As John opened the wooden box, his eyes fell upon two remarkable objects. The first was a silver falchion, emanating a mesmerizing rainbow shine. Its guard bore the image of a phoenix, brilliantly encrusted. The second item was a pair of golden full-arm gauntlets, intricately designed to resemble a pair of dragons.
"That sword was crafted based on your training and what Nicholas shared with me about your preferred weapon," the chief dwarf explained, a content expression on his face as he surveyed the astonished faces around him. He continued, "And as for the gauntlets, given your inability to use your left arm, I'm certain they will require ample protection and care. With these on and a bit of mana infused, you won't have to worry about anything."
The chief dwarf went on, "I carved the phoenix on the sword because I learned that your birthday falls during the Month of the Phoenix. And as for the gauntlet, do you remember what I asked you when we first spoke in my office?" He reminded John of the aura he exuded—a dragon's presence.
The blacksmith elder's hand trembled as he pointed at the sword and asked, "Chief, are the sword and gauntlet made of aruramite?"
The chief elder simply nodded with a smile, opting not to reply. Sensing the curiosity in the air, the mage elder chimed in, "You mentioned you were saving that alloy for your magnum opus. What happened?"
"This is my magnum opus… and also the last thing I will ever forge," the chief said, removing his gloves to reveal his severely burned hands. "I can no longer use these hands to craft."
"You crazy idiot! You used the eternal flame to forge these. Do you understand the consequences?" the magic elder interjected, her face grave as she turned to the chief.
"I have lived longer than all of you combined. I don't need your lessons," the chief retorted firmly, his gaze challenging the other elders. "We can discuss this later. Let's not spoil the mood as they prepare to leave."
John felt an awkward hesitation as he addressed the chief elder, "I'm not sure if I can accept such valuable gifts. While I may not understand aruramite or the price of using the eternal flame, it feels too much for me to simply take."
"Then throw them away. I don't accept gifts unless I've given them away," the chief elder declared resolutely, leaving John in an uncomfortable position. The price of these two items was unimaginable, given the elders' attitudes after examining the sword and gauntlet.
"Take them. Don't insult the work of a craftsman," Nicholas whispered into John's ear, his face serious.
"Huff, fine, I'll take it. But please, tell me if there's anything I can do for you in return," John said with a sigh. Although he was excited about the prospect of receiving a new weapon and a pair of full-arm gauntlets, the weight of the chief having to give up his craft forever burdened John. As a former military man in his past life, he was not keen on causing harm to innocents.
"Just do what you promised, and I'll eagerly await the changes you bring to the city. Now, stop dilly-dallying and put on the gauntlets," the chief urged John, pushing him to take action.
"Yes, sir," John replied, although he felt a hint of hesitation. He proceeded to put on the gauntlets one by one. With his newly cut short hair and the golden gauntlets adorning his arms, John almost exuded a fierce presence. If given a few more years to grow bulkier and more mature, he would resemble the incarnation of the war god, his deep eyes and silver hair providing a striking contrast to the gleaming gauntlets.
However, just as John began to admire the gauntlets, smoke started to emanate from within, causing him to scream and curse aloud. "GAAAAAHHHH, FUUCCCK!"
"What's happening? I thought this was a gift?" Nicholas exclaimed, his face filled with anger.
"Calm down, knight. This will be helpful for the kid. Those gauntlets were crafted from a rare alloy we elders created, combining mithril, orichalium, and a series of other precious metals. And I forged them in the eternal flame. The gauntlets are simply testing their new owner," the chief explained, patting Nicholas's shoulder before approaching John. "Look at me, kid. Keep your calm and endure the pain. Once you fix that hand of yours and learn how to use chaos, these gauntlets will be one of your greatest weapons. Do you understand?" The chief whispered these words softly into John's ear, ensuring that only he could hear.
"What...?" John was momentarily shocked, to the extent of forgetting about the searing pain coursing through his arms.
"I've lived for a little over a millennium now, so you think I wouldn't know? I can't use it, but I do know about it. I had my doubts before, but after seeing your reaction, my suspicions have been confirmed," the chief elder spoke, moving his head away from John. Once again, the intense pain surged through both of John's arms.
"How much longer will this take?" Nicholas asked, approaching the chief with an expectant look on his face.
"Not much longer, just another five minutes," the chief calmly replied, his palms nervously sweaty behind his back. "Come on, kid. If you can't bear this, then the flame's spirit will reject you," the chief thought to himself, silently urging John to endure.
As time passed, the smoke billowing from John's arms increased, accompanied by the escalation of his screams. The gauntlets started to blur, gradually disappearing from view as smoke shrouded the area around John's arms. Everyone was too fearful to approach, fearing that any disturbance could disrupt the process.
"GYAAAHHHHH, HAAAHHHH!" John roared, his voice echoing with pain. As the smoke dissipated, the gauntlets vanished from his arms.
"Yes!" the chief exclaimed in excitement, his eyes fixed on the dragon tattoos that had now appeared on John's arms. One prominent tattoo adorned his right arm, while another, partially obscured by the chaos spirals, could be glimpsed on his left.
"Ahem, my apologies. I got a bit too excited," the chief coughed, realizing that all eyes were on him.
As John gasped for air, having endured the searing pain for what felt like an eternity, he asked, "What are these tattoos?" His gaze shifted to his hands, where burn marks should have marred the flesh, considering the intense heat he had felt. Instead, intricate dragon tattoos adorned his skin.
"They are signs that the Eternal Flame has acknowledged you as the master of its children. Pyraxis and Niddhogg. That's what their mother named them. Call upon them, and they will always answer your call," the chief explained.
"Pyraxis, Niddhogg," John called out, but nothing happened. Everyone stared at him in silence, barely containing their laughter. However, one individual couldn't hold back his amusement. "Bwahahahahahahhahahahahahahah! Not like that, you fool! They can't hear your words, idiot! Call them through your consciousness," the blacksmith elder laughed, slapping his legs.
John's face flushed red as a tomato, his embarrassment palpable. After a while, he let out a deep sigh, following the elder's suggestion. He called upon them through his consciousness, and to his surprise, Pyraxis and Niddhogg reappeared on his hands.
'I will need to learn more about this from Pallas and Kostas' John thought to himself as he curiously looked at the gauntlets.
"How do I put them back?" John asked, his gaze fixed on the chief.
With a slight awkward cough, the chief elder replied, "Just do the same, focus in your consciousness, and they will retract."
Following the chief's instructions, John summoned his willpower and caused the gauntlets to disappear. As they faded away, the chief turned his attention to Ignatius, the falchion that remained in the box.
Releasing a small sigh, John prepared himself for another painful five-minute process of recognition. At the end of it, a phoenix tattoo materialized on John's right palm.