NABC Chapter 156 Forging
Chapter 156 Forging
"Is this enough as an energy source...?"
When the young man took the item out of the spatial bracelet and put it down, a tremendous amount of energy instantly spread throughout the surrounding environment.
"This is……"
Vogwell's eyes widened in shock upon seeing this.
"Could it be... this is..."
His eyes quickly shifted from surprise to fear; he immediately realized what it was.
For Vogwell, despite his long life and countless experiences, if anyone were to ask him about his most unforgettable, disgusting memories, what he was looking at would definitely be one of them.
“Child.” Vogwell’s voice was deep and serious. The blacksmith, who had once seemed somewhat comical, now displayed the essence of a seasoned warrior and elder. The flickering flames around him reflected the turbulent emotions within him.
“You have three seconds to explain how you got this.” His words cut through the air like a sharp blade, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. The cave seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the young man's response in this tense atmosphere.
The young man remained calm, knowing full well how weighty what had just been revealed was.
He met Vogville's gaze without flinching. Under the pressure of this powerful figure who had lived for hundreds of years, he stood silently.
"I stole it."
The young man calmly uttered three words.
The three simple words echoed in the air with a heavy resonance. Vogville's eyes pierced through the young man, as if trying to see through him completely.
"You stole it?" Vogwell's voice was filled with disbelief and scrutiny. He knew how serious the young man's confession was, and also realized it was almost impossible.
But his years of experience and his intuition told him that the young man was not lying.
"How was it stolen? From whom?" Vogville asked one question after another, each one demanding an answer in an attempt to unravel the mystery behind the item.
"Do you know what this is?" Vogville's gaze sharpened, trying to find the truth in the young man's eyes. The flames in the cave flickered, echoing the sudden tension in this seemingly ordinary conversation.
“Even if I told you who I stole it from, would you know?” the young man said without backing down, sounding somewhat impatient… perhaps because of the pressure he was radiating.
'Sigh... what am I doing?'
Realizing the tension he had created, Vogwell took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and quiet the surrounding flames. His gaze softened, acknowledging the young man's counterargument.
“Child, tell me. Do you know what this is?” he asked again, looking gently at the young man.
“This is the core of magic,” the young man replied, his gaze fixed on the object on the ground. His eyes were devoid of emotion, showing no trace of regret.
Vogwell was startled, looking at the young man's calm expression, and pondered to himself.
"It seems you know what this is. So, do you know how it's made?" Vogville continued to press, his gaze still fixed on the young man's eyes.
The young man met Vogville's gaze without hesitation, his expression remaining resolute. "I know what it's made of. Mana cores are essentially created from the bodies of humans possessing special mana properties. It's an inhumane act, twisting life into a source of power."
Vogwell narrowed his eyes, processing the young man's confession while observing his reaction to the discussion of this inhumane act.
Surprisingly, the young man seemed completely unconcerned about what he said.
"So, even if you know its origin, why did you propose using it as a weapon material?" Vogwell continued to press, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes.
The young man's gaze remained firm, unwavering. "I know its origins, and I don't deny the darkness and inhumanity it carries. But if I had a choice, I would never use it to make weapons."
As he spoke, he looked down at his hands.
The young man's words were like blades slicing through the air, each word proclaiming his unwavering goal. "However, I will not easily give up the opportunity before me. I am neither an angel nor a hero, as I said before. My weapon is not for good; it is my tool for revenge."
He raised his head and looked directly at Vogville. "If I had a hero's values, do you think I would have come looking for you? Have you forgotten what I just said? Even if I wield the most cursed weapon in the world, even if it's the most disgusting thing, none of that matters as long as I can achieve my revenge. I will stop at nothing to accomplish my goal."
Vogville's gaze lingered on the young man, his ancient eyes holding both understanding and contemplation. A silence fell over the cave, the air thick with the aura of vengeance clashing with the eerie atmosphere, creating a heavy, oppressive ambiance.
“Very good,” Vogwell’s voice carried a hint of approval. “I will no longer question your motives. If this is the path you have chosen, then we will continue. But child, remember this: toying with souls and the dead will not bring you any benefit.”
The young man's answer was calm and resolute. "If it brings harm, all the better. I've never thought I deserved any of the good things in this world."
As he said this, the young man's eyes seemed to be filled with intense emotion and self-loathing, which even shocked Vogwell.
'Now I understand.'
At that moment, Vogwell finally understood what the child was doing.
“You’re punishing yourself, aren’t you? Extinguishing the fire in your heart by hating yourself…” he whispered.
At that moment, in Vogwell's eyes, the young man seemed to become a child, even if only for a fleeting instant.
“If this is what you want, then I understand.” Vogville nodded solemnly, acknowledging the young man’s unwavering belief, even though the path was fraught with darkness and danger.
He picked up the mana core and two other materials from the ground.
However, there are other materials that need to be used, but Vogwell is too lazy to tell the young people right now.
“Well then, young man,” he said, walking up to the forging table and calling to the young man. “This will take some time. If you can get used to it, relax here for a bit.”
At this moment, he didn't want to be distracted for even a second, nor could he be disturbed, because the weapon he was about to forge might not be the most powerful or the most top-tier, but it would undoubtedly be the most complex one he had ever forged.
"Understood, I will wait for you." The young man nodded respectfully and slowly walked out of the forging room. The anger in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by his usual expressionless demeanor.
despair!
After the door to the forge closed, Vogwell was alone, facing the work he had dedicated his life to.
He slowly gripped the hammer and leaned against the forging table.
“Old friend…are you ready?” Vogwell whispered to the hammer that had silently accompanied him for hundreds of years.
The dim lights in the forging room flickered on and off, and the hammer seemed to be his silent companion, responding to his words.
“What a pitiful child, isn’t he?” Vogwell muttered to himself, his gaze falling on the scattered materials on the forging table. The hammer, its handle worn and its head battle-hardened, echoed his thoughts softly in the silent forge.
The blacksmith gripped the hammer handle tightly, the familiar touch bringing a sense of comfort. For a fleeting moment, memories flooded back—century-long forging, the story behind every strike of the hammer against the anvil.
Ding!
“He carries the burden of revenge,” Vogwell continued in a low voice, “a path filled with darkness and suffering. And what right do I have to judge? I have seen the world crumble under its own sins.”
Ding!
The hammer seemed to respond, resonating rhythmically, echoing countless untold stories. The cave witnessed this silent dialogue, a conversation only between the legendary blacksmith and his faithful tools.
Ding!
"His weapon will be a reflection of his inner struggles," Vogwell said, a hint of resignation and acceptance in his voice. "It's an embodiment of revenge, and a journey through the depths of his soul. I wonder, old friend, what kind of story will this forging reveal?"
Ding!
Though the hammer is silent, it understands deeply, bearing the traces of countless conversations. In the tranquility of the forge, Vogville's hands began a complex dance, an interweaving of creation and redemption, a melody that echoes through the river of time.
call!
The furnace roared as it awoke, flames casting dancing shadows on the walls.
Ding!
Vogville immersed himself in the rhythm of forging, infusing centuries of skill and emotion into every hammer blow. The forge became a sanctuary, where steel and magic intertwined, and the past and future converged in this weapon that transcended the ordinary.
Ding!
Time seemed to lose its meaning as Vogville delved deeper into the forging process. Several hours passed in the blink of an eye, and the weapon gradually took shape under the master's skillful hands.
He would occasionally breathe fire from his mouth to reignite the furnace.
And he continued to tap rhythmically on the gleaming metal, whispering a melody, a spell woven into the song of forging by the flames.
The Call of the God of Forging
Ding!
The incantation echoed through the cave, adding a layer of mystery to the rhythm of the hammer blows. Vogville's voice, weathered by time and carrying the weight of centuries, called upon the god of forging, praying for guidance in creating this weapon beyond mortal comprehension.
Ding!
The flames responded to this mesmerizing rhythm, dancing with renewed vitality. The air seemed to be filled with extraordinary energy, and the furnace itself seemed to acknowledge the devout blacksmith's call.
Ding!
As Vogville murmured the sacred incantation, his movements became more fluid, almost instinctive. It was as if the weapon itself, created by the god of forging, resonated with each strike. Each blow brought the weapon closer to perfection, a tool of both creation and destiny.
Ding!
As the echo of the final hammer fell silent in the cave, Vogwell took a step back, his chest heaving.
Before him lay a mysterious and exquisite weapon, radiating an ominous power.
This is the embodiment of a young person embarking on a dark journey.
With a tired but satisfied smile, Vogwell whispered to Hammer, "Another story has been etched into the crucible of time."
The weapon gleamed, as if imbued with a living light, silently awaiting the young man's return. It was both a tool born of revenge and a testament to the enduring art of the legendary blacksmith Vogville.
“Countless souls… live within the weapons…” Vogwell murmured.
"Will it be a cursed weapon... or a weapon loyal to its master..."