Percy covered his hair when he stepped out of the inn, breathing in deeply. Flynn was hopping around him excitedly. Unfortunately, Thalos was too tired to follow them to the smithy, but he assured Percy that the man would recognize him.

He was happy for just a moment though, because he thought that Thalos trusted him to take care of himself. But he soon caught a sly smile on Thalos' face. His father probably thought he was giving Percy a chance to be alone with Flynn.

His parents were often like that, they thought tricking him was that easy. So he just put it out of his mind as he was determined to enjoy today.

The city was lively despite the murder of almost thirty people yesterday. The stone streets were crowded with people walking around and carriages filled with farm produce or meat.

Flynn held onto his shoulders as they walked, speaking occasionally.

"Have you even started learning how to use Fighting spirit with weapons yet? I hear it's easy but hard at the same time."

"I've done it a couple times with my dad's katana, but he always says that it's best if I start learning the techniques of Blood Demon school with a new sword."

Flynn raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds cool, I guess. Is this like a practice in the Blood Demon school? They always use swords that are new?"

"No. My dad says you have to treat your sword like a plant. Let it grow and learn beside you, till it can fully hold your spirit like its own."

"So it's something I won't understand," Flynn decided casually. "He talks like the sword's alive."

Percy shrugged and they both planted their backs against the walls of a shop as a huge wagon carrying lumber passed by.

"I mean everything is alive here to an extent," Percy mumbled to himself. Everything had a spirit that was reaching for connection, and that was why Spiritmancers could control things.

Every time he closed his eyes to focus, he entered a world separated from all things and called out to spirits. Most only came if you had an affinity, like his fire and wind affinities, but he still saw some water or earth spirits sometimes.

And so treating his new sword like a young spirit wasn't a bad idea. It was a spirit of many different materials, but they all came together and were shaped into something new.

He turned at the entrance of where he would meet his baby sword. The blacksmith's shop was carved from tall, grey stone, and had a simple sign on the top.

Flynn glanced between him and the shop excitedly.

"How should we go in? Is there a bell or do we have to call out to someone—"

"Like this," Percy said, pushing open the front door and walking in. Flynn yelped and ran in after him. The door closed with a snap that rattled the swords on shelves around them and made Flynn jump.

The shop was filled with a small display of the smith's metal works: farm tools, swords, helmets, horseshoes, keys, and locks. The owner of the shop had a wide variety of work done.

The smooth wooden floor stopped at a brown desk that separated the shop and the smithy in the back. There was a boy at the desk, around sixteen years old, so technically a man by this world's standards.

The boy asked in a monotone voice,

"Hello there, kids. Can I help you with anything?" He brushed back his brown hair tiredly. "My name's Yannis, I'm in charge of the shop today."

"We're here for a sword," Percy said simply. "I'm Perseus Amphene. I was told to meet Fyris here."

Yannis raised a skeptical eyebrow, letting out a tired breath.

"I haven't seen you kids here before so I assumed your moms sent you to buy new knives or pots. But if it's just more kids hoping to play hero, then you can go away. I'm not giving you a sword. Unless you have money and live far enough for my dad not to hear about this."

Before Percy could explain himself, a gruff voice sounded from inside the smithy.

"I can hear you, Yannis."

"I know, Dad," Yannis replied. "You should probably send me away for bad behaviour."

"No, I think I'll just have you work till midnight," the voice said. A man appeared from the smithy.

Fyris' head almost scraped the top of the door as he walked out, but with how much muscle the man had, Percy doubted stone could hurt him anymore. His skin was deeply tanned and his eyes were a very serious shade of black.

"You're Lord Thalos' son?"

"Yeah, you can call me Percy."

"No thank you, Lord Perseus," Fyris said. He went under the counter and retrieved a black leather case. Then he turned it over to them and unclipped it. "This is the sword."

He opened the case to reveal a beautiful katana with a sky-blue handle. Percy stared at it for a long time, waiting for some type of mystical drag between him and the sword.

But it was just a beautiful piece of work, especially considering how Fyris didn't have any other katanas hanging around.

"This is your first time making a sword like this?" Percy said as he walked closer and placed his hand on the sword.

"Nope, I knew someone from Dangron, the original home of this type of sword," Fyris answered. "He taught me how to make them, so I was able to help Lord Thalos repair his sword a few times."

Percy raised the sword, quietly marvelling at its weight and balance. But something else caught him, it was this feeling of barely contained lethality. He could draw and kill everyone in this shop with a few swings.

"Woahhh, slow down there. What the hell? That was such a strange place for my mind to go. But there is something…"

He couldn't place his finger on it, but he felt this sword loved combat. That desire to draw the sword and slit Flynn's throat was because she was behind him. He could see the footwork and flow in his mind for an efficient slash, and the sword urged him to do it.

"Well, you're going to have to chill out, lil bro. I'm not killing anyone yet, we can test that swing out on a dummy."

"What are you talking about?" Yannis said suddenly, his brown eyes narrowed as he glared at Percy, who spun around and looked at Flynn.

She was ashen-faced, hands hanging in the air, stuck between the desire to protect herself and to check on Percy.

"Ohh, I was speaking out loud?" he said numbly. "Sorry, it seems I am rather sensitive to this sword's spirit."

"You Arete users are always a colorful bunch," Fyris said, his serious demeanor melting into a small smile. "What are you going to name it, your murderous sword?"

Percy thought about a decent name for a long time. He unsheathed the sword a little to see the blade. The blunt edge of the katana had light blue cloud inscriptions, something Thalos suggested probably.

"I'll call it Cloudeater."

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