Inside the Blue portal, Nova hammered away at a piece of metal, the rhythmic clang of his strikes echoing in the air. Suddenly, an inexplicable chill ran down his spine.
‘What is this feeling?’ he wondered for a moment, but quickly dismissed the thought and refocused on his work.
It had been a week since he began learning blacksmithing under Grimthar’s guidance. For the first few days, he had only observed and absorbed theory, waiting for his right arm to heal before he could try himself. That healing had come two days ago, and since then, he had been attempting to forge his own weapon. But the results had been disheartening.
Nearly every spearhead he tried to create had broken during the second quenching process. And if, by some miracle, one survived that ordeal, it would shatter the moment he attempted to assemble it onto the wooden shaft.
Nova hadn’t felt this frustrated in a long time. In past training, things had always come to him with relative ease, but blacksmithing was a different beast. It demanded not just skill, but time, patience, and practice—things he was still learning to master.
From the corner of the forge, Grimthar watched Nova intently, his sharp gaze tracking every movement. The events of the past week replayed in his mind. He had avoided answering most of Nova’s questions, especially when Nova kept talking about food recipes—something Grimthar wasn’t inclined to ignore. He wasn’t one to let such matters slide without a bit of retaliation. But there was one thing that surprised him: Nova’s ability to find answers on his own.
At first, Grimthar could tell that Nova had likely never even seen someone blacksmithing before. The young man was like a lost puppy, fumbling and uncertain, trying to navigate the complexities of the forge as though he were wandering through a crowded city street. But as time passed, Nova began to find his own answers, gradually piecing together the intricate process as Grimthar demonstrated it again and again. The speed at which Nova absorbed the craft astounded the seasoned blacksmith.
Grimthar found himself silently admiring the young man's growth. If Nova had both of his arms from the start, Grimthar was certain he could have crafted something usable by now. The thought was so outrageous that Grimthar wanted to reject it outright, yet he couldn’t ignore the evidence in front of him. In just two short days, Nova’s progress had been nothing short of extraordinary. Grimthar was willing to bet that by the end of tomorrow, the young man would likely complete his very first weapon.
‘These aren’t ordinary materials…’ Grimthar’s thoughts swirled, unease creeping into his mind. ‘The materials I gave him are already considered medium-grade even in our civilization... and to think he’s come this far so quickly…’ He hadn’t told Nova how rare or difficult the materials in his forge truly were. Grimthar had assumed it wouldn’t matter—after all, Nova was bound to fail anyway. But now, the giant couldn’t help but reconsider. The raw talent and determination Nova exhibited were forcing him to confront a reality he hadn’t expected.
Now, everything had changed. ‘In Galthar, there are only a handful of blacksmiths capable of forging weapons from materials like these. And here’s someone who, in just two days, has gone from never having touched a hammer to almost crafting his own weapon. This is the stuff of legends.’ Grimthar’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as he watched Nova’s silhouette, the rhythmic clang of the hammer echoing through the forge. With each strike, the young man grew closer to success, his form steady and focused, the sound of metal bending to his will.
Outside, Eiruk had long grown tired of waiting. But there was nothing he could do. He was bound to guide Nova to the sealed mountain, and he didn’t dare leave without so much as a word, wary of what Nova might do to him. He chose instead to sit in the main hall, eyes closed, as his mind wandered, trying to find some form of clarity in the silence.
But Grimthar’s attention was fully on Nova, his piercing eyes never straying from the young man’s work. As Nova’s hammer rose and fell with steady determination, Grimthar felt a rare solemnity wash over him. ‘If he keeps up this pace, he’ll finish his first weapon with this try.’ The realization made Grimthar’s heart pound with an intensity he hadn’t anticipated. He dared not even breathe too loudly, unwilling to disturb Nova’s concentration, as he hung on every movement, every strike.
Nova’s mind was empty—he had rehearsed the mental process countless times over the past week. He knew it so thoroughly that he could recite it backward without a second thought.
His eyes were laser-focused on the metal, calculating every movement with surgical precision—the angle, the force, the timing of each strike. His expression was more serious than it had ever been before, a stark contrast to the carefree demeanor he usually wore. If Jack were here, he would have been just as surprised; even he didn’t know his best friend could carry such an intense look.
Once he had hammered the metal into the general shape of a spearhead, Nova carefully lifted it with the tongs and brought it to the grinding wheel. This part of the process, while still requiring skill, was one of the easier stages of blacksmithing—an expert could do it without much thought. But Nova approached it with the same concentration as the rest of his work, refining the edges with steady hands, shaping the blade into a leaf-like form.
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Once satisfied with the shape, he returned the spearhead to the forge, adjusting the temperature to a lower heat this time. He pulled it out again after a moment, quenching it in the nearby tub of water. This was the critical moment—the one where most of his previous spearheads had broken. His breath caught, and with his eyes closed, he withdrew the spearhead from the water. The silence was deafening as he listened for the telltale sound of cracking. When he heard none, he cautiously opened his eyes and found the spearhead perfectly intact.
Despite the small victory, Nova refused to let himself feel too confident. Without hesitation, he thrust the spearhead back into the forge, repeating the quenching process once more. He held his breath as it emerged from the water again. No cracks. Nothing. He nodded to himself, a quiet sense of satisfaction washing over him.
He approached the whetstones, taking extra care to sharpen the tip of the spear—this was the most critical part of the weapon. He didn’t rush it, refining the point with meticulous precision, ensuring that it would pierce anything it met. For ten minutes, his hands moved like a master sculptor, never wavering, always focused. Finally, he felt the sharpness was just right. To test it, he pricked his finger with the tip. The pain never came—so sharp, it was as if the spearhead had sliced through the air rather than his skin.
‘Perfect. Time for the next phase,’ Nova thought, his focus unwavering as he carefully tapered the edges of the spearhead, creating a sharp, clean cutting surface. He then proceeded to sharpen them, but not to the degree one might expect. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t make the edges razor-sharp. Through his experimentation, Nova had discovered that if the edges were too fine, they were more prone to chipping under pressure—something he absolutely didn’t want to happen in the middle of a fight. Instead, he kept them sharp enough to slash through flesh with ease, striking a balance between sharpness and durability.
He worked steadily, never rushing, ensuring every cut and detail was just right. Once he finished, he wiped the sweat trickling down his face, his muscles tense from the intensity of his work.
‘Last step,’ he thought, as he turned toward the wooden shaft he had prepared earlier. This part would be the easiest, or so he hoped. The shaft was made from one of the massive tree barks Grimthar kept in storage, which Nova had carefully cut and polished to fit perfectly in his grip. He marveled at how comfortable it felt in his hands; even the spear he had bought from the Store didn’t offer the same satisfaction.
‘Please work,’ he thought, hoping the final assembly would come together smoothly.
With steady hands, he inserted the spearhead into the socket of the wooden shaft. At first, it resisted, the fit so precise that it required a bit of force to get it to slide in. But after a moment, it clicked into place, and Nova gripped the completed spear, which now stood at around 2.4 meters in length. He marveled at the weapon in his hands before taking a deep breath, assuming a stance he’d practiced countless times. With a smooth, fluid motion, he thrust the spear forward, his entire body moving in harmony with the weapon. It felt like everything clicked. The spear and him were flowing with the world.
“It’s been a while,” Nova muttered to himself, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The familiar feeling of wielding a spear—his spear—was exhilarating.
Throughout the entire process, notifications had been ringing in his mind, but he had ignored them, too absorbed in the task at hand. Now, with his spear finally complete, he took a moment to look at them.
[Blacksmithing proficiency increased]
[Blacksmithing proficiency increased]
[Blacksmithing proficiency increased]
[Skill: Blacksmithing has been learned]
[Woodworking proficiency increased]
[Woodworking proficiency increased]
[Woodworking proficiency increased]
[Skill: Woodworking has been learned]
[Name your work]
‘Give it a name?’ Nova mused, his gaze fixed on the wooden spear in his hands. ‘This spear will be the first of many... a herald of what’s to come.’ He smiled to himself, feeling a deep sense of pride and connection to the weapon. ‘You shall be called Herald—the one who announces the arrival of another.’
[Are you sure?]
‘Yes’
The spear’s information were immediately displayed in his mind.
[Herald]
· Strength: +49
· Dexterity: +60
· Speed: +28
· Luck: +1
(The first work of an unknown craftsman, where the creator's ambitions are clearly reflected in the spear’s name.)
Nova couldn't help but be surprised by the spear he had just crafted. ‘Such high stats… and it even gives +1 Luck...’ He marveled at the weapon’s quality for a moment before quickly checking his Status, eager to see the changes.
[Status]
Rank: 0
Name: Nova Grey
Species: Human
Affiliation: None
Level: 6 (170/500)
Mana: Mana Core (Low) (776201/100000000)
Class: None
Titles: Goblin Exterminator, Kings Slayer, Survivor, Spear Novice, Troll Exterminator, Orc Exterminator, Rune Novice, Mana Novice
Stat Points: 149
Attributes:
Strength: 127 (+1357)
Vigor: 100 (+1056)
Dexterity: 150 (+1637)
Speed: 110 (+1189)
Intelligence: 66 (+677)
Wisdom: 110 (+1128)
Will: 10
Luck: 10 (+1)
Skills
Active: Spear Thrust (15) (152/16384000), Spear Jab (15) (19/16384000), Spear Sweep (16) (8159726/32768000), Spear Lunge (11) (583746/1024000), Spear Overhead Strike (10) (757/512000), Sword Slash (1) (75/1000), Sword Stab (1) (11/1000), Sword Chop (0) (141/500), Sword Sweep (1) (48/1000), Sword Parry (1) (184/1000), Sword Block (0) (497/500), Blacksmithing (1) (346/1000), Woodworking (0) (54/500)
Passive: Regeneration (11) (154213/512000), Keen Reflexes (3) (267/4000), Momentum Streak (15) (1437210/16384000), One with the World (Spear) (MAX), One with the World (Footwork) (MAX)
As he saw his Status page filling up, a smile tugged at Nova’s lips. He muttered to himself, "Next thing on the list is..."
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