Free Web NovelChapter 291: Chapter 279: Shock and a Promise
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
The echo of the knocking still reverberated through the forge.
"Mr. Roland? Are you in there? It’s me, Noel!"
The Dwarf’s familiar voice called from outside the door, tinged with a subtle note of apprehension.
Roland took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surprise and doubt churning within him, and his gaze swept across the forge.
The furnace fire had dimmed, but its residual warmth lingered. The air was filled with the distinct, slightly sweet smell of quenched metal and the dust of Mithril Shards.
Dawn Light streamed in through the cracks of the high window, casting clear spots of light on the floor and replacing the faint glow of the previous morning.
Lost in his focused forging and the final inscriptions, he had unknowingly spent an entire day and night.
Shaking his head lightly, Roland turned and walked to the door.
He slid the bolt open. Standing outside was none other than the Dwarf, Noel.
His face showed the relief of a completed task and a hint of imperceptible awe. In his hands, he solemnly held the Violet Card.
"Mr. Roland, the money inside... uh, I withdrew the required amount at the most reasonable market rate."
Noel’s voice was much more respectful than usual, and his eyes subconsciously darted past Roland to look behind him.
"Those Mithril Shards you wanted, you must have a lot left over, right? If you need anything else..."
His words came to an abrupt halt.
The moment Roland stepped aside to let him in and casually closed the door, the scene inside the forge crashed into Noel’s vision without reservation.
The Dwarf’s perpetually shrewd eyes flew wide open. His mouth fell agape, wide enough to fit one of the large acorns so beloved by Dwarf miners.
On the floor in the center of the forge, there was not the mountain of Mithril Shards he had expected, nor were there a few scattered failed pieces.
Instead, scattered about were...
Dozens of items, all shimmering with a reserved, silvery brilliance.
Sharp arrows were arranged in neat rows, small diamond-shaped throwing blades were as thin as a cicada’s wing, and there were even a few exquisitely structured throwing Short Spears covered in micro-grooves to guide the wind.
They weren’t stacked but were scattered casually across the cooling stone slabs as if just finished with Quenching. There were so many that they covered nearly half the floor, their silvery luster reflecting and complementing the glow of the furnace fire.
The air was filled with the unique afterglow of purified Magic Power characteristic of smelted Mithril, along with the crisp, lingering scent of "Moon Dew" spring water.
Noel’s gaze was fixed on these items as if drawn by a magnet.
He could clearly recognize them as having been made from his family’s batch of "dusty" Mithril Shards.
But now, they had been completely transformed, reborn with new forms and souls.
"This... this is impossible..."
Noel’s voice was as dry as sandpaper.
He took a difficult step forward, crouched down, and reached out with a trembling finger, cautiously touching the nearest Arrow.
What he felt was not the cold stillness of metal, but an active, eager sharpness, as if a faint breeze was swirling within it.
He snapped his head up and looked around.
His gaze swept over the extinguished furnace, the neatly arranged Potion bottles and jars, the clay pot that held the "Moon Dew"...
An unprecedented chill and a searing heat washed over Noel simultaneously.
The chill came from the scene before him, which completely shattered his understanding of the world.
The heat was the unbelievable shock coursing through his veins.
His family had dealt with Mithril for generations, mining the stubborn ore from deep underground. He knew all too well how difficult it was to process Mithril.
Even with a detailed Scroll for guidance, special Potions, and precious "Moon Dew," successfully smelting Mithril, removing its impurities, and shaping it was still a task that demanded immense experience and skill.
In Dwarf tradition, an apprentice often needed to train under a master for more than a decade just to barely grasp the methods of smelting and forging Mithril equipment.
But this floor full of finished products...
The quantity was staggering!
Moreover, Noel could sense that these Mithril items were by no means the work of an inexperienced novice.
’How did he do it?!’
One day!
Just one day!
From the moment he received the Scroll, materials, Potions, and spring water until now...
This human, Roland, had smelted and purified that batch of low-quality shards and successfully forged them into finished equipment.
This completely overturned everything Noel knew about metal forging and the art of working Mithril.
This couldn’t be described as mere genius. This was...
A miracle!
"Mr.... Mr. Roland..."
Noel’s voice trembled uncontrollably. His gaze toward Roland was a mixture of pilgrimage-like reverence and bewilderment.
This was completely beyond his comprehension.
"Did you... finish all of this... within a day? Using just those shards?"
Hearing the question, Roland took the Violet Card, casually tucked it back into his waist pouch, and followed Noel’s unfocused, shocked gaze to glance at the results of his practice on the floor.
But his expression remained unchanged, as if all of this was perfectly natural.
After all, since becoming an [Enchanter], his already masterful Forging Skills had reached a new level. The only thing he had been lacking was knowledge.
And the methods recorded in the Scroll were exceptionally detailed.
Therefore, forging finished Mithril equipment was hardly a difficult task for him.
"Yes, it was just some simple practice."
Roland walked to the forge table, picked up a clean flannel cloth, and began to wipe the newly transformed Mithril Longsword.
The Longsword’s cool, silvery glow seemed like a small, cold moon in the dim forge, complementing the light from the smaller items on the floor and adding a touch of mystery and extraordinariness.
Noel’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to that Longsword.
The aura emanating from the Longsword was far more reserved and profound than that of the smaller items, yet it contained a heart-stopping sharpness.
Light flowed across the blade, so pure it was without a single impurity, as if it could slice through the darkest night.
"That... that sword..."
Noel felt as if his tongue was tied in knots.
"I just enhanced it a little."
Roland said lightly, his wiping motion steady and focused.
’Enhanced it a little?’
Noel’s heart was pounding wildly.
His family mined Mithril; he knew exactly what it meant to be able to enhance a Mithril weapon to this degree.
This wasn’t "a little." This was...
Enchantment!
Looking at the young man’s calm, almost indifferent profile, Noel recalled the information on the form he had helped Roland fill out earlier, and a tidal wave of shock crashed through his mind.
A human under twenty... an Enchanter?
’How is that possible?’
In the Dwarf Realm, Enchanters were beings of immense prestige.
While the high-and-mighty members of the Royal Family might not have prostrated themselves before non-royal Enchanters due to their ancient bloodlines and caste traditions...
...below the Royal Family, among ordinary Dwarves, Merchants, and artisans like Noel, any true Enchanter was a living Legend, an unreachable summit.
They were the ones who could turn stone into gold, the Alchemists who granted souls to common iron.
To establish a connection with an Enchanter was a remote and coveted honor that countless families dreamed of.
"GULP..."
Noel swallowed hard, his throat as dry as if he had trekked through a desert for three days.
He felt his knees go weak. A reverence for a master of Extraordinary skills, originating from the depths of his bloodline, rose up and overwhelmed his initial shock.
He was now incredibly grateful—no, ecstatic—that his family had chosen to give that precious smelting Scroll to Roland.
And he hadn’t shown the slightest neglect; in fact, he had been utterly respectful.
He even began to feel that for his family’s "dusty" Mithril Shards to be used for "practice" by such an esteemed Enchanter was, for them...
No, it was the greatest honor for his entire family.
If word of this got back to the mines, the old hardheads would probably be so excited they’d tie their beards in knots.
"Mr. Roland..."
Noel’s voice became incredibly reverent, even a little humble.
"Do you... do you need more Mithril? Regardless of quality! Our family... we can definitely find the best for you!"
Roland’s hand, wiping the Longsword, paused for a moment. He was a little surprised by Noel’s sudden change in enthusiasm.
"Well... can you get your hands on good-quality Mithril Ore or... Mithril Ingots?"
"I..."
Thinking of the Dwarf Realm’s strict control over Mithril, especially high-purity Mithril Ingots, Noel hesitated slightly.
Smuggling high-purity Mithril Ingots was a serious crime. If discovered, it wasn’t just his business—his entire family could be ruined.
But after only a moment, the Dwarf dispelled the hesitation in his heart, his eyes becoming incredibly determined.
"I should be able to, but... you might need to wait a little longer."
"That’s fine..."
Roland waved his hand dismissively.
He had already achieved his goal of using Mithril to practice his Enchantment Skills, and the consumable Mithril items he’d made from the shards were enough for several battles. So, he wasn’t desperate for more Mithril right now.
"Just have someone notify me when you’ve transported the Mithril here."
"Yes! Absolutely! Mr. Roland!"
Noel looked like he was about to beat his chest and swear an oath, his face filled with excitement and anticipation.
He could already foresee what establishing a long-term partnership with this mysterious and powerful Enchanter would mean for his family.
"Is there anything else?"
Roland asked, his calm tone a clear dismissal.
"No! Nothing at all! I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Roland!"
Noel hurriedly bowed, not daring to take another look at the floor full of Mithril masterpieces or the Longsword that seemed to contain a Storm. He carefully backed out of the forge and gently closed the door.
The moment the door closed, Noel leaned against the cold wall and let out a long, trembling breath, as if he had just escaped some kind of invisible, oppressive Domain.
He wiped away the cold sweat that had beaded on his forehead, his eyes still filled with incredible shock.
"By the Ancestral Forge..."
he muttered, his voice echoing with particular clarity in the empty hallway.
"What kind of being... have I just met...?"
Roland paid no mind to Noel’s reaction.
Once the door was closed, his gaze returned to the Mithril Longsword in his hands.
He focused his mind and held his breath.
As Magic Elements flowed from his fingertips into the blade, those few lines of mysterious runes reappeared.
However, this time...
He seemed to recognize the origin of these characters.
