Gilbert nodded. "It's difficult, but your hammers are Blood Sacrificed. They're practically part of your body, which makes control far easier for you."
Blood Sacrifice created an extraordinary bond between blood and metal. A Blood Sacrificed item could only be used by its owner. Even if someone else tried to sacrifice blood to it, they would still need to forge it personally for optimal results. That was why Blood Sacrifice was rarely used in practice.
Ray had suffered misfortune with his martial soul and spirit soul, but it seemed his luck had finally bloomed on the path of forging. With the Stacked Hammers effect, his future as a blacksmith would be smooth and promising.
"You must practice diligently and learn to control this effect as soon as possible," Gilbert said seriously. "And keep these hammers hidden. The competition among blacksmiths is no less ruthless than among Soul Masters. Until you're strong enough to protect them, do not reveal them lightly. Do you understand?"
Ray didn't fully grasp the depth of the warning, but he nodded without hesitation. He trusted his teacher completely.
"Take these as well," Gilbert said, raising his hand.
Resting in his palm were two gray metal hoops. Though unassuming in appearance, they were forged from Thousand Refined Heavy Silver.
****
Meanwhile, elsewhere;
Three days passed, yet Brandon still did not awaken.
From time to time, his brows would knit together, his face contorting as if trapped in a nightmare. Sharp headaches struck him without warning, making his small body tremble faintly on the bed.
Grey stood at the side, arms crossed, his expression troubled.
"What's wrong with this kid?" he muttered. "Is there some hidden illness?"
He recalled the physician he had hired. The old man had been utterly baffled.
Perfectly healthy for his age, the physician had said.
Which is strange in itself… considering he's been in a coma since birth.
Grey let out a slow breath.
"Is the heavens helping us?" he murmured, unable to make sense of it.
After a moment of silence, he shook his head.
"Whatever. I'll report it to the higher-ups."
Turning around, Grey opened the door and left the room.
The door creaked shut.
Silence returned.
Then—
The child's eyelids fluttered.
Slowly, Brandon opened his eyes.
Despite everything, his body was clean, his clothes neatly arranged. Someone had clearly been taking care of him during those days.
His mind, however, was in chaos.
Where am I?
What is this place?
Why am I not dead?
Questions flooded his thoughts, but one stood above all others.
What the hell is this black thing in my soul?
His heart skipped.
Wait… I can sense my soul?
The realization stunned him.
"Alright… calm down," Brandon whispered hoarsely. His voice was weak, childlike. "Think slowly. If I calm down, this will make sense."
He drew in a deep breath and began connecting the fragments.
The Death Note was destroyed inside that spatial tunnel. I shouldn't be able to use it anymore.
But this black object… it looks like a book.
Is it the Death Note?
If it truly followed him into this world, then it should have killed him after exiting the tunnel.
But it didn't.
Which means I was right. The Death Note is restricted by the laws of the universe.
His thoughts sharpened.
This universe probably needed time to detect the arrival of an unknown object. That delay allowed the Death Note to fulfill its condition… granting me a weak body under twenty.
But it couldn't kill me after five minutes.
So either it was destroyed… or it was reset by this world's laws.
He frowned.
Then why is it inside my soul?
A realization dawned.
Because I'm its owner.
"Yeah," Brandon whispered. "That makes sense."
Though doubts remained, the logic held together well enough.
He swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand.
His body collapsed immediately.
"What?!"
He tried again.
Nothing.
His limbs were weak, uncooperative. Gritting his teeth, he crawled across the floor toward a mirror resting in the corner of the room.
The reflection staring back at him made him go silent.
A tiny body. Barely three feet tall.
Fair skin.
Large blue eyes that looked more adorable than threatening.
A thin, almost emaciated face.
Messy short blond hair.
A frail frame, unmistakably that of a two or three-year-old child.
"A toddler?" he muttered inwardly.
An orphan, maybe?
He stared at himself for a long moment.
I don't know who you were, he said quietly in his heart, but I'm sorry for possessing your body.
I won't make excuses. I indirectly killed you.
Brandon didn't know the truth. That this child had been in a coma since birth. That he was meant to die three days ago.
"I swear," he whispered, voice trembling slightly, "I'll live your life too."
The promise carried weight.
After leaving the room, Grey headed straight for the captain's quarters.
Knock.
"Come in."
Grey pushed the door open.
"Oh, Grey," the captain said, glancing up. "What's the matter?"
"Captain," Grey said calmly, "it's time for me to leave the mercenaries."
The room fell silent.
The captain leaned back and sighed. "Already? Three years went by fast."
"Yes. Thank you for taking care of me," Grey replied. "The reward will be delivered once the empire's people arrive."
"Taking care of you?" the captain laughed. "Protecting someone with a cultivation base higher than mine? You joke. This is about the child, isn't it?"
Grey paused. "You figured it out?"
"I've known you for three years," the captain said lightly. "If I couldn't figure that much out, I'd better retire."
He then added, his tone turning serious, "Good thing you told me now. If this had been a month ago, I would've been forced to kill you."
Grey's eyes sharpened. "An order?"
"Yes."
"The Loret Empire really is terrifying," Grey said softly. "To think they survived… and executed the noble families that rebelled."
The captain blinked. "You didn't hear? The Loret family crushed the rebellion."
"What?" Grey froze.
"I got the news two days ago."
Grey's body trembled, then he let out a long breath.
We survived. Both of us.
"I'll return to my quarters," he said.
"Go."
Creak.
Grey opened the door to his room.
His heart nearly stopped.
"The child—?!"
His sword flashed out as he rushed inside.
In the corner of the room, Brandon turned his head in alarm, meeting Grey's gaze.
Nolan, Brandon thought instantly.
So that's his name.
I can still see names… so I still have the Death God's Eyes.
Nolan relaxed when he saw the child was still there, though now clearly awake.
"Nie… yay… udel."
Brandon immediately put on a clumsy act, widening his eyes and forming nonsense sounds.
A three-year-old orphan not knowing how to speak isn't strange, he reasoned calmly.
Nolan hurried over and lifted him up.
"Will I be executed if the prince can't speak?" Nolan muttered nervously.
"Probably not," he added to himself.
Brandon understood none of it.
Please, he begged internally, speak a language I know.
"Child," Nolan said seriously, holding him, "it's almost time for you to return to the empire. There, you'll learn the language of this world."
Nolan continued talking nonstop for the next ten minutes, lecturing as if his life depended on it.
Brandon nearly passed out again.
So noisy…