Chapter 153: Heat, Steel, and Unspoken Claims
Heat, Steel, and Unspoken Claims
Once Victor was done listening to Lane’s report, he stood up and was about to leave. Lane seeing this, stood up as well and hung onto Victor’s arm. Victor, actually found her behaviour quite cute, so he wasn’t bothered, by Lane being a bit clingy every now and then.
Her fingers wrapped around his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Not forced. Not calculated. Just instinct.
A small smile tugged at his mouth when he looked at her for just a moment.
"You’re not planning to let go, are you?" he asked lightly.
Lane turned her head slightly, gaze steady. Her dark eyes locked onto his, unblinking. Not a flicker of doubt showed. She held the look without stepping back. Quiet certainty sat in her stare.
"No."
Simple. Honest.
He let out a quiet laugh, not bothering to shift her weight. Instead of rushing, he eased into step beside her, moving at the same unhurried rhythm she kept.
A trace of daylight lingered in the hall, left behind by the low slant of past hours, seeping through tight window gaps. Golden patches formed on cold rock where light settled. Her steps made almost no sound, drifting like breath, while his came sure and solid beneath him.
Just silence between them, then. The air stayed heavy without words.
Lane shifted nearer, her shoulder grazing his arm, heat rising between them like an old habit. The grip she kept - calm, steady - spoke without words: this belonged to her. Not loud. Not frantic. Just true.
He stayed right where he was. Not a step back. Just stillness, like roots had taken hold beneath him.
He never did.
...
Flickers of sound pulsed through Fantom City, thick with warmth.
Outside, the air changed right away. Heavy with movement, it hummed, buzzing past their ears. A rush of noise wrapped around them, pressing close.
Out came the steady beat of hammer on steel, filling lanes packed with forges. Smoke from charred coal swirled into the warmth of molten metal, heavy in each breath. From time to time, bright flashes leapt from doorless sheds, glowing wild under sunlit skies.
Through the scene Victor moved, untouched by what surrounded him, while Lane stayed close, fingers light on his sleeve, eyes tracing each detail without a word. Quietly she watched, head slightly turned, taking in the blur of faces, the hum of voices fading behind them. He did not slow, nor speed up, just kept forward like something pulled by routine. Beside him, she remained - present but silent - as if waiting for a moment that never came.
Still moving, the city gave no one special treatment.
Out of the noise, men yelled louder than the clang of hammers. Tools flew through air as apprentices dashed past, arms full, buckets sloshing behind them. Deep in the furnaces, fire bellowed - alive - kept hungry by constant feeding.
Lane looked at each workshop slowly, not just noticing things, yet seeing more than most would. A quiet understanding settled in his gaze as he moved from place to place.
"You’re looking for someone who can handle it... aren’t you?" she asked softly.
For a moment, Victor stayed quiet.
Instead, his gaze drifted ahead—focused, distant.
"...Yes."
That single word carried intent.
Not hope.
Certainty.
He already knew what he wanted.
Victor with Lane started looking around the smithies that where in Fantom. Victor wanted to turn the Dragon claws he found into swords. It was true that his main weapon the scythe was incredible, but it had a lot of drawbacks as well. To fully unleash its power Victor needed to offer up blood, even in it’s idle state Victor needed to offer a huge amount of mana for the scythe to materialize.
Victor’s fingers twitched slightly, as if remembering the weight of that weapon.
Diana.
The scythe wasn’t just a tool—it was a living hunger.
Powerful... but demanding.
Too demanding.
Blood for strength. Mana for existence.
It wasn’t sustainable.
Not long-term.
He needed something else.
Something reliable.
Balanced.
Sharp... and controlled.
Lane noticed the slight shift in his expression.
"You’re thinking about replacing it?" she asked.
"Not replacing," Victor replied calmly. "Complementing."
His golden eyes flickered.
"A weapon that doesn’t drain me just to exist."
Lane hummed softly, understanding.
Diana who heard of Ren’s plan to make swords, for some reason actually agreed to it. She even sounded happy when he said that he wanted to create something like twin blades.
Deep within Victor’s consciousness, Diana stirred faintly.
A quiet presence.
She didn’t object.
If anything... there was a strange, subtle approval.
More weapons meant more ways to kill.
...or perhaps...
More ways to survive.
Victor didn’t dwell on it.
...
Victor after going around all the smithies in town, found out that no blacksmith was capable enough to handle the Dragon’s claws. They weren’t even able to understand where to start with it. The material Victor showed them was too much out of the norm, and they had no clue on how to smelt the object radiating a great amount of mana.
One by one, the answers were the same.
Confusion.
Hesitation.
Refusal.
"This... this isn’t something we can work with."
"The energy inside it... it’s unstable."
"We’d destroy our entire forge trying."
Victor didn’t argue.
Didn’t insist.
He simply moved on.
Lane stayed silent beside him, her grip never loosening.
She could feel it.
The growing dissatisfaction.
Not anger.
Just... rejection of incompetence.
Victor didn’t need excuses.
He needed results.
It was then that all the blacksmiths suggested the same thing. The only beings in this land that could make a sword out of something like a Dragon’s claw were the ancient forge clan. Victor who heard the ancient clan called ancient forge clan in the conversation was intrigued. This was the second time he heard of this ancient clan. It would seem that their blacksmithing skills were nothing short but legendary. This made Victor really excited, he needed to gain more info regarding ancient forge clan.
Victor slowed slightly.
Ancient forge clan.
That was the name whispered behind the word "ancient forge clan."
A hidden lineage... said to reside near the Forge God Mountain.
Legends spoke of their ability to shape even the most violent materials—things normal blacksmiths wouldn’t dare touch.
Victor’s interest sharpened.
So they exist.
Lane glanced at him.
"You’re thinking of finding them."
It wasn’t a question.
Victor’s lips curved faintly.
"...Of course."
He wanted to learn where they live, so that he could journey there, and take one of them as his personal blacksmith. While Victor was thinking on how to go about locating these ancient forge clan, he heard someone yell.
"Victor you bastard, you’re finally back."
The voice cut through the noise like a blade.
Sharp.
Familiar.
Victor didn’t even need to turn.
He already knew.
"Oh," he said lazily, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone, "Clara... you’re as beautiful as ever."
"Oh, Clara you’re as beautiful as ever." Clara who suddenly appeared, attacked Victor in which he dodged perfectly as he complimented her with a smile. Clara unable to hit Victor got furious and continued attacking, Lane on the other hand simply watched, as Clara made a fool of herself.
Clara moved fast.
Too fast for most.
But not for Victor.
He stepped aside effortlessly, her fist cutting through empty air.
Again.
And again.
Each strike sharper than the last.
Her frustration grew with every miss.
Lane stood still, watching.
Her expression... calm.
But her eyes?
Cold.
"Why are you trying to hit me, Clara?" Victor asked as he continued dodging Clara’s punches. The two of them hadn’t noticed that they had already drawn a crowd due to their antics.
People slowed.
Watched.
Whispers spread.
Some amused.
Some impressed.
Some... wary.
"You suddenly left to go on this solo adventure, and haven’t been back for six days! At first, I thought, you were just going out to clear your mind after the battle with Alibaba. But no, that’s not what you did, you actually went missing for six days! We just created our party and did only one quest. I didn’t quit my job, and became an adventurer again, to do quests by myself."
Her voice cracked—not with weakness, but with suppressed frustration.
Something deeper hid underneath.
Something she didn’t want to name.
Victor noticed.
Of course he did.
Clara’s ice cold persona, had changed drastically. This surprised Ren, but also made him think that Clara, was cuter than before. He liked Clara icy cold pride, but she also liked this childish passionate Clara as well.
Victor smiled slightly.
So this is what she looks like... when she cares.
Victor then caught both of Clara arms, and pulled her near him making it look like they were hugging. Lane who saw this was about to move, but saw Victor shake his head. Lane gritted her teeth as she stopped herself.
Lane’s fingers tightened around Victor’s arm.
Just slightly.
Not enough to be obvious.
But enough.
Clara who was now confused and red as an apple could do nothing since no matter how much she struggled she couldn’t break free, since Victor was stronger than her. Victor who had placed his mouth near Clara’s ear, spoke.
"I know I worried you, and I’m sorry about that. How about this, let’s go and do a quest right now. What do you say?"
His voice was low.
Close.
Too close.
Lane’s jaw tensed.
"Who the hell was worried about you?! Didn’t you hear what I just said?! I just want you to do your job as the party leader." Victor finally let go of Clara, and smiled as he patted the red faced girl, which no one knew if she was red faced because of embarrassment, or anger. Lane was also looking at the two’s interactions and didn’t really like it. In her head every second Clara was hugged by Ren, was replaced with her sticking an arrow into her eyeballs.
Lane exhaled slowly.
For a brief moment...
A dangerous thought flickered through her mind.
Then disappeared.
Victor, however...
Noticed everything.
And said nothing.
"Well whatever you say. Come on let’s do that quests you seem to love so much." Victor walked ahead of Clara and was followed by Lane. The three of them headed towards the adventurer’s guild.