As cathartic as it was, the relentless beating did not last for long.  Even in the middle working out his issues, Souta could not mentally justify ruining what could be a perfectly good piece of metal, and he proceeded to the next stage of reclamation.  Using a handy chisel, he went to work evening out the sword blade's edges to get them more regular.  It was a rough job, but at this stage, all that was required.  Next came confirmation.  At this point, an ordinary smith would have plunged the newly-shaped, red-hot metal into a bucket of water to cool it, but the odds of finding a reservoir in this place didn't seem good even if he felt like barging through the corridors with a hunk of glowing slag in his mitt.  Souta came prepared for this eventuality, however, and instead solidified the trimmed sword using a torrent of water.  Steam hissed violently, and the man paused for a moment while the metal cooled off to observe the effect of sweltering air meeting the watery glow of his hoodie's pattern.  Another few seconds later and he put the visually engaging distraction behind him.  He set his sights on the only other motorized tool currently available in the forge: a grind wheel.  Memories of a grindstone's characteristic skull-rattling sound and spray of sparks made him almost eager to put the machine to use.

He almost succeeded in turning it on, too, but at that moment an unannounced guest made herself known.  In a manner both bemusing and frustrating, in fact, she revealed per presence via criticism, though from her voice the smith did not get the impression that this unknown person was being serious.  Surprised at the intrusion, Souta turned to look, and the sight of the person before him made his eyebrows shoot up and his lids open wide.  In the space of an instant, however, his look of pure interest turned into skepticism.  Before him stood a woman both exceptionally beautiful and tantalizingly sexy, with features as drop-dead gorgeous as her figure.

Souta didn't buy it for a second.

The odds of such a woman existing in the first place did not inspire much confidence in him, but one coming in here and talking to [i]him[/i], of all people?  Starting in middle school, Souta had learned that whenever any half decent-looking girl came up to him, it was invariably a deception—a mean-spirited prank, either on the girl's part of her friends, hidden behind a corner nearby to watch the poor, awkward boy go googly-eyed, thanking his lucky stars.  They, and those that came after them throughout high school and beyond, felt the need to test-drive their charms on hapless guys like him, making sport of desperate dudes' desires.  They were no better than bullies, and when Souta looked at Mary, he could not help but feel echoes of the past.  He wouldn't be anyone's sucker.  Either this babe was some illusion conjured by a watcher or that kooky old goat Akoni, or she was some kind of shapeshifter or succubus.  During his time at Gilgamesh, Souta hadn't been given the privilege of dealing with a succubus, but some of his friends had, and he always liked to hear their stories.  The succubus, possessed by an unflappable confidence matched with inflated ego, attempt to toy with her 'victims', only to soon realize that Gilgamesh Inc didn't train idiots.  Occasionally, the troops would even pretend to be taken in by their charms, only to turn it in their faces.  Stories like those gave Souta some reason to believe that humans were stronger, smarter, and more special than many might realize, but they wouldn't do him much good now.  Faced with this exquisite, unbelievable beauty, Souta simply decided not to believe.

He tore himself away, turning back to the grind wheel, and attempted to put her image out of his mind. After a moment, he replied in a flat tone, [color=teal]”If you have any constructive criticism, I'm all ears.”[/color]  Contrary to this statement, however, he switched on the grinder, which immediately belted out a deep mechanical roar and gave no signs of stopping.  He pressed the blade's uneven, hodgepodge edge against the wheel, and sparks began to fly as the tool began to smooth the sword.  Almost immediately, a few sparks flew into Souta's face and burned his flesh like miniature lances.  He grit his teeth and grumbled, increasing his water aura to block out the spikes.  If not for the newly-arrived distraction -and her two large distractions in particular- he might have remembered to grab something to use as an impromptu welding mask.  Still, he was determined not to let this whoever-it-was play him for a fool.