I am Ren Drakemore, age 9, the 2nd Prince of the Kingdom of Arcadia, and I am building my power and influence so that one day I may become King of this land.

"Happy belated birthday, Ren," comes Shadow's deep, slightly tinny voice as he follows Jade through the doorway into the kobold forge. "Heh, same to you," I chuckle, glancing up from where I'm working on Shadow's new mithril body. "It's almost ready," I add, giving the idle construct on the heavy steel table a light tap with my knuckles.

For the past three weeks, I've been making regular trips to the Crimson Scale Tribe—officially under the pretense of learning to forge mithril. And while I have picked up a lot, the real reason behind my visits was to work with the tribe's smiths to build a new body for Shadow—one crafted entirely from mithril.

From studying Shadow's memories of our battle against the goblins, I saw firsthand how mithril weapons effortlessly shredded magical defenses. Mithril isn't just stronger than steel—it naturally resists magic itself, making it the ideal material to protect Shadow from both spells and blades alike. Compared to the steel shell he currently wears, this new body will be a massive upgrade.

"The festival they held in your honor was impressive," Jade remarks, climbing into the seat beside me. Across the table, Shadow begins unbuckling his belt and carefully removing his equipment. "The party at Griswald's manor was for me," I reply flatly. "The festival in town wasn't."

Yesterday, Griswald had thrown a feast in my honor, and I genuinely appreciated it. The maids went all out, preparing new dishes and presenting me with thoughtful gifts. Griswald gave me a chronologue—an intricate timekeeping device so baffling that I'm already planning to take it apart just to figure out how it ticks.

Willow gifted me a custom-made staff crowned with a focus crystal attuned to spatial magic. It should significantly enhance any spells I cast, especially those involving space manipulation—a branch of magic I still have much to master. Even Jade had joined in, gifting me a mana crystal set into a mithril chain, mined from her tribe's own cave.

After the party, Willow had taken Jade and me into town to enjoy the annual festivities held in honor of my late mother. The streets of Stonebrook were alive with food stalls, performers playing music and acting on stages, and countless games and activities for revelers to enjoy. It was the first time I had ever experienced the festival up close. Until now, I had only watched from the windows of my tower.

But now that I'm no longer so alone—now that I'm surrounded by people who care—the festival doesn't feel so sad anymore. Instead, it's strangely comforting to know that even after nine years, the people still love and honor her memory.

Jade had a wonderful time discovering so many new parts of human culture. She got to try a lot more varieties of what she calls "burnt foods," and she's decided she quite likes food prepared that way. In all the excitement, I suppose we hadn't explained the true reason behind the festival—it's still an awkward subject for me—so she could be forgiven for her confusion.

"Then what was it for?" Jade asks, her gaze following Shadow as he neatly stacks his armor and equipment at the edge of the table.

"It was to honor the best queen this kingdom ever had—who died nine years ago," Shadow answers while pulling off his tunic, revealing the metal frame underneath, scarred by numerous dents and scratches. It seems he hadn't bothered to waste mana repairing superficial damage.

"Oh. What a coincidence it falls on the same day as your birth," Jade says with a shrug.

"Quite," I reply dryly, rolling my eyes. "Anyway, it might be my birthday, but the reason we're here is because I have a gift for you."

Of course, Shadow already knew today was the day we planned to transfer him into his new body, that's exactly why he's here. This just so happened to be the day his new body was finished.

"How's Maribel doing?" I ask as Shadow—now naked—sits up on the table, positioned at the far end of the workbench from his mithril replacement.

He pauses, tilting his faceless head toward me in that slightly questioning way he does, silent for a moment before answering.

"She's fine. Why do you ask?"

"I saw you two having fun at the festival," I say casually, using my magic to etch a new rune into the mithril golem's chest plate. "But I've noticed you don't share many of your memories with her outside of quests."

I glance up at him, raising an eyebrow.

Shadow used to share nearly every memory he experienced with me. But over the last few arcs, I've noticed he's been sharing less and less about his time with her when they're alone. I can't imagine any nefarious reason for it, but still—I can't help being curious about what I'm missing.

"Oh, that," Shadow says, laying down so that his current head and the head of his new body rest side by side on the table. He folds his hands neatly over his chest, like a corpse prepared for a funeral.

"I just didn't want to overload you with unimportant information," he adds smoothly, gazing up at the ceiling.

I suppose that makes sense. Even with my mind operating many times faster than the average person's, processing the constant flood of information from my puppets can still be exhausting.

Maybe it's smarter for him to filter out the details that don't really matter.

I don't exactly need thousands of hours of memories of walking from place to place with nothing notable happening.

"Makes sense," I say, standing between the old and new versions of Shadow, both lying still on the table.

"Do you think she's about ready to be recruited?" I ask.

Another pause—longer this time.

And I think I know why.

I can sense his hesitation. He's uneasy about going through with my plan for her.

"You don't need to worry," I say, reading his silence. "It'll benefit her just as much as it benefits us."

"Are we sure about that?" Shadow asks. His voice is quiet, almost reluctant. "I don't like lying to her."

"It's not a lie," I counter smoothly. "It's just... withholding unimportant information."

Shadow falls silent again, clearly weighing my words.

Finally, he speaks—his voice flat, almost resigned.

"I think she's ready."

"I think she's ready," Jade repeats, mocking Shadow with a voice as deep and gravelly as she can manage. "So mysterious," she chuckles.

"Jade—" Shadow and I start in unison.

"Don't speak a word of this, I know," Jade says, rolling her eyes. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"There's nothing to know," I mutter. I really need to be more careful about how much Jade overhears. That was careless. Next time, Shadow and I should stick to telepathy when discussing sensitive topics.

But that's a problem for later, right now I need to focus on the transfer. I stretch out my hands, one above the head of Shadow's current body, the other over the mithril frame that awaits him. "I'm going to start the transfer now," I say, taking a deep breath, steeling myself for the difficult spellwork I'm about to attempt for the first time.

Though, to call it merely "difficult" would be a severe understatement.

The Mind Transfer spell is an incredibly rare piece of magic—something nearly impossible to even discover without a fae tutor and an understanding of the ancient language of magic. That spell, in its original form, was only designed to seal a fragment of a soul into a vessel.

But what I'm about to attempt is something entirely different. I'm going to extract a fragment of my soul from one vessel and move it to another—without letting it return to me.

That's the real challenge. A fragment of soul is bound by a powerful, universal force that constantly pulls it back toward its source. Something I've been devoting more study time to after those comments Tiemet had made about my puppets. Apparently, it's a natural law: souls are drawn to remain whole. Fighting against that pull, even briefly, is like trying to swim against the current of a raging river while carrying a fragile flame.

Where the Mind Transfer spell is rare, this modification might very well be something no one has ever done before. Especially not a human. Which is something I'm kind of proud of. I crafted the spell myself—rewriting its structure using the language of magic—carefully designing it to redirect the soul fragment into the new vessel without letting it slip free.

I'm fairly confident in the theory.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. But theory and practice are two very different things. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little nervous. Though, I haven't exactly shared these fears with Shadow.

I suppose we both have our secrets.

It also wouldn't make this spell any easier if he was feeling restless.

Closing my eyes, I begin clearly reciting the complicated incantations I devised. The first set of syllables separates the fragment from its vessel. Jade and Shadow wait silently as I reach out with my senses, seeking the piece of myself hidden within the steel shell. When I find it—wrapped in a brilliant cocoon of glowing mana—it feels impossibly heavy, like trying to drag a mountain through a blizzard.

Gritting my teeth, I force a dense, stabilizing field of mana around the fragment. The next phase of my spell breaks the seal and tears the fragment free from Shadow's steel frame. A brilliant white orb bursts forth, flooding the forge with a blinding light.

As soon as it leaves its vessel, a violent tidal pull slams into me, a roaring current threatening to tear the fragment back into my soul by force.

The draw is brutal, as if the universe itself demands the soul be made whole again. My arms shake under the strain, every fiber of my being screaming with the effort to resist.

With slow, agonizing effort, I shift the glowing mass from my right hand to my left, inching it over the gleaming mithril body.

And then everything starts to go wrong.

Hungry, eager, and insatiable, the mithril begins leeching mana from the cocoon like a dry sponge greedily soaking up water.

The fragile protective shell starts to fray and thin at the edges.

Faced with no choice, I'm forced to pour more and more mana into it, desperately trying to reinforce it faster than it unravels.

Mana tears from me—a brutal hemorrhage of strength—and my reserves plummet like a shipwreck sinking into black depths.

Panic claws at my chest as the truth slams into me: if I don't finish the spell now, I'll lose control.

And if that happens, the fragment would snap back into me—dragging with it a year's worth of Shadow's unshared memories.

The sheer force of reintegration would overload my mind, flooding me with everything he experienced. It would almost certainly leave me an incapacitated drooling mess for days—if not longer.

Pushing forward desperately, I begin the final binding incantation. Wind howls around me, kicking up a vortex of dust and debris. I hear thuds and clatters as tools and furniture are flung about by the magical gale. Each word of the incantation feels heavier than the last, denser, harder to force from my throat as my dwindling mana slips further from reach. Exhaustion gnaws at me, and my tongue stumbles, the final syllable tumbling out wrong.

Instantly, the cocoon flares—ballooning outward in a blinding, searing burst of mana.

A hammering backlash slams into me, raw magical heat searing my right hand.

I grit my teeth, refusing to let go. Through the blinding light and roaring pain, I force the last syllables out, driving the burning ball of my soul downward.

With a deafening hum and a shockwave of mana, the fragment slams into the mithril frame. Runes etched into its chest blaze to life in brilliant gold, sealing the transfer just before the spell can tear itself apart.

The moment the connection snaps closed, I collapse backward into my chair, gasping for air. Every limb feels like lead. My right hand is a mangled wreck—bright red, skin split open and curling at the edges, with raw muscle exposed beneath patches of charred flesh. Blisters bubble and burst across the surface, leaking blood and clear fluid, while the searing pain drives up my arm like wildfire. The entire hand looks half-cooked, as if I had thrust it straight into a forge. Glowing embers fade to smoke at the edges of what's left of my sleeve.

Half-dazed, I fumble through my bag, find a healing potion by touch alone, and uncork it with shaking fingers. The sweet, metallic taste coats my tongue as I gulp it down. A cool wave of magic surges through me, stitching the burned flesh back together in a numbing rush.

Blinking through the haze, vision still swimming, I lift my head and look toward the table.

"Ren! Are you alright?!" Shadow asks, his voice ringing with urgency.

I manage a tired chuckle, slumping deeper into my seat. "I'm fine," I rasp, waving my freshly healed hand in a dismissive gesture. "The spell just... backfired a little."

"You're sure?" Shadow presses, still tense.

"It just burned my hand," I say, forcing myself to sit up straighter. "The mithril absorbed way more mana than I expected—more than half my reserves in seconds." I shake my head slightly, still feeling a phantom sting across my skin. "If I hadn't finished the incantation when I did, it would've kept pulling... until there was nothing left."

"Wow, is it always that intense?" Jade pipes up weakly—from the floor.

I glance over and find her sitting there, blinking dazedly, arms flailing as she tries to brush dust off her tunic. Apparently, at some point during the chaos—completely unnoticed by me—she'd fallen backward off her chair. Still squinting against the lingering stars in her vision, she mutters, "I'm fine, by the way," in a tone that's more embarrassed than reassuring.

Trying (and failing) to look casual, she scrambles upright, smoothing down her clothes as if nothing happened.

"That was incredibly foolish," growls a sharp, judgmental voice—Tiamat—speaking through Jade as her flaming eye turns to regard me with burning disapproval. "Not even a dragon would allow a youngling of your years to meddle with such dangerous magic," she rumbles, her voice thick with reproach.

"Thanks for the input, Tiamat," I respond with a weary sigh of annoyance.

Isn't she supposed to be learning from me, not nitpicking my spellwork? If I only ever did what she would do, then there wouldn't be anything for her to learn.

"I'm glad you're both okay," Shadow says, though he sounds slightly distracted. He flexes his new hands slowly in front of his gleaming mask, then drags a single finger thoughtfully along the surface of the table—testing the responsiveness of the new pressure enchantments.

"Jade, please come here," Shadow adds, extending a large metal hand toward her.

I sit down, watching with amusement as Jade, though visibly confused, obediently trots over to stand beneath his hand.

"What do you need, Master Shadow?" Jade chirps, glancing up at him.

In response, Shadow gently lowers his hand onto her head, carefully stroking the scales between her horns as if she were some kind of pet. Jade jerks her head back with a sharp squawk of protest, pulling away in surprise.

"What was that?!" she squeaks, glaring up at him reproachfully.

"I was just curious," Shadow replies with a low chuckle as he hops down from the table, clearly pleased with himself.

This does nothing to ease Jade's visible annoyance at being so casually patronized.

"Calm down, Jade. I've got a present for you too," I say, reaching into the magical bag slung at my side.

My words immediately derail what looked like a brewing, venomous retort. Instead, Jade's eyes light up with sudden excitement as she watches me pull out the item.

"You remember those 'oakleys' Lady Ember mentioned?" I say, holding up a pair of dark-tinted lenses set into a mithril frame, carefully shaped to fit the contours of a kobold's head and designed to fasten securely around their horns.

"You made the oakleys?!" Jade squeals, bouncing up and down like an excited ball of barely contained energy, her tail swishing side to side in delight.

"They sounded fairly simple to make, and they're not just useful for you—they'd probably be helpful for a lot of other people too," I explain, holding them out to Jade, who is eyeing them eagerly. "Here, try them out."

"Thank you so much!" Jade chirps, taking the oakleys from my hands and turning them over in front of her eyes, inspecting them curiously.

"Ember had the right idea, but she wasn't much help when it came to explaining how to actually make them," I say, watching Jade slip them onto her head. "I had to experiment a bit, but I eventually figured out how to tint the glass properly."

"Wow... now it's too dark," Jade complains, blinking through the lenses.

"Yeah, it's pitch black in here. They're meant for outside," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Right," she mumbles, quickly pushing them up onto her forehead.

"You could probably make a lot of money selling those," Shadow remarks from across the table as he finishes redressing himself and re-equipping his gear.

"Yeah, I'll make a few designed for humans and ask Rodrick to gauge interest when he makes his rounds to other markets," I say thoughtfully, pulling the next item from my bag—a black face mask, crafted from mithril, painted black with rays of white radiating from the left eye hole.

"And here's the gift for Maribel," I add, placing the mask on the table between us.

"You've already enchanted it?" Shadow asks, picking up the mask and turning it over in his hands.

"Yes. It's ready for her whenever she's ready." Shadow nods, then carefully tucks the mask into his own bag.

"And here's a replacement for your current mask," I say, pulling out one final item from my bag. It's nearly identical in design to the one Shadow wears now—crafted to conceal the fact that he doesn't actually have a face. However, this new version is forged from solid mithril, far more durable and much less likely to break during combat, greatly reducing the risk of accidentally exposing his true nature.

I hand the mask to Shadow, who gives it a quick once-over before fitting it over his face. With the mask, his hood, gloves, and clothes covering every inch of him, his metallic form is effectively hidden. But even so, his imposing stature—and the unnatural stillness that comes from lacking the subtle, involuntary movements of living beings—does little to make him look unsuspicious.

"Thanks for the new face," he says dryly.

It feels like only a matter of time before someone powerful starts asking the wrong questions. I'm going to need a plan for when that day inevitably comes.

"Thank you again!" Jade chirps, tugging at my sleeve. "I really like them."

"No problem at all," I say with a small smile.

"I appreciate the upgrade as well, Ren," Shadow says as he turns back toward the door. "But I should get going."

Before I can say goodbye, all three of us turn at the sound of heavy, rapid thudding from the tunnel outside—footsteps, growing closer. The cadence is too fast to be bipedal, and far too heavy for a kobold or a human. Which is why I'm not surprised when Ember's large head pokes through the doorway a moment later. She fills nearly half the width of the tunnel and can barely squeeze through the doorway.

"Where are you going, Alphonse?" Ember says with a teasing chuckle.

"My name is Shadow… not whatever you just said."

"Whatever you say, Tin Man," she snickers.

"I'm made of mithril, not tin."

"How can I help you, Ember?" I sigh, cutting off the unproductive conversation before it can spiral further.

"I don't need help," Ember says, sounding a little hurt. "I was just bored, and I heard you were visiting. I wanted to hang out with you."

"Excuse me, I need to go," Shadow mutters, squeezing past Ember as she backs out of the doorway to make room for him in the tunnel.

"Off to become a real boy, Pinocchio?" Ember teases, her tone light—but the look she gives Shadow as he walks away is tinged with disappointment.

"Are you still grounded?" I ask, as Jade and I make our way toward Ember.

"Yesss..." Ember growls, rolling her massive amber eyes in exasperation. "But that doesn't mean I can't have guests visit me in the lair." She absently traces slow, nervous circles on the stone floor with one claw, stealing a hopeful glance at us.

I can tell Ember doesn't have many friends—hardly surprising, considering her mother keeps her so tightly sequestered for her own protection. It's a feeling I know all too well, after spending the first five years of my life locked away in the castle tower with only Lady Willow for company.

Despite Ember's odd and sometimes off-putting behavior, she has a unique perspective and an interesting way of seeing the world. I can't help but wonder how many more useful insights she might have—like her casual suggestion that led to the oakleys.

She might be chaotic and impulsive, but she's also strong. And she's still young. If I invest a little time into her now, she could grow into a powerful ally.

Besides—how cool is it to have a friend who's a literal dragon? Not many people can say that.

"Sure," I say with a small smile. "I'll help you fend off boredom for a while."

Ember's wide grin practically splits her scaled face, and with a flick of her tail, she turns and leads the way down the tunnel.

"Come on!" she calls over her shoulder, thudding down the tunnel in heavy, bounding steps, her wings tucked tightly against her sides to squeeze through the narrow passage. "I've been working on something amazing!"

Jade and I exchange a look—hers wary, mine resigned—before we follow after her.

She sounds excited, which should be a good thing.

So why, coming from her, does that worry me?

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