The royal forge was prepared at dawn.
There was no public announcement. Only direct authorization from the king and the restricted presence of the cyclopean master artisans. The environment was vast, built for bodies larger than mine, with stone pillars supporting the high ceiling and vents through which the heat escaped in visible currents.
The air was dry and dense.
My sword rested on a table of dark metal. Beside it, wrapped in thick cloth, the magic stone waited.
The master of the forge approached. His single eye observed every detail with technical precision, not reverence.
"We are not going to melt it."
I nodded.
He continued.
"The stone does not accept common shaping. It needs to be accommodated, not forced."
The choice of words was intentional.
Accommodated.
I placed my hand on the hilt of the sword.
I felt the familiar weight. Balanced. Reliable.
"Where will the insertion point be?"
The master indicated the base of the blade, near the guard.
"The internal structure of your weapon allows fitting. It was not made by us, but it was well constructed."
I watched as he marked the exact location. There was no hesitation in his movements. Two other cyclopes positioned specific tools, ancient instruments I did not immediately recognize.
Lyannis followed every movement with attention.
"They are not using direct mana."
"No," I replied. "It is technique."
The process began with the controlled opening of the base of the blade. There was no break, no abrupt noise. Only gradual pressure, applied with precision.
The metal responded.
Without excessive resistance.
The stone was removed from the cloth.
Even there, in the heat of the forge, it remained cold.
The contrast caught the attention of the artisans.
The master held it carefully.
"It does not react to heat."
"We expected that," I replied.
He did not comment.
The stone was positioned in the created opening. The fit was not perfect at first. Small adjustments were made to the internal structure of the blade.
No unusual sparks.
No strange vibration.
Only precise work.
Rai'kanna watched in silence, arms crossed. Elara maintained a firm posture. Vespera seemed attentive to the environment, as if any change could manifest suddenly. Liriel closed her eyes for a moment, focusing.
"It is still stable," she murmured.
The master pressed the stone into the blade.
For a second, I thought something would happen.
Nothing happened.
No glow.
No sound.
The stone simply disappeared within the structure of the sword, as if it had always belonged there.
The metal was sealed.
No visible weld.
No external marks.
When they finished, my sword looked exactly the same.
The master stepped back.
"It is done."
I waited.
The heat of the forge remained constant. The distant sound of metal being worked in other areas remained the same.
I picked up the sword.
The weight was the same.
The balance, identical.
I raised it slightly.
Nothing.
No wave of energy.
No perceptible change.
I channeled mana in a controlled manner.
The blade responded as it always had.
Rai'kanna frowned.
"That's it?"
I lowered the sword.
"For now."
Lyannis stepped closer.
"There is no detectable structural change."
Liriel opened her eyes.
"But the stone is there."
"Yes."
Vespera tilted her head.
"Maybe it needs activation."
"Or maybe it doesn't work," Rai'kanna replied, directly.
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. It was realistic.
I looked again at the sword.
Nothing had changed.
If I handed it to any other warrior now, they would not notice any difference.
The master of the forge crossed his arms.
"Some artifacts do not demonstrate power until the exact moment."
"And others never demonstrate," added one of the artisans.
There was no irony. Only experience.
I thanked them all.
We left the forge under the same clear morning sky.
The Kingdom of the Cyclopes continued its routine. Training, trade, discipline. Nothing there indicated that a possible weapon against a demonic general had just been created.
We walked in silence to the inn.
Only when we entered the room did I analyze the sword more carefully again.
I placed it on the table.
I observed the base of the blade.
No trace of intervention.
I ran my fingers slowly along the metal.
Cold.
Uniform.
Reliable as it had always been.
I sat down.
"No immediate effect," I stated.
Elara leaned against the wall.
"Did you expect something different?"
"I didn't know what to expect."
Rai'kanna let out a small sigh.
"Explosions are easier to interpret."
"And illusory," I replied.
Liriel sat in front of me.
"The energy remains contained. There was no dispersion."
"So it was not rejected."
"No."
Lyannis moved closer to the window, observing the city.
"Perhaps its function is not to alter the weapon. Perhaps it is to alter the target."
That possibility hung in the air.
Alter the target.
Interfere with something we still cannot see.
I held the sword again.
This time, I closed my eyes.
I did not try to force power.
I simply felt.
The internal flow was the same.
But at some deep point in the blade, there was something new.
Not active.
Not awakened.
But present.
Like a second silent layer.
I opened my eyes.
"It is there."
Rai'kanna smiled slightly.
"Great. At least we didn't make a long trip for nothing."
Vespera crossed her legs.
"That still doesn't mean it will be useful."
"I know."
I stood up.
I made a few slow movements with the sword.
Simple cuts.
Control.
Precision.
Nothing different.
But also nothing unstable.
If there were structural risk, it would have already appeared.
I sheathed the weapon.
The sound was the same as always.
I walked to the window.
The stone city seemed unchanged.
I thought about the Fourth General.
About the possibility that he truly was immortal.
If the stone did not work, we would face something that could not be finished.
If it worked, the battle would cease to be impossible.
Fifty percent.
I turned to the group.
"There was no explosion. No sign."
Elara nodded.
"But there was no failure either."
"Exactly."
Rai'kanna stretched her arms.
"So now we wait."
"No," I replied. "Now we continue."
Because, with or without visible effect, preparation could not stop.
The stone was already integrated.
The decision had already been made.
If its power only manifests in front of the enemy, then that is where we will discover it.
I held the sword's hilt again for a moment.
Nothing had changed.
And perhaps that was the most unsettling part.
No indication.
No confirmation.
Only silence.
I stored the weapon definitively.
"It is done."
No one responded.
It was not necessary.
The incorporation had been completed.
Without glow.
Without announcement.
Without guarantee.
From now on, I will carry an invisible possibility.
And only on the battlefield will we know if it was real… or just hope shaped in stone.