Blacksmith Flatter Novels & Stories

Until tonight, nobody else in the northern pack territories had ever come close to touching his record. Who would have guessed that the plain, heavily masked male rogue they all treated like an ugly, unbonded nobody was actually the legendary shadow smith who could arm an entire rogue rebellion? Knowing I can never reveal the bloody truth of how my inner beast survived those early fighting rings, I keep my tone flat and defensive. "I simply spent my childhood sketching titanium blueprints and experimenting with silver alloys in the dirt. I never thought much of it until a family friend, Leonel Norris, snatched my concepts and smuggled them into the underworld competition."

Zade Deep inside the forge, the heat was almost tangible, and the air was heavy with the smell of coal and the sulfurous aroma of glowing metal. I watched as the royal armorer's hammer struck the anvil with a rhythmic, metallic ring. With every blow, sparks danced in the gloom, but in my mind, it wasn't the metal taking shape; it was Eira's face, exactly as I had last seen her: distorted by pain and humiliation.

His short-sleeved attire showed his bulked arms, bigger than most, stronger than many. This old man was not just a fine blacksmith, but a master smith at that. No one knew his true name, so they referred to him as so. His skill was all he needed to be known for. Beside him, Bruce Starr sat across them, his expression changed expectedly as he saw Zephyr take out the precious metal. After all, meteor metal was an extremely valuable commodity.

A sly smile formed on her lips “Darn-tootin’! I rushed my ass right down there to see what was going on for myself, Sebastian was out of his mind, throwing things, yelling at the doctors, demanding they wake you up. It was insane, when he finally realized I was watching his ridiculous spectacle he practically assaulted me, demanded to know who sent you, who your actual parents were, that there was no way a Halfling possessed this much magic.” “I’m sorry… what is a halfling?” She rolled her eyes, “It’s a term we don’t really use because like I said before, you can come from the most powerful witches of the decade and still be a librarian, Mother Nature chooses not your blood line, nature alwa

CHAPTER 158 ~3RD PERSON'S POV~ “Have you ever heard about the blacksmith?” Clarabelle asked. "No, I haven't, my queen,” the UNKNOWN replied. Clarabelle shut her eyes and said, “The blacksmith is a legend among the mortals. Some of them actually believe he exists, and some of them believe he's just a myth. They say the blacksmith lives in the deepest, blackest depths of Mystic Meadow and enternaly hammers a glowing piece of metal, waiting for the day he can take revenge on the ones who hurt him.

Although the ground he stood on was reduced into just tiny fragments of earth, he had withstood blow. “That is a metallic string. It is flexible and strong. And it is made by master blacksmiths using the strongest of metals yet their great skill keeps its flexibility intact. It is no surprise that is can do that. But he made a grave mistake.” Ivor answered with an enthused expression. He was enjoying the fight. It was much more interesting than he thought it would be. “What mistake Ivor?” Lam asked

Meanwhile, Rufus blinked his eyes like a lost puppy, although he’s more like a dog than a puppy. “I just find Kaiser’s hobby to be interesting that’s all. I mean, who else is a blacksmith in Maplewood high school?” Kaiser’s nose twitched. He then buffed his chest proudly and punched it as he bragged, “That’s right. I am Kaiser Conrad, the one and only blacksmith of Maplewood.”

They were all eager to see their boss punish this gullible fool! Liam stood there, calm and unbothered. When Fletched rushed at him, he merely reached up to block Fletcher's fist with his one hand. Thud! The impact that resounded when the two made contact was massive. A sickening crunch ensued, and a silhouette was flung backward into the air. Everyone thought that the defeated person was Liam and began to cheer. Fletcher's men all grinned and bared their teeth in delight. "Hahaha! He thinks he's all that, but Fletcher still got him in the end! Did you see the way he flew through the air?"

A flicker of laughter. “The fucking Butcher of the Wastes. That’s what they call you, ain’t it?” one sneered. “And your Alpha title?” the oldest spat again. “Fake. You enhance yourself with dark means. Dark magic. Dark blood. You’re no Alpha, you’re a monster.” There was a flicker of nervous laughter. Another chimed in, “Heard you burned your own mentor alive in the Wastes.” I tilted my head slightly.

But if I stayed silent, perhaps she'd approach, maybe even free me before realising who I was. "You're a coward," Flint growled. "Always playing games, and now you're trapped in one of your own making." The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd spent so long manipulating others, weaving lies and deceit, and now I was ensnared in a predicament where honesty might be my only salvation. Flint's disdain was a bitter pill to swallow.