Free Web NovelChapter 289: Chapter 277: Scraps
When the lid was lifted, what greeted Roland’s eyes were not pure, shining Secret Silver Ingots, but a pile of misshapen, dull metal fragments.
They possessed a grayish-silver-white hue that spoke of crude mining and grinding, as if they were coated in a thin layer of dust.
Mixed in were some irregular chunks with jagged edges, obviously torn directly from a larger ore vein.
There were several metal lumps whose surfaces were covered in deep scratches, as if they had been gnawed on by countless pickaxes.
There was also a large quantity of a mixture resembling metal filings, interspersed with fine ore particles.
These "Mithril" fragments varied in size. The largest was about the size of a fist, while the smallest were like fingernails. They showed no signs of having been smelted or refined, looking more like residue that miners had scraped from slag or the crevices of rock walls while excavating the main vein.
While they still possessed the subtle, almost imperceptible lightness characteristic of Mithril, their overall appearance was gray and dusty. They lacked the cold, clear radiance that pure Mithril ought to have—a brilliance like solidified moonlight.
Roland reached out, his fingertips gently brushing across the cold metal fragments. They felt hard and icy to the touch.
The moment he made contact, the [Material Synesthesia] instinct was activated.
His fingertips became a bridge for his Perception, and a clear stream of information instantly flooded his consciousness.
The core elemental affinity of this pile of metal undoubtedly pointed to Mithril.
Its natural affinity for the Wind Element—an acceptance as smooth as breathing—was a fundamental Trait that no other metal could fully replicate.
However, compared to the Secret Silver Longsword at his waist, the magical affinity of these scraps was severely "polluted" and weakened.
He could "hear" the stagnation and dispersion of the Magic Flow within them.
Vast amounts of impurities were like stubborn reefs obstructing a stream, while the fine cracks from mining were like countless faults, shattering what should have been a cohesive network of Magic Power.
In his Perception, these internal flaws and weaknesses were as clear as a candle flame in the Darkness. It was these flaws that drastically reduced the metal’s actual value.
These materials were clearly unsuitable for directly forging powerful Magic Weapons or Armor.
Their internal defects meant their capacity to hold and conduct powerful Magic Power was extremely limited.
However, using [Elemental Imprint] to turn them into small Enchanted Tools was entirely feasible.
Both their ability to channel Magic Elements and their durability were significantly higher than that of ordinary metal.
"Hmm, it’s definitely Mithril."
Roland nodded, his voice calm.
Though his fingertips had left the cold surface of the metal, the continuous [Material Synesthesia] had already etched the information firmly into his mind.
"However..."
He picked up a small fragment with visible ore encrustations and rubbed it between his fingertips.
"Noel, I think you understand. I need this Mithril mainly to... forge some tools. So, about the methods for smelting and forging it..."
"Mr. Roland, please don’t worry about that!"
Seeing that Roland wasn’t disgusted and had even acknowledged a use for the material, the tense look on Noel’s face completely relaxed. He pounded his sturdy chest and gave his assurance.
"My father said that if you purchase all of this Mithril..."
Before Noel could finish, Roland had already taken a card from his hip pouch and casually handed it over.
Seeing the brightly colored Violet pattern on the card, the expression on Noel’s face instantly froze.
He stammered for a long moment before managing to force out the words.
"Mr. Roland... these... these Secret Silver Shards, they aren’t... they aren’t worth this much..."
As he spoke, his gaze was glued to the card in Roland’s hand.
He had only seen such a card once before, in the hands of Griffin, the Master of Casting from the Dwarf Guild within the Blacksmith Guild.
’If I remember correctly...’
’It can be used to withdraw any amount of money from the Merchant Guild, and... there seems to be no limit.’
"I know."
Watching the Dwarf’s nervous expression, Roland raised an eyebrow slightly.
Colin had given him the card after he returned to the Royal Capital from the Land of Mist and got back in touch.
Given how famously generous the Merchant was, Roland hadn’t bothered to go to the Merchant Guild to check the balance.
"Take what you need from the guild. Just bring it back to me this evening... no, tomorrow morning will be fine."
"I... I understand, Mr. Roland..."
Noel swallowed hard and carefully took the heavy card with both hands, as if he were holding a fragile and priceless treasure.
Without a moment’s delay, he deftly pulled a somewhat wrinkled Sheepskin Scroll from his tunic and presented it solemnly to Roland.
"This is what you asked for, Mr. Roland. My father specifically instructed me to deliver it to you personally."
Roland took the Scroll.
The sheepskin had an old scent and the feel of leather. Its frayed edges showed signs of having been consulted often.
He unrolled the Scroll, his gaze sweeping with Concentration over the dense text and simple diagrams written in a mix of Dwarf Runes and the common tongue.
Drawing on his extensive forging experience, Roland quickly grasped the core of this Dwarven technique.
First, use a special Potion for precise smelting to remove impurities. This was the key to purifying the material.
Second, use "Moon Dew" spring water, which contained a special Energy, for the Quenching process. This would activate and stabilize the Mithril’s magical Traits. This step was particularly crucial, as it determined the material’s final magical affinity and structural strength.
Finally, while the Mithril was in a unique and fleeting "plastic" state, a special technique unique to the Dwarves was used to lock its form in place.
After committing all the information on the Scroll to memory, Roland looked up and tapped his finger on the sheepskin.
"Noel, the Potion mentioned on here, and the ’Moon Dew’ spring water..."
Before Roland could finish, Noel had already strode to a counter on the other side and retrieved a small package.
With a series of clinks and clanks, a pile of bottles and jars was suddenly laid out before Roland.
"Mr. Roland, these are the Potions and ’Moon Dew’ needed to smelt the Mithril. If it’s not enough, please just let me know."
"Excellent."
Seeing the candid look in Noel’s eyes, Roland nodded slightly and extended his hand.
"It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Noel."
"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Roland."
After this exceptionally smooth transaction, Roland had Noel move everything to his personal forge.
After a brief farewell, he eagerly began his work at the forge.
The forge fire blazed to life, illuminating Roland’s profile, his expression one of pure Concentration.
But his first attempts did not go smoothly.
The Secret Silver Shards melted in the special Potion and the impurities dissipated as green smoke, but when it came time for Quenching with the "Moon Dew" spring water, the timing proved difficult to master.
Either the plastic state vanished in an instant, or his unfamiliarity with the Dwarf technique caused him to fail at the final hurdle.
The forge fire was relit and extinguished several times. A silver mist scattered and reconvened, and the floor became littered with a few twisted, deformed failures, their networks of Magic Power in a state of Chaos.
But Roland’s gaze only grew sharper.
An unknown amount of time passed. When the "Moon Dew" was splashed on once more, a silver mist rose with a SIZZLE. The Magic Power within the ore was instantly activated, and in the moment that it swirled with a liquid halo of light, he precisely caught the fleeting "plastic" state.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
With steady, rhythmic hammering, a streamlined Mithril Dagger soon took shape.
Seeing this, Roland let out a long sigh of relief. Then, without hesitation, he reached out with both hands.
Spiritual Power poured from his fingertips as if it were tangible. The Power of [Elemental Imprint] seeped precisely and steadily into the scorching hot Mithril core.
As the final imprint was completed, the light receded into the blade.
Roland gazed at the creation at his fingertips, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
