The blacksmith laughed.
Not a polite laugh. Not even an amused one.
It was sharp, disbelieving—almost offended by the very idea Toki had brought to his doorstep.
"And just how big is this dragon you're talking about?" he asked, leaning lazily against the doorframe, though his eyes were already beginning to sharpen.
Toki didn't hesitate.
"How large can a dragon grow… after four hundred years?"
The laughter died instantly.
The man's expression twisted, his body stiffening as if something invisible had just gripped his spine.
"…You're insane!"
He stepped forward now, fully into the pale light of the moon, his voice rising with every word as the reality of the question settled in.
"A creature like that wouldn't just be large—it would be monstrous beyond reason!" he snapped. "We're talking at least one hundred and twenty meters in height, three hundred in length, weighing no less than four hundred tons!"
He raised a trembling hand, as if trying to grasp the scale of it in the air.
"And the wingspan? Eight hundred meters—minimum! Do you even understand what that means?! That's not a beast—that's a moving disaster!"
Toki didn't flinch.
The blacksmith stared at him, breathing heavier now, his earlier laziness completely gone.
"…No," he muttered, shaking his head. "No such creature should exist."
Then something clicked.
"…Wait."
His eyes narrowed.
"…The Dragon King wouldn't allow anything to grow beyond him."
Silence fell between them.
Slowly—very slowly—the man's gaze lifted back to Toki's face.
"…Don't tell me…"
Toki nodded once.
"I need a chain," he said, his voice steady, "one strong enough to subdue the Dragon King."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop breathing.
The blacksmith grabbed the few remaining strands of hair on his head and pulled at them as if trying to tear the thought out of his skull.
"You have lost your mind, boy!"
He began pacing, his steps uneven.
"Do you even understand what you're asking? The Dragon King is not a creature you hunt—he is a force that ends hunts before they begin!"
"They say he's so massive that when he takes flight, he doesn't rely on wings alone… he bends mana itself just to remain in the sky."
"And his speed…" he continued, his tone almost afraid, "some say it rivals thought itself."
Toki's gaze didn't waver.
"They say his scales cannot be pierced," the man went on, slower now, each word deliberate, "and the mana surrounding his body is so dense… that a normal man would suffocate just standing near him."
"I can't even imagine a material that could withstand something like that. And even if it existed—do you have any idea how heavy such a chain would be?"
He gestured wildly.
"You wouldn't be able to drag it, let alone use it!"
His eyes narrowed.
"No… no, you're lying."
A step closer.
"You have to be."
His voice hardened.
"And even if you weren't… where could something like that even hide? A creature of that size cannot simply disappear."
Toki inhaled slowly.
"I swear on my soul… I am not lying."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
"That chain is the only way to save the city," he continued, quieter now, but far heavier. "If you refuse to make it… thousands will die."
The blacksmith didn't respond immediately.
He simply stared.
Not at Toki's face—but at his eyes.
And what he found there made him exhale sharply.
"…Damn it."
He turned away, dragging a hand down his face before motioning toward the interior of the forge.
"Get inside."
Toki followed without a word.
The inside of the forge was darker than he remembered—almost suffocating in its stillness. Tools lay scattered across worn wooden surfaces, metal scraps piled in corners, and the cold hearth stood silent at the center like a sleeping beast.
The blacksmith moved with purpose now.
A candle was lit.
A small flame—weak at first—then steady.
Its light flickered across the walls, stretching shadows into long, distorted shapes.
Then came the sound of coal.
A heavy bucket lifted.
Dumped.
The hollow roar of impact as black stone met the belly of the forge.
A spark followed.
Then another.
And suddenly—
Fire.
It grew fast, devouring the darkness in seconds, its glow bathing the room in deep orange light.
The blacksmith turned.
"Listen carefully, boy."
His voice had changed.
"There is only one material… that might stand a chance against the Dragon King."
Toki leaned forward slightly.
"What is it?"
The man's lips curled.
"An alloy… forged four hundred years ago."
He stepped closer to the fire, its reflection dancing wildly in his eyes.
"Back when King Rindal ruled… and a legendary blacksmith stood at his side."
Toki's brow furrowed.
"I've never heard of it."
"That's because most people think it's a myth," the man replied.
"They called it… Living Gold."
Toki's expression shifted—confusion, curiosity, disbelief, all tangled together.
"…Living… Gold?"
The blacksmith nodded slowly.
"It is not simply metal," he explained. "It is a fusion—gold, used as a vessel… and mana so dense, so violently condensed… that it takes on physical form."
He turned, locking eyes with Toki.
"They say Rindal used chains made of it… to bind the Dragon King himself."
Toki stepped forward.
"Tell me how to make it."
The blacksmith laughed again—but this time, there was something almost impressed in it.
"You don't even hesitate, do you?"
Toki didn't answer.
"I don't have much gold," he said instead. "But we'll find a way."
The man shook his head.
"You misunderstand."
He crouched near the forge, grabbing a metal rod and stirring the growing flames.
"For a chain of a thousand meters… even a single coin would be enough."
Toki blinked.
"…What?"
"The gold is nothing more than a foundation," the blacksmith said. "A structure to hold the real material together."
He looked back over his shoulder.
"The true substance of Living Gold… is the mana of the one forging it."
"You will need to pour an unimaginable amount of mana into the forge," the man continued. "So much that the gold itself will evaporate… leaving only the alloy behind."
He stood.
"If we can create even a piece the size of a coin… I can shape it into anything you want."
"But make one mistake…"
His voice dropped.
"…and we both burn alive."
The fire crackled louder.
Toki stared at it.
Then nodded.
"I think I have enough mana," he said quietly. "I just don't know if I can control it."
The blacksmith grinned.
"Good," he said. "Because this… will be the greatest work of my life."
He stepped forward, extending his hand.
"But if I'm going to die doing it… I want to know your name first, butterfly boy."
Toki looked at the hand.
Then took it.
Firm.
"I'm Toki," he said. "The strangest knight this kingdom has ever seen."
The man's grin widened.
"Meldor," he replied. "The most insane blacksmith in this city."
They laughed.
Not as strangers.
But as men who had already accepted the possibility of death.
"Now," Meldor said, pulling his hand back, "do you have any gold?"
Toki reached into his coat, pulling out a small pouch.
The last of it.
He tossed it over.
Meldor caught it effortlessly, opening it just enough to glimpse the contents before nodding in satisfaction.
"Good enough."
He turned and threw the coins into the forge..
The fire roared.
It surged violently, as if awakened by the offering, flames twisting upward with renewed hunger.
Meldor stepped back, his voice rising over the growing inferno.
"Now, Toki!"
There was no time to think.
Toki stepped forward, raising both hands toward the blazing heart of the forge.
And then—
He released it.
Mana erupted from his body like a storm breaking loose.
The air trembled.
Tools rattled violently against the walls.
The ground itself seemed to hum beneath the pressure.
Meldor's eyes widened as he leaned closer to the furnace, peering into its depths.
"…Incredible," he whispered.
"Don't stop!" he shouted. "Push it further!"
The fire responded.
Red.
Then brighter.
Yellow.
Then deeper—richer—burning into shades of molten orange.
Toki clenched his teeth.
His arms shook.
But he didn't pull back.
He pushed harder.
More mana.
More pressure.
More heat.
Time blurred.
The flames shifted again.
A strange hue crept in.
Blue.
Faint at first.
Then stronger.
Colder in color—yet far hotter in presence.
Toki's breath hitched.
Something felt wrong.
For the first time in his life—
His mana wasn't endless.
It was draining.
Rapidly.
Sweat formed across his forehead, sliding down his face in heavy drops.
His vision flickered.
"…What… is this…?" he muttered under his breath.
Meldor didn't look away from the forge.
"Closer!" he shouted. "You need to get closer!"
Toki stepped forward.
The heat hit him instantly.
Violent.
Unforgiving.
It burned against his skin, biting into his hands like invisible fangs.
Still—
He didn't stop.
The fire roared louder, the blue shifting—brightening—
Until—
White.
Like a piece of the sun had been trapped inside the forge.
Meldor cursed under his breath, quickly grabbing a pair of protective lenses and placing them over his eyes.
"Hold it!" he barked. "Just a little longer!"
Toki's entire body trembled now.
His arms felt heavy.
His breathing uneven.
But he held.
For one more second.
Then another.
"STOP!"
The command snapped through the air.
Toki staggered back instantly, cutting off the flow of mana as if severing a lifeline.
His legs nearly gave out beneath him.
His chest heaved violently as he tried to pull air back into his lungs.
Meldor moved fast, slamming the furnace shut before grabbing a metal container and pouring water through a narrow slit.
Steam exploded outward with a violent hiss.
The roar of the fire dimmed.
Slowly.
Gradually.
Until only a low, simmering glow remained.
Silence returned.
Meldor exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow before dropping onto a nearby bench.
"…Sit," he muttered.
Toki didn't argue.
He walked over slowly, his body still trembling, and lowered himself beside him.
For a while—
Neither of them spoke.
Only the faint crackling of cooling metal filled the space between them.
Meldor leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"…That," he said quietly, "was only the first step."
Toki stared ahead, his breathing still uneven.
"…How many steps are there?"
Meldor chuckled weakly.
"…Enough to kill us both."
A low, simmering heat pulsed from within its iron belly, the violent inferno from moments ago reduced to something quieter—controlled, but no less dangerous. The air inside the workshop had grown thick, heavy with the scent of burnt metal and something far stranger…
Meldor rose slowly from the bench, joints cracking faintly as he stretched his back. His eyes, though tired, burned with a restless intensity that refused to fade.
"…Let's see what you've given me, boy."
He grabbed a pair of long tongs and approached the forge with careful steps, as though nearing a creature that might lash out if disturbed too suddenly. For a brief moment, he simply stood there, staring into the dim glow behind the metal door.
Then he opened it.
A wave of heat surged outward, brushing against his face, but this time he didn't flinch.
He reached inside.
There was a pause.
Then—
A sharp, metallic sound.
The tongs struck something solid.
Meldor's eyes widened slightly.
"…There you are."
Slowly, he pulled it free.
Toki leaned forward instinctively, his breath catching in his throat as the object emerged from the forge.
It was small.
No larger than a coin.
And yet—
It felt wrong to call it that.
The piece of metal gleamed with a pale, unnatural light—white like bone, yet smoother than anything Toki had ever seen. Its surface reflected the firelight like a perfect mirror, but beneath that reflection… something moved.
Like a heartbeat buried inside metal.
"…So it's real," Toki murmured.
Meldor didn't answer immediately.
He walked to the anvil, his movements slower now—not from exhaustion, but from something closer to reverence.
Carefully, he placed the piece down.
The sound it made against the anvil was unlike anything Toki had ever heard.
Meldor tightened his grip on the hammer.
"…Let's see if you were worth the trouble."
The first strike fell.
A sharp, ringing sound echoed through the forge—but instead of flattening or cracking, the material responded differently.
It stretched.
Not like metal.
Like something… willing.
Meldor's grin widened.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
He struck again.
And again.
Each blow shaped the material further, pulling it into a thin line, stretching it far beyond what should have been possible for something so small. The piece didn't resist—it adapted, flowing under the force of each strike without losing its strange, radiant integrity.
Toki stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the process.
"It's not breaking…"
"It won't," Meldor replied, not looking up. "Not unless you want it to."
Another strike.
The line grew longer.
Thinner.
Endless.
"…This isn't gold anymore," Toki said quietly.
Meldor let out a short laugh.
"It never was."
He worked faster now, the rhythm of the hammer steady and precise, sparks scattering with each impact. The thin bar extended further and further, coiling across the anvil like a living thread of light.
"Get over here," Meldor said abruptly. "If you're going to use this thing, you'd better help shape it."
Toki didn't hesitate.
He grabbed a second hammer, stepping into position as Meldor guided the material into sections.
"Bend it here," the blacksmith instructed. "Not too sharp—let it curve naturally."
Toki followed.
The moment his hammer connected with the material, something strange happened.
He felt it.
A resonance.
Like the metal recognized him.
It didn't resist his touch.
It welcomed it.
"…It's reacting to me," Toki said, almost under his breath.
"Of course it is," Meldor replied. "It is you."
The words lingered.
Toki didn't respond—but his grip tightened slightly.
They worked in silence after that.
Not the uncomfortable kind.
The kind where words would only get in the way.
Meldor shaped.
Toki bent.
Link by link, the chain began to take form.
Each segment connected seamlessly to the next, the structure building itself into something far greater than the sum of its parts. The pale glow of the material illuminated the forge more brightly than the fire ever had, casting shifting reflections across the walls.
Time passed unnoticed.
Minutes blurred into hours.
The rhythm of hammer against metal became constant, almost hypnotic.
Toki's arms grew heavy.
His breathing deepened.
But he didn't stop.
Each link carried his will.
Meldor finally stepped back, lowering his hammer with a satisfied exhale.
"…That should do it."
Toki straightened slowly, his muscles protesting as he released his grip on the tool.
Before them lay the finished chain.
It stretched across the length of the forge floor, coiled in overlapping loops that seemed far too long to have come from something so small. Its surface shimmered faintly, reflecting both light and shadow in a way that made it difficult to focus on.
Toki wiped the sweat from his brow.
"…It should be enough."
Meldor crouched beside it, running his fingers along one of the links.
"You've got about one hundred meters here," he said. "If you use it properly… it'll reach."
Toki stepped forward and grabbed the chain.
The moment his hand closed around it—
He frowned.
"…It's light."
Too light.
It felt no heavier than a simple wooden rod.
His grip tightened slightly as he lifted it with ease.
"This feels… fragile," he admitted. "Are you sure it'll hold?"
Meldor didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he smirked.
"Let go of it."
Toki raised an eyebrow.
"…What?"
"Just do it."
Toki shrugged lightly and released the chain.
The effect was immediate.
The moment it slipped from his grasp, the chain dropped—
And struck the stone floor with a deafening impact.
The ground cracked beneath it.
Fragments of stone shattered outward as if something immense had just collided with it.
Toki froze.
"…What?"
Meldor chuckled, clearly pleased with the reaction.
"That chain is your mana given form," he said. "To you, it obeys. It bends. It feels weightless."
He gestured toward the cracked stone.
"But to everything else… it carries the full weight of what it truly is."
Toki stared at the damage.
"…So it's not just strong…"
"It's absolute," Meldor finished.
Silence settled between them again.
Then the blacksmith leaned back slightly, exhaling as if something long held inside him had finally been released.
"Well," he said, a faint grin tugging at his lips, "now I can die happy."
Toki looked at him.
"No one's dying," he said firmly.
Meldor snorted.
"Bold words for a man planning to chain the Dragon King."
Toki didn't smile.
"I'll make sure of it."
For a moment, the older man studied him again—just like before.
But this time, there was no doubt in his eyes.
Only quiet acknowledgment.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Maybe you will."
Toki slipped the chain into his sleeve, sending it into the Palace of Mirrors.
Meldor whistled softly, impressed despite himself. "Nice trick, kid," he muttered, shaking his head.
"…Thank you," he said.
Simple.
Honest.
"I owe you."
Meldor waved a hand dismissively.
"You can repay me by not dying before I hear the story."
Toki almost smiled.
He turned toward the door, his hand reaching for the handle.
"…Hey."
He paused.
Meldor stood there, arms crossed, leaning slightly against the anvil.
"Don't forget this, Toki," he said, his voice quieter now. "If you've got the courage to use it… that chain will grant you anything you desire."
Toki held his gaze.
Something flickered across his expression.
"…I'll keep that in mind."
Meldor tilted his head slightly.
"Oh—and one more thing."
He reached behind him, picking up a small remaining fragment of the glowing material—the leftover piece.
"There's still some left," he said. "Want me to make you something else?"
Toki looked at it.
The faint light reflecting in his eyes.
A slow smile formed on his lips.
"…Yeah," he said. "I know exactly what it's meant for....."
The door opened.
Cool night air rushed in, washing away the suffocating heat of the forge.
Toki stepped outside.
The city was silent.
Still asleep.
Umma lay nearby, her massive form curled slightly as she rested, her breathing slow and steady.
Toki approached her quietly.
For a moment, he just stood there, watching.
Then he reached out, gently brushing his hand along her feathers.
She stirred faintly, her eyes opening just enough to recognize him.
"…Hey," he murmured softly.
Her gaze softened.
Toki rested his forehead lightly against her neck.
"…It's time to go home, girl."