Haldrix continued stirring the kettle, the spoon scraping against its walls. Steam curled upward, carrying a sharp scent of steeping leaves. He regarded Alph with calm expectation.

  "Activate your Insightful Gaze on the gemstone," Haldrix said. "What do you see?"

  Alph lifted the gemstone into the lamplight, turning it between his fingers. Facets scattered light across his palm. He activated Insightful Gaze, and the world sharpened into focus.

  The stone filled his vision. Its surface revealed every ridge and groove as light bent through its clear core. Near the tip, hair-thin fractures branched beneath the surface, deeper than mere flaws. They weakened the stone's structure, though the rest remained untouched.

  Alph pointed the minute imperfections out to Haldrix, his finger tracing the path of each hairline fracture. Haldrix nodded, satisfaction warming his eyes, an almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips. He returned Alph's gaze. "What else does it reveal?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

  Alph's vision plunged deeper, Insightful Gaze peeling back layers of the gemstone's crystalline structure. The fractures blurred into the background as his sight pierced the core. There, suspended in the stone's heart, geometric lines intersected with mathematical precision—razor-sharp angles and sweeping curves carved by something far more deliberate than nature. This wasn't a defect. This was craftsmanship.

  Alph's breath caught.

  "That's a rune. Inside the gem?" His voice cracked.

  Haldrix's beard parted with a grin, deepening the creases around his amber eyes. His low chuckle swelled into booming laughter that rattled the kitchen's copper pots. Gold rings in his braids chimed with each breath.

  Haldrix's broad, calloused fingers clamped down on Alph's shoulders, their decades of rune-etching radiating warmth. The weight pressed through his tunic, the pressure bordering on pain. His prosthetic arm whirred as brass plates adjusted to tighten the grip.

  "Talent burns in you, boy," Haldrix said, breath smelling of bergamot tea. His grin revealed a chipped front tooth. "Most apprentices need months to spot imperfections much less spot the rune carved inside the gem with Insightful Gaze. You?" The dwarf gave him a shaking that rattled Alph's teeth. "You are just one hammer strike away from advancement to Tier 1."

  Alph's mouth dried. Ozone clung to Haldrix's workshop-stained robes. Candlelight glinted off the adamantine resonator where the dwarf's ear should be. The praise held him motionless. He flexed his fingers, torn between reciprocation and stillness under that piercing gaze.

  Alph’s thoughts churned. I cannot tell him I need three skills to mastery to combine them with another Tier 0 profession now, can I?

  Haldrix’s laughter decayed into ragged wheezes. He withdrew his flesh hand and wiped his eyes with a soot-smeared sleeve. A black smudge marked his cheekbone. The prosthetic arm released its grip with a sharp hiss. Alph’s shoulder throbbed where the brass plates had bitten deep. Haldrix straightened. His braided beard swung as he banished the mirth from his face.

  "Enough of this," Haldrix said, voice gruff yet determined. "You have the eye for it. I’ll teach you proper runecrafting. No more fumbling with basic inscriptions."

  He poured the tea into the cups and slid one to Alph.

  "Come with me to Titan's Wound. As my assistant." His tone brooked no argument. "You’ll see real work, not just scraping ingots all day."

  Alph's fingers clenched the teacup, porcelain protesting under his grip. Bergamot steam twisted between them. The offer lingered, weighty as a forge anvil.

  Haldrix’s assistant; that meant access to the Tier 4 Artisan's workshop, a place where he could find clues about the artificial core project. The thought seized him.

  But the timing was wrong. Too sudden. Too much.

  Alph clenched his jaw. Varrick needed him at the smithy. The apprenticeship wasn't merely a cover—it was a debt. Varrick had given him shelter, purpose. And Nylessa. The training. The missions. The promise of a combat spell, strength he couldn't discard.

  Haldrix's amber gaze pinned him, keen as the runes carved into his brass-plated arm. The quiet between them grew dense, charged with things left unsaid.

  Will I get another chance like this, though?

  Haldrix let out a breath, the hard lines of his face softening. His brass hand settled on Alph’s shoulder. It hummed.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “No answer needed now,” Haldrix rumbled. “Even if you decide not to rush, that’s your choice.”

  He leaned closer. “Just remember, not everyone gets the Forge-Heart’s gift. Or talent like yours.” He paused. “Think about it.”

  “We depart in seven days,” he said.

  Alph exhaled, his breath unsteady. The teacup clinked against the saucer, fragile against the turmoil inside him. Seven days. The words echoed, weighted with implications. Seven days before Haldrix leaves and expected an answer from him. The tension wound tighter with every moment, pressing down like a vise. The choice ahead would reshape everything.

  Haldrix said nothing more. He lifted his cup, steam curling around his fingers, and turned toward the basement door. The hinges groaned as it opened, revealing the shadows.

  Alph remained still.

  The door clicked shut behind Haldrix. Alone in the kitchen, the choice loomed over him, solid as iron. He stared at the closed door, the scent of tea lingering.

  He turned and climbed the stairs to his room, each step slow, deliberate. The wooden planks creaked beneath his boots. His fingers flexed at his sides, restless.

  What do I do?

  Four days blurred into repetition. Alph worked Grimforge's forge with practiced motions—hammering ingots, grinding runes, scrubbing ash from anvils. His hands moved on their own while his thoughts split between pressing concerns.

  Haldrix had not emerged from the basement again. Three days remained before the expedition departed for Titan's Wound.

  Varrick noticed nothing amiss. The man was too consumed with final preparations, sketching supply lists, arguing with Thorfin about equipment loads. Nylessa trained with him each evening in the training hall and then at the southern park. She spoke often of the contracts waiting, of advancement within the guild's ranks.

  Alph had given neither Varrick nor Nylessa any indication of the choice festering inside him.

  Alph recalled entering the Mind Garden, the Shaper's voice echoing with urgent curiosity. The Rogue node approaches merger readiness with Thief, the attraction strengthens. Soon, the constellation will demand integration.

  He waited patiently until today. As the Shaper instructed, he planned to seek an isolated region to merge the nodes. The last merger, back in Stoneford during that final shot at the flesh behemoth, nearly exposed him to Corbin. He later learned from Corbin himself that Corbin watched him during those tense moments.

  He needed privacy, genuine, unobserved isolation.

  A solo mission beyond the city's boundaries offered exactly that.

  Torchlight flickered against the cavern walls as Alph moved deeper beneath Val Karok. His boots struck stone in steady rhythm. Cold seeped into the air, thick with the scent of damp earth and iron.

  Rook sat at his usual place on the stone dais. A clay mug of something dark steamed in front of him. His tangled beard twitched as he looked up at Alph.

  "Little Raven," Rook acknowledged, gesturing to the empty chair. "Back for work already? Thought you'd rest longer after the manor job with Nylessa."

  Alph settled across from him. "I want a mission. Solo work."

  Rook's eyes narrowed. The messy hair fell across his scarred face as he tilted his head, assessing. His tunic, patched with frayed twine, rustled as he leaned back.

  "You're eager," Rook observed. "That's either confidence or desperation. Either way, I've got options."

  "First two are straightforward," Rook said, "Minor gang enforcers operating in the warehouse district. Low tier, sloppy, drunk half the time. Easy work if you don't mind close quarters killing."

  Alph's mind immediately rejected them.

  "Third one," Rook continued, "is messier. Hall of Hammers employee lives near the Karok Foothills with his spouse. Infiltration required, elimination of the wife, make it look accidental if possible. Higher pay, higher risk. The foothills have patrols after your last job."

  Alph's gaze shifted. The Karok Foothills bordered the city but remained largely unsettled. Patrols meant complications and possible witnesses.

  "Last one," Rook said, "is the cleanest but also the least rewarding."

  "Mining supervisor," Rook said, his mouth curling into something resembling a smile. "Half day's journey into the mountain ranges east of the city. Deserted region, minimal traffic. The slaves working the mines won't talk but the contract wants the kill disguised as a mining accident."

  Alph's breath steadied. A half day's journey meant genuine distance from the city, from observation. The mountain ranges offered isolation, space to facilitate the merger without risk of discovery and creating a mining accident is easy enough with his practice of druidic spells.

  "That one," Alph said.

  "You sure?" Rook asked. "The pay is poor for the labor involved."

  Alph's gaze remained resolute.

  Rook sighed and shuffled through his robe. He pulled out a parchment and unrolled it. "Target is forty-three years old. Broad shoulders and a pot belly; he stands out among the skinny miners. The man lives in a cabin two miles from the site. Do not strike there. It is a communal area for other supervisors. Strike in the mine itself."

  "Remember," Rook said, his voice flat and steady. "No proof of kill is required. The deed must look like an accident, not a hired hit."

  Alph nodded. This was far more information than he'd received during the initiation trial, but he welcomed it. "I'll leave tonight."

  "Fine," Rook said. "Once the contract issuer confirms the accidental death, you'll get your twenty silver. Just don't waste coin on investigating the target like last time." He smirked, a hint of humor in his tone.

  Heat crept up Alph's neck, but he kept his expression neutral. He turned and left the cavern without another word.