Prodigiously Amazing Weaponsmith Novels & Stories

Various Weapons was decorated on the walls but none was modern, all were old and seemed to be carefully preserved. She slowly traced the sharp tip of Javelin and it prickled the blood out of her finger. Bow and Arrows, daggers and swords all were looking so dangerous yet so beautiful. Xavion crossed his hand over his chest, leaning against the closed door and watched her with the adoration as she admired the weapons. It was his legacy and hairloom, provided by his ancestors. Somewhere he was feeling jealous that she is looking at it with more adoration than him. He was quite amused that she didn't panicked or tried to create a scene after knowing his real identity but he was sure that she wo

Sia is either aware of it or is personally participating in it. But I'm not sure if today's attack was planned by the association. Sigh...I wish I could be reincarnated as a character from a book I've read. Then I'd be up to date on everything. -Clack. I entered and sat on my bed as the door opened. Can you refine weaponry? system? [Yes.] Awesome! I screamed up and down in delight. I had been anticipating this moment for a long time. Weapons can indeed be refined. I heard there were only around ten people in the empire who could refine weapons. This also meant that they were in high demand because refined weapons, or artefacts, were far more powerful than ordinary weapons.

Hopping to her feet, Charlotte led the children outside and began touring them around the large city. "This shop here belongs to the best blacksmith there is, a reputation so famous that people from all over the empire come just to make a request!" Charlotte brought the children inside the store that exclusively sold weapons, which were out on display. The weapons displayed were arts of crafted beauty, decorated with gems and crystals, forged into existence using rare high-grade materials. The doorbell jingled, signaling the arrival of customers. Maria saw a broad, tall, muscular elf appear. The man carried more of masculine vibe than the regular gentle attractiveness seen in elves.

His words were not laced with fear but interest. Damon the Prideful cocked his head to the side upon the man’s words. “A weapon.” It was as if he tasted the words through his mouth for the first time before he continued. “It is the first time since I learned to control it to be called a weapon again. Hmmm, who was it that called me a weapon first?” Touching his hair-covered chin with his chubby finger, he clicked his tongue upon remembering. “Oh, it was my mother who called me that after seeing my manifestation. Though she calls me a prodigy, in reality, she views me as a weapon to be used by my father. After all, I really am a weapon and I was conceived to be one.”

Even if the chances of finding an enchanted weapon were nearly impossible, countless people would still gamble their lives chasing that tiny possibility. After all... One successful discovery could change a person’s destiny forever. “Where do enchanted weapons actually come from?” I finally asked Linda, voicing the question that had been lingering inside my mind for a while now. Linda adjusted herself slightly before answering. “Enchanted weapons are crafted by special craftsmen known as Smith Enchanters.” “These craftsmen use precious materials, rare treasures, beast cores, and special forging techniques to create enchanted weapons. But even then, success is never guaranteed.”

Bergrin's verbal jab at Claude's height got a laugh out of the intimidatingly pretty Archer and the rest of the nearby shoppers which infuriated him, but more so just made him kind of sad since he knew he wasn't meant to be a tall bearded beast of a man like Bergrin. He did his best to let it all roll of his shoulders like rainwater-- deciding to clear his mind by reading up on the spear some more. There wasn't much known about the weapon-- even its makeup was unknown, only being described as a "Cold yet sulferous and dark hybrid metallic alloy." He couldnt find much else and decided to read the last chunk of information written on the sticker plastered to the display case. The Skill. Weapon

John took Ingrid's hands, his voice steady at last, and professed his vows before tribe and Kingdom alike. When the rites concluded, the tribe erupted in joyous cries, their stern masks cracking into grins. John drew forth his gift from beneath his cloak: he called it a crossbow, compact and deadly, and it can pierce any iron or steel armor. Made from alchemy and the ingenuity of engineering, no animal or man will be safe from it. Ingrid's eyes lit with fierce delight. She seized it without hesitation, cranking the mechanism and loosing a bolt into a distant target with unerring precision. The crowd roared as the shaft thudded and the bolt lugged deeply into Tarwood’s new reinforced wall.

Of course, Bowen kept track of everyone's work and checked each and everyone's quality of each weapon. At that time, he checked the strength of spears, bows, long swords, discs, boomerangs, maces, morning stars, triple sticks, knives, axes, sticks, whips, hammers, shuriken, and body armor. All the weapons were already soaked by the lake water, which contained various dragon powers. Each of those weapons also contained the magic power of the magic stone. Bowen carefully tested the strength of each weapon one by one. The quality of the weapons was so good that Bowen was amazed by the thoroughness and ability of the blacksmith team he led. The corpse of the demon used to test the magic power in

"I know you're one of Schneider's men, but I'm not going to let you go in this state. You definitely need proper treatment." With ease, the people lifted themselves up, walking with steady, steady steps in contrast to their less muscular bodies, like Askarovich. It was only when they had walked quite a distance and their eyes were no longer glaring from the sun, did they realised the identity of the man who was carrying them just now. Alec Berthold. The grandson of Pierre Berthold—a human blacksmith who was granted immortality by the goddess Morrigan and renowned as the only master weapon maker from time to time who could resonate with the magical powers of the old man's clients, who were mo

He could feel that the ice elements in the weapon were pure, and if Frederick had been the one to forge the sword instead, the boy who could easily dismantle a divine artifact like the Tool of Blessings wouldn’t have had any problem turning this mid-grade weapon into a high level artifact. “But in this world this standard seems to be high,” Hildegarde stretched lazily and said. Mane agreed with her. Even he was desperate to get weapons comparable to these mid-grade weapons. That was because the low grade weapons he had couldn’t quite handle the power of Edict. That was something that only mid-grade and high-grade weapons could do. Mane decided to worry about the issue of a weapon later. He t