[LSB] Chapter 135: Shape of You

“So this be the flame of those beloved by spirits? Behold, Nuru—we stand upon the verge of witnessing a god’s own hand at work.”

Julian had only just lit the forge, and yet Nuru already felt the difference. A stark, undeniable difference between their methods and his. Of course, she had seen spirit-enhanced flames once or twice before, but even those moments paled in comparison to this.

Blacksmiths, any smiths, really, often boasted that their flames were alive. She and Maldan had been guilty of that more than once. But this… this was the first time the phrase felt like more than just metaphor.

Because the flames created by Julian were alive. The flames are alive.

Maldan’s smithy held two forges: one used for handling smaller parts, and another designed specifically for crafting the living statues. The latter housed a large crucible, a mold shaped roughly in the form of a Hyum.

Originally, Maldan created a smaller mold to resemble an Eldazen, his own kind, but thought better of it. It felt too… self-indulgent, too close to heresy. He had considered shaping it in the image of a Gnarfolk, in Nuru’s likeness, but rejected that too. Out of respect. Out of humility.

So he chose the form of a Hyum. It just made sense, they were the most populous race in Artemia—and the most neutral, in his eyes.

But now wasn’t the time for reflection. Nuru shook the thoughts from her mind. She needed to focus—not on Maldan’s past, but on the scenery unfolding before her. She was here to learn from the so-called Shadow Blacksmith himself.

She still didn’t fully understand what Julian’s unique class was, exactly. Everything she knew came from Maldan’s reverent descriptions. His tales felt too mythical, but if he was right…

Then yes, they were about to witness a god at work.

“Boss, I’ve placed the… uh, Sharon? on the golem… mold plate crucible thing,” Juliet announced, rolling the mold into place and arranging the ingots of shining white metal along the mold so they would melt evenly across the shape.

“Xylarion,” Julian corrected. “And you can go ahead and place it in the fire.”

“Hmm.” Juliet swallowed hard and pushed the large mold into the fire.

The flames reacted instantly. They roared to life, dancing violently—embers spiraling into the air. But not a single spark touched Juliet. Each ember stopped short, hovering for a heartbeat, then returning obediently to the fire as if guided by invisible hands.

No. Not invisible. Sentient.

These were Searadyn’s and MEGAN’s flames. Controlled. Alive.

And now, all they had to do was wait.

Juliet moved quickly to prepare the tools Maldan had laid out, organizing them in precise rows on the worktable. Meanwhile, Julian stood before the forge, unmoving, watching the xylarion slowly begin to sweat. The white metal glowed faintly as it began to give.

He glanced briefly at Maldan and Nuru, then turned toward Juliet.

“Melting xylarion isn’t impossible,” he said softly. “But like iron… or tungsten… its atoms sing together. Like a choir.”

“...Atoms?” Nuru leaned down toward Maldan and whispered, “Do you know what that is?”

“I am not,” he murmured.

Nuru tilted her head, eyes narrowing on the forge. “And… he’s doing it wrong. He forgot to place the cover—”

Maldan gently placed a hand on her hip and gave a subtle shake of his head.

“Let him work, Nuru…” He whispered, “...’tis not for us to judge his deed. And if he err, the fault shall be his alone to learn from.”

Nuru narrowed her eyes for a moment, but continued to listen to Julian’s words eventually.

“It’s multiple times stronger than any material I’ve handled,” Julian said, eyes fixed on the fire. “I know you all felt it. Heard it.”

He didn’t look away as he continued.

“But because of its incredibly light weight, melting it can lead to… complications. Its song fractures. The choir turns chaotic. It falls apart—and loses its shape forever.”

Juliet stepped closer, careful not to disturb him. She knew how rare it was for Julian to speak at length—unless it involved forging or equipment. And when he did speak, every word felt like a gift. Something precious. Something almost sacred for her.

“Oxidation, sublimation, fracturing…” Julian murmured, tilting his head. And as if in response, the flames shifted, mirroring his motion, their dance changing subtly.

“There are so many ways this metal could die,” he said. “You have to be gentle. Help the choir. Calm them as they melt. Listen, you have to listen.”

The blue flames began to separate from the rest, threading through the slowly softening xylarion. They curved and flowed like careful hands, cradling the molten metal… and then entering them.

“It’s… beautiful, isn’t it?” Julian whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. “How something so strong can be so fragile?”

No one answered. They didn’t need to. Nuru and everyone else simply watched. Listening.

“Forging has always meant nearly destroying something… so that something stronger can be made from it,” Julian continued, stepping back as the flames flared violently. “You can hear them. The xylarion—they’re waiting. Waiting to be made anew. Each call, each vibration… listen. No. That’s too much. Lower it.”

He tilted his head again, listening to something no one else could hear as he talked to himself again—no. He talked to his spirits.

Then, he went quiet.

A second.
A minute.
An hour. Two. Three. Four.
Five hours passed.

He stood, unmoving, before the forge, eyes completely locked on the flames. And they stood with him, silent, but raging.

Finally, after a few more breaths, he raised his hand.

Juliet moved quickly, but with great care, pulling the mold from the forge. The xylarion was fully liquefied, gently sloshing into the hyum-shaped mold.

But now came the problem—the one that had been bothering Nuru from the beginning.

Julian had done the process wrong from the start.

Maldan created the mold so as to create living statues in bulk in a short amount of time. The mold that they inserted into the forge was only half of a whole. It required a cover, and to pour the molten metal into it to complete the form—without it, the molten metal would set with one side flat and unfinished. Worse, Julian hadn’t inserted the threads that would serve as veins—the essential pathways that would connect everything to the golem’s core.

The shape was forming, yes—but its surface was completely flat. Hollow.

Nuru stepped forward to say something, but Maldan once again prevented her from doing anything.

“Just watch,” Maldan whispered, this time his tone held more weight.

So she did. Nuru kept her eyes on Julian and watched as he quietly gestured for Juliet to step back. Juliet obeyed, joining in with Maldan and Nuru and also signaling for them to move farther away.

“What… is he going to do?” Nuru asked quietly.

Juliet only glanced at her and gave a faint shrug.
“The Boss does things… differently,” she whispered. “It’s best to just—”

But she never finished the sentence. The air suddenly shifted. The temperature around them changed so suddenly it was as if they’d stepped into the heart of the forge itself. The air thickened, heavy with heat. Breathing felt like inhaling the flame itself.

And then, from behind Julian, Exhalia emerged.

Naked and white. Her form didn’t shimmer or glow, but she made everything around her pale in comparison to the point that it seemed like she was. Juliet, who had seen her before, managed to stay steady, but the same couldn’t be said of Maldan and Nuru.

Both of them were completely frozen in the scalding heat, their eyes not knowing where to look while faced with this incredible being. 

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that they were currently in the presence of one who was responsible for creating life in their world.

The only thing Maldan could do was lower his gaze, his knees buckling as he dropped into a reverent bow despite his already-small stature.

Nuru followed suit, coiling her tail tightly before her and hunching forward, spine bowed in submission.

Exhalia, however, paid them no heed at all.

She simply placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder in passing and stepped toward the forge. And as she reached into the flames, another hand, blue and wreathed in fire, rose from within to take hers.

Exhalia stepped back, drawing the figure from the heart of the forge. The flames vanished instantly when she did so.

And in their place stood the Avatar of Searadyn, her form cloaked in wild, flickering azure fire.

Exhalia dipped her head in greeting, almost as if inviting her to a dance. Then she turned, gliding toward the mold. The Avatar of Searadyn followed, floating just above the ground.

When they reached the mold, Exhalia released her hand. The Avatar rose into the air, floating horizontally over the molten xylarion, perfectly aligned with the hyum-shaped mold.

With a long, steady exhale, the flames around her calmed.

Then, she descended.

Slowly, her burning form lowered into the glowing metal. The xylarion hissed violently as it met her body, steam curling upward like breath. But the reaction, while intense, remained controlled.

While the Avatar of Searadyn controlled the heat, Exhalia climbed onto the mold. Her movement was human—eerily so. She placed her back on the mold, using her hands to push herself up onto it. She slid across the surface, reclining gently as though she was stepping into a bath.

Nuru could barely comprehend what she was seeing. 

The xylarion moved. Expanded. Shifted. Into her. Onto her.

It was impossible to describe exactly how, but the liquid metal was beginning to take form. The form of Exhalia. The shape of a woman.

A second passed.
A minute.
An hour.

Then, finally, Exhalia sat back up.

She looked down at the sculpture, the slowly cooling molten xylarion now fully shaped in her image, and smiled. It was a quiet, satisfied expression.

She stood up and extended her hand down again. From within the molded metal, the Avatar of Searadyn rose and took it. Exhalia helped her out of the crucible, and with a flash of blue, the Avatar of Searadyn quickly vanished, flying back into the back of Julian’s hand.

Exhalia, however, was not in a rush at all to return inside Julian, as she took her time to get down from the mold.

“Now, the easy part is over, Shadow Blacksmith…” Exhalia whispered as she approached Julian, placing a hand against his chest and locking eyes with him.
“...Or rather, it hasn’t even begun.”

With those words, she stepped behind him and silently melted back into his body.

“Hmm,” Julian hummed. Then he moved toward the mold and grasped the xylarion sculpture—because for now, that’s all it was. A statue. Not yet… alive.

Juliet rushed in to help lift the statue. Despite its size, the figure was surprisingly light.

“C-careful, Boss,” she murmured, swallowing hard as they carried it, and then slowly and very gently set it on its feet.

Again, to her surprise, the statue balanced perfectly on its own.

Juliet quickly took off her gloves and stared at the figure. Like Exhalia, it resembled no one in particular—perfectly neutral. A blank canvas. The perfect base.

And now, that was about to change.

Julian didn’t have to say a word. Juliet moved instinctively, handing him tools from the worktable she had prepared. She gave him exactly what he needed without being asked.

Julian stood before the effigy. As it was now, it was flawless.
But it was also incomplete. Breathless.

He raised a chasing hammer, not with force, but with gentleness, and tapped. Once. Twice. Soft, completely measured movements shaped subtle curves: the bridge of the nose, the arch of the brow, the bow of the mouth.

Then he stopped using the hammer… and he used his hands. His bare hands.

The surface was hot, hot enough to sear skin, but Julian was completely unaffected by it. Didn’t even flinch. And to Nuru and Maldan’s astonishment… he closed his eyes and ran his fingers along the face of the statue, as if it were clay.

And slowly, the blank face began to change.

The face started to resemble someone one might know.

And in this instance, it was MEGAN who recognized the face.

[Julian…] She whispered in his mind, [The face. It reminds me of—]

“My mother,” he said, finishing the thought aloud. His fingers brushed gently across the contours of the face. “Maybe not exactly. Just… the way I remember what her face felt like.”

[It’s… close to the images of her. But how… could you even remember?]

“Because whenever I think about what you would look like, I think of her…” Julian’s eyes remained closed as he felt the face he shaped, 

“The lines on her face, the way they felt under my hands—they never left me. Because of you. You always said I looked just like my father… so I thought it would be fitting for you to resemble my mother. After all… you’re my sister.”

MEGAN didn’t really say anything after that, but Julian could hear her inside his mind, seemingly trying her best to stop whatever noise wanted to come out of her mouth.

Then, after a few seconds, she sniffled and muttered,

“...I can understand it being tall because you’re also a giant. But why is it bald?”

Before Julian could answer, a soft voice echoed in his ears, and floating words drifted into his vision.

[Congratulations on creating your first Legendary-grade sculpture, Julian Winters. Although a blacksmith, and your first time sculpting, you have created—]

“Stop,” Julian cut the Guidance of Artemis off, waving the message away.

He exhaled, a deep, quiet breath, and then turned back to the statue.

“We’re not done yet.”

***

[LAST CHAPTER] <-----> [NEXT CHAPTER]

This took a while. But also, I've actually written to the end of Book 2... just need to refine some things. I really do hope you guys would like the ending to Book 2 because, well... I'm not gonna say anything but it's... well... yeah. Don't be nervous.

And also, thank you for reading! And do holler if you notice any mistake, this was a heavy chapter. And the next one is about to be heavier.