Void Lord: My Revenge Is My Harem

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Fizz tapped his wing against his own temple. "Also, she's totally going to kill you one day if you do something she doesn't like. Just saying. You must be careful."

John said nothing. He only stared out across the hill, watching as the two women disappeared into the trees beyond the forge.

The sun broke fully through the clouds above. Light spilled down like molten gold, painting the valley in warmth. The forge inside flickered to life again, and smoke drifted from its chimney like a promise. 

The valley waited. And John stood in its heart.

Meanwhile, Sera stepped through the tall ferns, her boots brushing softly over the moss covered roots. Elara leaned against a crooked tree nearby, arms folded and gaze fixed toward the distant forge fire. Her voice was low, edged with caution.

"I don't like it. The power around that young man isn't stable," she said. "It's not wild like a beast's, but... sleeping. Like something ancient and half awake. It is really dangerous… what if he loses control?"

Sera sat on a nearby boulder, folding her hands over her knees. "You are overthinking it."

"No. I'm reading it. That little creature with him, it's not from any bonded species I've seen. And it talks. Speaks like a person. That's spiritual grade communication. Only high class formed familiars can do that. And his… didn't even have legs."

"It had wings." Sera added.

"That's not the point." Elara replied. "We all know that only humanoid spiritual contact can talk. That thing might be an evil spawn."

Sera smiled faintly. "You always think the worst first. You said it yourself, his power is sleeping. That means it's not dangerous... unless he's pushed."

"Exactly."

"But he hasn't been," Sera said gently. "I had a feeling that he would help us rebuild the temple statue. He didn't ask me for anything. I've watched him work with the miners, carry water, and fetch tools. He could have stayed hidden. He didn't."

Elara's gaze dropped slightly. "You trust him too easily."

"I don't. I see clearly. You know I have the Eye of Truth, Elara. My power tells me what's behind a person's words. And his heart is steady and pure."

Elara kicked a pebble off the edge of the slope. "He's hiding something. Power like that doesn't come without cost."

"Maybe," Sera admitted. "But he doesn't feel like danger. He feels... lost."

The two stood in silence for a while. The trees rustled gently, the mist curling through their trunks like lazy ghosts. Birds chirped from higher branches, unconcerned by the tension in the air.

Sera stood. "The temple restoration is done. Our work here is nearly over. Soon we will move on to a new location."

Elara nodded, but her expression didn't soften.

Meanwhile on the other side, John stood near the forge, a hammer resting in one hand and his cloak fluttering in the morning breeze. The sun had climbed higher, and thin smoke curled lazily from the chimney. Around him stood a dozen miners, each with sun baked faces and rough hands. Some held old tools, others just watched in anticipation.

Fizz floated beside him like a puff of annoyed cinnamon sugar. "Look at them. Calloused hands, worn boots, hopeful eyes. These men clearly have never had the pleasure of biting someone before breakfast."

John sighed. "Please don't bite anyone."

Fizz wobbled in midair and spun once. "No promises. But I will bite you to make you stronger."

"Sigh!"

John faced the miners. "Thanks for coming. I know we don't have much out here yet, but I want to share something with you. Skills. Tools. Maybe, a future."

The miners murmured among themselves. Gael, the grizzled old man with the crooked shoulder, stepped forward. "You want us to build?"

"Yes," John said. "We'll start with crafting. You all know how to use pick axes, right? Forging isn't so different. Just replace the pick axes with a hammer and pound louder and hotter."

Fizz zipped forward and stopped inches from Gael's beard. "Also, ten times more glorious and dramatic. Prepare for singed eyebrows, boys."

Some of the younger men laughed nervously. Everyone was scared of Fizz. But they couldn't say it. 

John led them behind his forge, where a flat area had already been cleared. "This land is fertile. The stone under our feet is strong. If you're willing, we'll build homes here. A proper outpost for you all."

A hand rose. "But we can't use magic. None of us are Smith class."

John smiled. "That's the point. I'll teach you the way I learned. No chants. No magic. Just fire, steel, and discipline. But—" He tapped the table beside him. "—you have to use this. My forging table. It's special. Anything you make on it... gains power."

Fizz did a backflip. "A magical dinner table for weapons. You heard the man. Bring your meat cleavers and dreams."

John handed out tools. The men began hammering, smelting, and shaping. By noon, six blades had been made. Sweat covered their faces. Some complained. Others grinned with childlike joy.

John checked the first blade and felt a faint pulse of energy.

[Ding! System Notification: Common grade weapon forged. Mana resonance detected.]

He nodded and turned to them. "This isn't junk. This is a real treasure. You can sell these in the market."

The men looked at each other, stunned.

Gael scratched his chin. "What are you saying, lad?"

"I'm saying we start a company," John replied. "A trading group. We'll register it under your name. You'll be in charge."

Gael's eyes widened. "Me? I'm just an old digger."