Manga Blacksmith Novels & Stories

My task was to add the finishing touches, design the swords, and safely store them. The clanging of metal and the scent of hot iron welcomed me as I entered the forgery. One of the blacksmiths, a burly man with calloused hands and a perpetual scowl, nodded in acknowledgment as I approached. I wasted no time and began working diligently, my fingers dancing across the weapons, adorning them with intricate patterns and symbols.

But afterward, he started giving them negative response once again. "I cannot give what I do not have. You said it yourself, your group are looking for the location of the Petrifying Monster; which I do not have.---" [Then these lot would only be wasted on you, old dork.] The blacksmith was not yet done talking when he was caught off guard by a pair of black paws reaching out to the pile of mage coins in his table. He was taken aback for a second by the cat's unusual behavior but knowing he was dealing with students of Iridos, he quickly recovered from his shock and before Nero could even completely take the pouch away, he grabbed it back.

Yet one day, they would be her subjects. The blacksmith stood dutifully at the anvil, his massive frame silhouetted against fire. His ashen, both by colour and the ashes of the coal, made some sense as to why his hair was tied back. Revealing a face lined with soot and scars. His arms, corded with decades of labour, swung a huge hammer, as though it were weightless, in a rhythm that seemed to shake the very ground. Sparks leapt like dying stars around him, but he didn't once flinch. This forge, like all forges, was run by the Wingless.

Yman. In his extended hand, there were two gleaming objects. The other one was the Inner Core of the monster, and the second one was a Magic Cryst! These two objects could of course be sold at great prices! But Yman was more interested in the ability this Magic Cryst holds. He could use it to his armor or weapons to increase his fighting capability. Actually, he could not use this black mana freely. To use it, he needed some preparations. He was a failed weapon they experimented from before.

I was shoved inside a building by one of the guards. It was the blacksmith's dwelling place. The blacksmith forged and repaired weapons for the pack's warriors, ensuring they were well-equipped for battle. It wasn't just for the warriors alone. The hunters, gatherers, and even craftsmen were included. I had been here on several occasions, running errands. But each time, the heat from the furnace was hotter than the last. "She's here," one of the guards with me said to the head blacksmith, Benjamin Robinson. A man in his early forties, maybe with balding hair and wrinkles at both sides of his eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders. Tazaana is captured by a mage and taken to the realm of mages. Once there, Tazaana was carried by the brown-haired man. Tazaana screamed for release, but the brown-haired man ignored her. At the same time, Tazaana was fascinated by seeing the beauty in the realm of mages because it was far different from the realm of black mist. The realm of mages is more colorful, like the earth, and has daylight but no sun. When Tazaana is brought into a place, it's like a special building for a team. When she got there, the brown-haired man dropped her off. Tazaana looked around. Many people were watching her.

“They’ve been using this place again.” “Who?” “The High Lunar Dominion.” His tone darkened. “My ancestors built it to contain what the witches created. But someone’s reactivated the forges.” Kaelira frowned. “Forges? As in weapons?” “As in wolves,” he said grimly. “Ones remade in silver and moonfire.” Her stomach turned. “That’s what Taren meant… when he said they were experimenting.” Zevran nodded once. “We’ll find proof.” They descended the stairwell. The temperature dropped fast — air so cold it felt wet. Shadows slithered between columns, whispering as they passed. Kaelira’s wolf bristled.

Then he unsheathed his weapon, a sword unlike any I’d seen before. Its steel was dark, almost black, and from its blade coiled tendrils of smoke, inky and alive, as though it breathed, enchanted, surely. I didn’t know if the others saw what I did, but to my eyes, it pulsed with a forbidden magic. The duel began. Alpha Thorne attacked first, striking with the fury of a pack leader defending his people. His movements were sharp. But Xareth barely lifted his blade. He sidestepped each strike with effortless grace, like a predator toying with prey. His expression never changed, very calm. And that calm was more terrifying than rage.

I didn't catch the eye of most because I was known to be wolfless and the fact that wasn't the case actually made me giggle a little thinking about it. Walking into the diner I was a bit suprised to see not only Duke and Flint sitting about midway through the diner but the brothers from the other pack sitting with them. I chuckled thinking it was probaly them leaving the note as a stupid prank or warning. I walked in fully planning just to step into the office and talk to Mama Rose. "What you doing here rouge? begging for scraps." Flint hollered at me. I rolled my eyes, it was so obvious when he used rouge as a term not my name and I knew he was looking for a reaction from me. I locked eyes

CHAPTER 167 ~3RD PERSON’S POV~ “The moon goddess created a few special immortal beings that are currently hiding in so many different places in the world. And this may seem strange, but the blacksmith is one of those beings. Seven hundred years ago, he lost something important, and this caused him to give up all the good in him to become what he is today. So, There’s one thing you should know before approaching the blacksmith,” Margret said. “What’s that?” Gabriella asked.