Novel & Cerita Blacksmith Drift

It took him so long before he drifted into a deep sleep filled with fiery nightmares. ❇❇❇ Thunder roared and the world turned white for a second when a bolt of lightning struck the ground. The steep slope of the mountain was making it harder for him to get away as it was already eroded and rocks were falling down from afar. Looking back, he could see the flicker of torches the darkened soldiers were carrying.

then a system notification appears in my front -A BLACKSMITHING PRODIGY HAS BEEN BORN, BAPTIZE BY THE FLAME AND UNYIELDING WILL TO YIELD TO ANY HARDSHIP, THE WORLD IS WATCHING YOURE GREATNESS AND SINGING A TRUMPET FOR THE FUTURE LEGENDARY BLACKSMITH!- -TITLE ADDED: APPRENTICE BLACKSMITH- GIVES 6DEX TO THE USER- -BONUS REWARD TO RESURFACING THE LEGENDARY BLACKSMITH PRODUCTION METHOD, THE HUNDRED REFINED HAMMER WILL BECOME THOUSAND REFINED HAMMER!-

"It only knows the strike. It only knows the truth of the metal." He looked at the front row—a group of blacksmiths and silversmiths. "You know my father's name. Thomas Silas. You know the House of Aris has been selling you brittle steel and hollow gold for three years. I am the man who stayed in that 'dirt' to make sure the work remained true, even when my name was stolen."

“It is a country with hot climate, and it is where most dragons have lived. The people of Drava worship Phlareus; the Sun God, the immortal phoenix.” “The second country was Stormir, in the southern region,” Jade pointed at the south of Galadhor, “The dwarves that dominated the region have produced the best quality of swords and weapons to help the humans fight the Legion. They have this unique mineral called Thunderite which they use in blacksmith.”

Then the last one, well, I smiled as I saw him. “You heard the name BLACK DRAGON right?” our boss continued. I can clearly see their reactions. The tall guy just raised an eyebrow. The mohawk guy looked straight to our boss. The last one just smiled and the youngest boy looked excited. “Black Dragon?! Who wouldn’t know him?! He’s a legend! One of the few we look up to! He can be lined up beside Shadow and Eclipse! An expert and a genius! You’re going to introduce him to us?!” he finally said. I smiled. If only you know. I thought.

Sweat ran down the back of my neck. The blacksmith was completely bald, but with a huge walrus moustache. He wore a heavy leather apron that made him look like he had nothing on underneath. I desperately hoped that wasn’t the case. He ignored me and continued to bang away — Pang! Pang! Pang! — red sparks flying in every direction. The hammer could have been borrowed from Thor. He picked a glowing object off the anvil with large pincers and plunged it in a bucket of water. Steam shot into the air. “What is it?” he finally said without looking at me.

The blacksmith stall smelled like smoke and iron. I loved it immediately. Heavy tables were covered with tools, horseshoes, nails, and rough chunks of raw ore that glinted under the hanging lanterns. A few finished blades sat further down the display, their polished surfaces reflecting the warm festival lights. Bjorn wasn’t there tonight. Instead, a broad older shifter worked the stall, carefully weighing small chunks of ore for another customer. I hovered near the end of the table, studying the raw metals laid out on a cloth.

[System Message: You have watched Old Copper's display of the hammering technique ] [Due to your affinity for blacksmithing from the 'Crafting Master' Class, you have learned the skill ].

I pushed past the thick leather curtains of the primary foundry, the intense heat of the burning coal instantly warming my freezing skin as the smell of molten steel filled my lungs. Dozens of skilled blacksmiths were working diligently around the massive stone anvils, their muscular bodies covered in soot as they forged the defensive armor plates and the silver-tipped spears that our pack was famous for. I marched straight toward the center of the main workshop, my powerful aura immediately drawing the attention of the workers who quickly lowered their tools in deep respect.

The metal glowed, then warped, then sank into the molten mass at the bottom of the crucible. “Going to make something good from that,” the smith said. “Door fittings for the sanctuary, maybe. Or a sculpture for the training yard. Something solid. Useful.” “Not a chain,” I said. “Not a chain,” he agreed. I stepped back, the heat on my face giving way to the cooler night air. Around us, more lanterns lifted, and latecomers added their light to the fading first wave. Children shrieked with glee as one particularly large lantern shaped like a wolf’s head bobbed precariously before finally catching the wind and soaring.