Recalling the books from the library, the word “Hybrid” was used to indicate individuals who were born of different races. Bastian’s appearance gave Jack the notion that he had dwarf blood in his veins with his short stature and his blacksmithing forte. Such information might be deemed too sensitive to many’s liking, so Jack reckoned he would keep the public description of the Identification Lens to only work on inanimate objects.
“Hmmm,” Bastian pondered, his eyes full of hope, “so, besides bad luck, you little brat can also come with some unexpected surprises, huh?”
Jack smiled at Bastian’s rather excessive compliment, then continued to look around. The identification Lens functioned in accordance with the wielder’s will. If Jack didn’t wish for any statistics, he got none.
Everything was going as planned, and Bastian would spend the last few days setting up the layout, as well as his mentality.
Three days later, Jack was officially summoned to the Sword in the Forge. The mess that had once been the back room was gone. Burned marks had been scrubbed off, tables and chairs neatly rearranged, tools and items put in order. At the four corners of the room were some sort of rectangular recording devices placed on adjustable stands. The center of the surface facing the forging space of the machines was made of glass, with all types of buttons and switches around it. There were also two openings: a small hole, usage of which was unbeknown to Jack, and a gap the size of a mana crystal.
Two large hemispherical scanners, rented by the Artificer Guild of Oxdale, were placed on both ends of the room, covering all of Bastian’s working space. They served as the ultimate detail-catchers during this ascending event, allowing the examiners to scrutinize the process and preventing any abnormal behavior that casual recording devices might let slip.
Bastian returned to his spot, having taken out all the necessities from his inventory chest. Lightning Monster Core, Nethium, Thunderlinen... all were placed in a specific arrangement on the crafting table. Jack could feel the resonating energy emitting from the materials while standing afar.
As time drew near, Jack walked to the eyes and scanners to turn them on. The devices started to give out working signals, and Bastian went back and forth to check if they were doing their job properly.
“Bastian,” a rough man's voice sounded from the eye at the lower right corner of the room, “let us hope you won’t be wasting our time on this one.”
“Indeed,” a woman’s voice sounded in response. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself if you aren’t yet ready.”
“You are still young,” the third one called out, “there’s plenty of opportunities left for you. We here only managed to get the Archon rank after no less than a century of living. No need to rush it; failure will only lead to more disappointment.”
The fourth eye gave out no comment. All everyone could hear was a snorting sound echoing through the room.
Bastian was unfazed by the discouragement; he was used to them. It was crafting time in his mind now: to revise the recipe, to rhythmize his breathing, to spin his favorite hammer in his hand to cool himself down.
Feeling himself ready, the smith leaned his head toward Jack and winked.
Let’s show these clowns what we have, dumbass Jack!
Jack cast a wide smile. He was no less into this than Bastian.
The Agency’s rambling quickly faded, seeing it had no effect on the smith himself.
“Let’s begin,” the four synchronized their voices.
With one swift movement, the blacksmith grabbed the purple-black Nethium and threw it into the furnace. After that, other metals were added and fused, setting the base for the sword’s hardness.
The melting process was expected to be very time-consuming, firstly because of the quality of the forge and secondly, Bastian’s lackluster Crusader mana having to forcibly forge an Archon item. Mana bottleneck, it was called, which significantly lengthened the crafting time. Still, with one-hundred-and-twenty-percent effort, focus, and endurance, it wouldn't be an impossible task.
Jack came to Bastian's aid and put the Mana Potion to his lips, carefully tilted it into his mouth, for the smith couldn’t let himself be distracted too much during this crucial step. At the same time, Jack gave Bastian a pincer, on which’s handle were pieces of notes disguised as wrappers.
The smith glanced at the writings, reading Jack’s warning that minor mistakes might not be immediately threatening but could potentially have accumulative effects later on.
The Nethium processing stage would go on to take half of the daylight to be stabilized. With that done, Bastian proceeded to the next step of combining Thunderlinen with Monster Cores.
The examiners were quiet, their recording devices blinking with lights, constantly gathering footage and images.
Jack continued his assisting work, handing tools and secret notes while watching the Monster Cores being cracked through his Identification Lenses. Unbeknown to the outside looks, the lightning energy was having a difficult time spreading evenly on the Thunderlinen, a side effect of substituting Archon Cores with Crusader ones. Bastian had tried his best to balance it, but the task would be hopeless without the System’s assistance.
One hour later, with Jack’s nod, Bastian advanced to the most important stage of them all: the core and mold forming. The smith put on his insulation gloves and started folding the Thunderlinen piece into a shape of a sword. As time was of the essence for this stage, Jack couldn’t spend any second instructing Bastian. The energy from the Monster Core was at maximum capacity, and leaving it like that for too long would prove catastrophic.
Taking a deep breath, Bastian put the Thunderlinen into the furnace. The caramel-like melted alloy of Nethium and other metals was poured into the mold and spread out at Bastian’s will, engulfing the core. The weapon's shape was slowly formed: a slender blade, one meter two in length.
Bastian continued to adjust the temperature, as well as the mana flow according to Jack’s earlier notes, carving on the still-red-hot blade with marks of Black Lightning summoning.
“Mana Potion!” Bastian tried to speak it out loud, but all he could muster was a whisper. His face was covered in sweat as his skin grew pale and his eyes grew blurry.
Jack came to his aid once again.
Is it too much? Jack thought to himself.
The process had brought Bastian to the breaking point. Jack started to hear small sighs coming out of the eyes around the room. The examiners, though still remained speechless, were quite explicit about their attitudes.
To the surprise of everyone, including Jack, Bastian bit his lip, spitting out a splatter of blood right under the furnace. The blacksmith blinked rapidly to regain his senses and continued to finish the sword.
Jack was impressed by the man’s determination, the same way he had always admired how Xerath could torture his own body for a greater good.
For something he called “glory”.
A few minutes later, Bastian had managed to form a mana layer to cover the weapon while bringing it out of the fire. By forging with Nethium, the blade quickly solidified without the use of any cooling agents.
The smith knelt to the ground, his body shaken, one hand still holding his precious creation, gasping for air. He felt cold even though he had been standing next to a blazing hot oven.
Jack quickly came to him, wrapping his arm around the swordsmith.
“Come on, just one more step!”
The sky was just clear a moment ago, and it was clear in most places throughout Oxdale, save for a small corner, where winds of storm were rising out of nowhere. As the examination council waited in silence, dark clouds moved around the town, gathering right on top of Sword in the Forge, frightening the local inhabitants.
Jack knew what was happening outside. He encouraged Bastian to push forward, for the old man must take the final step.
“Help me,” Bastian mustered out a whisper.
Jack bit his teeth and grabbed Bastian’s sword arm, raising it up to the sky. He couldn’t care less if that action would affect the examination’s outcome, for if he hadn’t, there would have been nothing for them.
“Channel your mana!” Jack called out.
Bastian and Jack both perform the required mana manipulation method, bridging the sword with The darkest realm.
Flashes of Lightning were seen dancing between the clouds outside as thunders echoed through Oxdale. Its color slowly shifted from the usual flashy white blue to a red hot purple, and finally, a deep dark black.
A monstrous beam of lightning the size of a house pillar fell from the darkened sky through the roof of the forge, landing right at the tip of the pointed-upward blade in the hand of the duo.
Recalling the books from the library, the word “Hybrid” was used to indicate individuals who were born of different races. Bastian’s appearance gave Jack the notion that he had dwarf blood in his veins with his short stature and his blacksmithing forte. Such information might be deemed too sensitive to many’s liking, so Jack reckoned he would keep the public description of the Identification Lens to only work on inanimate objects.
“Hmmm,” Bastian pondered, his eyes full of hope, “so, besides bad luck, you little brat can also come with some unexpected surprises, huh?”
Jack smiled at Bastian’s rather excessive compliment, then continued to look around. The identification Lens functioned in accordance with the wielder’s will. If Jack didn’t wish for any statistics, he got none.
Everything was going as planned, and Bastian would spend the last few days setting up the layout, as well as his mentality.
Three days later, Jack was officially summoned to the Sword in the Forge. The mess that had once been the back room was gone. Burned marks had been scrubbed off, tables and chairs neatly rearranged, tools and items put in order. At the four corners of the room were some sort of rectangular recording devices placed on adjustable stands. The center of the surface facing the forging space of the machines was made of glass, with all types of buttons and switches around it. There were also two openings: a small hole, usage of which was unbeknown to Jack, and a gap the size of a mana crystal.
Two large hemispherical scanners, rented by the Artificer Guild of Oxdale, were placed on both ends of the room, covering all of Bastian’s working space. They served as the ultimate detail-catchers during this ascending event, allowing the examiners to scrutinize the process and preventing any abnormal behavior that casual recording devices might let slip.
Bastian returned to his spot, having taken out all the necessities from his inventory chest. Lightning Monster Core, Nethium, Thunderlinen... all were placed in a specific arrangement on the crafting table. Jack could feel the resonating energy emitting from the materials while standing afar.
As time drew near, Jack walked to the eyes and scanners to turn them on. The devices started to give out working signals, and Bastian went back and forth to check if they were doing their job properly.
“Bastian,” a rough man's voice sounded from the eye at the lower right corner of the room, “let us hope you won’t be wasting our time on this one.”
“Indeed,” a woman’s voice sounded in response. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself if you aren’t yet ready.”
“You are still young,” the third one called out, “there’s plenty of opportunities left for you. We here only managed to get the Archon rank after no less than a century of living. No need to rush it; failure will only lead to more disappointment.”
The fourth eye gave out no comment. All everyone could hear was a snorting sound echoing through the room.
Bastian was unfazed by the discouragement; he was used to them. It was crafting time in his mind now: to revise the recipe, to rhythmize his breathing, to spin his favorite hammer in his hand to cool himself down.
Feeling himself ready, the smith leaned his head toward Jack and winked.
Let’s show these clowns what we have, dumbass Jack!
Jack cast a wide smile. He was no less into this than Bastian.
The Agency’s rambling quickly faded, seeing it had no effect on the smith himself.
“Let’s begin,” the four synchronized their voices.
With one swift movement, the blacksmith grabbed the purple-black Nethium and threw it into the furnace. After that, other metals were added and fused, setting the base for the sword’s hardness.
The melting process was expected to be very time-consuming, firstly because of the quality of the forge and secondly, Bastian’s lackluster Crusader mana having to forcibly forge an Archon item. Mana bottleneck, it was called, which significantly lengthened the crafting time. Still, with one-hundred-and-twenty-percent effort, focus, and endurance, it wouldn't be an impossible task.
Jack came to Bastian's aid and put the Mana Potion to his lips, carefully tilted it into his mouth, for the smith couldn’t let himself be distracted too much during this crucial step. At the same time, Jack gave Bastian a pincer, on which’s handle were pieces of notes disguised as wrappers.
The smith glanced at the writings, reading Jack’s warning that minor mistakes might not be immediately threatening but could potentially have accumulative effects later on.
The Nethium processing stage would go on to take half of the daylight to be stabilized. With that done, Bastian proceeded to the next step of combining Thunderlinen with Monster Cores.
The examiners were quiet, their recording devices blinking with lights, constantly gathering footage and images.
Jack continued his assisting work, handing tools and secret notes while watching the Monster Cores being cracked through his Identification Lenses. Unbeknown to the outside looks, the lightning energy was having a difficult time spreading evenly on the Thunderlinen, a side effect of substituting Archon Cores with Crusader ones. Bastian had tried his best to balance it, but the task would be hopeless without the System’s assistance.
One hour later, with Jack’s nod, Bastian advanced to the most important stage of them all: the core and mold forming. The smith put on his insulation gloves and started folding the Thunderlinen piece into a shape of a sword. As time was of the essence for this stage, Jack couldn’t spend any second instructing Bastian. The energy from the Monster Core was at maximum capacity, and leaving it like that for too long would prove catastrophic.
Taking a deep breath, Bastian put the Thunderlinen into the furnace. The caramel-like melted alloy of Nethium and other metals was poured into the mold and spread out at Bastian’s will, engulfing the core. The weapon's shape was slowly formed: a slender blade, one meter two in length.
Bastian continued to adjust the temperature, as well as the mana flow according to Jack’s earlier notes, carving on the still-red-hot blade with marks of Black Lightning summoning.
“Mana Potion!” Bastian tried to speak it out loud, but all he could muster was a whisper. His face was covered in sweat as his skin grew pale and his eyes grew blurry.
Jack came to his aid once again.
Is it too much? Jack thought to himself.
The process had brought Bastian to the breaking point. Jack started to hear small sighs coming out of the eyes around the room. The examiners, though still remained speechless, were quite explicit about their attitudes.
To the surprise of everyone, including Jack, Bastian bit his lip, spitting out a splatter of blood right under the furnace. The blacksmith blinked rapidly to regain his senses and continued to finish the sword.
Jack was impressed by the man’s determination, the same way he had always admired how Xerath could torture his own body for a greater good.
For something he called “glory”.
A few minutes later, Bastian had managed to form a mana layer to cover the weapon while bringing it out of the fire. By forging with Nethium, the blade quickly solidified without the use of any cooling agents.
The smith knelt to the ground, his body shaken, one hand still holding his precious creation, gasping for air. He felt cold even though he had been standing next to a blazing hot oven.
Jack quickly came to him, wrapping his arm around the swordsmith.
“Come on, just one more step!”
The sky was just clear a moment ago, and it was clear in most places throughout Oxdale, save for a small corner, where winds of storm were rising out of nowhere. As the examination council waited in silence, dark clouds moved around the town, gathering right on top of Sword in the Forge, frightening the local inhabitants.
Jack knew what was happening outside. He encouraged Bastian to push forward, for the old man must take the final step.
“Help me,” Bastian mustered out a whisper.
Jack bit his teeth and grabbed Bastian’s sword arm, raising it up to the sky. He couldn’t care less if that action would affect the examination’s outcome, for if he hadn’t, there would have been nothing for them.
“Channel your mana!” Jack called out.
Bastian and Jack both perform the required mana manipulation method, bridging the sword with The darkest realm.
Flashes of Lightning were seen dancing between the clouds outside as thunders echoed through Oxdale. Its color slowly shifted from the usual flashy white blue to a red hot purple, and finally, a deep dark black.
A monstrous beam of lightning the size of a house pillar fell from the darkened sky through the roof of the forge, landing right at the tip of the pointed-upward blade in the hand of the duo.
