The forge chamber crackled.
Arthur stood still, chest heaving, his hands blackened with soot and dried blood. The storm-iron blade he'd just forged lay on the anvil before him, still faintly glowing. Its edges were rough, uneven. But it was real. His.
The Codex had stirred. It had recognized him. He didn't know how or why—but it had burned its presence into his mind like a second heartbeat.
He hadn't expected it to feel so... loud.
Behind him, heavy steps echoed across the stone. Arthur didn't turn. He knew the rhythm. It belonged to **Arwin**, the Forge-Master of House Vaelstrom.
The old knight stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes scanning the blade.
"You struck true," Arwin said. His voice wasn't praise. It was confirmation.
Arthur nodded once, sweat dripping into his eyes.
"It doesn't feel over," he muttered.
"It isn't." Arwin stepped forward, drawing something from his belt. A small iron vial, stoppered and etched with runes.
Inside swirled a dull, silver substance—**quickiron**.
"The Codex saw you," Arwin said. "Now it waits to be claimed. This is how you mark it."
Arthur stepped forward. His breath was still uneven, but steadier now. He took the vial without speaking and uncorked it carefully. The moment the quickiron touched air, it shimmered with faint heat.
He tilted the vial and poured the liquid over the sword's grip. It spread like living metal, crawling in spirals, locking into place. Then it formed a symbol.
A single letter.
"A"
It wasn't a signature. It was a seal.
He gripped the sword and dropped to one knee before the anvil. Not in ceremony. In focus. His breath slowed. His vision narrowed.
The world disappeared.
---
Something opened inside him.
A cracking sound—silent, but final—rippled through his spine. His chest clenched. A deep pulse began to hammer behind his ribs.
Not pain. Not pleasure. Something heavier. Like the world had just shifted its weight onto him.
The **Knight Core**, long dormant at the center of his body, surged to life.
He felt the heat first. Not fire, but pressure—like a furnace sealed shut, now opened with a scream. It flooded his limbs, filled his bones, churned through his muscles like molten iron. Every breath became a strain.
But he didn't break.
He endured.
The core pulsed once, then again. Each beat sharper, more defined.
The sword in his hand pulsed with it.
A line had been crossed.
**Realm Two: Ironblood Initiate.**
---
Arthur opened his eyes. His body didn't feel stronger. It felt... *different*.
Every step he took now pressed harder into the earth. His grip on the blade was steadier. His aura wasn't just something he sensed—it clung to his skin like sweat.
Arwin stood in silence, watching him.
"You've entered it," the old knight said. "The Ironblood Realm."
Arthur nodded. "It hurt."
Arwin smiled faintly. "It's supposed to."
The Forge-Master stepped forward and studied the sword.
"You didn't just awaken your core. You bound your will to the blade. That isn't common. Not even in this House."
Arthur swallowed. His heart was still racing, but slower now. Like it was adjusting.
"I felt like... something else was watching."
"You're not wrong." Arwin turned toward the forge entrance. "The Codex watches. But so do others."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
Arwin didn't answer. But his silence was clear enough.
---
Far above Stormgrave, beyond the sight of any knight, a raven wheeled once in the clouds—then vanished.
In a tower far across the empire, a scrying pool flickered, its reflection darkening.
And in the deep sands of a forgotten province, a sealed gate trembled.
---
Tell me what is needed in this novel and writing style so I can improve thank you.Any and all criticism is welcomed. I wanna grow as an author so help me .