercing blue eyes settled on the man standing before him, his expression unreadable. The robed figure hesitated for only a second before delivering his report.

  "Sir. The boy has woken up."

  Igor waited a beat before responding, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden surface of his desk. "The procedure was a complete success. I expected him to wake up sooner or ter."

  The man shifted slightly, as if weighing his next words. "Sir..." He hesitated, then continued, his voice ced with something that could have been uncertainty—or unease. "The boy woke up and isn’t dispying any of the symptoms we previously observed. No fatigue, no drowsiness, no chest pains. He seems entirely unaffected."

  Igor’s fingers stilled.

  "He can even use his elemental powers as if nothing happened," the man added, his tone slightly lower, as if saying it out loud would make it more believable. "The test results confirm it—he is completely recovered."

  Silence stretched between them as Igor absorbed the information. His mind turned over the implications, dissecting what this anomaly could mean.

  This shouldn’t have been possible.

  Every other subject who had undergone the same procedure had suffered side effects—weakness, pain, sluggishness that took weeks to fade. Yet, this boy had woken up and carried on as though nothing had changed.

  A deviation.

  Igor didn’t like deviations.

  Finally, he spoke. "Test him before his training and again after. I want precise results. No assumptions."

  "Yes, sir." The man bowed slightly before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

  Igor’s eyes remained on the closed door long after the man had gone. His fingers resumed their slow tapping against the desk, his thoughts now miles away from the paper in front of him.

  Something was different about the boy.

  And Igor intended to find out what.

  Cale lifted his gaze as a familiar figure stopped before him.

  "Isa!" he said with a bright smile.

  Isa returned his smile warmly. "How do you feel?" she asked as she lowered herself to sit beside him.

  "I’m good. Those robed men put me to sleep, and when I woke up, I was in this room. Then they waved some strange metal objects around me and left," Cale expined with a shrug, as if it were just another routine occurrence.

  Isa’s gaze nded on the small metal figurines in his hands. "And what are those?"

  Cale gnced down at them before holding them up proudly. "These are my toys. I made them from the bed frame. I hope I’m not upsetting anyone. I’ll put the metal back when I leave."

  Isa chuckled softly. "I don’t think anyone will mind, even if you take them with you."

  She lifted a slender finger and pointed to one of the figurines—an armored warrior, its detailed pting etched with intricate designs.

  "And who is this handsome man?" she teased.

  Cale blushed, shifting slightly where he sat. "That’s me… when I grow up," he admitted, clearly embarrassed.

  Isa smiled knowingly before pointing to the second figurine—a monstrous creature with sharp horns, jagged cws, and a bestial face frozen in a snarl.

  "And this one?"

  "That’s a monster—a very bad one, very strong," Cale expined, his voice carrying a mixture of excitement and seriousness.

  Isa tilted her head in amusement. "Do you mind if I py with you?"

  Cale's face lit up. "Sure! Here, you can have the hero." He held out the armored warrior for her to take.

  Isa shook her head pyfully. "Let me have the monster instead."

  Cale looked at her, puzzled for a moment, but then nodded. "Okay, sure."

  They both sat down on the smooth white floor. Cale pced his hero figurine down, and with a slight movement of his fingers, it began to stir, shifting into a ready stance. The small figure moved as if alive, responding to Cale’s will through his metal bending.

  Isa observed carefully before doing the same. The monstrous figurine twitched, then rose. Its cwed hands flexed, its horned head tilting forward in a menacing pose. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, it opened its maw wide, as if roaring before the battle.

  Cale grinned, completely immersed in the game. "The hero bravely stands against the monstrous beast!" he announced dramatically. "With his sword, he will protect the people!"

  Isa smirked. "And the beast, powerful and relentless, will not fall so easily!"

  The two figurines lunged at each other. The hero raised its bde, dashing forward with a determined strike. The monster met it with a vicious cw swipe, their tiny bodies cshing with soft metallic clinks. Sparks flickered in the air as they moved, controlled with precision by their respective masters.

  As they pyed, Cale’s excitement bubbled over, and he turned to Isa. "Have you ever fought a strong monster before?"

  Isa’s expression shifted slightly, her gaze growing distant. "Yes, I have," she said, her voice quieter but firm.

  Cale's eyes widened in awe. "Really?"

  Isa smiled and set her figurine down. "When I was younger, I once faced a great troll. It was enormous—twice the size of any man, with skin like stone and strength that could shatter trees."

  Cale leaned forward, completely engrossed. "What happened? Did you win?"

  Isa chuckled. "Of course. But it wasn’t easy. The troll was fast despite its size, and every blow it struck could have crushed me. I had to be smarter."

  She picked up the monster figurine again, making it lumber forward in demonstration. "It chased me through the forest, destroying everything in its path. I knew I couldn’t fight it head-on, so I led it to a pce where the ground was weak—a pit where the earth was soft from the rain."

  Cale listened, enthralled.

  "When the troll came charging, I used my speed to dodge at the st second," Isa continued, her voice filled with the thrill of the memory. "It tried to stop, but its weight was too great, and it fell into the pit. I didn’t give it a chance to climb out. With the st of my strength, I called upon my elemental power and turned it into minced meat."

  Cale gasped. "That’s amazing! You really fought something that big?"

  Isa nodded. "And that day, I learned something important: brute strength isn’t everything. Sometimes, knowing when to fight and when to use your surroundings is the key to victory."

  Cale looked at his figurines thoughtfully. "One day, I’ll fight a monster like that. And I’ll win, just like you did."

  Isa smiled, ruffling his hair gently. "I have no doubt you will, Cale. But for now, let’s see if your hero can defeat my monster."

  With renewed energy, they continued their game, the battle between hero and beast waging on the white floor, while Cale dreamed of the great battles that awaited him in the future.

  As they pyed, a thought crossed Cale’s mind. He looked up at Isa curiously. "Who taught you how to metal bend?"

  Isa’s hands paused over the figurine, and for a moment, a sad smile flickered across her face. "My father and mother did."

  Cale’s eyes widened. "Your parents are metal mages?" he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

  Isa nodded, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  "That must be so awesome!" Cale said enthusiastically.

  Isa only stared at the figurine in her hands, her expression distant. "No, Cale, it wasn’t," she murmured softly.

  Cale blinked, puzzled. He could sense the shift in her mood, the heaviness in her voice. He wanted to ask more but hesitated.

  Isa debated whether to stay silent. The boy didn’t need to know her past—there was no reason to burden him with memories better left untouched. But it had been so long since she had spoken like this, so long since someone had simply asked.

  She exhaled, her fingers tracing the ridges of the monster figurine. "Both of them being metal mages meant that they were always away. I barely saw them throughout the years—at least, not until my powers manifested. My aunt, who wasn’t a mage, was the one who raised me."

  There was bitterness in her voice, a weight that had long settled in her heart.

  Cale looked down, his fingers curling slightly. "I’m sorry, Isa."

  She shook her head. "Do not be sorry. This is the fate of all metal mages born in Arkanthar. We are the bdes and the shield of this kingdom," she said, her voice steady, almost mechanical. "Even when we break and crack."

  For a moment, silence stretched between them.

  Then, without a word, Cale stood and stepped toward her. He wrapped his small arms around her, pressing his head gently against her side.

  Isa flinched. It had been years since anyone had embraced her like this—so freely, so earnestly.

  Slowly, she exhaled and allowed herself to accept it.

  She closed her eyes and let the moment linger.