Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Come in

The constant, rhythmic striking of the hammer landing against the strip of metal shines out through the enclosed, dark, stone-walled room. The space is nested into the side of the building. Each blow cuts clearly through the post-midnight darkness, like the ringing of a holy bell and with each toll, sparks fly out in all directions. The reflections of the small glimmers of light are the only shine that fill the man’s eyes, as he continues to hammer against his latest creation. It’s not an order, rather, this is something that he is making for himself. The sounds of the work bounce off of the high, tall walls, towards the distant ceiling of the square room.

 

He might not be strong of character, or in matters of social courage, but beneath the scarf, beneath the wizard’s hat and beneath the many layers of clothing that he hides himself below, his wiry body is toned and in form. Here, alone in the forge, alone from any source of outside disturbances, he works with only heat-resistant trousers and an apron covering his bare chest. Here in the half-darkness and the glow of fire, there is no-one who can see his scarred face and body. Here in the darkness, there isn’t a single reflective surface in which he can see himself.

 

The hammer strikes again, finally smashing the piece of scrap iron flat enough to suit his desires for it. Grabbing the end of the, still glowing, piece of metal with a pair of old, heavy tongs, he moves to the side of the room and sets the end of the heat-radiating strip into a mounted vice. Leveraging his body against the tongs, he bends the malleable metal into a slight curve, adjusting it until it has the proportions that he needs it to have.

 

While his primary class is that of a caster, the man never uses it and opts instead to spend his days following his sub-class, blacksmithing. It’s what had earned him his keep during his years in the orphanage and it’s what does so now as well.

 

The sight of fire doesn’t disturb him anymore when it’s there, down in the kiln, or in a hearth -

 

You are reading story Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] at novel35.com

His scarred hands pull the tongs back out and he drops the bent piece of metal into a barrel of water, which immediately starts hissing and bubbling, a waft of ghostly steam rises up for a brief second.

 

- But he doesn’t want to see it on himself, on his body. So no magic. No casting. Just blacksmithing.

 

He returns to his work, making more several bent pieces of metal as he hammers his way through the night and then, two hours before sunrise, he finishes his personal project. After adjusting the final details of the sculpture, he stands back and admires his work.

 

A night well spent.

 

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