Blacksmith Daredevil Novels & Stories

So far, it looks like one of the members of another chapter a few states over had sounded the alarm that there was something hinky going on in dad's backyard. The whistleblower hadn't given any more details other than it had something to do with the trafficking of the runaways dad was trying to get off the streets. Dad had spent the better part of the last five years involved in some underground biker deal where they went around rescuing women and children from all types of abuse.

However, that happiness was short-lived when he saw what he was working with. On the blacksmith’s walls were sledgehammers, maces and battleaxes. Zen wanted to cry, and the look on his face was priceless as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to not burst into tears of frustration at how difficult his solo dive was. Zen wondered if Remi and Charlie, who were less combat fit, faced a similar problem. He was curious how they got around this predicament. Seeing the stubborn resolution in Zen’s eyes, Ben huffed. Even if he chased this lad out of his shop, this beanpole was still going to fight slimes with his bare hands or a branch from a tree if he had to.

'Does he know metalwork, or is he just following around? 'The Damien family would be burdened if he loses, and we would not be able to come to Jewel City in the future.' Darryl was not affected by the strange gazes and comments around him. After carefully selecting the materials, he began smelting and then poured the material into the mold. After a while, he removed a perfect sword's body out of the mold. What? Count Rowan and everyone else around him stared wide-eyed at the product. They were astounded. Even though Darryl had made a mess when he was selecting the materials, he had successfully smelted the body of a sword.

Then he directed the conversation to Ahmet, " where did you find them and who gave them to you? They were my gift to the red dragon. Is he still alive. Where is he now? And like that, the seven adventurers who were with him ?! " Ahmed replied that everyone died and told him the story and told him that this is the weapon he owns while he has no information about other weapons, Sadness appeared on the face of the blacksmith , then he said to Ahmet , "These eight were different from the other adventurers. They were famous because they never hesitated to help people. They toured around the world and everyone loved them, so I decided to make the best weapons for them. They were eight weapons, the

Therefore, he naturally thought that the blacksmith Samuel was looking for should be an absolute top-notch blacksmith. The scarred man didn't know this kind of person, and there was no such person in Castle of Heavenly Devil. Even if there were, most of them would have been killed by something like Dang Gui. "Why?" Samuel frowned. It was understandable for Dang Gui to capture women, but why did he kill craftsmen!

I was the blacksmith, hammering life into him with every thrust, every ragged breath spilling from my lungs. “Stay,” I rasped, voice breaking but louder than the ringing in my head. “You think you’re some legend feeding off me? You’re here ‘cause I let you. My blood. My body. My fucking fire keeping you solid.” He shuddered, his hands clutching at me, nails biting my back. His form shimmered again, half-sword, half-man, his jaw clenching like he was fighting to hold on. I slammed into him harder, chest heaving, spit flying as I growled, “I ain’t your sheath. I’m the smith. I’m the fire. I make you, Lachlan. You hear me?”

I grabbed him by the back of his collar and yanked him out, recognizing him at once in the dim lighting. It was the videographer from Billy's gang who had slipped through the net. He was the mastermind behind everything online, editing videos maliciously and manipulating the online trolls to attack me. He went completely berserk after I dragged him out. He pulled a sharp, spring-loaded dagger, roaring as he tried to take me down with him. I stepped to the side, neatly dodging his blade. Then, I slammed the heavy wrench into his wrist. There was a loud crack, as well as the sound of bone breaking that sent shivers down one's spine.

Marco whispered, confirming my worst fear. The Blacksmiths are a criminal organization of ex-convicts and mentally deranged individuals. Many of them are prisoners, who were somehow able to break out of jail. I mean, I'm literally a mafia boss, selling drugs and weapons, so I know them. These people were the worst kind of criminals one could ever imagine. Murderers, thieves, rapists, human traffickers and so on. The Blacksmiths are no joke. "So he wants revenge for his father's death? That's why he took my wife?" I seethed.

His eyes wandered around the circle. "Perhaps we were right." A pause. "Perhaps we were incomplete." The young man in the silver cloak remained unmoved. "Incomplete ideas destroy worlds." The blacksmith shook his head. "No." "They build them." His scarred hands rested upon the table. "I've forged thousands of blades." "But I've also forged plows." "The fire was never the enemy." "It depended on what we chose to create." The musician quietly touched the strings of the silent violin. No sound emerged.

Raptor POV As my hands clenched in a primal rage, a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. The urge to take action consumed me, but I knew I had to channel it before confronting the despicable individual known as Breaker. Gripping the woman tightly against me, I locked eyes with him, a piercing glare that conveyed my unyielding defiance. This man was a deranged monster, and if we had been alone, I would have ensured he never laid a hand on another woman again. The whispers spoke of his heinous acts, how he had violated and brutalized Slammer's Old Lady's innocent daughter. It was the very reason for tonight's gathering, a meeting shrouded in dark intentions.