Sweat dripped from his brow, and his beard had grown thick down to his chest. His bronzed skin glistened in the heat of the forge, while his piercing blue eyes remained fixed on me without a hint of movement.
Dalen glanced at the short hammer in his right hand and spoke.
“Dalrukhim, the giant dwarf.”
“Where did you pick up that nickname? Do you think being the hero of prophecy makes you all-knowing?”
The wielder of the Dragonbone Sword. The adversary of the Thousand Dragons. A dragonslayer who had felled seventeen true dragons and snapped the necks of three great dragons.
Despite his illustrious achievements, Dalrukhim hadn’t been crafted from the start to clear the game. Initially dubbed the “giant dwarf,” he had simply focused on crafting weapons and armor. Yet, this character went on to slay countless lesser and true dragons, using their remains to transcend the limits of power.
His prowess wasn’t limited to personal strength. The legendary equipment he forged armed heroes and played a crucial role in defending the labyrinth city. Compared to other transcendent characters, Dalrukhim’s timeline saw humanity’s desperate resistance endure the longest.
Dalen had long assisted Reveron in the labyrinth city, hoping the rapidly rising mithril smith would play a similar role.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Of course, Reveron’s presence didn’t negate the need for the legacy left by the blacksmith before him. Reveron Ahakim, the renowned mithril smith, was skilled in handling all sorts of metals and materials, but even he couldn’t master the byproducts of dragons.
The remains of a true dragon, a material far more complex and enigmatic than mithril, were a mystery. If Dalen could inherit the knowledge to work with such materials, it would be a significant boon in humanity’s fight against the apocalypse.
With a sharp sound, Dalen pulled a dagger from his palm. The hole in his bone and muscle closed instantly, tough skin rapidly covering it. The blacksmith frowned at the sight.
“A bearer of dragon’s blood, or perhaps… half-dragon.”
“Sharp eyes.”
“Records of mortals fully absorbing dragon’s blood are rare, even across millennia. Did you boil a true dragon’s heart for dinner? Otherwise…”
The hammer in the blacksmith’s hand trembled slightly as he spoke. Dalen didn’t miss the faint movement.
A subtle noise, akin to the sound of an axe slicing through the air, reached him through his sixth sense. At the end of his swiftly swung dagger, something felt off.
Clang!
A small dagger, no larger than two finger joints, was revealed as the space peeled away like fabric.
“Your senses are sharp.”
The dagger, inscribed with dwarven runes, seemed to lack any presence despite its gleaming blade. The blacksmith, his eyes now calm, watched Dalen, who dropped his cracked dagger to the ground.
“You’re not just a transcendent being. You’re vast and alien… If the prophecy is true, it’s entirely possible. How many timelines have you consumed?”
“You make me sound like a villain.”
With a chuckle, Dalen stepped into the forge. The narrow entrance, lined with hundreds of gleaming weapons, resembled the gate of an impregnable fortress.
Dalen rolled his shoulders, his hand naturally resting on his waist.
‘If a direct assault on the gate is impossible, then I’ll just have to bring down the fortress walls.’
At the end of this brief thought, Dalen’s arm blurred with his axe. The blacksmith’s thick eyebrows furrowed, and he shouted a powerful incantation.
“Exi!”
In an instant, the artifact axe split into hundreds, clashing with the rain of spears and swords.
Under the quiet roof of the forge, the two torrents of weapons collided head-on.
Boom!
A massive explosion erupted in the heart of the snowy forest.
In the remote forest of the snow-covered mountains, a blizzard raged.
Clang!
With a flash of metallic light, several ancient trees were felled in an instant. In the small clearing where the trees had fallen, a spear was embedded in the ground. Dalen tapped it with his shattered sword.
“Heavier than I remember.”
The dark spear, still resonating with a strange hum even after being driven into the ground, had left Dalen’s sword cracked.
“A cavalry spear made from a mix of black iron and mithril. I used it in the mid-game, but it became too unwieldy and ineffective later on. Did someone improve it without me knowing?”
No answer came. Instead, a barrage of weapons rained down from nowhere.
A thunderous blade descended from above, while a pale arrow targeted his blind spot at the waist. Armor, reinforced with dozens of enchantments, clamped onto his back, restricting his movements, while a flaming shield charged in from the front.
These precise and unavoidable attacks were masterpieces born from the hands of a blacksmith who had ascended to transcendence.
Despite his lack of personal combat strength compared to other transcendent beings, he had crafted weapons that had felled dozens of dragons. What strategy should one employ against such armaments?
After a brief moment of consideration, Dalen let go of his nearly broken sword.
He stomped the ground.
“Step.”
Boom!
A concentric shockwave spread from his feet, pushing away the accumulated snow.
The advancing weapons hesitated for a moment under the impact.
That moment was enough. The accumulated magic around Dalen surged, creating a counterattack against the oncoming assault.
“Combined Martial Art: Reversal.”
Crack!
He drove his elbow into the shoulder of the armor, rotating his magic at the point of impact to maximize the recoil.
Grabbing the wildly shaking arms of the armor, he tore them off.
“Combined Martial Art: Piercing Strike.”
Boom!
Magic, starting from his shoulder blades, channeled through his fist, piercing the chest of the enchanted armor.
In less than half a breath, Dalen dismantled the armor and swiftly evaded the descending blade strike.
Crash!
Avoiding it wasn’t the end. Thunder roared as electricity surged from the blade, spreading in all directions.
‘A handle carved from a thunder dragon’s horn. A blade with an orichalcum core and a mithril coating.’
Recalling the hours spent crafting the weapon beyond the monitor, he extended his hands toward the oncoming wave of emerald lightning.
“Thunder Thread.”
Crackle!
Green and blue lightning intertwined, shattering the remaining snowfield in an instant.
There was no time to catch his breath. As the damp ground erupted, dozens of daggers and arrows exploited the gaps in his defense.
“Enchanted Armor.”
“Wind Armor.”
“Gale.”
Swirling winds twisted the trajectories of the projectiles.
“Red Blossom Chaos.”
With a spear drawn from a pocket dimension, he sliced through the flaming shield, unleashing countless fiery blossoms.
Thud!
Twelve stone pillars, launched from somewhere, embedded themselves around the clearing, attempting to overload the magical winds and trigger a massive explosion.
“Ice Crystal.”
“Bloom.”
“White Root.”
An ice flower bloomed in his hand, its white roots spreading across the ground, freezing the flow of magic and the pillars, nullifying the overload ritual.
“Is it over?”
A brief pause in the relentless assault. Without waiting for a response, Dalen reached out and grasped the air.
Rip!
With a tearing sound, the blacksmith was revealed, caught by the collar. Dalen chuckled.
“A robe made with a talisman from the Pantala region, mixed with white wolf fur. I used it to hunt bosses that were difficult to face head-on.”
”······.”
“An invisibility technique that can deceive even a transcendent’s senses, with defensive capabilities to deflect most boss-level area attacks. But it’s unsuitable against opponents specialized in wide-range detection and homing attacks. The inability to move for a while after being dispelled is…”
“—Lux!”
Boom!
The robe exploded as the incantation was uttered.
At the same moment, the ring worn by the blacksmith shattered, activating the embedded teleportation spell and creating distance between the two of them.
”…That was a problem.”
Dalen flexed his hand, still tingling from the explosion, and spoke.
“This is something I’m not familiar with.”
“What good is it to wait idly for the prophecy to fulfill itself in the Well of Reversal?”
The blacksmith, whose bushy beard had been half-singed by the recent blast, brushed off the remaining embers.
“I tried building a forge over the empty void and crafting some items… I didn’t expect it to work like this.”
After extinguishing the fire, the blacksmith pulled a hammer from the loop at his waist. As the small hammer vibrated, weapons appeared out of nowhere, filling the sky once more.
There were more than ten times the number of weapons that had first appeared in the forge. Thousands of magical armaments clashed, creating a refraction of light akin to the aurora in the polar regions.
Most of the items were familiar. Among them were some that were particularly recognizable.
As Dalen, holding a spear and axe, looked up at the sky, the blacksmith fiddled with his hammer and spoke.
“The armor mimicking a wizard’s mana flow seems designed for anti-magic combat. The Thunderclap Blade has a similar electric spell. While dealing with hidden weapons is one thing, I’ve never seen anyone handle the Stone of the Eastern Wind like that.”
”…”
“I don’t know how you did it, but you seem to know my creations better than anyone. You must understand the abilities and weaknesses of every weapon I ever forged.”
His words carried a clear sense of discomfort, but they weren’t wrong.
Dalen was staring blankly at the sky, categorizing the weapons and devising countermeasures.
When developing the blacksmith character, Dalen’s playstyle was about creating as many variables as possible with a diverse array of weapons.
He would test his opponent with unconventional attacks at the start of a battle, then secure victory with weapons that had a compatibility advantage.
He hadn’t revealed his domain lightly for this reason. Among the blacksmith’s arsenal were combinations that could even overwhelm his domain.
‘This is different from any battle I’ve faced before.’
Most superhumans or transcendents dedicated everything to one or two abilities.
While there were always minor variables in a fight, it ultimately boiled down to a contest of total power.
But the blacksmith before him was a master craftsman who, instead of enhancing his own strength, forged endless possibilities with countless weapons.
To win, Dalen would need to deploy all the spells and strategies he had accumulated, leveraging his informational advantage for a meticulous game of strategy.
‘I’ll only reveal the Grey Sky or the Thundercloud Sea at the last moment. I’ll engage in reconnaissance with as many unique skills as possible, using the visible domains to lull him into complacency.’
Srrng…
With his thoughts organized, he drew the holy sword from his back. A thin layer of frost had settled on the broken blade.
The power of frost left by Charina. Another possibility not listed in the status window.
As he raised the broken sword, the blacksmith set his hammer down with a thud.
He spoke.
“I surrender.”
”…What?”
“I don’t think I stand much of a chance if we fight. But I have one request. Before I give you all my power, let me complete one last creation.”
”…”
After all that aggression?
Dalen’s brow furrowed in surprise at the unexpected response.
The blacksmith chuckled at his expression. In a low, cracked voice, he continued.
“I need to forge a sword capable of piercing the heart of a god. I’ve failed before due to lack of materials… but it seems you’ve brought everything I need.”