At the time Mane was fighting for his life, others were working hard for his benefit.
*Clank*
*Clank*
*Clank*
*Clank*
In a brightly lit hall, the sound of metal striking metal was especially resounding. The vastness of the hall made it easy to locate the one responsible for these sounds. It was a man. This man only wore a pair of trunks, leaving his upper body exposed. Sweat glistened on his body and highlighted his impressive physique. Each muscle, each cell, every ounce of power in his body was transferred onto the hammer he held. Each swing of his hammer produced the thunderous sounds that filled the hall. The sparks that were generated from the use of his elemental fire in the tempering process were immediately absorbed by his body and reused shortly after.
"When do you think he'd be done?" But he wasn't the only one in this grand hall. There were several other figures with him. Many of these figures were shorter than the average man, but they filled their clothes and their ripped figures would cause no one to doubt that they had a lot of power hidden in their shorter frames. These people were dwarves.
"Maybe a week, maybe two" one of the dwarves replied.
"Or maybe it could be more than a year" another dwarf softly said. His words were quiet, his voice tired and grumpy, but it was enough to overwhelm the thoughts of all the other dwarves in the hall. The dwarves looked at this dwarf who was even shorter than them with respect. It was clear from their expressions that he was highly looked upon by his people. And why wouldn't he when he was their leader.
"Or he could finish just now. Such is the crafting of a soul weapon. You can never tell when you will be done" the much shorter dwarf added. The other dwarves nodded in agreement. Some began to murmur amongst themselves. It was true that crafting a soul weapon was tricky, and the crafter would never be able to tell when they would be done. It was all up to fate.
Suddenly, the tall man who was working the anvil increased the tempo of his swings. If before he was hammering consistently every two seconds, this time his hammer descended even more powerfully on the deformed metal every half a second.
"This is it. All of you be quiet" the authoritative dwarf ordered, and the others listened. It wasn't like they needed him to say anything. As Master Blacksmiths themselves, they knew better than to break the concentration of a fellow crafter when he reached the climax of his crafting process.
The persistent hammering continued for several minutes, and only stopped after half an hour.
The hammering man at the center of the hall spoke some words to the metal he was hammering and something strange occurred. A large bolt of lightning erupted from the metal. Within this lightning were streaks of gold and red – elemental fire. The escaping bolt promptly returned to the metal after the man had spoken a few more words.
*Boom*
The deafening sound would have destroyed the ear of any mortal, but the dwarves stood there silently. They didn't look to be in discomfort and weren't bothered at all – and neither was the figure closest to the metal. All of them looked intently at the bright light surrounding the metal and waited for it to subside. Finally, the light disappeared to reveal the object on the anvil. It was a double axe head – Labrys, the Olympians called it. It was as large as any of the dwarves in this hall, and even bigger than the dwarf who asked the others to be silent. A weapon of that size would cause one to wonder, "Who would be able to carry that thing?" And this was only the axe head! The haft wasn't included. One could only wonder how long and strong the handle would have to be and what kind of strength would be required to wield it.
"Is it done?" the shortest dwarf rushed to the tall figure responsible for crafting the axe head just in time to help the man. The tired man was on the verge of falling when the dwarf came to his side. As he leaned on his companion, the man took large breaths to calm his rioting energy and said, "Yes. All we need is his blood"
The man had a happy expression on his face when he spoke of his completion, and all the dwarves swarmed him to offer their congratulations.
"Congratulations Sir Hephaestus"
There was no jealousy in their gazes, neither was there a hint of greed. Dwarves were devoid of such negative emotions. They either loved you, or they didn't. They didn't thirst for the glory of others.
"Well done. I thought it would have taken longer" the shortest dwarf also offered his congratulations. But unlike the others he didn't add an honorific to Hephaestus' name. He was the only one here on equal footing with the God of Fire and the Forge. Not only were they equal, they had worked together for many months as they strived to perfect the Young Master's weapon.
"Normally, I would have. But it gave me strength." Hephaestus laughed and said. He then looked to the far end of the hall. At a hidden corner, was a large flame. It was still and calm, unlike all other fire in the world. And unlike all other fire in the world, it was also sentient. It didn't light up the room and rather chose to stay hidden. This was the Chaotic Flame!
"It is indeed the progenitor of all flames. Thank you" Hephaestus bowed slightly to the fire. His actions were emulated by the proud dwarves, who bowed even lower. The Chaotic Flame seemed to have read their intentions. It flickered slightly, and then returned to normal.
"I thought it would take them decades to find the Chaotic Flame, but it took them only a year. And they did so whilst locating several chunks of devilstone, allowing us to include the legendary mineral in the Young Master's armor as well." The shortest dwarf sighed as he spoke.
"Yes. Call them in. All we need now is a suitable handle for the weapon – and the Young Master's blood" Hephaestus ordered. The dwarves nodded and quickly went to open the doors. Outside the hall were six figures. Five of them were men. There was only one woman. Four of the men had dark hair, the other was blonde. As for the lady, she also had dark hair. They were all extremely good looking, but two of the men, who actually looked like brothers, outclassed them all in terms of looks. As for the blonde man, he was bigger than all of them and had an anxious look on his face like a man outside the labor room, waiting for the midwife to rush out to deliver the good news.
Seeing the door open, he rushed towards the dwarf and asked, "Is it done?"
"Almost Master Thor" the dwarf smiled seeing the anxious expression on his face. Oh how rare it was to see the mighty Thor looking so vulnerable! He was going to relish every second of it.
"Brat, why are you smiling?" knowing that everything was alright, Thor lost his anxiety. Although the dwarf said the work was almost finished, his smile must have meant that what was left was simple and uncomplicated. So Thor relaxed, and his countenance returned to normal. As friends of Asgard, the Dwarves of Nidavellir had always been on good terms with him. So he was used to joking around with them. He had even gone on several expeditions to other worlds with them. He liked their straightforward personalities and felt that with them he didn't have to worry about any schemes. And they adored him for the very same reason. The 'simple minded Thor' was much beloved by the dwarves of Nidavellir, even more so than his father Odin.
After joking around with Thor and Forseti for a while, the happy dwarf heard the booming voice of his leader, "Didn't I give you a task". The dwarf smiled embarrassingly as his leader glowered at him. He had totally forgotten that he was supposed to call them in for the last part of the 'ceremony'.
"So what else do I need to do?" Thor asked as he admired the axe head on the anvil. Once in a while, it flickered with lightning and caused Thor to grin foolishly like a mad man. The axe reminded him of his own 'Chief Soul Weapon'. The strongest weapon of Asgard that was made with refined devilstone and bathed in the purest lightning storms for centuries. It was his hammer. The great weapon 'Mjolnir'!
"We need his blood and a strand of his hair. So you would have to go for those." Hephaestus slapped away Thor's hand which was itching to touch the axe and informed him of the materials they needed.
"That's easy. I don't need to go anywhere. I have them right here." Thor replied and pulled out a blood bag and a golden hair strand like it was an everyday occurrence. The bag was filled with a lot of blood. Hephaestus estimated that it would be a liter at the very least. The faces of Dracula and the other vampires twitched at the image of the God Thor, pulling out such objects. Why did the God of Lightning have these things on him? Unfortunately they couldn't ask him. But even if they couldn't, someone else could.
"Why do you have those on you Uncle?" Forseti rubbed his temples and asked. Why would a normal person be keeping the blood of another? And what was worse was that the blood belonged to a young boy! When did he take this much blood from the child?
"I discretely withdrew this from him when he was a month old. Even Alexis had no idea that I had done so. Impressive right?" Thor smirked happily and responded. He seemed elated that he was able to take 'these items' without alerting Alexis.
"It didn't occur to you that he was only a baby, and that it was dangerous to take his blood?" Hephaestus wanted to slap the smirk off Thor's face. Oh only if he was stronger, then he wouldn't have had to hold himself back. Even the simple minded dwarves looked at Thor like he was an idiot. Only the shortest dwarf, their leader, looked at Thor with a bitter gaze.
"What? I knew that we would need these someday for his soul weapon, and I was right. Don't look at me like that. Asgardians are strong from birth. Something so trivial wouldn't dent his health in the least" Thor finally noticed something was wrong and pieced things together. He hurriedly defended himself, much to the amusement of Dracula and the other vampires who had never seen him this flustered. Of course, they hid that amusement because they didn't have the intention of being pummeled into the ground.