The Sacred Blacksmith Manga Novels & Stories

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Black: ( ꒪Д꒪) ‘I… actually have no words with which to refute this…’ After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Black guiltily voiced out, “Actually… most… most things written in the Holy Scripture are true in a sense. While there is technically no Haven per se, the things you were promised, such as a new life in a wonderful magical world, weren’t a lie… that is, as long as you accept the job working for the Bureau…” “…and if I refuse?” (ꐦ ≖ ‸ ≖) “…then you’ll be sent to reincarnate.” ╮(╯∀╰)╭

I’ll even help you deal with any of them. “And how would I know you won’t back stab me?” “The same way I know you won’t. It’s not your reputation. Look up Black Dogs. You know of them?” “Order of mercenaries.” “Bingo,” the man said. “Asked them about Vanargand.” “I see.” “You heard of the name?” “It’s another name for Fenrir, monster-wolf of Norse mythology.” “I thought using Fenrir could be copyright infringement, or just piss the guy off.” “That would be unwise.”

He was wrong, for my brother had been secretly training to kill him all this time. I look at my father’s body, still expecting Kenji to have healed him by now, but I know this is not the case. If it were any other knife, any other blade or hilt, then Kenji would have been able to heal them both. But this particular obsidian blade was forged by a blacksmith whose art is primarily the destruction of Eastern tailed spirits and beasts. After this, Kenji won’t return, and my father will be sent to atone for his sins.

My mismatched eyes flew wide, locking instantly onto his. A sharp intake of breath hissed through his teeth, and for a split second, the cold mask over his face cracked. His eyes flared, a dangerous, molten gold bleeding through the gray for a heartbeat before he slammed his control back down. But the damage was done. The mate bond—stubborn, desperate, and furious—roared to life between us, refusing to be ignored any longer. "What is that smell?" he suddenly demanded, his nostrils flaring as his gaze snapped away from my face and dropped straight down to my left shoulder.

She felt a tremendous mana presence Familiar to her. An old man, wearing a green kimono has walked out of the chamber. Pulling out the sharp sword on his waist. Amari can't be mistaken. It was the Black Grade sword only given to King Rank Swordsman, specifically the Black Beast Sword, given to only one person. "Nerom?" She can't believe what she was seeing with the sword he's holding in his hand, it was the For a moment her breathing just stopped. ~~~ "Alkhun berhalksawn as really did it."

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.

sneered the swordsman, driving his blade mercilessly into the man’s back, piercing through to his belly. “My husband!” screamed the woman in anguish, clutching her daughter tightly as tears streamed down her face. The little girl’s wailing soon joined her mother’s cries, filling the night with sorrow. “Finish them all! I must return to Leader Huang,” the swordsman declared coldly, yanking his blade free from the lifeless body at his feet. The man wearing a black headband, emblazoned with two downward-curving golden lines, burst forward with lightning speed toward the circle of swordsmen who were besieging a lone warrior of the Sacred Dragon Sect.

"The metal is drawn from the deep roots of the world. It requires immense physical and magical strength to shape. Our smiths are among the most respected women in the Cradle." One of the smiths—a woman with a shaved head and a vicious scar across her collarbone—looked up from her anvil. She saw Mwajuma standing at the edge of the pavilion. The smith’s eyes widened slightly as she took in Mwajuma’s raw size and the fading amber tattoos on her skin. The smith did not glare. She lowered her hammer, stood up straight, and slammed her right fist over her heart in a crisp, sharp salute of absolute martial respect.

At the same time, in the battlefield, Kobe Young from the Primordial Sacred Land looked at the enemy in front of him with a solemn expression. "Damn it, this cultivator from the Darklight Sacred Land is unexpectedly strong !" Kobe Young cursed inwardly as he swung his giant blade once again.

But noon passed, and the order to open the gate did not come. The people were nervous, talking loudly, trying to ask questions to the guards, but they only shrugged their shoulders. They didn't know what they were waiting for. And now those riders approaching the central gate too resolutely. Ratmir, the head of their reinforced detachment, counted eight and now he could already see them well. Three - young girls, keep in the center of the group, dressed in a travel way, the figures hide dark cloaks. One of the men, the one with completely white hair, although without a staff, is undoubtedly a sorcerer. Ratmir even knew a strong bald man in simple village clothes riding next to him - a blacks