Free Web NovelChapter 192: Chapter 179: Geniuses Are Unreasonable Creatures (Part 2)
He caressed the Melting Furnace obsessively. He was so engrossed that his movements looked a bit uncoordinated.
"You didn’t send an Elf with clumsy hands and feet to compete, did you? A win like this would feel cheap for us Dwarves. Of course, even the best Elf artisan can’t compare to a Dwarf."
Bane continued his barrage.
"Why are you targeting an Elven youth like that?" Antinoya said. "Are you scared? Worried he’s the one you should be most afraid of, that you’ll end up watching the Dwarves lose to an Elf child?"
Bane retorted stubbornly, "How is that possible? Am I that kind of Dwarf? I just can’t bear to see the Elves lose too badly."
Despite his words, he was actually a little flustered. He saw his younger self in Simon.
The same obsession, the same focus.
’I just hope he doesn’t have the same skill.’
It wasn’t that old Bane was arrogant, but if it were him, several decades younger, the two Dwarf contestants on the stage wouldn’t stand a chance.
"We will now announce the theme for this round of the competition: the Kamala Straight Sword!"
A projection of the straight sword appeared on stage.
It had a straight, rectangular, very thin blade, sharpened on one side.
In the common tongue, "blade" and "sword" were the same word, with no distinction between single or double-edged, which is why a term like "double-edged sword" existed.
The name "Kamala Straight Sword" sounded quite professional, but it was really just a watermelon knife.
It got its name from its use by the famous Barbarian, Kamala.
He made his name in his debut battle, fighting a small Beastman gang of more than ten members all by himself on the street.
He had grabbed the knife on a whim from a street-side fruit stand. After his victory, he kept using it, believing it brought him good luck.
The watermelon knife was thus transformed, gaining the new name "Kamala Straight Sword."
Later, it even acquired clear formal standards certified by the Blade Smith Guild: length, width, thickness, handle material, a tip that had to be a right angle, a convex grind on the edge...
In short, a whole heap of rules forcibly separated this watermelon knife from the general category of watermelon knives.
If they didn’t do that, how could this group of senior blade smiths show off their seniority?
"The requirement for the first round is to forge a Blade Embryo that meets the formal standards of the Kamala Straight Sword. The time limit is three hours. The clock starts now!"
As soon as the host finished speaking, a giant hourglass at the front of the studio was flipped over, and fine sand began to flow.
"Wait!" a Dwarf contestant shouted. "You haven’t provided any materials! We can’t just pull a sword out of thin air."
"The materials are already in front of you."
As the host spoke, he kicked the Treasure Chest Monster on the floor, then visibly hopped back a small step in fear.
They had rehearsed this part twice, but he was always worried the Treasure Chest Monster would bite him.
After being kicked, the Treasure Chest Monster opened its great maw and spat out a pile of saw blades.
And they were worn, broken, and damaged saw blades from long use.
It was a fine tradition of the forging competition to provide contestants with materials that were, in a word, bizarre.
"These are your materials. ’Exquisite’ saw blades. You’re welcome. I hope you can turn them into acceptable blades."
His job done, the host turned and left the stage.
The contestants looked at each other, not expecting the production team, who had been so generous with the equipment, to throw them a curveball with the materials.
Simon was the first to react. He hurried forward and began picking out saw blades that weren’t too rusty.
Whether they were broken or not didn’t matter, since they would all be melted together anyway. The key was to avoid too much rust, otherwise he’d waste time removing it. Three hours was a very tight deadline for forging a Blade Embryo.
Simon had already entered his work mode. The ability to be completely absorbed in his work was a talent in itself.
When he worked, he would become completely oblivious to his surroundings, entering a state where he couldn’t feel the passage of time.
For most people, such a state was a rare and precious thing, but for Simon, he only had to be at his workstation to maintain it indefinitely.
Seeing Simon’s actions, the other contestants immediately snapped out of it and rushed forward to pick their saw blades.
The slowest Dwarf was left with only a pile of rust-covered materials and had no choice but to start by grinding them down.
"Oh, it seems the so-called competitive spirit of the Dwarves isn’t all that impressive. To just hand over the advantage like that," Antinoya commented.
"However, it looks like the contestant with the advantage is about to throw it away," Bane said bluntly.
He had already noticed the Elf’s operational error.
All the contestants had, by unspoken agreement, chosen to place the broken saw blades into iron canisters and fill the gaps with iron shavings.
This seemed to be the most convenient method at the moment for turning the saw blades into a steel ingot.
But the Elf hadn’t put any kind of release agent in the canister.
"He’s going to have a hell of a time removing the canister later," Bane said, a mocking tone in his voice.
For once, Antinoya didn’t retort, because she also knew this was a major mistake.
The outer iron canister would not be part of the Blade Embryo, as it would compromise the blade’s structural integrity, so it had to be removed during the forging process.
But without any separating layer, it was very easy for the outer canister to weld itself to the inner material, making it difficult to peel off.
Both Dwarf contestants meticulously coated the inside of their canisters with a release liquid. It was an invention by a Dwarf Alchemist that could, in theory, effectively separate the inner and outer layers. But that was only in theory.
"Good! Truly befitting of excellent Dwarf Artisans!"
Bane clapped excitedly.
"Let me tell you a little secret: this step is written into the introductory training for Dwarf Artisans. It seems the basic education in your Silver-White City State is lacking."
It was rare for Antinoya to be speechless, so Bane couldn’t just let it go with one comment.
"Wait, what is Simon doing?" Antinoya suddenly cried out in alarm.
Bane followed her gaze.
He saw Simon stuffing paper into his iron canister.
"Hahaha! Stuffing it with paper? Is he trying to use paper as a separating layer? How creative! That’s the most comical idea I’ve seen in ten years. How did he even think of it?" Bane roared with laughter, clutching his stomach.
A few drops of cold sweat even trickled down Antinoya’s forehead.
The other Elf contestant already looked like he was on the verge of losing. ’Our last hope isn’t going to fall here, is he?’
Even if they didn’t win the championship, having both Elves eliminated in the first two rounds, leaving the final round as an internal Dwarf conflict, would be a huge embarrassment for the Elves.
She was filled with regret.
The other Elves in the city had told her Simon was the best artisan right now, having shot to prominence in the last couple of years. She had simply believed them without a thorough investigation.
’It makes sense, I suppose. An Elf who is only 56 years old spent his first thirty-odd years in a daze, and his brain hasn’t fully developed in the last twenty. Even if he is a genius, how far could he have really gotten?’
Bane, on the other hand, began his "fun fact" segment.
"Although I’ve never tried using paper, I guarantee with my century of smithing experience that doing this will definitely leave scrap and slag in the canister, making it difficult for the contents to fuse properly."
Although Simon had been the first to start, his progress was the slowest.
Every step he took was methodical, nothing like the frantic rush of the other contestants. It seemed the three-hour time limit had no effect on him; everything was under control.
The other Elf’s iron canister had turned into a solid lump of iron, impossible to separate. Roasted by the furnace fire, he was drenched in sweat, having lost all his Elven grace.
In the end, he even gave up trying to hammer the canister off and planned to use a grinder to wear away the outer layer.
However, to Bane’s surprise, the other two Dwarves weren’t having an easy time removing their canisters either.
The heavy sound of hammering rang out again and again. Even with excellent, Enchantment-treated hammers, the process of knocking off the iron canister was incredibly difficult.
They were doing a little better than the Elf, but not by much.
Bane slapped his thigh in frustration. "They were too hasty when they applied the release liquid! They didn’t wait for it to dry completely before putting the saw blades in."
The countdown had thrown off their rhythm after all.
’What a disgrace. They’re here representing Dwarven craftsmanship, and this is how they perform. How are we supposed to sell our wares at a high price after this?’
Unlike the anxious judges, Zog was about to die from laughter.
’This is perfect. Just like this.’
From his understanding of the audience, he knew they were far more interested in watching people make a fool of themselves than in seeing a display of skill.
And amid the chaos of the studio, Simon began the process of removing his canister.
He gathered his pale golden hair and tied it back with a cord.
Holding the iron canister with a pair of tongs, he wore a confident smile.
That innocent-looking smile made even Bane lose his confidence.
’No way. He can’t seriously be planning to get the canister off with just a few sheets of paper, can he?’
’Impossible! Absolutely impossible!’
However, under Bane’s watchful gaze, Simon raised his right hand high and brought it down swiftly.
With just one strike, the iron canister peeled off in one piece, as obedient as a well-trained puppy.
"Huh?" Bane was stunned.
’First of all, why?’
Second, he realized that after this show aired, the Dwarven release liquid business was probably finished.
Simon’s subsequent actions were even more astounding. With just a few more hammer blows, he forged the iron ingot into the shape of a blade.
He was skilled and confident, his movements so fluid that even Bane felt inferior.
He couldn’t understand it. How old was this little Elf? Could this be explained away as just a talented youth?
’This isn’t about learning quickly. This is about not having forgotten everything!’
