Sofie and her delegation left the forest and headed toward Erik Norheim's forge—a squat stone building half-buried in the hillside, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. They were here to convince him to support the army by forging weapons and armor for their elite units. and more importantly, to take in apprentices
They needed him.
Desperately.
Ever since the Awakening, weapon crafters had become more important than ever. A handmade weapon channeled mana at least five times better than anything made in a factory. Scientists all over the world had theories—something about the crafter's mana imprint, the continuity of focus during shaping, maybe even emotional resonance—but no one had managed to prove anything yet.
What governments had proven, however, was alarming:
The longer the Awakening continued, the more mana humans accumulated—and the more critical high-quality weapons became.
Mass production couldn't keep up.
when nobody had unlocked crafting professions yet.
Not when they needed ten billion cold weapons within a year just to arm the global population.
That number alone had forced governments to ruthlessly prioritize.
Steel was precious.
Time was even more precious.
Nuclear fusion solved the energy problem decades ago.
Vertical farms ensured food security.
Forests weren't cut down anymore—they grew wood in controlled biocapsules.
But metal?
Metal was running out.
Mining the moon helped, but it was slow, inefficient, and economically unstable. The projections were bad enough that every nation agreed—without hesitation—to abandon all-metal armor for civilians. Swords? Heavy axes? Double-edged war hammers? Forget it.
They simply couldn't afford the steel.
For regular citizens, the standard kit would be lightweight, minimal-metal weapons.
And training?
That was a nightmare of its own.
The average person was out of shape.
And bows—real bows, not the fantasy versions—took years to master. Most people's arms started trembling after holding a low-draw bow for fifteen seconds.
So the military planners made their choices:
Infantry
Spear and shield
Almost no metal is needed
Easy to train
Mostly marching drills
Cheap
Mages
With deep reluctance, the world realized that mages—right now—were nearly useless.
Magic missiles fizzled out beyond fifty meters.
Shields shattered after a single arrow.
Talented future? Yes.
Current effectiveness? limited
They could already be really useful, but those were only the really talented people who had already upgraded their skills one or two rarities, but they would never march with the normal people, no, the large number of mages would just defend the archers.
Archers
Crossbows.
Simple to produce.
Bolts cheap.
Familiar to gun cultures worldwide.
A trained archer could fire fifteen arrows a minute, but only for a short burst before their arms gave out.
Crossbows, though?
Everyone could use those.
And now that global plans were finalized, nations could finally focus on the important things:
Building functional armies
Slimming down their civilian populations
And locating places with high mana density where specialists could train
Breathing techniques helped—but they didn't magically erase obesity. Two people could both have "+1 Stamina" and still be worlds apart in actual endurance.
The World Reacts
When the first mass-produced mana detectors hit the market, everything changed.
Suddenly, it wasn't just governments searching for mana-dense zones.
Corporations
Universities
Churches
Cults
Billionaires
All of them scoured the land, trying to buy forests, mountains, islands—anything that glowed on their detectors.
Rumors spread like wildfire:
If your faction performs well in the Trials,
you gain points.
Points buy items in a mysterious System Shop.
And the strongest factions gain the most.
It was enough to turn the world feral.
Even dictatorships and communist governments eased restrictions, allowing private groups to act as they wished, since a portion of their contributions went to the state automatically, as long as they were in power. If someone found a mana-rich location and trained future elites there, thus helping the governments, they didn't care what else they did.
And so the recruitment wars began.
Back at the Forest
It didn't surprise anyone when the army was called by the archery club.
"Please station a few soldiers there," they said.
"To turn away visitors."
Visitors like:
corporations trying to buy the forest
cultists declaring it sacred to their god
private groups demanding access "for the greater good."
The army happily obliged. They needed more mana-dense training sites, and more importantly, they needed to prevent murder.
Several club members already had pending charges for "potential homicide."
Cases that, if investigated too deeply, would reveal…
not much.
But more annoyance than it was worth.
It had become necessary to post guards.
Because, in their own words:
"If one more religious nutjob claims this forest for their god, we swear we will kill someone."
One cultist had already walked straight back into the forest immediately after being literally thrown out into a ditch. He barged in right while members were practicing.
An arrow had "accidentally" slipped.
Made a miraculous 180-degree turn.
And landed in the dirt directly in front of the man, two hundred meters away from the target.
The shooter apologized profusely…
with his foot,
as he kicked the cultist all the way back out of the forest.