How Mal had heard the noise outside was anyone's guess. He was lost in his work, surrounded by the rhythm of hammer blows and the hiss of the forge. This was his domain—a world of heat, metal, and focused creation.

  The metal he had taken from the corpse of that boar was extraordinary. It bore few imperfections and melted down as if it yearned to be reforged—like it had been waiting for a craftsman’s touch. It welcomed the hammer, eager to be shaped.

  He had so far crafted two items. The first, a pair of boots etched with a reflective rune.

  [Kinetic Boots – Uncommon]: Forged from a highly conductive iron alloy, these metal boots are engraved with reflective runes that absorb and store kinetic energy from the wearer’s movements. The stored energy can be released in a controlled shockwave, with the power scaling based on how much momentum has been accumulated.

  They'd worked surprisingly well when he leapt from the cliff. An untested gamble turned dramatic entrance. He didn't know the girl, but seven against one wasn’t a fight. It was an execution. And Mal had never been one to watch from the sidelines.

  Why was he like this? Why did he always feel compelled to intervene? He could’ve stayed hidden, no one had seen him. It wasn’t his fault others chose cowardice, willing to let someone die. But standing by? Abandoning someone in danger? That defied everything Mal believed in.

  Mal could still feel residual energy pulsing through the boots—tiny static jolts dancing up his calves. That fall should have shattered his legs, but the boots had absorbed the impact entirely, dispersing the force like it was nothing.

  He straightened, rolling his shoulders as the last of the shockwave’s echo faded into the trees. Around him, the aftermath began to shift. The group of aggressors had scattered—the shockwave had worked incredibly well. But it wasn't long before they began to rise, shaken but not broken.

  One of them, a hulking figure clad in heavy metal armor, charged straight at Mal. He wielded a short sword and shield, clearly another Heavy Warrior. Cut from the same cloth, but on the wrong side of the line.

  As the short sword came down with brutal force, Mal lifted his second creation, an imposing shield forged from Runic Iron, etched with twin runes pulsing faintly in the light. It was more than just defense; it was a promise of retaliation.

  Blue light rippled across the shield’s surface, warping with each blow like water disturbed by stone. The man attacking him was relentless—snarling with effort, armor clanking with every motion as he launched into another heavy swing. Metal screeched and rang as blade met shield. Sparks flew. Each strike echoed through the clearing like thunder trapped in a box canyon.

  Mal grunted under the force, bracing with every blow. The impacts shuddered through his frame, and the air buzzed with the heat of exertion. The glowing blue rings along the shield pulsed with growing intensity—storing every ounce of violence, building with each swing like a drawn breath held too long. The pressure was mounting, waiting to erupt.

  Then the shield retaliated. A spear-shaped burst of condensed energy erupted from its surface, striking the man in the chest. He was hurled backward, his arm severed by the blast. The force continued on, carving a hole clean through a tree behind him.

  You have slain [Human level 3, Heavy Warrior level 6]

  When Mal first crafted the shield, it had been little more than a theory—a fusion of runes and intuition. But now, after witnessing it in action, he realized it had surpassed every expectation. The item description hadn’t even come close to capturing what it could truly do.

  [Vanguard Mirror – Uncommon]: A shield forged from a highly conductive iron alloy, etched with two distinct runes: one of reflection and one of projection. These runes work in tandem to absorb the energy from both physical and magical attacks, storing it within the shield. The wielder can then unleash this stored force in a focused, spear-like burst of destructive energy. The power of this burst scales with the amount of energy stored.

  Mal shook his head, trying to steady himself. He had just killed a man—yet his thoughts were already dissecting the shield’s performance, cataloguing its effects like it was just another forge test. The pragmatism felt cold.

  There was no time to dwell on the death—pain lanced through his side, sharp and sudden, snapping his focus back to the present like a hammer to hot steel.

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  One of the remaining assailants had slipped through the chaos, driving a dagger deep into Mal’s side with a grunt and a twist. The blade bit through flesh and muscle, sending a hot spike of pain radiating through his torso.

  Mal spun, the pain igniting a surge of adrenaline that roared through his veins. With a guttural cry, he brought his hammer crashing down, aiming to flatten the attacker. But the leather-clad rogue was too fast, already slipping out of reach—his boots skimming the dirt as he danced backward with practiced ease.

  In that moment of overextension, Mal left his back exposed.

  A sharp whistle cut through the air—then pain. An arrow slammed into his shoulder blade, followed almost instantly by the searing impact of a mana bolt. The force hit like a battering ram. He barely had time to register the explosion of pain before he was airborne, the world tilting violently.

  He hit the ground hard, the breath crushed from his lungs, vision swimming as chaos erupted around him. Every nerve screamed. Blood soaked into the dirt beneath him, hot and fast.

  He was done for. Once again, he'd thrown himself into the fire to save someone else, and where was she now? Nowhere in sight. Just pain, dirt, and the cold edge of regret.

  Then it came.

  Red flames tore across the night sky above Mal, illuminating the chaos in brilliant arcs of fire. The air pulsed with heat and power, washing over him like a wave of defiance. Then, hands, frantic but sure, pushed something between his lips. Bitter and chalky, the taste hit first. He swallowed before he could question it, instinct overriding confusion.

  Warmth followed. Not comfort—something raw, electric. Life clawing its way back through pain. His Hp began to rise.

  "Name’s Jean. You, okay? Thanks for the help—I thought I was dead." Her voice was steady, but her eyes held the echo of what they’d just survived. Crimson light from the feather-like flames painted her in surreal color, turning her tangled ginger hair into a living fire. She extended a hand toward Mal, the flames swirling gently around her like embers caught in slow motion.

  "Damn, you’re a heavy one," Jean muttered with a strained wince as she hauled Mal to a kneel.

  Her focus never wavered, flames continued to lash out around them in precise, sweeping arcs. The assault pinned their enemies in place, forcing the two magic users to throw up shimmering barriers just to hold the line.

  Even the archer couldn’t steady long enough to take a shot, ducking behind cover to avoid the withering heat.

  As Mal rose, towering over Jean, a strange stillness settled over him. His breath came easier, his body steadier—wounds that had moments ago throbbed with pain were now reduced to faint aches.

  He could feel whatever she gave him coursing through him, knitting flesh and reigniting strength. He clenched and flexed his arm, testing the muscles where the arrow had struck.

  It held firm.

  He glanced toward the group arrayed before them. No retreat in their eyes. No mercy. They weren’t going to let them walk away.

  And Mal was done holding back.

  Mal moved with the flames, weaving through the fiery curtain like a phantom. Each flicker cloaked his steps, masking his approach as he honed in on the archer, isolated, exposed, and too far from the safety of the others. It was time to return the favour.

  His hammer slammed down with brutal force, crushing into the smaller man's shoulder. The crack of bone echoed through the clearing—sharp, sickening, and final. The sound that followed wasn’t a scream, not exactly. It was a ragged, primal wail torn from the throat of someone caught between agony and the dawning terror of what came next.

  Rage surged through Mal—whether it came from the fresh memory of pain or the raw momentum of battle, he didn’t know. He planted his boot firmly on the archer’s chest, the stored energy from the kinetic rune thrumming beneath his heel. With a brutal exhale, he released it.

  The shockwave tore into the man’s torso with a crack of thunder, sending his body skidding across the dirt like a broken doll.

  You have slain [Human level 2, Archer level 5]

  The clearing held its breath. No one moved. Even the red flames seemed suspended in the air, casting a flickering light over the carnage—silent witnesses to what had just happened.

  Mal didn’t look away. He wanted them to see. To understand. If they stayed, they wouldn't just face resistance. They’d face ruin.

  The four remaining enemies broke rank, fear overtaking whatever orders or resolve they once had. Panic seized them, and they turned tail, scattering into the shadows like hunted prey.

  A branch snapped behind him. Mal twisted instinctively, just in time to catch sight of the dagger-wielding rogue—the same one who had stabbed him earlier—emerging from the shadows with his blade raised. But before the strike could land, crimson fire consumed him. The flames clung like a second skin, searing through leather and flesh, swallowing his scream before it ever left his throat.

  You have slain [Human level 3, Light warrior level 6]

  "Couldn't let you have all the fun now, could I?" Jean called, strolling through the lingering embers like she’d just clocked out of a day job. Her grin was wicked, firelight dancing off her hair as if the chaos had personally invited her to strut.

  "Next time, try not to hog the dramatic finish," Jean quipped as she made her way over, casually threading her arm through Mal’s like they were just leaving a dinner party, not a battlefield.

  Mal looked down at the arsonist, flames still licking at her heels, mischief in her eyes, and sheer chaos striding in her wake. Not the partner he’d have picked. But maybe—just maybe—the partner the System should fear.

  He exhaled, not from relief, but from realization. For the first time since being thrown into this brutal world, someone had stood beside him. And burned everything in their way.