Chapter 631: The Legendary Blacksmith[Part 2]
'Uhh...'
Northern did not show it, but he was surprised as hell. This wasn't quite the response he was expecting from the lady standing before him.
The way she commanded the air in the workshop with sharp wit and fiery spirit-that defiant but delighted expression on her face-informed Northern of the presence of an extraordinary person in this smithy. And his senses were piqued by her, which meant undoubtedly she was great too.
But she was a female? However, Northern could not deny the palpable aura of fire that she emanated.
Her outfit was a deliberate choice, practical but defiant. A cropped black top clung to her, revealing a toned midriff that hinted at countless hours of relentless work and unshakable discipline.
Over her waist hung a smith's leather apron, heavy and adorned with intricate patterns-both armor for the forge and a badge of her mastery.
Utility pouches lined the apron's belt, brimming with tools of her trade, their gleaming edges -catching the light.
Her gloves, thick and reinforced, were stained with soot, while her boots, solid and battle- scarred, seemed capable of withstanding both molten metal and the fury of a battlefield.
But what truly demanded attention was the weapon she bore-a colossal hammer slung over her shoulder, its design equal parts artistry and devastation.
The polished head gleamed with intricate carvings that seemed to whisper tales of its countless victories, whether on the anvil or against enemies.
At her hip, a sword rested in its sheath, its simplicity betraying its purpose: a blade meant for killing, forged by none other than herself.
Every tool and weapon strapped to her body spoke of precision, power, and pride, from the smaller hammers and tongs to the faint glint of a concealed knife.
Yet it was not just her appearance that made her so imposing; it was her aura.
That confidence continually radiated from her like the heat of a forge, an unspoken promise that she was a master of her domain-be it steel, flame, or battle.
Her sharp smile, equal parts playful and dangerous, hinted at someone who relished a challenge. She was a creator of destruction, a crafter of chaos, and a living embodiment of the forge's fury.
Northern's gaze lingered on her, and for a moment, he could almost hear the rhythmic clang of metal against metal, feel the blistering heat of the furnace that seemed to live within her. This was no ordinary blacksmith.
This was someone who would shape not only steel but the destiny of those strong enough to wield her creations.
And as her piercing gaze locked onto his, Northern had no doubt-this was a woman who could temper even him into something greater.
A small grin formed on his face, but before he got the chance to say anything, the woman came close to him and casually threw her hand over his shoulders.
Northern was irritated by it, aside from the fact that he hated being touched and the woman disgustingly smelled of sweat. He had never been this close to a lady before.
He glared at the lady.
"You know, boy, you're saying that the great forgemasters are incompetent. You've got to be able to back that with actions. Or are you all bark and no bite?"
Not waiting for his response, she continued.
"I'll tell you what-pick up that hammer and prove me wrong. If you can shape a piece of metal without embarrassing yourself, maybe I'll consider teaching you a thing or two."
A small frown creased Northern's brows. "Isn't that unfair? I have never picked up a hammer before in my life."
"So have I not when I put both their buttocks into hot water." She blasted a short, loud laugh. Then she pulled away from Northern and smacked his back playfully.
But that smack caused Northern to stagger one step forward, almost bending. His eyes widened.
'What outrageous power! Her hands are so lean and yet...'
Northern didn't think he'd move an inch if any of these bulky-framed forgemasters hit him like that, and yet this lady...
His eyes widened even more; now he was beginning to understand what the forgemasters were saying about his body.
Gifted body.
'Could it be that hers too...?'
But Northern knew his body was not gifted. What he had here was the result of cruel tempering in the red mines, his first rift.
He lost track of how long he wielded an ax, harvesting bloodthirsty crystals. This was the first and foundational basis for what his body was today.
Then came the evolution of void and its effect on his seemingly fragile body.
But still, Northern was impressed by the lady. Now, he wanted to learn from her at all costs!
The lady faced the forgemasters with a stern look.
"Don't pout like sulking children. If you're the 'best on the continent,' show him what that really means. Or are you scared this kid might actually be right?"
Santhik stepped forward, his face darkened by indignation. His massive arms, crossed over his barrel-like chest, flexed as he glared at the woman.
"Watch your tongue, Eleina. You might be the prodigy of the forge, but don't forget your place here. You are only a student here." His voice rumbled like distant thunder.
Eleina raised an eyebrow, her smirk unwavering. "Yeah. A student that surpassed you all in
her first year."
She turned to Northern, touching his shoulders, "Just like me three years ago. Another prodigy of the forge has appeared, and it pains me to see you make the same mistake you made with me. Potentials like his are not meant to be coddled but refined. Obviously why he is displeased by you two."
Northern remained silent, observing the exchange.
The tension in the workshop was palpable, every forge worker and student now frozen in place, eyes darting between Eleina and the forgemasters. Sparks from a nearby anvil hissed in the stillness, adding to the charged atmosphere.
Santhik's eyes narrowed, and he jabbed a finger at Northern. "Fine, let the boy prove himself. But when he fails, and he will fail, you'll admit that your so-called 'potential' is nothing more than arrogance. And he will leave the forge."
Eleina chuckled and muttered, "I can't believe I came here wanting to save whatever was left of you guys' honor."
She gave Northern a sidelong glance. "Guess that means the stage is yours, kid. Try not to
embarrass me."