Even Steel Is Cut
The strange exchange continued after that.
Whenever I left strips of dried meat or smoked jerky on the flat black rock just inside the cave entrance, they would vanish quietly within a few hours.
In their place sat something entirely different.
Steel-colored scales.
Some were the size of two finger joints, others filled my palm, and a few looked like long, slender leaves.
The shapes varied, but every one of them felt cold and impossibly hard.
Even in the cave’s gloom they caught the eye in a strange way.
They didn’t so much reflect light as gently twist it, leaving only their own faint outline.
Every time I looked at them I wrapped my hand in an old cloth first.
The one time I’d touched them bare-handed, the tip of my finger had been sliced open.
Alduin had seen the blood beading on my finger and immediately swung his head toward the cliff outside, and it had taken me forever to talk the dragon out of burning the entire mountain over a few drops of blood.
“More scales again.”
I picked up the scale from the rock and Alduin lowered his head behind me.
“Grr?”
“I’m not complaining.”
I set the scale on the cloth.
“I just can’t tell if this is payment for the food, a gift, or some kind of introduction.”
Scrape.
A small sound came from outside the cave entrance.
It was the noise of thin metal pieces brushing against one another and changing direction.
It was Masor’s sound. I’d learned to recognize it by now.
“Did you hear that?”
There was no answer.
Instead, a single footprint appeared in the snow.
Thump.
Just beyond the cave entrance, on the thin layer of powder the wind had swept aside.
The print was large.
Small compared to Alduin’s, but more than big enough by human standards.
The weight of something elephant-sized pressing down on the snow remained perfectly preserved.
Yet the shape was unmistakably draconic.
Four forward-reaching claws.
A rounded pad.
The faint line of a tail tip dragged slightly behind.
“You’re not exactly small yourself.”
Scrape.
“You only look small next to Alduin. In reality you’re still plenty problematic.”
Scrape.
The sound grew a little quieter.
It sounded sulky.
Alduin glanced back and forth between me and the footprint, then gave a low rumble.
“Grr.”
“You’re the bigger problem.”
“Grr?”
“You’re both problems.”
Alduin’s golden eyes wavered with a distinctly wronged look.
I reached out and lightly tapped his snout.
“A big visible problem and an invisible one.”
Alduin clearly didn’t like the description.
Masor remained silent in whatever unseen place he occupied.
That silence somehow felt like agreement, so I let out a small laugh.
After that the exchanges gradually changed shape.
One morning I found the carcass of a beast lying on the rock.
There were no torn wounds, only a single impossibly thin line.
Blood had trickled along that line before freezing solid.
I stared at it for a long time before finally speaking.
“Did you catch this?”
A footprint appeared in the snow.
Thump.
“For me to eat?”
Thump.
“For Alduin?”
A brief silence followed.
Then two footprints appeared.
Thump.
Thump.
“Ah, so not for Alduin.”
I looked at the carcass again.
“Then you brought it for me?”
Thump.
One footprint.
I gazed down at the body with an odd feeling.
Masor still refused to show himself.
But he had brought something he had hunted himself.
As payment for the dried meat.
Or perhaps as a sign that he could give something too.
“You’re surprisingly thoughtful.”
Scrape.
The sound came a little faster.
Embarrassed? Or offended?
I still couldn’t quite tell the difference.
Alduin looked down at the carcass with an ambiguous expression.
Compared to the prey he brought, it was tiny; he seemed unsure whether to even acknowledge it as game.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Don’t you judge.”
“Grr?”
“Everything you catch turns into something the size of a house, even if it started as a rabbit.”
“Grr……”
“And don’t claim it’s just one by your standards.”
Alduin averted his gaze.
A scrape sounded from Masor’s direction.
Without turning toward the entrance I said,
“You laughed.”
Silence.
“If you ever bring something and insist it’s small by your standards, you’re getting scolded too.”
Thump.
A single footprint appeared.
The answer came so quickly that it only made me trust it less.
A few days later something even stranger appeared.
It wasn’t a beast or a scale.
It was a stone.
But it was too oddly shaped to call an ordinary rock.
It was about as long as my forearm.
Its surface was smooth like bone that had been washed in water for ages, colored somewhere between white and blue.
At first I thought it was ice.
But it didn’t melt when I touched it.
Instead a faint vibration traveled into my fingertips.
It felt like a very slow heartbeat inside the stone.
“……”
I stared at it, then called for Alduin.
“Al.”
“Grr?”
“What does this look like to you?”
Alduin lowered his head and sniffed.
The moment the tip of his nose drew close, the blue flecks on the stone’s surface glowed ever so faintly.
Alduin blinked in surprise.
“Grr?”
“You don’t know either?”
“Grr.”
“Then what do you know?”
“Grr……”
“I’m joking.”
I stroked Alduin’s snout once and looked at the stone again.
“Masor.”
Silence.
“Is this edible?”
Thump.
Thump.
“Not for eating, then.”
I thought for a moment.
“Decoration?”
Silence.
“A gift?”
After a rather long silence, one footprint appeared.
Thump.
I stared at the stone for a while, then carefully set it upright beside Masor’s dedicated rock.
“All right.”
I spoke in a deliberately solemn voice.
“I hereby recognize this as the first ornament of our home.”
Scrape.
A small sound.
He seemed pleased.
Come to think of it, Masor always brought something.
Scales.
Game.
Stones.
Horns.
Feathers.
Occasionally cloudy, glass-like mineral fragments.
Every item was of ambiguous usefulness.
Yet each one felt alien, as though it could only be found somewhere on this mountain.
It seemed Masor brought objects instead of words.
Unlike Alduin, who would shove his face close, wag his tail, and offer his snout when he was happy.
Masor never came near.
He never showed himself.
Instead he left behind things he had seen, caught, or possessed.
One day I realized this and created a small display area beside Masor’s spot.
Stones with stones.
Scales with scales.
Bones and horns in their own section.
Feathers pressed under flat stones so the wind wouldn’t scatter them.
Before long one corner of the cave had turned into a bizarre curio cabinet.
Alduin always made a strange face whenever he looked at it.
I couldn’t tell whether it was jealousy, wariness, or simple incomprehension.
“What?”
“Grr.”
“Do you want to leave something too?”
Alduin pondered for a moment.
Then he carefully carried over a massive deer bone from nearby.
Calling it a deer bone felt inadequate.
It was longer than I was tall.
The moment he tried to set it beside Masor’s small objects I hurriedly raised my hand.
“Stop.”
Alduin froze.
“That’s way too big.”
“Grr?”
“It’ll turn the display into an altar.”
“Grr……”
“I’ll accept the thought.”
Alduin looked dejected.
In the end I stood the bone against the cave wall and wrote small letters beneath it.
Alduin’s.
Alduin couldn’t read, but he still seemed satisfied.
Several more days passed like that.
Masor still refused to come close.
He took the food.
He left payment.
He answered with footprints.
Sometimes when I deliberately turned my back, the sound of scales brushing together came from very nearby.
Each time I fought the urge to whirl around.
Don’t look.
Don’t grab.
Just wait.
I kept reminding myself.
After living like that for a while, I found myself staring at the bundle of scales Masor had given me.
When I unfolded the old cloth, the steel-colored scales spilled out like crescent moons.
Each one held a cold gleam.
When sunlight from the cave entrance passed over them, the light did not reflect.
It bent slightly across the surface.
Like flowing water changing direction upon meeting a stone, the slender rays slid along the edges of the scales.
“This is really weird.”
Alduin tilted his head beside me.
“Grr?”
“It looks like the scales are eating the light.”
“Grr.”
“Not literally eating, I mean.”
I wrapped one scale in the cloth and picked it up.
Cold.
Light.
Yet the hardness against my fingertips was unnervingly distinct.
I placed the scale on a black stone slab.
“All right.”
Alduin blinked.
“Grr?”
“Performance test.”
Alduin tensed immediately.
“Grrrr……”
“It’s fine. I’m only doing something a little dangerous.”
“Grr.”
“Don’t make that face. You do dangerous things every day.”
Alduin couldn’t argue.
I took out the old knife I’d brought from the cabin.
It was a utility blade.
The edge was badly nicked and the handle loose, but it had served well enough until now.
I lightly scraped the surface of Masor’s scale with the blade.
Scrrt.
The knife slid away, not the scale.
“…Huh?”
I scraped again, harder this time.
Scrrt.
The scale remained pristine.
Only a tiny nick had formed on the knife’s edge.
I examined the scale.
Not a single scratch.
Not even a tremor.
That cold, smooth surface looked untouched, as if it hadn’t even noticed what I’d done.
“Scale…?”
Alduin brought his head closer.
“Grr?”
“Is this harder than your scales?”
The moment the words left my mouth I looked at Alduin.
His eyes had changed slightly.
His pride had been pricked.
I waved my hands quickly.
“No, I’m not comparing.”
“Grr.”
“You dig through mountains yourself.”
“Grr.”
“That’s plenty.”
The golden eyes softened a little.
Handling a dragon’s pride was harder than I thought.
I set the scale on the slab again and brought over a piece of wood.
It was a thin splinter that had flown off while I was chopping firewood.
I pressed the scale’s edge against it and pushed ever so gently.
Slice.
The wood parted.
Far too naturally.
I hadn’t even felt like I was applying force.
The wood simply split into two pieces along the path the scale had traveled.
I stopped.
Alduin stopped.
A very faint scraping sound came from the entrance.
Masor was watching.
“……”
I fetched a thicker piece of wood.
This time it was a chunk as thick as my wrist.
I wondered if it would still work.
I pressed the scale against it and pushed.
Slice.
It cut cleanly.
I stared at the severed surface in silence.
It was as clean as if the wood had been made that way from the beginning.
“This.”
I lifted the scale.
“Isn’t this pretty dangerous…?”
Scrape.
The sound came from the entrance.
This time it definitely sounded proud.
“Don’t brag.”
Scrape.
“I’m saying it’s dangerous.”
Scrape.
“Yeah, the performance is good.”
Scrape.
“I said stop looking happy.”
Alduin let out a low, laughing rumble.
Purrr.
I turned to him.
“You stop laughing too.”
“Grr.”
“You’re allowed to laugh. No, you’re not. I don’t know anymore.”
Alduin didn’t understand but still looked pleased.
I looked at the scale again.
Hard.
Sharp.
It twisted light strangely.
And a single piece could slice wood smoothly.
What if I melted several of them and shaped the result?
The thought came suddenly.
And once it had, it refused to leave.
“This.”
Alduin tilted his head.
“Grr?”
“Can you melt it?”
Alduin’s eyes blinked.
The entrance grew quiet as well.
Masor had heard too.
I looked down at the bundle of scales.
“If I melt these…”
I paused.
A shape was forming in my mind.
No need to make it large.
No need for a long sword.
A small blade that fit my hand.
About the length of the dagger I used back in the forest.
Something easy to hide and easy to draw when needed.
“If I made a dagger…”
Alduin looked at the scales.
Then at me.
Then at the scales again.
“Grr?”
“I know. We don’t have a forge, no proper tools, and I’m not exactly a blacksmith.”
Scrape.
A sound came from the entrance.
It sounded like agreement.
Without looking that way I said,
“You stay quiet. They’re your scales.”
Silence.
“If you don’t like it, leave two footprints.”
Silence.
I waited.
No footprints appeared in the snow.
“Guess you don’t mind.”
Scrape.
Very softly.
It sounded almost expectant.
I looked at Alduin.
“Al.”
“Grr?”
“Can you melt this with your breath?”
A faint red glow rose inside Alduin’s throat.
I raised my hand immediately.
“Not a full breath.”
Alduin stopped.
“What we’re making is a dagger.”
I pointed at the cave wall.
“Not a new room.”
“Grr……”
“Small.”
I made a tiny gap with my fingers.
“Hot, small, and slow.”
Alduin looked back and forth between my fingers and the scales.
His expression was serious.
A little anxious too.
Asking Alduin to do anything small had always been difficult.
When he liked something he liked it hugely, when he was startled he was hugely startled, and when he used fire he melted mountains.
But this time it had to be different.
I brought over one of the black stone slabs.
It was a piece Alduin had pried from the cave wall long ago.
A section that had withstood the heat of his breath before.
I stacked several scales on top of it.
Beside them I had prepared a groove shaped like a dagger.
That groove had also been carved by Alduin’s claw.
The first had been too deep.
The second too long.
The third had a hilt the size of my forearm.
Only on the fourth attempt did something resembling a human-sized dagger take shape.
“This time be really careful.”
“Grr.”
“Only your breath.”
“Grr.”
“No flames.”
“Grr.”
“Just hot breath.”
“Grr.”
“Don’t burn my hair.”
Alduin’s eyes widened dramatically.
“I’m joking.”
I paused.
“Mostly.”
Alduin grew even more serious.
I regretted it a little inside.
“It’s okay.”
I reached out and tapped his snout once.
“You can do it.”
Purr.
“Good. Slowly now.”
Alduin lowered his head.
A thin red light flowed between his black scales.
Not the wild blaze that came before a full breath.
Controlled heat.
Fire mixed evenly with breath inside his throat.
Hoooooo.
Hot breath washed over the stone slab.
The cave’s cold air was pushed back.
The tips of my silver hair lifted slightly and I reflexively stepped back.
At first the scales didn’t change.
They remained steel-colored.
Alduin’s breath covered them.
The air around the slab shimmered.
Heat touched the back of my hand, yet the scales endured.
“A little more.”
Alduin raised the temperature of his breath.
Hoooooooo.
The air itself seemed to redden.
The edges of the scales blurred ever so slightly.
My eyes widened.
They were beginning to melt.
But not in the way I knew metal to glow red.
The scales first lost their outlines.
The steel-colored surface wavered in the heat.
The thin veins that had twisted light unraveled.
The layered pieces settled softly like wet paper.
“…It’s melting.”
Scrape.
A sound came from the entrance.
Masor seemed startled.
Without taking my eyes off the scales I said,
“First time for you too?”
Silence.
No footprint appeared.
Probably correct.
This was the first time Masor had seen his own scales melt under Alduin’s breath.
Alduin’s breath continued.
Hoooooo.
The melted scales became a strange liquid.
It wasn’t red like molten iron.
It didn’t sparkle like silver.
It hovered between hazy steel and clear, running water.
It flowed as though drinking in the surrounding light, yet its edges remained knife-sharp.
I grabbed the iron tongs I had prepared earlier.
I’d wrapped the handles in cloth, but heat still traveled up to my palms.
“Alduin, stop.”
Alduin withdrew his breath.
The heat inside the cave slowly subsided.
I carefully pushed the molten scales, guiding them into the dagger-shaped groove.
The movement was strange.
It flowed like liquid but did not simply spread.
It felt as if it were stretching itself thinly along the groove.
Toward the tip.
Along the spine.
Toward the hilt.
Even when I pushed clumsily, the molten scales seemed to know the shape they were meant to become and filled the dagger’s outline.
I watched the process without daring to breathe properly.
Alduin stayed quiet.
Masor stayed quiet.
Inside the black cave, one visible dragon, one invisible dragon, and I watched a small blade take form on the black stone.
Time passed and the heat cooled.
And the dagger began to disappear.
“Huh?”
For a moment I thought I had failed.
But that wasn’t it.
It wasn’t vanishing as it melted.
It was fading from view as it cooled.
A faint steel color remained near the hilt.
But the blade faded as though melting into the air.
The blade was definitely there.
The groove in the stone wasn’t empty.
Yet to the eye it looked like nothing was there.
I reached out carefully.
“Breath.”
Alduin held his breath.
“No, not you. Me.”
I swallowed a dry laugh and waited for the dagger to cool completely.
Then I wrapped my hand thickly in the old cloth and grasped the hilt.
Cold.
Strangely cold.
Even though it had been melted by Alduin’s breath, the cooled dagger chilled my hand like the night wind of the Cradle of the World.
I slowly lifted it.
An invisible blade slid out of the black stone groove.
The air rippled ever so slightly.
The only thing visible was the faint steel gleam left on the hilt.
Depending on the angle, a thin line would appear for a moment at the blade’s edge.
Then vanish again.
I held it for a long time.
“…I can’t see it.”
Alduin brought his head closer.
“Grr?”
“Don’t come too close.”
Alduin stopped immediately.
“I can’t see the blade either, so even I’m scared.”
Alduin’s eyes grew serious.
Scrape.
A small sound came from Masor’s direction.
I spoke at once.
“Don’t laugh.”
Silence.
“This is genuinely dangerous right now.”
I looked around with the dagger in hand, then brought over a piece of firewood thicker than the one I had cut earlier.
I laid the dagger on top of it.
I didn’t even feel like I was applying pressure.
I simply placed the invisible blade on the wood and lowered it slightly.
Slice.
The firewood split.
Too quietly. Too smoothly.
I stopped.
The cut surface wasn’t rough like axe work.
It was as smooth as if paper had been cut.
There were almost no torn fibers.
“……”
Alduin let out a low rumble.
“Grr.”
This time I brought an old iron plate.
It was the lid of a pot I had used at the cabin.
It was dented and old, but it was still iron.
An ordinary knife could never cut it.
I laid the dagger on its edge.
My hand trembled a little because I couldn’t see the blade.
“This probably won’t work.”
Even as I said it I pressed down ever so slightly.
Sssssk.
The iron plate parted.
There was almost no sound.
Almost no resistance.
It was as smooth as slicing warm bread.
No, smoother than bread.
The severed piece of iron fell to the floor.
Clang.
I froze in place.
Alduin froze.
The scraping from the entrance stopped.
I looked down at the cut surface of the iron plate.
There was no tearing.
No sign of bending or crushing.
It was as if a single thin line had passed through, and the steel had simply separated cleanly.
“…Insane.”
The word slipped out by itself.
I looked down at the dagger.
The blade was still invisible.
Even though I held it in my hand, I couldn’t confirm it with my eyes.
An opponent wouldn’t know its length.
Wouldn’t know its direction.
Even if they tried to block, they wouldn’t know what to block.
And yet it cut through steel like butter.
“This.”
I spoke carefully.
“I think we just made something that shouldn’t exist.”
Alduin looked at my face.
Masor remained unseen.
But a single footprint slowly appeared in the snow near the entrance.
Thump.
It seemed he liked it.
I turned toward the empty air.
“You don’t get to like it.”
Scrape.
“I know you’re proud because it’s your scale, but this is a dangerous object.”
Scrape.
“Alduin, you don’t get to like it either.”
Purr.
A low vibration rose from Alduin’s throat.
Both of them looked strangely pleased.
I wanted to clutch my forehead.
But I was holding an invisible dagger, so I couldn’t.
“Wait.”
I carefully set the dagger down on the black stone slab.
Even setting it down was a problem.
Since I couldn’t see the blade, I didn’t know where it was safe.
I placed small stones around it to mark a boundary.
Then I drew a line with charcoal beyond them.
“Absolutely do not touch anything past here.”
Alduin nodded.
“Grr.”
I spoke toward the empty air.
“You too.”
Thump.
One footprint.
“Good.”
I immediately brought several layers of cloth.
My breath caught even while wrapping the dagger.
Since I couldn’t see the blade, I had no idea where the cloth might be cut.
I wrapped slowly from the hilt first.
I doubled the layers where the blade should be.
Even then I felt uneasy.
Finally I brought a small box made of black stone.
I placed the dagger inside and closed the lid.
Then I set a heavy stone on top.
Only then could I breathe a little easier.
“Sealed.”
Alduin tilted his head.
“Grr?”
“I’m not going to use it.”
“Grr?”
“I might use it if I need to, but I’m not using it because I feel like my fingers might disappear if I take it out casually.”
Alduin’s face stiffened.
Scrape.
Masor made some kind of sound.
I spoke immediately.
“Don’t you laugh either.”
Silence.
“Both of you listen seriously.”
I pointed at the stone box.
“This is an invisible dagger.”
Alduin looked at the stone box.
Masor was invisible, but he was probably watching too.
“It cuts through steel like butter.”
Silence.
“If I trip while holding it wrong, it’ll cut me too.”
Alduin’s eyes widened.
“So nobody touches it.”
Thump.
One footprint.
“Alduin.”
“Grr.”
“You too.”
“Grr.”
“Good.”
I sat down in front of the stone box and stared at it for a long time.
Masor’s scales.
Alduin’s breath.
And my hand.
Or more precisely, my useless curiosity.
The three had combined to create an invisible dagger.
Alduin’s fire was overwhelming enough to carve through mountains.
Masor’s scales were bizarre enough to twist light and slice steel.
When the two met, something beyond my common sense was born.
I placed my hand on the stone box.
The stone was cold.
The dagger inside it would be cold too.
Invisible, yet definitely there.
“……”
I spoke toward the empty air.
“Just what exactly are you wearing on your body?”
Are you a walking blender?