Pain.
Not the blazing agony of the Awakening.
Not the crushing force of the Awakened Beast.
Just...
Pain.
A deep, relentless ache that seeped into every bone and settled within every breath.
"...Ugh..."
Zion's eyelids fluttered.
The rough wooden ceiling of the smithy came into view.
Morning light filtered through the gaps in the roof, painting thin beams across the room.
The familiar scent of charcoal and iron lingered in the air.
For several long moments...
He simply breathed.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Then the memories returned.
The Independent Trial Space.
The Impossible Trial.
The Awakened Beast.
The Voice of the Void.
Seam Sight.
The Abyssforged Chimera Bloodline.
The locked Soul.
A weak smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So..."
"I really made it back."
He tried to sit up.
The moment he moved, agony tore through his body.
"Kh...!"
His ribs screamed in protest.
His left shoulder felt as though it had been ripped apart.
His vision blurred as fresh pain surged through him.
He clenched his teeth and forced himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the cold stone wall.
His breathing became uneven.
"So it wasn't a dream..."
His gaze wandered across the workshop.
The forge had gone cold.
His cracked sword rested where it had fallen the previous night.
Dark stains of dried blood marked the stone floor beneath him.
The trial had returned him alive.
It had not returned him whole.
He lowered his eyes to his own body.
His shirt was torn in several places.
The wounds were still there.
Deep claw marks crossed his shoulder.
His ribs throbbed with every heartbeat.
Whatever power had awakened inside him had merely kept him from dying.
Nothing more.
Silence filled the smithy.
No rhythmic hammering.
No crackling forge.
No stern voice ordering him back to work.
The emptiness felt...
Wrong.
"...Granny?"
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
Only silence answered.
He already knew.
Granny Iya had left a month ago.
Yet hearing nothing made the workshop feel emptier than ever.
He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
Golden lines.
They appeared across the room once more.
The anvil shimmered with countless delicate seams.
The forge.
The walls.
The hammer hanging beside the furnace.
Even the drifting ash floating through the air possessed faint threads of golden light.
"They're still here..."
His heartbeat quickened.
"So this..."
"...is Seam Sight."
Carefully, he focused on the anvil.
One particular seam stood out from the rest.
The moment his attention settled upon it...
Understanding bloomed within his mind.
Strike here...
And the anvil will split cleanly.
Strike another...
The impact will scatter harmlessly.
Strike a third...
The metal will bend with half the effort.
Zion's pupils widened.
"I know..."
"...I just know."
No one had taught him.
No voice explained it.
The knowledge simply existed.
As naturally as breathing.
Then—
A violent stabbing pain erupted behind his eyes.
"Ah!"
He grabbed his head.
The golden seams flickered violently before vanishing altogether.
His vision returned to normal.
The workshop became nothing more than wood, iron, and stone once again.
Cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
He leaned heavily against the wall, breathing hard.
"It has a limit..."
Using Seam Sight wasn't free.
It consumed something invisible.
Not strength.
Not stamina.
Something deeper.
Mental energy.
Zion silently committed the lesson to memory.
Never rely on it carelessly.
He remained still until the pounding in his head slowly eased.
Only then did he attempt to stand.
His hands pressed against the floor.
His legs trembled violently beneath him.
He managed exactly one step.
CRACK!
A sharp pain exploded through his ribs.
His knees gave way.
He crashed back onto the stone floor with a grunt.
"...Still too injured."
A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"So much for pretending I'm fine."
He looked toward the hammer resting beside the forge.
For sixteen years, picking it up had been as natural as breathing.
Now...
Simply looking at it reminded him how helpless he had become.
Outside, faint voices drifted through the open window.
Children laughing.
Merchants calling.
The steady rhythm of another blacksmith beginning his day's work.
Life in the village had already moved on.
Zion closed his eyes.
Then, for the first time since waking...
A thought crossed his mind.
If Granny planned everything...
Did she leave anything behind?
The thought refused to leave his mind.
Granny Iya had never done anything without a reason.
She knew he would awaken.
She knew she had to leave.
If she had planned both...
Then perhaps she had planned for this day as well.
Zion slowly looked around the quiet smithy.
Nothing seemed unusual.
The forge was exactly where it had always been.
The shelves still held old tools.
The cooking pot rested in its usual corner.
Everything looked...
Ordinary.
Yet Granny Iya had always said something strange whenever he cleaned the workshop.
"A blacksmith's eyes should see more than iron."
At the time, he thought she was talking about craftsmanship.
Now...
He wasn't so sure.
Supporting himself against the wall, Zion slowly dragged himself toward the anvil.
Each step sent pain through his ribs.
By the time he reached it, cold sweat covered his forehead.
He rested both hands on the anvil and caught his breath.
"...There has to be something."
His gaze swept across its surface.
Nothing.
Just worn iron from years of forging.
Then...
His fingers brushed against the underside.
Click.
A faint sound echoed through the silent workshop.
Zion froze.
"...What?"
Another gentle push.
Click.
A small section beneath the anvil slid open.
Inside was a narrow wooden compartment.
It was barely large enough to hide a folded piece of paper.
Zion stared at it in silence.
"...You really planned this."
His chest tightened.
With trembling fingers, he reached inside and carefully removed the letter.
The paper had yellowed slightly with age.
The folds were crisp.
It had been waiting there for a long time.
He slowly unfolded it.
The handwriting was rough.
Firm.
Simple.
Unmistakable.
Granny Iya's.
═══════════════════════
Zion,
If you've found this...
Then you've survived your Awakening.
Good.
That means everything I've endured was not in vain.
You probably have countless questions.
I'm not answering them.
Not yet.
There are truths that become curses when learned too early.
Remember these instead.
Never remove the Veil.
Never reveal everything you've awakened.
Trust your judgment before trusting another's words.
Strength attracts admiration.
It also attracts greed.
Hide what must be hidden.
The world you know is smaller than a grain of sand.
Blue Star is only the beginning.
Grow stronger.
Live long enough to discover the truth for yourself.
When we meet again...
Stand beside me.
Not behind me.
...One more thing.
Don't skip your meals.
A hungry fool is still a fool.
— Granny Iya
═══════════════════════
Silence settled over the workshop once more.
Zion read the letter again.
Then once more.
A small smile appeared despite the pain.
"...You really had to add that last part."
It sounded exactly like her.
Even after disappearing...
She still found a way to scold him.
He carefully folded the letter.
Instead of putting it back inside the compartment...
He slipped it inside his shirt, beside the Veil.
Close to his heart.
"I'll survive."
His voice was quiet.
"And the next time we meet..."
"I won't be the child you left behind."
The Veil beneath his shirt pulsed gently.
Cold.
Steady.
Almost...
Approving.
For the first time since waking...
The emptiness in the workshop didn't feel quite as heavy.
Not because Granny Iya had returned.
But because she had never truly left him without a path forward.
Outside...
Footsteps approached the smithy.
Several voices followed.
"...Zion?"
"Are you awake?"
"We saw smoke wasn't rising from the forge."
"Can we come in?"
Zion blinked.
For a moment, he simply stared toward the open doorway.
Then a smile found its way onto his tired face.
"...Come in."
The wooden door creaked open.
Three familiar faces stepped inside.
Old Man Dogo, the village carpenter, entered first with a walking stick in one hand and a basket in the other.
Behind him came Mira, the baker's daughter, carrying a cloth-wrapped loaf of fresh bread.
The last was Kellan, a broad-shouldered young blacksmith a few years older than Zion.
The moment they saw him sitting against the wall, all three stopped.
"By the stars..."
Old Man Dogo frowned.
"You look terrible."
Zion scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"I've looked better."
Mira hurried over and crouched beside him.
"You're injured!"
"It's... nothing serious."
The three of them stared at him.
Kellan folded his arms.
"Nothing serious?"
"You look like a bear chewed you up and spat you back out."
A weak laugh escaped Zion.
"I guess when you put it that way..."
Mira couldn't help smiling despite herself.
"You still have the energy to joke."
"That's a good sign."
Old Man Dogo set the basket down beside Zion.
"There are herbs in there."
"And enough food for a few days."
"The neighbors all brought something."
Zion's eyes widened.
"...Everyone did?"
Old Man Dogo nodded.
"Did you think we'd forget the boy who repaired our tools without asking for extra coin?"
"And who carried water for old Mrs. Sena whenever her back acted up?"
Mira smiled warmly.
"You've helped half the village, Zion."
"So let us help you for once."
For a moment...
Zion didn't know what to say.
Granny Iya had always taught him to work hard.
To help when he could.
Never expecting anything in return.
He hadn't realized people remembered.
"...Thank you."
He bowed his head sincerely.
"I won't forget this."
Old Man Dogo chuckled.
"Good."
"Then recover quickly."
"The village still needs its best young blacksmith."
Kellan glanced toward the cracked sword lying on the floor.
His expression grew curious.
"That sword..."
"It wasn't cracked yesterday."
Zion's heart skipped a beat.
His eyes instinctively flicked toward the weapon.
For a fraction of a second...
For a fraction of a second, golden seams traced across the damaged blade.
He immediately looked away.
"My training got a little... intense."
Kellan laughed loudly.
"Looks like it."
"You'll have to forge yourself a better one."
"...Yeah."
"I think I will."
After chatting a little longer, the three finally prepared to leave.
Before stepping outside, Mira turned back.
"Oh, right."
Zion looked up.
"The Star System Academy's admission selection is only a few weeks away."
"The whole village has been talking about it."
Kellan grinned.
"You should go."
"You've always been stronger than people give you credit for."
Old Man Dogo nodded in agreement.
"Even if you don't get selected..."
"It'll be good experience."
Zion blinked.
"The admission selection..."
He had almost forgotten.
Every few years...
The greatest academy within their entire star system accepted a handful of young Awakeners.
No written examinations.
No recommendations.
No one knew exactly how the selection worked.
Only one thing was certain.
Those who were chosen would leave Blue Star behind.
For countless young people...
It was the opportunity of a lifetime.
After the three villagers left, silence returned to the smithy.
Zion leaned his head against the wall.
"So..."
"The world really is moving forward."
His hand unconsciously rested over the Veil hidden beneath his shirt.
Then over Granny Iya's letter.
His injuries still ached.
His future remained uncertain.
His enemies were unknown.
But for the first time...
He wasn't afraid.
A smile slowly spread across his face.
"I guess..."
"I'd better recover quickly."
Outside, the afternoon breeze swept through the village.
Children laughed.
Blacksmiths hammered glowing iron.
Merchants called out to passing customers.
It was an ordinary day.
Yet hidden within a quiet corner of Blue Star...
A young man who had survived an Impossible Trial quietly took his first step toward a destiny that reached far beyond the stars.