The morning air is crisp as I stand in the newly cleared area, taking in the wide circle of space I've carved out of the forest. It's satisfying, in a way, to see it open and ready, giving us more control over our surroundings. Apollo's in the cave, using the probes to scan the dungeons for any hint of the Shadowfell's presence, but so far, his reports come back empty. Frustration tightens in my chest with each negative response. We're running out of time, and the thought gnaws at me.

  Around the camp, the usual routine hums along. Nikko, Talia, and Rebecca are running their training drills, though Rebecca's face is a mix of reluctance and fatigue as she struggles to keep up. IG-22 marches along the perimeter on his patrol, the rhythmic stomp of his metal feet keeping time. DP-8 and the Eye Bots are stationed strategically, their sensors scanning constantly for any movement or threat.

  Now, with everything in place and the camp secure, it feels right to start my next project. I step over to the makeshift table in the center of the clearing, where the book I got from Eldrin lies open. The pages are worn and delicate, the text a series of intricate symbols and diagrams that detail something intriguing, something I hadn't expected to find here—Transmutation magic. I'd planned on making modifications to the speeder, perhaps adjusting the fuel capacity or boosting the repulsorlifts, but the more I read, the more this ancient magic pulls me in.

  I trace a hand over the old text, my mind racing with possibilities. There's something... alluring about this idea. The ability to shape, transform, and manipulate raw materials without the need for conventional tools. I scan the diagrams, carefully absorbing every detail.

  "What are you doing, Papa?" a small, tired voice asks from behind me.

  I turn and see Nikko trudging toward me, her face flushed and her steps slow. Her ears droop a bit, and there's a weariness in her eyes, evidence of her training, but I can see her curiosity igniting as she glances at the book on the table.

  "Trying something out," I say, looking back down at the chapter on Transmutation, letting my mind wander over the possibilities it offers.

  "And what is it you're trying out?" Nikko asks, her voice carrying that familiar spark of interest. She comes up beside me, peering at the strange symbols on the page with wide eyes.

  "Transmutation," I tell her, watching her reaction.

  "Transmutation?" She tilts her head, ears perking up, and I see her tail begin to swish with excitement. "What's that?"

  I take a deep breath, finding the right words. "It's a form of magic that's been lost to Aranthia for a long time," I explain, gesturing to the text. "It allows someone to manipulate raw materials at a fundamental level, to reshape them and even combine them in new ways—without any conventional tools."

  Nikko's eyes widen, her tail flicking back and forth as she absorbs the idea. "So, like... changing things with magic?"

  "Yes," I say, nodding. "With Transmutation, I could take something as simple as iron and reshape it, make it stronger, or even combine it with other metals to create something entirely new. The book suggests it can be applied to almost any material."

  Her gaze is fixed on me now, her weariness all but forgotten as the idea sinks in. "And... can you do it?"

  I place an assortment of ingots—iron, steel, even a piece of mithril—alongside a sturdy log on the table, each one lined up like a blacksmith would. The feel of these raw materials under my fingers is grounding, steadying my mind as I prepare to test this lost magic.

  "Hopefully," I say to Nikko, glancing at the book's open pages one last time before returning my focus to the materials laid out.

  Nikko tilts her head, her ears twitching with curiosity. "Why is it a lost form of magic?"

  I consider my answer, fingers brushing over the coarse grain of the wood and the cold metal surfaces. "According to the book," I begin, "Transmutation was a rare skill, practiced by only a select few mages. It's... a very specific class of magic. Not just anyone could master it."

  Nikko listens intently, absorbing every word as if each one contains a piece of the puzzle. "Where are Talia and Rebecca?" I ask, glancing around.

  "Talia's making tea," she says, flicking her tail. "And Rebecca's taking a break. That obstacle course you built really wore her out."

  I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. "Is she improving?"

  Nikko's face brightens. "Very much so, Papa! She's really good with her knife now, and her shooting is amazing. I think Talia's a bit jealous of Rebecca's shooting skills," she adds with a grin.

  I can't help but chuckle, a slight smile tugging at my lips. "I think so too," I reply. Then, turning my attention back to the materials before me, I steel myself for what comes next.

  "What are you making?" Nikko asks, sidling closer to the table, her eyes dancing between the scattered ingots and the log.

  "I'm starting small," I tell her. "I'll try to make a knife and work my way up from there." Taking a deep breath, I steady my mind, focusing on the way the Force flows through me, on the unique sense it takes here on Aranthia. I can feel a faint hum, an energy lying just beneath the surface. "I hope I can do this."

  "I hope so too, Papa," Nikko whispers, her voice soft but filled with confidence.

  I hold out my hand, extending it over the materials, letting my focus sharpen like a blade. Transmutation is not unlike the way I summon fire. I close my eyes, imagining the energy coursing through me, connecting with the materials on the table. I see the structure of the wood, feel the strength within the metals. I'm not forcing them into a form; I'm guiding them, asking them to change.

  The ingots begin to glow first, a soft light emanating from their surfaces, spreading until the entire table is bathed in a warm, ethereal light. I can feel the iron, steel, and mithril, each one responding to my will, rising in temperature without ever feeling hot. I extend the energy from my hand, connecting to each particle within the wood and metal, sensing their innate qualities.

  The log glows next, the wood warming beneath my hand, its structure softening, malleable yet unyielding. The metals begin to shift, melting without losing shape, merging together as I focus. They start to coalesce, forming the rough outline of a blade, the glow intensifying as the shape begins to take form. The wood reshapes, contorting into a solid, defined handle. The materials don't just bond—they fuse in a way that seems to reach their essence, as though the knife were always meant to be there, hidden within them.

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  Gradually, the glow fades, the shape solidifying. Before me lies a knife, resting on the table, its blade crafted from the metals and its handle formed from the wood. The light dims, and the knife is complete, sleek and polished, each detail as I had envisioned.

  I take a deep breath, the effort of the process leaving a faint tremor in my hand. I reach down, lifting the knife, feeling the balance in its weight, the smoothness of the handle under my fingers. It's solid, real.

  Nikko gasps, her eyes wide with admiration. "You did it, Papa!"

  I turn to her, holding the knife up for her to see. "Yes," I say quietly, a feeling of satisfaction settling over me. "Yes, I did."

  ?????

  I pick up the knife, carefully running a finger along the blade's edge. It's sharp—astonishingly sharp—and surprisingly light. The balance is perfect, each movement flowing naturally from my hand to the blade. Testing it on a nearby plank of wood, I'm taken aback by how easily the knife cuts through; it slides cleanly, with barely any resistance.

  Nikko's face lights up, her eyes wide with awe. "Papa, that knife is incredible!"

  I'm as amazed as she is, feeling the weight of accomplishment settle over me. Setting the knife aside, I gather more materials, laying out iron, mithril, and a length of wood as I prepare for the next challenge. This time, I focus on something larger, a weapon I've always carried with me in spirit. The image forms clearly in my mind—a blade made of folded steel, elegant yet deadly, with a slight curve that balances grace and power.

  I close my eyes, reaching out to the materials once more. As I channel my focus, the iron and mithril start to glow, merging and shifting as the metal takes shape. I sense the handle forming first, strong yet slender, fitting comfortably in my grip. The blade begins to extend, its steel folding and layering in my mind's eye, the edge honed to a razor sharpness. When the glow fades, the sword lies before me—exactly as I envisioned.

  Nikko's eyes widen as she watches, her tail swishing back and forth, excitement radiating from her. "That was amazing, Papa!" she exclaims, her voice breathless with wonder.

  I pick up the sword, feeling the familiar yet unique weight of it in my hand. It's light—remarkably light for its size—and perfectly balanced. I step away from the table, giving the blade a few test swings, slicing through the air with ease. The sword feels as though it's an extension of my arm, moving with fluid grace and a lethal edge.

  An idea strikes, and I turn to Nikko, gesturing toward a small pile of rocks, each about the size of an apple, scattered near the table. "Can you toss these rocks at me, Nikko?"

  She nods eagerly, scampering over to grab a handful of the stones. Her ears twitch with excitement, her tail flicking energetically as she readies the first rock.

  "Ready?" she asks, her voice barely containing her enthusiasm.

  I take a stance, positioning the blade in front of me. "Go ahead."

  With a quick flick of her wrist, she throws the first rock. It sails through the air, and I swing, slicing cleanly through the stone. The blade cleaves it in half, both pieces falling to the ground with a soft thud.

  Nikko's face lights up even more, her ears perking and her tail swishing faster. "That was amazing, Papa! Do it again!"

  One by one, she throws several more rocks, and each time, the sword cuts through them effortlessly. The blade's edge is sharp enough to slice through stone without dulling or chipping. The power and precision are undeniable.

  "It seems Transmutation not only creates," I murmur, holding the sword up to inspect it under the morning light, "but it also amplifies."

  I marvel at the weapon, feeling a deep satisfaction in the magic's power. Nikko beams beside me, her whole body practically buzzing with excitement, and I can't help but share in her enthusiasm.

  I set the sword down carefully, leaning it against the table's edge, but Nikko's eager voice breaks the quiet moment.

  ?????

  "What else can you create, Papa?" she asks, her eyes bright with curiosity, her tail swishing excitedly.

  I smile, reaching over to a set of metal ingots I'd laid aside earlier. "I have one idea," I tell her, arranging the various metals on the table. These ingots are the types best suited for crafting a blaster frame—durable, heat-resistant, and refined for handling high energy. But as I start to focus on the design, I realize there's a problem.

  Blasters rely on a specialized high-energy gas to function, a gas that, when ignited, produces the plasma bolts. Without it, creating a working blaster may be impossible.

  "What's wrong, Papa?" Nikko asks, picking up on my hesitation, her ears tilting in concern.

  I let out a small sigh. "I want to create a blaster, but I'm missing an essential component. Blasters need a high-energy gas for propulsion, which is what turns into plasma when you pull the trigger."

  Nikko looks around the various crates, her eyes scanning the supplies we've gathered, and then her gaze lands on the crate filled with mana crystals. She points to it, her face lighting up with an idea. "What about those crystals?"

  I glance over, considering her suggestion. Mana crystals... Each one glows faintly, a soft, mesmerizing light in hues of deep blue and violet, almost like a captured lightning storm swirling within. They're often used in magical items, capable of channeling and amplifying energy.

  "Hmm," I murmur, weighing the idea. "Mana crystals are indeed used in various magical objects. It's worth a try."

  I grab several of the crystals, arranging them beside the ingots and adding a plank of wood to form the grip. Closing my eyes, I begin to focus, channeling my energy into the materials. I picture my own blaster as a reference, every angle, every groove, every detail etched into my mind. The smooth, angular body, the grip contoured for precision, and the subtle underbarrel attachment—all of it.

  But as I concentrate, I feel a resistance. The materials emit only a faint glow, flickering as though hesitant to form. I push harder, drawing on every ounce of focus. The strain builds, my fingers trembling slightly as I force my will upon the materials, urging them to take shape.

  Finally, the glow intensifies. The mana crystals and metals begin to meld, shimmering and twisting as they shape themselves according to my mental blueprint. A soft, pulsing light radiates from the table, growing brighter until, with a final surge of energy, the shape solidifies.

  The light fades, and a newly formed blaster rests on the table, looking exactly as I envisioned—almost. It's similar to my own black blaster, yet it has a unique, silvery finish, the metal gleaming with a refined elegance.

  I lift the blaster, examining it closely. The main body is sleek, its polished silver frame catching the light. The barrel is angular, with carefully designed contours that give it a modern, streamlined look, and there's a compact underbarrel light, its glow faint but ready to activate. Along the side, the word "Malorian" is etched into the metal in delicate, precise lettering, giving the weapon an almost artisanal feel. The grip is made from a polished wood with a reddish hue, fitting snugly in my hand, with grooves and curves that seem crafted specifically for my grip. It looks identical to mine, the only difference being that mine is black.

  Nikko's face is a mix of awe and excitement, her tail swishing rapidly, ears perked high. "Papa... it's beautiful!" she exclaims, barely able to contain her amazement.

  I turn toward the line of trees at the edge of the clearing, aiming the blaster carefully, hoping it'll work just as well as a conventional one. I squeeze the trigger, and with a loud crack, a yellow bolt of plasma streaks from the barrel, hitting the tree squarely, sending a spray of sparks and charred bark flying. My eyes widen, feeling a surge of satisfaction. It worked.

  Nikko's eyes are just as wide, her tail flicking excitedly. "Wow..." she whispers, transfixed.

  I fire again, then a third time, each shot hitting its mark on the same tree. The blaster hums with residual energy, radiating heat, but I notice that it doesn't get as hot as my conventional blaster. There's something efficient about this crystal-powered version, almost as if it channels energy with more control.

  I glance down at Nikko, who's practically beaming with pride. "I'm going to be here a while," I tell her, already thinking of the possibilities.

  "That's okay, Papa. I want to watch," she says, her excitement evident in her wide eyes and perked ears.

  I nod, an idea popping into my mind. If I can recreate my blaster with the materials at hand, how far can I take this? My thoughts drift to something far more ambitious—a crazy thought, really, but one that excites me. Could I rebuild the Crucible? I wonder.